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vikingsarememes · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Ivar x Y/N + Ragnarssons + Aslaug

Summary: you broke Aslaug’s Rule by sneaking into her house in the middle of the night to be with your boyfriend and now you have to suffer from the consequences.

warnings: besides Sigurd being the meanie he is, none.

word count: 1716

One rule, Aslaug had one rule in her household which is don’t invite your partner unless there’s a ring on their finger, one easy rule to follow yet you broke it and put yourself in the crappiest situation of all time.

It’s not exactly your fault if you think about it, it’s Sigurd! If he didn’t drive Ivar mad you wouldn’t have to drive to his mother’s in the middle of the night, if Sigurd didn’t bully him like he always do, you wouldn’t hear his very sad heartbreaking voice, you couldn’t just sit here and let your man have the worst time of his life.

Or perhaps it’s Ubbe’s fault for not standing up and telling Sigurd to shut the hell up? Or Hvitserk! He knew how much those two hate each other yet he didn’t keep them apart! He got distracted by the smell of this delicious cookies jar! You blamed it on everyone but truly, it was your fault and you knew it.

The moment you heard the sadness in his voice, you drove your car in the middle of the night to his mother’s residence, and if that wasn’t enough, you climbed to his window and spent the night there, the two of you made out, cuddled, made out again and cuddled until you both fell asleep holding each other.

You don’t regret doing it, no, Ivar’s smile made it all worth it, how his face lightened up just for seeing you, how he looked at you as if you were some sort of gift from the sky, just because you drove thirty minutes and broke into his childhood’s bedroom, you regret what you did the next morning.

You woke up while Ivar was still asleep, you sneaked out of his room, with a shirt that you found hanging on the clothes hanger and your panties on, you went downstairs to the kitchen, you thought perhaps you can grab coffee and make something for breakfast to give Ivar a headstart, something to cheer him up for the rest of the day, you were being quiet, but you definitely didn’t expect that his mother, well, she wakes up early in the morning.

“Who on earth are you and how did you get in here?” you heard a female voice that made you jump and almost spill the coffee on yourself “I… I’m… I…” you swallowed thickly, the woman didn’t seem impressed, she had her arms folded “you might want to see to your food” she motioned towards the pan, “shit!” you mumbled as you turned the cooker off, your omelet was half burnt now.

“Boys! Please come down” she shouted, her classy, sweet, somehow angelic voice turned into a loud angry motherly voice, you knew you screwed up “Now boys!” she shouted again and within the few more seconds three men descended from the upper floor, sleepy, with messy hair, they all looked at you like they just saw a ghost, they knew who you were, but no one said a word, Ivar wasn’t one of them.

Ubbe looked at you rather surprised, while Sigurd smirked evilly, Hvitserk didn’t mind you, he headed to your half-burnt Omelet and ate the good parts, his eyes half-open, however, he stopped the second he felt his mother’s glare burning through him, she cleared her throat, and took few steps closer, checking you out from head to toe, you’ve never felt more embarrassed “anyone of you want to claim her?” she asked her sons, they all looked at each other then back at you, apparently the son who breaks Aslaug’s rules, gets sent to their father’s farm next month and the three men told horror stories about that place.

“Is it you Ubbe? Perhaps you were drunk late at night and called one of your lady friends? It’s alright, you can tell me, even responsible men sometimes think they’re above the rules” she said so calmly if things were different, you would’ve thought she was supportive.

Ubbe didn’t say a thing, instead, he waited for her to turn to the other brother, he picked his phone up and you guessed he was dialing Ivar’s number, of course, he wasn’t stupid to do it in front of Aslaug, he did it when she wasn’t looking, you gulped “perhaps it’s you Hvitserk, did you feel lonely? Did you want a late-night snack? It wouldn’t be the first time you know” Hvitserk looked at you, he knew who you were, you didn’t understand why they didn’t just say that you were Ivar’s girlfriend, why they had to go through this torture in the morning, and you didn’t understand why Aslaug was making a big deal out of it.

“Sigurd! None of your brothers will tell me anything, perhaps you would, don’t you want to make me happy?” she caressed the younger’s cheek, only gaining an eye roll from him “it’s not like you cared about my happiness mother, if we aren’t Ragnar or Ivar then we don’t matter” he talked back, her facial expressions dropped, from the poker face she had before to one that’s actually shocked “tell me I’m wrong mother? Even better, prove me wrong! Can you name the club I’m singing this week? Or Ubbe’s new position at the company he’s working at? Or Hvitserk’s address! Do you know where your son lives?” he scoffed, Aslaug was speechless.

The room went quiet if it wasn’t for the sound of Ivar’s crutches rushing downstairs to the kitchen “Y/N!” he shouted and hugged you then stood by your side “Mother, this is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend and I can explain” he said nervous, more like freaking out, Aslaug looked like she was slapped on the face by this statement, damn you! If only you headed out in the morning, none of that would’ve happened.

Sigurd laughed at her reaction and shook his head in disbelief “look! Turned out you know shit about Ivar too! Even Mommy’s boy is all grown up and separating you from his life! Good parenting, mother! You should write a book about how to have four children and distance them all!” he clapped his hands as if he was watching the best episode of a reality TV show “Sigurd enough” Ubbe mumbled, glaring at him.

“It’s not like that, listen, just, please mom, ignore him, it’s way more complicated than this, Y/N and I have been dating and well, I didn’t want to tell you about her because of my other relationships experiences, I didn’t want to give you false hopes, we’ve been dating for only a few months and well, until yesterday I was still insecure about what we had, and… I was going to introduce you, I’m sorry” he told her, ignoring everyone else in the kitchen, it’s not like they made any sound, they all just watched, you as well.

“Mrs. Lothbrok I apologize, it’s my fault, Ivar told me to wait, but well, yesterday he was upset and I wanted to cheer him up, I’m sorry that I broke your rules, I swear I didn’t mean any harm, I don’t regret my decision but I wish we met in other circumstances, better ones,” you said so sweetly, Ivar held your hand, squeezing it tight, you looked down at his legs, he barely put his leg braces on, that’s when you noticed, he must be in so much pain.

You didn’t wait for Aslaug’s answer, you rushed to where the table was and dragged a chair, helping Ivar sit down as you undid his braces, he’d probably hurt himself and it would be better if he rests his legs, for now, Aslaug watched, her expressions softened “very well, I see you already made up your mind about her” she told Ivar.

“Mother, don’t make a big deal out of it, Ivar can’t go to the farm and you know that you raised us to be men, and your son grew up and found the right woman, but you still treat us all as if we were reflections of Ragnar, we might be his children but we are not him, and honestly, if you were a little more welcoming perhaps you would’ve met sooner, you know deep down that she’s a good woman, she drove in the middle of the night just to cheer him up! Only good women do that! Just look at them, he wants your okay, and he wants her part of his life, don’t make him choose, don’t guilty him out of perhaps the best thing that ever happened to him”

Ubbe talked, you were somehow glad, you knew he was only doing it for Ivar’s sake, “I can survive the farm” Ivar mumbled protesting “if that’s what it takes to make you forgive me” he said looking at Aslaug “No you can’t” al of his brothers said at once, in the same time, it was funny, although it only made you wonder what horrors they’ve seen there.

“Mom… they love each other, look, all it took from Ivar is to touch her and she immediately knew something was wrong, isn’t this what you wanted for him? To have someone who actually cares about him? Y/N is wonderful, please give her a chance, I’m sure if you sit down with her, you’ll like her” Hvitserl said, walking to where you were standing, you thought it was to show where he stands but apparently, he found the secret jar of cookies and was planning to wipe it clean.

“And you Sigurd? Don’t you have something to add?” she turned to look at her third son, who simply shrugged “no, I already said it all, for now, make a book about bad parenting, I’m here for the laugh” he grinned wickedly, Aslaug took a deep breath and looked at you “very well, Y/N, would you join us for breakfast?” you looked at her in disbelief, you glanced at Ivar who nodded “yes! I would love to! I must say, I’ve heard so much about you from Ivar! You’re one spectacular woman!” you rumbled happily, the man gave you the fakest smile of all time as she started preparing the food, that’s when you knew, Aslaug will never like you the way you want to be liked.

tags: @youbloodymadgenius @lol-haha-joke @flowers-in-your-hayr

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fallingin-like · 4 years

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november 12

peu à peu by @zombiesolace [requested by @jsteneil]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a really interesting character study on post-canon kevin and how he finds his place within the foxes and deals with the aftermath of the events within the series. this fic has a lot of introspection and does a really great job of unpacking everything.

this is such an intriguing fic to me, i don’t see that many that really delve into kevin and his thoughts. i can’t imagine how difficult of a time he must have, both throughout the series and during post-canon events. this fic really made me better appreciate the struggles that he goes through because it’s really common to have his actions portrayed without any of this explanation or why he acts in certain ways. we always see his single-mindedness with respect to exy and just kind of write it off as kevin being kevin. i think you effectively explored his character and inner thoughts.

some parts that stood out to me:

“it goes like this: they lose.” uhm somehow you were able to break my heart in the first two lines of the fic? i love the simplicity of the way you worded this, it contrasts really well with the significance of what it means, for the foxes, but especially for kevin.

kevin yelling at the team after the loss feels very in character. it reminds me of what he was apparently like when coaching the foxes prior to playing, and we see a little bit of it in the books themselves. it really comes down to the fact that kevin is desperate. for a lot of the foxes, the loss stings, but at the end of the day it’s just a loss. the criticism is harsh and they don’t understand why kevin is so hard on them. to kevin, it’s his life. not just because of the fact that he’s definitely trying to go pro and have exy as his career and not just because the moriyamas are definitely watching over him, but because that’s how he was raised as a child. kevin’s terrible childhood is somewhat overshadowed by the rest of the foxes, but he likely still has trauma from how he was raised in the nest, under the master and riko. so much pressure that it feels natural that he wants to try and regain control in some way.

