#life. im exhausted from a week’s worth of lack of sleep and i am also no where near done with three of my monday deadlines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meowmerson · 4 years

Note

Can you write a Tomione doctor AU? I’ve always thought it would be really cute if they were surgeons.

perhaps…………………a nurse/patient AU????????????? :)

(only because i was trying to think of a story for doctor tomione but my brain kept going back to this so i hope its ok, if it s not you can send me another ask DEMANDING A SURGEON AU and i promise i will brainstorm an idea)

(also uh im sorry i made it really long)

–

It’s the tail end of the night shift when she sees him, although the first time is fleeting. Fleeting, but not irrelevant.

He’s flanked by six guards from the prison. He looks like he’s in pain, and quite a lot of it. He’s wheeled in on a hospital bed to room 119 and she watches from the reception desk as he and his entourage of prison guards pass her by in almost slow motion.

“What timing,” Lavender said with a cheeky grin, “Your shift just ended. You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“Your idea of fun,” Hermione corrected, completing her chart for the night, “My idea of fun involves going home, having breakfast with my daughter, taking her to school, and going to sleep,” She put her pen down and smiled in the face of Lavender’s pout, “But enjoy the day shift with the clearly dangerous criminal.”

“Tell Rose I said hi,” Lavender said.

Hermione went home and did exactly as she said she would. She paid the babysitter, laid down in Rose’s bed for a moment before gently waking her. She smiled at her 3-year-old daughter across bowls of cheerios and listened to her talk about what she dreamt about the night before. Then she dressed Rose, brought her to pre-school, kissed her goodbye, and returned home. She fell asleep in her scrubs, and didn’t dream about the man flanked by prison guards.

–

Hermione worked nights for a few reasons. The biggest one was the amount of time she got to spend with her daughter - she could always skimp on sleep to spend more time with Rose, but she couldn’t exactly skip work, and if she only worked while Rose was sleeping (save for a few precious hours at night) it meant she would never need to miss a school play, a birthday party, pancakes on sundays, or pillow forts in their living room. She could see all of that.

Nights were quieter too. No visitors, some patients slept but some didn’t, Lavender only worked day shifts so Hermione only ever saw her for an hour at most if their shifts overlapped which was about as much of Lavender as she could take. And no visitors, god Hermione hated visitors.

She worked 3 nights a week, sometimes 4 if she needed the money and they had an overtime shift for her. She was always tired, always a bit stressed, and her hair had never looked worse than it did in motherhood, but it was all worth it for the time she got to spend with her daughter.

She had to remember that, when she had nights like this one.

“Apparently he hasn’t urinated in a week,” Neville said, “He had a pretty severe blatter infection and sepsis but is steadily getting better,”

“Why hadn’t he urinated?” Hermione asked, and Neville shrugged.

“They think it might be an escape plan, so uh,” he none-too-subtly leaned to the side to peer at the guards outside room 119, “They’re keeping an eye on him.”

“How is he?” She asked.

“Horrible,” He answered, “Right bastard, gave Lavender hell all day on his first day in, didn’t sleep all night, then we gave him to Minerva–”

“Well, surely she set him straight,” Hermione interjected.

Neville laughed, but there was no humor in it, “Yeah well, she handled it fine, but she also said if we give him to her as a patient again she’s going to retire.”

“Shit,” Hermione sighed. She thought of Rose, asleep in her bed and thought of seeing her in the morning and waking her up for breakfast, “So naturally you give him to me.”

“Well,” He shrugged, looking sheepish, “It was either you or me, so…”

“So you sweet-talked the charge nurse into giving you an easy night?” Hermione quirked a brow and Neville just grinned. Hermione sighed, picked up the chart, and turned to face Room 119.

There were only two guards now, not six, and they nodded at her as she entered.

Tom Riddle sat on the bed in a room of his own, he looked pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he fixed his eyes disconcertingly on her the moment she stepped through the door.

“My name is Hermione,” She said, putting gloves on at the door, “I’ll be your nurse tonight.”

“Is that so?” He asked. His voice was deep, but gravelly. He must be exhausted, she thought, if he truly hadn’t slept since he arrived.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, but before he could answer she added, “I hear you haven’t slept since–”

“How can I sleep?” He cut her off, “Sitting in a hospital bed with a new nurse every few hours asking me the same inane questions?”

Hermione paused, observed him for a moment. She had dealt with plenty of difficult patients, was used to biting her tongue and slapping a smile on her face. He kept staring at her with dark eyes, his jaw clenched, and she knew what she was in for.

“Well, Mr. Riddle,” Hermione said with a smile, “I will endeavor not to ask the same inane questions, then.” She stepped closer, made a vague gesture in his direction and asked, “May I?”

He was receiving fluids, antibiotics, seemed stable, she just needed to check his blood pressure to be sure. The fact that he obviously hadn’t slept wasn’t a good sign and certainly wouldn’t help in his recovery. He nodded once, tersely, and she glanced back at the guards at the door.

“Is it because of the guards that you won’t sleep?” She asked as she took his blood pressure. His brow twitched, but he didn’t look away from her face.