”they’re a team, they fall together. and yet after each game this year, kevin has found himself falling apart alone. biting shame and swallowing frustration as he tears into each overanalyzed mistake” i find in life it’s so easy to isolate yourself from the people around you. the foxes probably find it hard to be sympathetic towards kevin, but they probably don’t realise that as harsh as he is to them, he is exponentially more critical of himself. in your own head, mistakes can be an unending loop, constant and distracting. this fic is really opening my eyes to what kevin is dealing with and appreciating him so much more.

”their win last year was a fluke. a gift given to them by virtue of the trojans. a simply byproduct of the hardiness of the foxes and the instability of riko’s collapsing domain.” ohmygoodness nooo it’s always so hard for me as an outsider to see kevin (and really anyone) struggle with the imposter syndrome. so many people (including many talented fanfic authors!!) write off their talent, skill, and hard work as fluke or luck as opposed to the many hours spent bettering themselves and practicing.

”it is with an overwhelming sense of dread that kevin thinks of his death. with each day the reality of riko’s loss feels more sure… kevin wishes riko’s ghost had followed. he wishes riko were still alive. he wishes he were alone, he wishes he weren’t.” wow i love the way you wrote this, with his conflicting thoughts. since we experienced the series through neil’s pov, riko’s death feels more like victory and less like a loss. it’s something to be celebrated. but i think it can almost be seen as similar to mary’s death, which neil mourned. both characters were abusive and did things that were wrong. and yet, they were loved. whether we like it or not, riko was kevin’s family and though their relationship was twisted and manipulated, especially as they grew older, riko was the person that kevin was closest to. emotions are so complicated and i bet kevin feels like he can’t discuss this with the other foxes, who don’t quite understand.

”he knows that his commentary is far more nuanced by virtue of being a fox. kevin takes the out and opens the folder he has on the roadrunners.” this is kind of small, but i find it has some significance. it can be so easy to do the thing that you know is self destructive and get caught in a rabbit hole of pages and articles of bad. good on kevin for not doing that.

”the name wymack clings to his tongue. coach sits temptingly at the back of his palette. my dad, his mind whispers, the words clear and intrusive.” ugH it must be so so hard for kevin to work through this. i love these lines.

”andrew pokes his head out of the bedroom. he stares blankly at kevin, his hair mussed… he leaves the door partially ajar. kevin feels something in his chest loosen.” oo i really really liked this part. andrew has his own unique way of showing that he cares and i love seeing the small things that he does.

the whole conversation between dan and kevin is so interesting. the actual information that you’re sharing about exy and the way that they interact. i think you did a great job of showing a realistic back and forth.

”riko was always right there. kevin never had to call him.” these two sentences, and actually that whole section is really just so heartbreaking. you do a great job of making me understand kevin, something i haven’t really done so before.

”that’s not true. he does know. he enjoys having the ability to express his opinion. it’s a novelty he’s still getting used to.” oh, kevin.

”kevin can’t see any of the foxes. they disappeared into the store moments upon arrival and three out of the four are too short to be seen over the aisles.” lol what a mood (i am short)

kevin’s interaction with the fans is so interesting. i wonder if he often dealt with actually meeting fans during his time as a raven. it’s also really interesting to see neil from this point of view, he almost seems… unfamiliar? but not in a bad way. it kind of really brings us into the perspective of kevin.

abby-kevin relationship is so nice. i think it’s great that kevin has a maternal figure that he can find comfort in

the section on kayleigh is just so so sad. it makes me feel grief for someone i never knew. it aches knowing that she was such a wonderful woman, that kevin had her and now he doesn’t.

”’wooo!’ nicky shouts, ‘now that was a wake up call i didn’t need.’” ohmygoodness i love the way that you write nicky! it really lightens the fic a bit more.

honestly the bit about jean being waterboarded is horrifying to me.

i like that wymack took kevin to riko’s funeral. there’s a sense of closure that has to do with it, kevin being with his real family while saying goodbye to what used to be his family

”he doesn’t recall riko breaking his had. he remembers before, and he remembers after but he doesn’t remember the moment his life changed.” i really appreciate the formatting you used with this, the line separating the first sentence, the way that you broke up the second sentence into two lines. it feels more impactful, more significant.

”he can see nicky and aaron showing off their most ridiculous dance moves in the corner for one another” oh my goodness this is amazing

“he wonders if they’ll call him an ex-fox when he graduates or if he’ll always be labeled an ex-raven. the nest had a quiet energy that fox tower doesn’t.” oh oh i like this a lot

also i like how you broke up the texts with paragraphs of kevin’s thoughts. it shows the gaps between his texts more and i feel his loneliness more keenly. the double-texting with the periods between reminds me of when i am at my loneliest

i love kevin’s conversation with jeremy. he’s known as one of the nicest, brightest characters in the series, but we really see why. how he is able to relax kevin and just speak to him.

your explanation of kevin choosing history as his major is so insightful, i’ve never really considered it, but now i wish i had

”i want andrew to enjoy himself. he does it rarely, kevin, you’re aware of that” renne is just so great.

the part about kevin using twitter, especially as a way to try and connect with thea is so interesting to me.

”’does he know you’re better than he is?’ she’d whispered in his ear” I LOVE THIS LINE what a turning point in kevin’s journey

ahh the part about nicky telling andrew about the conspiracy station, it’s so nice to see the way they are bonding like his

andrew is such a complicated character, i absolutely adore the way that you write him. a lot of the time i read a softer side of him, through the perspective of neil. kevin and andrew have a fascinating relationship, i love seeing it from kevin. “he gives kevin a thumbs up”, “i hear you, andrew says” these are so perfect

wymack giving kevin an extra jacket is peak dad behaviour.

recently i’ve been so fond of seeing authors incorporate the title of their fic into the writing. this is no different, it makes the title have that much more meaning “little by little, the bird builds his nest” i love this. how did you come across this quote? it’s so fitting for this fic

the dynamic between dan, wymack, and kevin is so so interesting. wymack and kevin are so similar that sometimes i guess it causes a distance because they’re not the best at communication. and it must be hard. they’re related, but still have so much to learn about each other. i guess i’ve never though much of how close dan and wymack are. you do a really good job at capturing the tension that exists, the interactions.

”he thinks a lot of people would rather he never spoke again” oh no this hit me hard

the little part where kevin and dan are talking about neil’s shot, i like this little bonding that we see. exy is the thing that has brought them together

”’you’ll make a good wymack,’ he says. dan jerks back, her mouth open, and her eyes stunned.” oh this is so nice

”he wants to say he’s my dad, but he’s hers too; hers more so and that’s dan’s point. what would he know? ‘he saved me too,’ he says instead” oh my goodness i love this so much

sorry but neil and kevin teaming up and nicky and aaron teaming up so that andrew loses is the best part of this fic and anyone that believes otherwise can fight me!!! “when they arrive in columbia andrew makes an aborted move like he will shut neil out of their room and it’s the first time kevin hears something like a laugh from neil.” this is so soft i needed this

go thea!!! thank you for making her so amazing in this fic!!! i like how you write their relationship, it’s refreshing and really interesting, we don’t know that much about thea

THEA TAKING OFF HER NECKLACE WHEN KEVIN CHANGES HIS TATTOO THIS IS THE BEST

there’s so much that you covered in this fic. kevin’s relationship with exy, riko, the rest of the foxes, wymack. i love the way that you worked through everything. the gradual improvement of the foxes following with kevin’s mental health improving. but we can really see how far he has come when they lose and he’s okay with it. you made me feel so close to kevin. your writing is wonderful, so many little details that just build to make this fic amazing. thank you so much for writing this!

#peu à peu #aftg fic review #raelle writes

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vestigialtext · 4 years

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Euphorroria

[TW suicide, self-harm]

Imagine you turn around there’s suddenly a perfectly circular swirling hole open in the floor, emanating a hazy purple glow and a kind of pulsing, reverb-drenched celestial siren song, like the single sickest shoegaze riff you’ve ever heard.

You think, huh, wow, that’s a pretty weird trip-hazard, and erect some cordons to stop anyone falling in. But you become fixated on the hole, staring in unblinking for hours. It’s curious, it’s beautiful, it’s sonically enchanting, it’s perfumed with a kind of partially floral, partially cardomomic, partially metallic scent which just encroaches on the sickly-sweet – but you still want a taste.

The hole, as it happens, is a portal to insanity.

This is how I experience hypomania; standing steady-of-foot behind the barrier, gazing at wonder to the insanity, hearing its call but keeping a safe distance.

Mania would see me leap the barrier, approach too close, and invariably slip in screaming.

Psychosis, meanwhile, would see me fall in, try to either fight it or fuck it, turn it inside out and prolapse it back through into rational reality, the fabric of which world begin to collapse as internal and external landscapes collide and splinter into one and other and I approach self-oblivion.

A full psychotic break has only happened twice in my lifetime, and frankly I’m lucky to be here writing this drivel – my second episode, nearly a decade ago, almost killed me and left me with almost impossible-to-comprehend scars I’ll bear for the rest of my life, scars invisible to the observer but forever altering my perception of the world, scars I’ve made peace with but which continue to niggle every day. Without getting deep into the nightmarish details, I tried – and, thank fuck, failed – to blind myself, resulting in bilateral scarred corneas which mean that, while my vision remains entirely functional and luckily unimpaired to any significant degree, I experience constant, curious aberrations, especially in low-light where the world melts into a sea of halos.

Importantly, I’m still alive. I very nearly leapt into the Thames on the morning of 10/03/2010, and not through depressive, I-can’t-bear-to-live anguish, but due to chasing immensely powerful delusions and hallucinations to the same place that almost cost me my sight. There’s a lot I’ve written and lot I will write about my experiences of psychosis – particularly re the corrupted internal logic that catalysed much of my bizarre, life-ruining behaviour in 2003 and 2010 – but not here, not now.

Mania, the losing control of my inhibitions and tripping headfirst into hyperactive chaos, has occurred three times in my life, but only progressed through to psychosis twice. I had my first (and to date, only quickly-controlled) manic episode age 16, following a few months as an inpatient at an adolescent psychiatric in Newcastle (remember when the NHS used to offer those kind of services lol). Up until that point, I had been being treated for major depression, which was my diagnosis until the mania emerged. I don’t quite remember the specifics – I celebrated the 20th anniversary of my bipolar 1 diagnosis last month – but one day it seems the depressive fog suddenly cleared and my mind, robbed of feel-good shit for so long, lurched as far as it could in the opposite direction as some kind of bizarre compensatory push.

Perhaps the flip was inevitable, perhaps it was triggered by a chemical predisposition to mania plus guzzling down combinations of all the anti-depressant variants that could be feasibly prescribed for the preceding three months. Who can say. Whatever the case, suddenly I was bouncing around the hospital halls like Sonic the Hedgehog, talking borderline-gibberish garbage incessantly, getting back deep into abandoned A-level art projects and attempting to start roughly 1,000 extracurricular projects simultaneously. The doctors quickly took notice, brought me down with lithium and revised my diagnosis.

Hypomania, (literally “below mania”), is something I experience on average a few times a year, hitting in waves, usually with a clear trigger. It’s a glimpse at the maelstrom of insanity without actually dipping a toe. Delusional ideas can creep into my head, but I can analyse and dismiss them rationally with a firm “No.” I now have enough insight and experience of my own sensations and mood pattern recognition to usually ward off a manic episode, typically with self-seclusion and/or self-management, sometimes with medication. Zopiclone, a sedative, has proven to be something of a magic bullet at sniping down incoming mania, so I try to keep a stash handy – I popped one Saturday gone just to try and keep the train on the rails after barely sleeping for two weeks straight.

After accepting I was an alcoholic six years ago, I’ve gone entirely teetotal, and that itself has greatly improved my ability to monitor myself, to try and regulate my own mood – previously, I’d (technically binge)-drink more or less every single day, and drown out any troublesome hypomanic episode with even more booze, remaining entirely functional (if prone to starting each day with a big purging sick and then having a couple of practically clockwork spew breaks at work) until my liver and my nervous system started wildly red-flagging at the sheer relentless demands I was asking of them, the perpetual nature of my misguided self-medication, so I decided to stop dead drinking or risk further ruining my health.

Without in any way wishing to belittle or underestimate the impact of the disease (severe, bulk-of-a-year depression episodes have also nearly killed me) I feel like depression is something even people who don’t suffer from mental health problems can at least begin to comprehend, can take a stab at imagining the experience. Perhaps not the depths – the eroding, claustrophobic mental space, the glimmer of hope on the horizon disappearing into darkness, all sensory input turning to a grey mush, the head-in-a–tomb depersonalisation – but most people can relate to being “sad”, most people have experienced tragedy at some point in their lives. Hypomania, however, is a trickier prospect to explain. But I’ll try.

I can’t speak for others who experience the condition, but in my case, hypomania manifests itself across my whole physical, mental, emotional spectrum. Although other factors come into play, the biggest single trigger for me seems to be sleep deprivation. It’s no news that circadian rhythms and bipolar disorder are intrinsically interlinked, and I have very real first-hand experience. As a shiftworker (occasional nightshift worker) who lives on the opposite side of London to my office and has a four-month old daughter, my current sleep hygiene is pretty... ropey to say the least, so I’m trying to be extra vigilant. A few nights back-to-back of little sleep (I’m talking a hour or two, at the best of times my sleep is shit anyway and five hours is a good stint) I can often feel my mood changing gears.

Simply put, when I’m hypomanic, the world is a more engaging place; more detail fills the cracks, more edges pique my interest. All of my senses sharpen up – my vision becomes cleaner, brighter, more vivid, sound seemingly has additional frequency space, imperceptible before. My senses of smell and taste overwhelm me, aromas become intoxicating and normal food takes on gourmet qualities. My energy level skyrockets without any additional external input; I have much more impetus, enthusiasm about life, work, whatever. I can literally feel my mind starting to function differently – but not necessarily more efficiently – taking shortcuts, randomly accessing memories in remarkable detail without any prompt. I can think faster, but with less focus; I’m more distractible and will happily shoot off on wild tangents with complete disregard for my goal. Depending on circumstances at home or work, hypomania is a mixed bag – any lethargy is dispelled and my agency and job satisfaction is heightened, but I might, say, approach 20 tasks simultaneously when sequentially would be more rational.

Depending on social context, I expend varyingly extreme amounts of effort to varying degrees of success attempting to mask a hypomanic episode. You know how your body never really “heals”, and scurvy horrifyingly opens up old scars and shit? That’s kind of what my ever-simmering mental illness feels like when i’m consistently deprived of sleep for whatever reason, the cracks start appearing and it kinda seeps out a bit lol. I am well aware my hypomanic demeanour and delivery can alarm people, and I do try really, really, really hard to suppress things or if absolutely required, just remove myself from situations where a lasting, detrimental opinion could be formed. I am also fully aware I can become borderline intolerable to my long-suffering and remarkably patient wife, and I try to mitigate the condition’s impact on domesticity, again, only ever partially-successfully (sorry, Kate). On any given day, high, low, or creamy middle, I’d estimate around about 90% of my effort is put towards just trying to appear normal to others, trying to blend in. I imagine many other mentally ill people are broadly intolerant to open-plan hotdesking (not to mention the insatiable clock-in-and-hit-marks demands of capitalism).

I can physically feel my body “running hotter” when I’m hypomanic, like an overclocked CPU frazzling on a motherboard; headaches spark quickly if I don’t drink enough water. I’m not especially clued up on chemical synthesis of naturally-occurring hormones etc. but I kinda get the impression hypomania is little like organic, high-on-your-own-supply MDMA.

Hypomania seems to foster within me a deeper connection to and longing to revisit all of my favourite music, art, writing, films, games, people – chiefly, I go on obsessive listening binges of records I adore. As I mentioned earlier, my hearing changes when I’m hypomanic – songs sound better, richer, more punchy. One of my fondest ever memories of mental illness (sadly ruined by slipping into psychosis shortly afterwards) was walking around out at night listening to My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless on shitty earbuds via a Spotify stream and still hearing subtle elements blossoming from the mix I’d never clocked before; layers of what sounded like processed flutes fluttering under the wall of guitars, gentle tonal ebs and flows, what seemed to be entire hidden tracks I was only just tuning in to, a secret sound world unveiled.

This might well just be wild conjecture, but I like to think maybe some bands – the bands who “get it” – deliberately bury this audio information deep within the mix, only to be decoded by specific mental setups, be they drug-indicted or naturally, hormonally occurring, breadcrumb trails left in the studio production as a little nod by whoever put the music together that they understand the confusion, the dislocation and alienation of mental illness, something extra beyond the lyrics. It might well be bullshit but it brings me great comfort. I’ve put together a playlist of some favourite tunes I suspect were written about hypomanic states, knowingly or otherwise, or instead conjure up that specific vibe.

To be honest, the hardest thing I find about dealing with episodes of hypomania is that they can feel so good it’s very hard to not attempt to stoke the sensation, prolong it, succumb deeper to it. That way oblivion lies; please stand behind the yellow line at all times.

#hypomania #bipolar #mentalillness

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-Seven: With a Shovel ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hanabi, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina, gore, vulgarity ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ AO3 Link ]

Shit shit SHIT!

Vaulting over a fence, he lands on his feet, regathering momentum quickly. So much for quiet and unnoticed! How was he supposed to know the place was boobbytrapped?! Bag still slung over his shoulders, it bounces heavily against his back with every thud of his feet against the ground. At least he got a decent haul before all the ruckus. Should keep them fed for a short while.

Behind him, he can hear the rippling-outward cries of the undead. When one notices you, its noise and shift in attention seem to spread like another disease, infecting any others within range and calling them to the same action: to try and feed on whoever’s unlucky enough to get noticed.

And right now, it’s him.

Struggling to keep his breath even, Sasuke’s arms pump as he cuts through old yards, overgrown and filled with weeds. Even the weather is dreary today: overcast and muggy. Just the kind of atmosphere he wants to be running for his life through. Remnants of old lives, probably lost, are scattered throughout: lawn furniture, kids’ toys, empty dog houses, swimming pools filled with sickly green water and bloated dead bodies.