“If I said yes, would you take them away?” He asked her. She looked up from her work to meet his eye and tried to figure out if he was making a joke.

Either way she laughed, shook her head, and said, “I think we would both love that, but no, unfortunately not.”

His blood pressure was low, but according to his chart improving. It would probably help if he slept. She met his gaze, he was still watching her. “Your blood pressure is low.” She told him, “You should sleep.”

“I should sleep?” He echoed, his brow rose like he was talking down to a child, “Close my eyes, and dream?” He looked almost crazed, she thought. She wasn’t sure if that was the lack of sleep, the time he spent in prison, or maybe it was just who he was. Either way, she didn’t move - it was always better not to react when a patient became angry. “Let the medication take effect, while the rest of you skirt around me like an animal in cage–”

“Sir–” She interjected, but he spoke over her.

“While men with guns fantasize about the possibility of turning those very guns on me while I sleep and while I continue to be denied visitors that I would typically be allowed to see simply because I am unwell–” She sighed and made to move away as he worked himself up, but he grabbed her arm. She met his eyes again “–Don’t pretend to be concerned for my health, nurse,” He spat, “Shut your mouth, treat me, and keep your inane thoughts to yourself, lest I lose my temper.”

“Hey!” A guard from the door called, took a step into the room. Hermione held out a hand to stop him, “Miss–”

“Please let me do my job!” She said, turning to hold a hand out more firmly against the guard at the door. He hesitated, shifted his weight on his feet. “Return to your post, please.”

The guard very pointedly looked at the place where Mr. Riddle’s hand was on her arm. Hermione looked at that same hand, then back at the guard, and she hoped she was communicating every ounce of annoyance she felt in that stare.

The guard returned to his post.

Hermione’s gently pried Tom Riddle’s fingers from her arm. “It was merely a suggestion,” She said and met his eyes with a smile, “Stay awake if you wish.”

He was stable, so she turned to leave the room. The guard stopped her at the door. “Hey, uh–” He said, glancing into the room and back at her, “Could I get a sandwich?”

She looked him up and down.

“It’s just, we’ve been here all day, I’m pretty hungry.”

“No,” She snapped, “We don’t give sandwiches to the guards, they’re for the patients.”

“Well, he’s not going to eat it.” He said, gesturing toward Room 119 with his head. Hermione, taken aback, glanced into the room and saw Mr. Riddle’s eyes fixed on her before she looks back at the guard.

“Don’t ask me again,” She said, and walked away.

–

That night, she had Mr. Riddle with the temper and the armed guards, Mrs. Sprout with the lovely disposition recovering from a severe allergic reaction, and Mr. Crouch the drug seeker in the hospital for a broken leg who wouldn’t stop screaming for opiates, and Mr. Riddle’s stupid fucking guard who kept asking her for sandwiches.

It was a long night.

“What is he in for, anyway?” Padma asked, looking toward Hermione for an answer. She didn’t have to specify who - obviously she meant the one with the guards. Hermione shrugged - she really didn’t know.

“Like everything.” Neville said, pouring himself a coffee while Padma patiently awaited her cup. “He’s in jail for life for everything from selling weed to killing people and chopping them up.”

“No way,” Padma said.

“Yes way,” Neville took a sip from his coffee and shrugged, “You heard about him - he went by Voldemort.”

Padma gasped, turned and faced Hermione with wide eyes and a wide-open mouth, “Hermione, you’re treating Voldemort,”

“I’m treating a very irritable prison patient” Hermione corrected, “And not for the first time.”

“He was all over the news last year!” Padma said, clearly distressed, “He’s crazy - and I heard he didn’t piss for a week to be sent here, this is probably all his plan or–”

“Padma, drop it.” Hermione snapped. “There are two guards outside his room, a guard at the lifts, a guard at each stairwell and at the front entrance of the hospital. Mr. Riddle is in a hospital bed recovering from sepsis.” She stood up, “I suggest we all stop panicking and help him to recover, like it’s our job to do.”

She left the break room and glanced toward Room 119 and saw only one guard.

“Excuse me!” She called, hurrying toward the singular guard, “Excuse me,” She said again, peeking into the room. Mr. Riddle was still awake, watching her as she appeared in the doorway. She looked at the guard, “Where the hell is the other one?”

“Miss, please calm down.” The guard said.

“Where is he?” She asked again, “Where has he gone - doesn’t he have a job to do?”

“He stepped away for a moment.”

“Stepped away where?” She demanded.

“Calm down, nurse,” A voice said, and she turned her head to see the guard approaching with a sandwich in his hand.

“Where did you get that?” She asked quietly, a familiar feeling of annoyance mixed with rage in her chest, the kind that only comes after a long night of work on very little sleep.

“The vending machine downstairs.” He said, shrugging. He started to open the package, but Hermione snatched it out of his hands.

“This nurse has a name,” She said, “It’s Hermione Granger, and I expect you to use it. And no one,” She lifted the sandwich to eye level, right in his face, “Is going to be eating any sandwiches here except for Mr. Riddle, as he is the patient. The rest of us will do our jobs and eat when we’re done.”