Ah, so that’s where that smell’s coming from.

At least the damn things are slow and unsteady...but he doesn’t want to get caught in a corner. He’s stuck to the outskirts, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t zombies this far out that can cut him off.

But this time, it’s not a deadhead he has to worry about.

Just as he skirts by a house, a figure comes barreling out of the back door, knocking into him and throwing them both to the ground in a heap. Sense scrambled for a moment, Sasuke panics - was that a dead one?! But...no, it was running. He’s never seen one run before, they’re too slow and off-kilter. Then...another survivor? Shit, what if they have a weapon?

“Behind you!”

Rolling to his side, his eyes go wide as his unexpected companion leaps over him, curling slightly as he expects them to hit him. But instead, he hears a dull thud. Flailing to his other side (and trying to wriggle back), he watches as the other human decapitates a walker.

...with a shovel.

Wide-eyed and panting, he watches them catch their breath, then look over their shoulder to him. It...looks like a woman? A little hard to tell, what with the dirty countenance and baggy clothing.

...she’s not gonna use that on him now, is she?

“Get up!” she commands, keeping hold of her tool and offering an arm.

Not about to refuse, Sasuke takes her grip, struggling to his feet with his pack weighing him down. Together, they keep running the way he was headed, crossing a few more yards before reaching the true outside of the suburb.

It’s then they look to each other warily.

“...are you alone?” she asks, glancing back toward the houses.

“...here and now? Yeah,” is his sarcastic reply.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I left my sister stashed. We have a car that runs. We can take you back…” She nods to his back. “...spare some of your loot and we’ll call it even.”

“Don’t I already owe you?”

“Maybe, but I’m not - I’m not about to leave you here. So, is there anyone else?”

Considering her carefully, the ruckus of the undead drawing nearer, he admits, “...not here. My brother’s back at our camp.”

“We’ll take you there.”

“So long as you put that shovel down, sure.”

In spite of herself, the woman gives a hint of a smile. “Unless your heart stops beating, I don’t have any intention of hurting you. The living need to stick together, r-right?”

“Yeah...if only more people thought that way. You lead the way.”

In a thicket of bushes and trees a ways from the development, they uncover a vehicle covered with severed branches. Within is a teenager who jumps at the sight of them. “Hinata, who the hell is that?”

“A new friend,” Hinata, as she appears to be called, replies. “He’s fine. We’re going to take him home, and trade some supplies.”

Eyeing her nearly-empty pack, the girl mutters, “Trade? We don’t have anything to trade.”

“That’s what the ride is for, Hanabi.”

Expression guarded, she remains in the rear seat as Sasuke takes the passenger door, Hinata driving. “Where are we headed?”

“North a ways. Abandoned farmhouse. It’s back in some trees, easy to miss.”

Nodding, Hinata revs the engine, backing from their hiding place and heading up the road.

Behind them, the swarm continues to shuffle toward the sound as it fades into the distance.

The subsequent silence is filled by the humming of the motor, Sasuke keeping his eyes flickering between the road and his companions. While he doubts either are much of a threat, he’s not about to let his guard down, either.

“So you were hitting up the same spot, huh?” Hanabi asks, leaning up between the seats.

“Hanabi, please put your seatbelt on,” Hinata offers wearily.

“Why? It’s not like we’re gonna get pulled over.”

“That’s not the most important aspect of wearing a seatbelt.”

The teen rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

Watching the exchange, Sasuke sees the elder sister wilt a hair.

“That place is the nearest one we’ve found to hit up,” Sasuke offers, deciding to humor her attempt at conversation. “We’ve been here a few weeks now.”

“We?”

“Me and my elder brother.”

“Cool, another sibling duo.”

His lips quirk in amusement. “We lived in the city west of here, headed out this way when things got bad. Been hopping as we need to ever since. Had a car, but it tanked a while before we got here.”

“Hey, we came from the west, too! Anybody else with you guys?”

“No, just us. We’ve run into a few people, but...it never ended well.”

“Yeah, us either…” Hanabi admits. “Least nobody’s tried to kill us, yet. They just all got themselves killed.”

“Hanabi,” Hinata murmurs in scolding.

“What? They did!”

“Please don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“We had one group try to finish us off, but they didn’t have a car. Running from them’s what got it so banged up until it quit running,” Sasuke offers.

“Have you killed anybody still ali-?”

“Hanabi!”

“What? It’s an honest question!”

“...just one,” Sasuke murmurs.

The car goes quiet.

“...some asshole snuck up on us. Was grappling with my brother. Ran him through with a makeshift spear I’d made. All his hollering brought on the dead...we left him there and made a run for it.”

“...oh man…”

“Sometimes you have no choice. It was him or my brother.”

“...guess you’re right. I’d kill anybody that came after my sister!” She whisks out a pocket knife, pointing it at him with pursed lips.

Sasuke just scoffs humorously. “Trust me, I don’t plan on it. She saved my ass.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. With a shovel. It was badass.”

Hanabi looks wide-eyed to her sister, who seems almost bashful.

Spirits a bit lightened, Sasuke points to a dirt road. “Up there, a few miles in.”

By now the sky is darkening, and he considers the time of day. If these two have far to go, they’ll be drawing zombies like moths to a flame with any headlights. Maybe…

As twilight settles in, they pull up to an old two story farmhouse, a silo and barn nearby.

“Whoa, neat place! Are there any animals?”

“Just a few chickens. Come on, we’ll talk inside.”

From the front door emerges Itachi, watching warily. “...Sasuke?”

“They’re friendly,” he replies, waving a hand. “But if this one pulls out a shovel, start running.”

Hinata gives a weary sigh, suppressing a smile as Hanabi laughs.

“...well all right then,” Itachi agrees, a brow perked.

“She saved my life. They’re here to take a few things to call it even. But I think at this rate, they’d better stay ‘til daylight.”

Hinata frowns. “But -?”

“If you try to make it home in the dark, you might crash...and headlamps will make you way too obvious. We’ve got plenty of room, and we can figure out what I owe you after some sleep.”

“Oh c’mon, ‘nata! This house is awesome!” Hanabi begs, tugging her sleeve.

“Where are you holding up?” Itachi asks politely.

“Firefighter station. It’s a bit out of the way, but pretty secure.”

“The beds are super uncomfy,” Hanabi offers, earning a light laugh from Itachi.

“Well, we’ve not qualms with you remaining for a night. As Sasuke says, leaving now will be trouble either way, a risk you don’t need to take. Besides...it’s been quite some time since we’ve had friendly company.”

“Yeah, us too,” Hinata admits. “If you really don’t mind…?”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Sasuke assures her. “We’ll cook something, then call it a night...hash things out in the morning?”

“Sure.”

Supper is mostly canned foods, the four of them huddled in the kitchen around an old hurricane lamp. Hanabi is soon dozing, Hinata escorting her upstairs.

“This room has two beds - we stick downstairs, so you’ve got it all to yourselves.”

“Thank you...and Sasuke?”

At the threshold of the stairs, he turns back.

“...glad I ran into you.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Literally.”

Giving her own smile in return, Hinata bids him goodnight, shutting the door as he retreats back down the flight.

“Are they settled?”

“Seem to be.”

“I think it best we turn in as well. You look tired.”

“Yeah, well...running for your life’ll do that to you.”

.oOo.

...I think this is my first zombies piece? At least for this challenge, haha - I write it on occasion for RP, but this is my first real fic for it. I should do more! And yes, it's Hinata wielding the weapon this time around - cuz our girly needs her chances to be the badass she is! I think Sasuke was impressed ;3 And heck yes to sibling duos and alliances. Anyway, that's it for tonight! A bit early for once, lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hanabi #uchiha itachi #gore //#vulgarity //#when dead walk [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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darhwolf · 6 years

Note

all

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?dunno lol probably any of the 4 songs from Courtney Barnett that I have on my phone (Elevator Operator, Depreston, Nobody Really Cares if You Don’t go to the Party, and Debbie Downer). Dunno lol

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?Well there’s a few people so... @lifecankindofsuck @annoyinglyoptimisticbread @gerards-slutty-jacket, or Markimoo

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.The moat surrounds your fortress, preventing enemies from

4: What do you think about most?Uhhh such a fucking odd queston I honestly have no clue my mind jumps around a lot

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?Imma not include group chats so... some shit from sprint about texting in the UK. I don’t get texted a lot :/

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?I prefer without but I usually wear pajamas

7: What’s your strangest talent?I can slap my thighs really fast I dunno lol

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)With the first thing that comes to my head?Girls just wanna have funBoys will be boys

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?Nope and it’ll probs never happen so whatever ¯\_(:/)_/¯

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?Never rip

11: Do you have any strange phobias?None that are out of the ordinary

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?A Q-Tip with vaseline

13: What’s your religion?I don’t have one

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?prbably sitting on a bench alone being lonely lol

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?The Beatles

17: What was the last lie you told?I think it was something my dad got angry at me for and then a waiter came up and I faked a smile for the waiter if you call that lying

18: Do you believe in karma?Sometimes

19: What does your URL mean?Absolutely fucking nothing lmao

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?Weakness? my cripplingly low self esteem. Strength? My desire to help people

21: Who is your celebrity crush?Probably Maisie Williams. Used to be Ariana Grande cuz she’s absolutely adorable

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?No but it sounds like fun

23: How do you vent your anger?profane language lmao

24: Do you have a collection of anything?not really no. but I do have all 50 state coins

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?Video chatting as long as the other person can hold the conversation

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?physically? hell fucking no. Mentally? nope. Emotionally? still no rip. But I am happy that I can help people with their problems.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?hate? crying. (human crying not baby crying) it makes me cry too ;-;Love? uhhhhhhh rain

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?What if I never actually find an s/o?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?I want to believe

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.The wall. A rocking chair

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?Cotton (from my blanket)

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?I dunno lol

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?West coast, but I’m going to the East coast for College. West cost is more progressive I believe

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?Ariana Grande I guess

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?It’s 42. I’m too lazy to give a full explanation or something like that

36: Define Art.Uhh I dunno lmao

37: Do you believe in luck?Yeah. Either Luck or RNGesus

38: What’s the weather like right now?Sunny

39: What time is it?6:33 PM

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?Yes. No

41: What was the last book you read?Pet Semetary

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?it’s OK. Too much and I hate it.

43: Do you have any nicknames?Mom, Dad, A-Dog (from my uncle)

44: What was the last film you saw?Gremlins. In theaters? A Quiet Place

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?Smacking my head on a piano bench corner (3 stitches needed)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?yes

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?nope

48: What’s your sexual orientation?Sexual orientation? Het. but romantic orientation is bi

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?Nope

50: Do you believe in magic?Hell yeah or something like that

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?Nah. Unless they were especially awful

52: What is your astrological sign?Aquarius or Aries

53: Do you save money or spend it?Save

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?some micro transaction

55: Love or lust?Love

56: In a relationship?I feckin wish

57: How many relationships have you had?technically, none. One was long distance puppy love, the other wasn’t a relationship

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?yes

59: Where were you yesterday?In Heathrow airport

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?Eraser tops

61: Are you wearing socks right now?nope

62: What’s your favourite animal?DOGGOS

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?Wait I have a secret weapon? oooh tell me

64: Where is your best friend?I uhhhhhh @annoyinglyoptimisticbread and @lifecankindofsuck and @gerards-slutty-jacket hey where are you

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.NO SPECIFIC ORDER @annoyinglyoptimisticbread @lifecankindofsuck @gerards-slutty-jacket @umbrellas-and-raincoats @30-minute-memes

66: What is your heritage?Germany I think or something

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?Sleeping lmao

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?Phillips. I dunno some casual last name

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?Yes many times lmao. Has anybody else gotten me off? nah. never probably gonna happen either lmao

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?yesssssss somebody I could actually like pull aside to talk about shit in my life

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?Fuck yeah the doggo and I are in this shit together now

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?a. Yes.b. I don’t know ;-;c. yes

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.Can I not fucking choose this kinda question is hard on me

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?I dunno

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?8119

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?Trust, communication (bitches fucking love communication), and actual love between the two (or more) partners

77: How can I win your heart?I don’t know this is too difficult of a question I guess just talk to me I don’t fucking know

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?kinda maybe

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?I dunno lmao

80: What size shoes do you wear?don’t remember too lazy to check

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?I dunno leave it up to my family

82: What is your favourite word?Banana

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.love

84: What is a saying you say a lot?I dunno lmao

85: What’s the last song you listened to?Probably Elevator Operator

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?a dark blue like rain I don’t know what shade exactly it is

87: What is your current desktop picture?EEVEES!

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?Some shit named Diego. He was a dick to me all throughout middle school and never apologized once

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?Do you have depression?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?Sit and wait, but get ready for something to happen

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?Invisibility. You can actually do a LOT of good with invisibility like if somebody tries to rob a bank, you walk in, invisible, with a gun and reveal yourself only to shoot them or something like that

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?Eating a birthday cake I guess I dunno :/

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?FUCKING EVERYTHING ABOUT MY DEPRESSION AND SHIT

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?Why music celeb?But it would be Ariana Grande

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?Fuckin Japan cuz it’s so cool

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?nope

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?yeah lol

98: Ever been on a plane?many many times

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?“Hey stop fucking each other over and lets focus on not fucking making the human race go extinct mmkay?”@annoyinglyoptimisticbread THANKS FOR THE ASK

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alluringholland · 6 years

Text

the good die young, but so did this #5 | t.h.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, alcoholism, drug abuse, manipulation, an all around bad time

part 5: sorry (previous)

“I've missed your calls for months it seems/Don't realize how mean I can be/’Cause I can sometimes treat the people/That I love like jewelry”

Present day.

His name was Derek. He was a positive, happy person. I mean like, he believed in fairy tale happy endings, and he believed in soulmates. He was optimistic. He could see the best in you, even when you were at your worst.

I kind of hated that about him.

When we first met, I made it clear that I was trouble and not worth getting to know. Of course, that only reeled him in and he wanted to know what lied behind my mysterious exterior. He's not ugly, so I let him in for that night. Then, I just lost the ability to say no when he asked me out on am actual date. It went on for a little bit, maybe six months or so. In hindsight, it wasn't the best thing to do on my part.

I wasn't really happy with him, even though I logically should have been. If I shut him out, he waited until I was ready. If I ignored him because I was stuck in my own head, he didn’t interrogate me and pester me for information. He brought me coffee when I was doing a shoot. He took me on day trips to the beach. He got me fidget toys and books that would help me combat my rapidly developing social anxiety.

The closer he got, the more I wanted to run. So that’s what I did.

Being me, it was over a text. However, he wasn’t having any of it, so we met up outside my apartment building. To say I wasn’t expecting him to cry was an understatement.

“I just don’t think I’m good for you,” I said simply, unable to look him in the eyes. Maybe I should cry too, so it could look like it hurt me too.

“That’s your excuse?” he said back, voice trembling.

“Do you want a list? I thought you could see everything that’s wrong with me!” I told him, genuinely confused as to why he couldn’t see it my way. “I never call you, you’re always planning the dates, I’m really closed off, I don’t like to do the things you like to do.”

“Well, there’s always time to work on that! I know you’ve got things going on, but that doesn’t mean that this can’t work.” He stepped towards me, offering his hands. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”

I took a step back, folding my arms. “It was never you. Everything is on me.”

Derek scoffed. “Are you really pulling that card?”

Now it just felt like everything I was saying was the wrong thing. How could I get him to leave me alone?

“You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“I don’t want anyone else!”

How in the shit-

“Can you just ignore the negative thoughts in your head for one moment and just let someone take care of you?” Derek asked, frustrated.

No. I guess I can’t.

“I just need to be by myself for a while,” I concluded.

“You're just shutting yourself away!” he snapped. “You think you can do things by yourself but you can't! You're never gonna be happy if you don't let people in!”

I have let one person in. It backfired horribly.

One thing I liked about Derek was that he wasn't consumed by the toxicity of Hollywood. He was a nobody from a small town in Northern California. He was never interested in celebrity gossip and pop culture. The only thing he used the Internet for was Netflix and video games. Long story short, he didn't hear about my “scandals” through the grapevine, he heard them from me. I thought it would drive him away, but instead it just made him stay, and I didn't get it.

But if he had some inkling on who I was or who my ex was, it would be easier to understand why I was doing this. It bothered me that I knew why I was doing this. I guess Barb was right: I shouldn't have thrown myself into dating so soon. All I've done now is hurt a person who didn't deserve it.

4 years ago.

“I still have feelings for my ex. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please don't contact me again.”

As soon as I sent that text, I grabbed my wallet and car keys and threw my hungover ass out the door. My heart was beating like it had just come back to life. I got in the car and pulled out of the driveway, hauling ass to the hotel I was supposed to go to.

It had been a long four months of being… mostly single. My heart had been shattered when Tom called and decided that he didn't want to do the long distance thing anymore. Of course there was crying and yelling, if he had been within my reach I would have thrown something at him. It was sudden and painful to know that the thing that kept me going wasn't there anymore.

What did I do? Publicly, I went through a dramatic change in style. I cut my hair, wore darker makeup, and I did a Playboy photoshoot butt naked. I walked in Paris Fashion Week. I was booking more and more projects than I ever had. Privately, I went to the closest bar and let someone put their hands all over my body. I woke up in a different stranger's bed almost every morning until one particular stranger stuck around. Their name was erased from my brain as soon as Tom messaged me saying he wanted to see me.

My mind was cloudy from leftover liquor and thoughts of Tom, making it hard to focus on the road. Several people honked at me, to which I stuck my middle finger out the window. My phone was buzzing like crazy, and I wasn't sure if it was my new ex, my old ex, or Nancy. I was too anxious to check, until I was at a stoplight.

I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and looked at the notifications. A short text from the new ex. “Ok lol let me know when you're over it.” Then the light turned green.

I still looked through my phone as I drove. Nancy sent me a voice clip.

“Why did you leave your house? You're supposed to stay out of the public eye for now. Call me when you can.”

Oh yeah, I had a bit of a “scandal” not too long ago. I drank too much at a bar and yelled some obscenities at the same time someone had their phone camera on. My “poised and professional” image was tainted, so the best option was to just stay under the radar. I wasn't good at following the rules, so Nancy got access to the security cameras outside my house, and if I did anything reckless, she would call someone to handle me.

Today was one of those days, but I had a valid reason.

“Tom is in town! I have to see him!” I yelled into my phone as I swerved in and out of lanes. “I'm also a little hungover, so let it be know that I'll probably die for the dick!”

Hopefully it would be good news to Nancy that I'm linking up with someone who was the epitome of purity and goodness in the eyes of practically the entire world. It would either make me look better or Tom look bad. Either way, people would be talking about us. None of this was real, right?

I got to the hotel. Tom had told me over text that someone would be waiting for me in the lobby. I parked and got out of the car. If anyone had followed me, then it would be known in a few hours that Tom Holland and his ex girlfriend were seen together at his hotel in Los Angeles.

That didn't matter.

A security guard in the lobby recognized me, and he escorted me to the top floor of the hotel. My heart was stuck in my throat, and my stomach was turning uncomfortably. Holy shit, this was happening.

The security guard opened the door for me, and I stepped inside the room. I almost vomited out my heart and lungs just from seeing Tom sat in the armchair across the room. I stepped towards him, trying and failing to keep myself calm and collected. My nerves were painted all over my face.

I walked down the small hallway, passing the bathroom. I was at a loss for words.

Tom looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stood up and walked towards me as well.

The bathroom door opened from behind me, acting as the record scratch to kill the moment. I turned around to find a beautiful woman who I instantly recognized emerging from the toilet.

She was in sweats, her curly hair in an unkempt bun, and not a spec of makeup was on her face. She was stunning and radiated beauty. Her presence also made my stomach drop down to my feet and my blood run cold.

Zendaya was just as surprised to see me, given that she stopped dead in her tracks. Her pretty eyes went wide, and she just stood there for a second. Surely she had to know who I was. She had to know what this meant.

She quickly composed herself. “Alright, I'm out.” And she turned on her heel and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, I turned back to Tom. He had a guilty look on his face.

“What was the point of getting me over here?” I asked, feeling dumber and dumber by the second.

“I miss you,” he told me.

“Why was she here?”

“She's my friend.”

I narrowed my eyes. I looked at the bed, the unmade sheets. Then I practically dived for the mattress, which made Tom go a little crazy.

“No!” he yelled as he grabbed me around the waist.

I reached for something to get away, but I only got ahold of the duvet. I thrashed and tried to elbow my way out of his hold, but he was strong. The duvet was pulled back as Tom manhandled me, and I saw what I needed to see.

A tiny bit of red lace under the sheets said more than enough.

“You cheated!” I cried out. “You fucking cheated!”

Tom pushed me against the wall, trying to hold my flailing arms down. “Hey, hey, listen to me!”

“You asshole! You piece of shit!” I yelled in his face. I angrily pounded on his chest with my fists, tears coming out of my eyes.

He grabbed my wrists and cornered me. “Shut up!”

That worked. I froze in my place, now feeling small and trapped.

“I did not cheat, we've been broken up, remember?” he said harshly. “I called you here to tell you that I live here now, and I wanted to work things out.”

I sniffed and tilted my head. “H-Here?”

“Well, not here. My flat isn't ready yet, not for another day. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I've missed you, and I shouldn't have let you go.”

“You're so full of shit. You expect me to believe that when you've got Zendaya’s underwear in your bed?!”

He didn't try to deny it. “What, like you haven't slept with anyone else? She was the only one!”

“So you basically moved on.”

“I tried, but I couldn't. I made a mistake.” He loosened his grip on my arms, and his expression softened. “I love you, only you. I understand if you don't believe me, but it's true. I just want to be with you.”

He gave me those puppy eyes and kissed my hands. He brought my hands to his chest, making me feel his heartbeat.

“I don't believe you,” I said honestly. That was the most honest I would be today.

Why would he want me again? What was it about me that made him pick me over every other person he's probably seen? I wasn't anything worth fighting for. He made that clear only a few months ago.

Tom leaned in and softly kissed my cheek. “Please…” He kissed my jaw. “What do I have to do?”

“Stop talking to her,” I said without missing a beat. I hadn’t even finished the thought before it spilled out of my mouth.

That made him lean back, surprised. “Seriously?”

“I know. I don't like being against other women but… if I see you with her again… I don't know what I'll do.” I paused. “And you can't go out to bars and places like that unless I'm with you.”

“Babe, come on…” He took a step back and thought for a second. “If I can't hang out with my friends, then you're not allowed to hang out with Nessa.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Don't give me that look. She's got you doing all sorts of stupid shit!”

“Oh, like you've never done stupid shit with your friends!”

“Well, I can't anymore because I'm not allowed!”

I pushed him away. It was pointless to come here.

“Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't do it!” Tom called after me as I walked towards the door. When I ignored him, he went after me.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall again. This time, he kissed me on the mouth. For a split second, I fought back, not wanting anything to do with him. But he was just so enticing and delicious that my body quickly gave in, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I did miss the feeling, after all. There was nobody like Tom.

Next thing I knew, he was lifting me up by my legs and holding me up against the wall. His hips fit perfectly against mine, and his touch was getting a lot more addicting. I gripped the back of his head with one hand and dug my nails into his back with the other, not wanting to let go. His hands felt up my ass and pulled me in even closer. I missed this, I missed it when it was from Tom.

But then he stopped. He put me down and stepped back. He was breathless, but he looked at the floor.

“Why…?” I whispered, now left wanting more. Was this not what I came here for?

“Let’s save this for when I’m in my new place,” he suggested. “This room has gone through enough as it is.”

I glanced at the bed behind him. I could still see the red lace. Now I could understand why these things happened. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything, simple as that. He did what he had to do to move on, but it seems that it didn’t work, and that was baffling. Why would he pick me over someone like Zendaya?

“So, where are we at now?” I asked.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?” he replied.

“Good idea.” Everything he said sounded like a good idea.

I went back home with the promise that I would see him later. My legs felt like jelly as I walked through my front door, and my head was spinning with lovesickness. For the first time in a while, I felt content. I had a smile on my face as I threw my shoes off and dropped my bag on the floor.

I went out to the backyard and sat by the pool, scrolling on my phone. The outside world - cyber and physical - seemed so weird now that my little world with Tom was building up again. It was like nothing else mattered.

I felt a small snap of reality when Nessa texted me. My stomach sank a little bit because I remembered the deal I had made. So now I was stuck with a choice.

“We still on for tonight??”

What happening tonight? What was I supposed to tell her? I tried to type, but the screen froze and my phone grew hot. Then, the device restarted on itself, leaving me with the black Apple screen.

“God decided for me, I guess,” I said as I placed my phone on table.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my front door, followed by it opening. I sat up, completely distracted from my thoughts, and I watched Nancy and Charlotte enter the vicinity. Neither of them looked happy. In fact, they both looked incredibly pissed off.

“You are an irresponsible woman with no regard for the rules!” Charlotte yelled. Guess there was no time for a greeting. “You had specific instructions to not leave the property and what do you do? You get photographed outside Tom Holland's hotel in West Hollywood! Not only that, you were also seen almost causing a crash on the 405! Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“I have a boyfriend again,” I replied softly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment.

“You're talking about Tom?” Nancy asked, and I nodded. “And you didn't consult with us? If you wanted to do another PR-”

“It's not PR!” I snapped as I stood up from the couch. “Some of these relationships in Hollywood are real, you know! He wanted to see me!”

Nancy was about to retort, but her phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “Ah, it's your boyfriend's publicist! Can't wait for this conversation!” She answered and went into the kitchen.

“You were supposed to wait for the public to stop talking about the bar incident before stepping outside again,” Charlotte scolded. “You were supposed to speak to one of us before leaving!”

I shrugged. If I hadn't gone to the hotel, what would have happened? Tom probably would have continued to fuck Zendaya, and maybe I would have slept the whole day.

“He's a sweetheart and I have to look better in front of the world,” I said simply. Maybe if I put it in her terms, she would come around. “It'll work. And if not, he and I can see each other privately.”

“But you've already seen each other publicly, that's the problem!”

I rolled my eyes. Enough was enough. “Someone loves me! Tom still loves me! I'm not just gonna give that up!”

“God, you're just as irrational as you were the day he left you,” Charlotte grumbled.

At that moment, the rage boiled over and I was a hair away from slapping her across the face. My hand jerked halfway up to do so, but Nancy entered the room again, cutting the tension.

“I have some things to go over,” she announced, oblivious to the air in the room.

“What'd they say?” I asked, masking my anger.

“They think yours and Tom's reputations balance each other out. You'll make him look more mature and grown, and he'll make you look responsible and down-to-earth,” she explained. “There will be a couple of PR outings where the two of you will act like friends and nothing more. We'll leave the rest for the fans to speculate.”

“Well, I'm seeing him either way, so…” I mumbled.

“But you need to behave yourself in public. No more bars and parties, alright?” Nancy said with a warning tone.

“Got it.”

_____

next.

#tom holland x oc #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #ah writes #gdy fic #album: hopeless fountain kingdom by halsey #i dont do tag lists!#finally a chapter that isnt short as hell #still kinda sad af #i may have put too many personal things in here but that doesnt matter!!!#enjoy mr hoeland and his ladys unhealthy solutions to their problems #remember kids: it only goes downhill from here

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danceclubcrickets · 6 years

Text

Alright, well, I’ma get 2018 going by running with this moment of confidence and stupidity I am in right now, and posting a story of mine here.

This is just a quick little excerpt with two of my characters, Reid and Cori. I just thought I’d like to prove that I do in fact have characters that I write stories about, and I don’t just sit around making up names and saying that these characters, like, TOTALLY EXIST, y’all, and I have SO many stories for them, but idk I left them all in Canada or smth

I don’t really like my own writing style, tbh. When I read it back to myself, it just sounds like “this character did this. this character felt that.” and I don’t really know how to improve it that much, so hey, advice-givers, give it if you got it. I’ve been trying to read well-written stuff, and learn from it without copying it, but idk how well I managed to pull it off, lol.

(Just as an aside, the fact that New Year is mentioned is purely coincidental. It’s just canon that at this point in the story, Reid doesn’t speak to Cori for a long time and then they reunite sometime in the dead of winter basically)

So here it is, a short bit about a guy and his skeleton friendo, and a pretty good summary of what most of my writing is like (i.e. poorly-written angst and h/c). Enjoy—I’ll be off to the side, steeping my bones in regret. XD

The Last Person Expected

“Cori, can you stop clicking, please?”

Cori mumbled an apology for her nervous habit and stuffed her hands in her pockets, the sound of her finger joints muffled by the fabric of her winter coat. She had four layers of clothing on underneath, as well as a face mask pulled up to her nasal bone—her usual cold-weather attire. During the Winter, she often got asked if skeletons get cold, and she had to repeatedly explain that yes, they do, but not as much as people with skin, and she mostly just wears layers so she looks slightly less skeletal.

Today, it was to cut down on the number of Grim-Reaper-related remarks, because these were not the remarks she wanted to hear while out on a mission of charitable goodwill. (“Ghost of Christmas Future” also seemed to be a favorite, even though the holiday had come and gone, and while she understood the comparison, she hated that she was perceived as terrifying and gloomy.)

The Clarendon family had the tradition of heading into the more run-down parts of Chamber City–the parts that the Clarendon parents tended to serve in volunteer medical clinics—and handing out “Basics Bags,” containing things like razors, combs, toothbrushes, first aid, and other essential items. They did it whenever they could, but they always made sure to at least do so after the holidays were over, after the cold weather had truly set in, but most of the other well-wishers and do-gooders had vanished.

This was the first time that Cori had participated since she became a skeleton. Her mom, Vera, hummed thoughtfully and set the radio to scan for a station. “I thought you enjoyed doing this every year,” she said to Cori.

“Yeah, that was before I looked like this!” Cori gestured to her face, and even though it was half-hidden by fabric, her point was clear. “Now I terrify small children.”

“Well, fortunately, Corsiva, it’s not about what you look like,” Vera replied. “It’s difficult to be too terrified in the face of a person giving you a gift, right?”

Cori leaned her skull against the car window, fogging it ever-so-slightly when she exhaled. “You underestimate the superstitious public.” She figured her mom was just trying to cheer her up with that question, but the attempt fell flat.

Sure enough, when they got to their first street, a mother and a child both cringed away from her as she handed them a bag. She smiled, then realized half her face was covered—so she simply struck as non-threatening a pose as possible, laid the bag on the ground, wished them a nice day, and walked back to her mom’s car.

“See, told ya,” she muttered.

“It’s okay,” Vera said with a hand-wave. “You’re still starting off the new year by doing a good deed, no matter what you look like.”

And so they went, parking on the numbered streets and walking down the named ones to hand out Basics Bags. Cori got mixed reactions as the days went on—some people were thankful, some were rude, some cracked jokes, and some didn’t say much of anything at all.

Cori saw a lot of people her own age, and while they tended to just be grateful and say “thank you,” it still surprised her just how much of her generation seemed to not have a roof over their heads. She used to think that handing out these bags was making a significant difference in the world, and it was probably making a significant-ish difference to those people specifically, but now it made her wonder.

Toward the end of their second-to-last road, she spotted a young man sitting in front of a pile of black trash bags. His head was down and his legs were crossed, hands laying limply in his lap. He didn’t stir as she approached, and didn’t wake until she addressed him directly.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said as quietly as possible, and his eyes sprung open immediately. He leaned back and looked around a little before his eyes settled on her. She held a bag out, leaning forward and doing her best to look friendly. “My family and I make these bags every year and give them out. Would you like one?”

His eyes widened in shock, or perhaps disbelief. Oh good, Cori thought, I’ve scared another one. Great. Wonderful. “It’s okay, I’m not as scary as I look,” Cori sighed, trying and failing to keep the resignation out of her tone. “Can I just leave this here with you?”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes narrowed a little, like he was trying to figure her out—an expression she was not unaccustomed to seeing. “It’s a Basics Bag,” she explained, and her face mask slipped off her nasal bone as she looked down. She didn’t bother fixing it. “It has a lot of useful stuff in here—first aid, shaving cream and a razor, a spare toothbrush, a roll of quarters for laundromats and—”

“Cori?”

“Huh?” She hardly heard him, because she was talking and his voice was very soft, but she was certain she’d just heard him say her name. She stopped talking and lowered the bag to her side.

“Cori,” he murmured again, even quieter this time.

“Um… yeah.” Cori’s metaphorical stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected to encounter anyone who knew her. “Do I know y—“

Before she could even finish the word, she realized who she was talking to. Her jaw fell open, and she dropped the bag she was holding. Even though his clothes were tattered, he was covered in dirt and grime, and he had lost a lot of weight, his face was unmistakable, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him sooner. She felt like she’d been struck by lightning.

“Reid?”

She sank to her knees, putting herself at eye-level with him. The sidewalk was damp, and murky pavement-water soaked right through her pants and onto her kneecaps. It didn’t matter. The only thing currently mattering was the fact that Reid Blackburn, who she hadn’t heard a peep from in nearly a year, was sitting in front of her, in a state she never would have expected to see him in.

Reid cast his eyes downward. He seemed… afraid? Perhaps just hesitant. Maybe embarrassed? Cori reached out to try and hold one of his hands in an attempt to comfort him, momentarily forgetting his fear of touch—he yanked his arms away and gave a soft whimper, refusing to look her in the eyes, seemingly bracing himself. Cori’s head swam with shock, confusion, fear… mostly confusion.

“Reid,” she asked gently, trying to hide her growing panic. “What are you doing here?”

He said nothing.

“How long have you been out here?”

Still nothing. His brow furrowed and he bit down on the inside of his lip.

Cori tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay?”

And with that, whatever energy was keeping him upright seemed to vanish, and he caved in on himself, quietly sobbing.

Cori leaned back on her leg, feeling slightly frantic. “Okay, um… I think we should… hm. My mom is just up the street… she’s waiting for me to come back. How about you and I go talk to her?”

Reid shook his head, shrinking further and folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, I can’t let you stay out here.” Cori planted her palms on the ground and looked up into Reid’s face. “You can at least come have dinner with us, right?”

Reid kept his head down, but he did at least meet Cori’s gaze, and tentative relief swept across her face. “Right?” she repeated.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh my g- …Reid, it’s not an intrusion. I am not about to just leave my best friend alone in a pile of garbage,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice, as she reached out and took Reid gently by the wrist. “You are coming with me, and I am not taking no for an answer.”

The fact that Cori called Reid her “best friend” took him off-guard, and his eyes welled up anew. He flinched when Cori touched him, but didn’t pull away, and Cori sprang up and helped him to his feet.

“Come on,” she said, motioning to an SUV in the distance. “That’s my mom’s car, just there. Let’s go talk to her.”

Reid sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes, still not speaking, allowing himself to be dragged along by the arm as the two walked back to the car together. Cori could feel him quivering in her grip, and her jawbone was clicking from the force of holding back all her questions. How did this happen? What even happened, for Reid to get to this point? Why didn’t he ask her for help earlier, like he did the last time they saw each other?

Where are his brother and sisters?

Click, click, click. Questions for another time, perhaps.

When they got to the SUV, Cori raised a gloved hand and tapped on the window.

“Ran out of bags?” Vera asked as the glass lowered.

“Actually, uh, it’s… not that.” Cori gave Reid’s arm a light tug, bringing him within view of her mother. “Do you think Reid can stay for dinner tonight?”

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renrutnnej · 7 years

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I never wanted to be a mother

Oh boy, the miracle of birth and whatnot!

I’m really bad at absolutes. For example, as long as I can remember I’ve told people I never wanted to be a wife or a mother. As a little girl I remember looking at both jobs and being like, “Nah.”

My daughter was not my first pregnancy. The first time I was en-wombed was in university and I was a freshman who in the short span of six months time was sexually assaulted, and entered into a volatile physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Because of some mental health problems and a total lack of self esteem, I didn’t see either of these things in their correct light, I just thought my first year away from home was a real education in female adulthood.

Fortunately my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Is it weird or wrong to say that? I don’t think so. I was 19 and had already chipped a front tooth from being punched in the face by my boyfriend. So when I think about that time in my life, I don’t feel any guilt. Also I didn’t know I was pregnant until it was too late and what I thought was the worst period of my life was actually a miscarriage.

This gave me the impression that my physical person was a hostile environment to children. It proved that I knew I could and would not be a mother, ever.

—

To talk about my daughter’s birth, I have to set the stage, which in retrospect I’ve always described as an unfortunate series of events, but now I realize fully how incomplete and lacking in good substance my life would have been without her. I have to look at these events as exactly the way things were supposed to happen.

First, I could not find a writing job out of college (I graduated with a degree in English literature, lucrative I know). All of my self esteem issues came to a head and I resigned myself to the fact that I had been posing in college as a person with ambition when really I was going to end up staying a small town person working retail or as another’s administrative assistant or something.

Second, my sister graduated from college the following year and decided to move to Las Vegas. Through zero seconds of trying to convince me I decided to come along. Also our parents were already living there (they had moved while we were both in university).

This new start inspired me and I decided to do something completely different with my life. I was going to change the world by joining the Peace Corps. Whoa, except that stipend does NOT even come close to covering my credit card bills and student loans. Umm, backup plan, I was going to change the world by teaching English in South America, somewhere like Argentina or something. In the meantime I had to save up for this adventure so I took the first job I could, in retail.

Third, sexism has pissed me off for a long time. Growing up tomboy really instilled an (arguably ignorant) type of jealous competitiveness in me. Anything they can do, I can do better, or in the very least I can do it too. So when my male peers (retail managers) were having relationships with younger employees, I decided to too. I’m a modern woman, and cougars were like definitely a thing by then. I started hooking up with a very hot, barely legal (but also very legal), sales associate.

Next, in a few months time my sister moved to Seattle and my parents moved back to Washington state. They moved me into my own apartment on Warm Springs and back home to Richland in the same weekend. Finally I was a modern woman living in Las Vegas, with her lifelong companion cat (i.e., cat I picked out when I was 6 years old) Beauty, making it happen.

Just kidding, I got pregnant.

—

Getting pregnant a second time was a complete shock. And by that I mean, I thought it was impossible. As in, not even within the realm of possibility.

I’d been having some lady troubles for sometime and since my sister had had Exorcist level kidney stone problems I went to the doctor right away for fear. The doctor confirmed what I had known since I was 19. Well, almost. She said it appeared that my symptoms might be an indication that I was infertile. Twenty-four year old me: duh. But they still had to run the tests.

Getting pregnant brought intricate complexity and mind-numbing simplicity to my life. Having to tell the parents of my 18 year old (now boyfriend, ugh) that I was pregnant was terrifying. Having to tell my parents, worse.

No more changing the world.

No more Argentina.

No more writing.

No more freedom.

I had just fast tracked my path to wife and mother by being a “modern woman” making things happen.

No more infertility, what the hell?

And since this was clearly a miracle baby, getting rid of her never once entered my mind. This was obviously a baby Jesus type situation.

We moved from Vegas to Kansas City with his family. To say it politely, my parents weren’t pleased by my condition and the distance did us both a lot of good (I told myself). His family, on the other hand, were very happy and excited by the baby’s coming. At least they always gave the very genuine appearance of being so. I was less excited.

Actually I was the most depressed I’d been in my life at that point. I knew my body was a hostile place to fetuses so what the heck!?

I absolutely could not imagine the whole exit strategy of my situation. Instead I imagined death.

I took lots of time to myself and wrote pages and pages of tear-stained journals I can’t bear to read now. I slept as much as I could. I was mourning my death while I was still alive, growing a life inside of me.

Also I had to get rid of my cat, what the fuck.

—

I knew I was never meant to be anyone’s mother and so I was positive I would carry this baby to term and die during labor, and she would be cared for by this warm and loving family. And I would die young like I’d always predicted. Well, youngish.

My OBGYN became worried by my morbid questions about death rates.

I refused to have a baby shower or anything resembling a baby shower because I couldn’t imagine celebrating the event that was going to kill me.

My lamaze class teacher asked me stop asking questions about worst case scenarios because I was scaring the other mothers.

—

Working in retail brought about what I felt to be appropriate levels of shame and self-hatred.

Strangers, assuming me to be much younger than I was, made completely hideous comments about me and my baby, and my education (lol, right). I was constantly touched and given advice by strangers, interrogated regularly.

My retail district was close to a particularly violent one regarding shoplifters. Other managers in my store had been maced or stabbed with the tools shoplifters brought into stores to break off the security tags. One day I found the equivalent of a shiv in the front room of my store and went into the stockroom and had a complete mental and emotional break down imagining approaching the wrong customer just one time.

I felt I deserved this, though it enraged me. This was my penance.

My hormones surged. I snuck as many drinks of wine at family dinners as I could. (Sorry baby, but red wine is delicious). I had nightmares about delivering babies with heads shaped like deflated basketballs, or delivering piles of bloody guts. I obsessed over my single friends awesome lives (aka highlight reels) on Facebook.

It made me bitter that I had to die. I became resentful of my baby’s father, even though he tried his best with me. He wanted to marry me and have more kids, be a dad. I knew she’d be okay. Hopefully he’d marry someone who wasn’t anything like me or that evil stepmom bitch in Cinderella.

I’d end up letting him name her. I chose her middle name, Violet.

—

It began one Sunday night, after a large steak dinner (with red wine) at his parents. I kept feeling like I had to poop really bad every twenty minutes. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep. By 1am I was on the toilet trying to push steak out and when I saw drops of blood, I freaked out. IT’S TIME! I screamed.

He sprung into action. What do we bring? Spoiler alert, I hadn’t even packed a “go” bag because I never planned on coming back.

We listened to Jason Mraz on the short drive to the hospital. God, this is the last song I’m ever going to hear. I focused on the words and tried to clear my mind of pushing all of my guts out.

When we got to the hospital, they did some tests and I wasn’t far enough along. Maybe this is a fake out, and I can go home and go to bed. No, the nurse told me, you’ll progress it just takes a little time.

Another nurse came in and did a quick ultrasound to see the baby’s position. Her tone worried me, looks like this one’s a breach baby. You’ll have to adjust your birthing plan. Just knock me out, I sighed. Oh oops, those are the baby’s shoulders. I thought it was her butt. She was low and engaged, and I was fine. That fucking nurse.

So he walked me around the hospital corridors while I had the worst cramps of my life. I tried not to cry.

This is how it ends, me alone in the hospital, out in the midwest, without any of my friends or family, with this kid, and this other kid inside me.

Around 4am I finally reached a point where I could get pain meds and this other drug that would help my labor progress while I was medicated, but first they had to break my water. I was terrified of any more pain. They showed me what looked like a knitting needle that they’d insert to break the membrane. The nurse assured me, her name was Bridget by the way, that it was painless. I sobbed. Couldn’t they just knock me out. My knees clamped shut and I couldn’t keep from trembling.

But it was painless and suddenly I was sitting in a puddle of what just felt like warm pee. That was it, water broken. I felt like an idiot. The drugs came quickly after that and by 5am I had progressed to the point that I could get the one thing that was keeping me going through this whole ordeal: an epidural.

The anesthesiologist came in and sat me perpendicular to the gurney. He told me to sit still because he was putting a needle the length of a ruler down my spine. But the painkillers really got to me and I had to crack jokes about how the only thing separating my naked body from the doctors and nurses in that room was a piece of paper gown. My boyfriend looked white. I was already stoned.

Afterward, I was finally comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep quickly. Bridget came in once an hour on the hour and put her whole hand in my vagina to see how far down the head was. I didn’t like being woken up but I couldn’t really feel anything and Bridget was my best friend at that point.

Around 10:45am things picked up. My baby’s dad was downstairs eating breakfast with his family when Bridget told me I’d need to call him, I was almost at 10 centimeters. He came back with his mom and Bridget told me now when I felt the urge to push to do it.

I didn’t want to poop on the table and I couldn’t get up to like clear things out before I labored a baby so I gave some weak ass pushes. Bridget could tell.

I gave one hard push and she exclaimed, JUST LIKE THAT! But I saw his face and I knew I had pooped. The shame. But again, I was stoned so meh.

Strangely I had turned down the floor length mirror at the foot of the bed because I didn’t want to see myself die, but if the end was coming I really didn’t want to see it.

“Bridget can you take off your glasses? With the lights and everything I can see my vagina and I really just can’t right now.”

She did.

With his mom video recording the monumental eruption and destruction of my vagina, my first child was born at 11:25 am. The doctor, I don’t know when she showed up (?), put the blue, guts covered baby on my chest.

She was out. I had tried not to picture her before because I never wanted to let myself go down that road in my mind.

I looked at her. She looked at me. She was gross. But she was an alive thing with eyes who looked at me. She looked like she’d been freezing (she was blue) in bloody Cream of Wheat. Also she had pooped in utero and that was everywhere, super great.

I had nothing profound to say, so I said, “Oh my god, a baby.”

Then they whisked her away to clean her up and do all the baby tests. Everyone else left too.

My body got overtaken with waves of pregnancy hormones coursing through me while I delivered the placenta and my whole body convulsed as the pregnancy hormones left me. NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THE PLACENTA. Jesus.

The doctor began to clean up the volcanic eruption where my lower lady parts used to live. I knew I had felt a slight burning sensation during the birth, but I didn’t know it was a tear. I simply thought it was the slight onset of death.

It didn’t make sense to me that I was alive.

I had no plan for this. I didn’t even bring a nightgown.

Now what?

—

As of the time of my pregnancy, I can’t recall seeing any birth or pregnancy narratives that highlighted feelings like fear, depression, or general reservations without framing them them as fleeting blue aspects of an otherwise golden soft lit scenario. That’s not real life. I’m sharing my story, because even though I was certainly depressed, I don’t know that my feelings of doubt at the sudden onset of potential motherhood are all that uncommon.

When I share my true feelings and experience with friends, I often hear that other women are relieved by my candor. Dutiful, knowing mother is a trope to which I do not subscribe, and frankly, doesn’t reflect my experience at all. So I’m offering my story as just one against the many almost romantic Disney-esque birth and pregnancy stories. My daughter and I did not live happily ever after, and our relationship, just like any other, is one that has required hard work and patience (a lot of patience) but we’re both better for it.

This story originally appeared on Medium, April 3, 2016.

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