The guard laughed, “Okay, okay, just give me back the–” He reached for it and she snatched it away. His smile fell off his face.

She marched into the room, tearing open the package and thrusting it toward Mr. Riddle in his bed.

“He doesn’t want it!” The Guard protested.

“Yes he does,” Hermione snapped, and turned back toward Mr. Riddle in the bed, who was staring oddly at her. “Don’t you, Mr Riddle?”

He just stared at her. She thought maybe he would have another temper tantrum and start yelling. “Take it,” She encouraged gently, “Please.”

To her surprise, he did. He took the sandwich and took a bite, watching her all the while.

She smiled.

“There,” She said, turning back toward the guard, “Don’t leave your post again or I will inform your superior.”

She left the room, grateful that Mr. Riddle didn’t have another one of his outbursts this time.

Her shift was nearly over anyway.

–

When she returned home, she laid down in Rose’s bed minutes before she was meant to wake.

“Mummy?” Rose murmured.

“Good morning,” Hermione whispered.

“I dreamed you were a kangaroo.” Rose said. Hermione laughed.

“Were you a Joey?” Hermioned asked.

“No,” She said, “I’m a Rose.”

Hermione laughed again, “A Joey is a baby kangaroo,” She explained.

“Oh,” Rose said, and then, “Can we have cheerios?”

Hermione loved these moments more than anything.

She watched Rose over bowls of Cheerios again. She would gladly spend every morning, every moment like this. She thought of the loneliness she felt when she first found out she was pregnant, the boundless love she felt when she held her in her arms for the first time, the feeling in her chest like she was going to explode with happiness when the nurse handed over her baby, wrapped in a white blanket.

She dreamed of a life where she could have this always, no interruptions.

–

She returned to work the next night.

“Why the hell do I have Riddle again?” She asked when she looked at the assignments for the night. Lavender was there, the tail end of her shift, and she raised her eyebrows and looked away. “What?” Hermione pressed.

Minerve spoke up, “He asked for you.”

“He what?” Hermione balked.

“Fucking screamed about it,” Lavender muttered, “I tried to bring him something to help him sleep and he slapped it out of my hand and said he wouldn’t take anything from the hand of a whore.”

“He said what?”

“He’s crazy,” Lavender said, “Fucking crazy, good luck Hermione, you’ll need it.”

And she left like that, clearly furious. Hermione looked to Minerva, but Minerva said nothing, simply raised her eyebrows in the way she always did and left to start her rounds.

The guards outside the room were different than the night before. They nodded to her as she entered. Mr Riddle watched her, looking more tired than ever.

“Miss Granger,” He greeted.

“Mr. Riddle,” Hermione replied, smiling, “I heard you were asking for me.”

“You’re my favorite nurse.” He said.

“Already?” Hermione asked, “Well, it sounds like you aren’t giving anyone else much of a chance.”

“I liked seeing you with McLaggen yesterday.” He said. Hermione wasn’t sure what he meant, and that must have shown on her face, because he said, “The guard.”

“Ah,” She nodded, and added, “You know, this version of you doesn’t exactly match up with the man who apparently slapped medication out of a nurse’s hand and called her a whore.”

“That nurse,” Riddle said as Hermione read over his chart and set about checking his vitals, “goes between speaking to me like I’m a child, and speaking to me like I’m a war criminal.”

“Sometimes you act like both,” Hermione said.

Mr. Riddle snapped his eyes to meet hers, and it took that for her to realize he finally hadn’t been staring at her. But he was now. Hermione blinked, and then realized what she just said.

“I hope you won’t start slapping me and calling me a whore.” She said, a poor attempt at a joke.

He smiled then, and it struck her that despite the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes, despite his pale skin and gaunt cheeks he really was sinfully handsome. “You wouldn’t like that?” He asked.

“No,” Hermione said firmly, and trying to change the subject she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” He said, but before she could be too pleased by his cooperation, he continued, “But first I have a question.”

“Yes?” She prompted.

“How old are you?” He asked.

She smiled. Such a random question, such a strangely serene patient. “I’m 27.”

“You look older,” He said, and she couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh. “I don’t mean any offense,” He continued, “I mean that you don’t hold yourself like most people your age.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The way you look. Like someone who has a large amount of responsibility and wisdom. A teacher, a scholar,” Hermione was taking her gloves off when he said, “Or a mother.”

She paused. She watched him for a long moment in silence. The guards stood silently outside the door.

“I apologize,” Mr. Riddle said, “I am only trying to make conversation.

“Are you a father?” She asked him, and he laughed. Twice she’d seen him smile now.

“No,” He said, “I never had time.”

She thought about what Padma and Neville said in the breakroom, thought about the armed guards at every exit. She wondered why he was asking her these questions, why he was here, why he had forced himself to become ill enough to end up in the hospital, she wondered…

“I have a daughter.” She admitted. Because here he was a man, receiving treatment, and she refused to treat him like an animal.

“Does she look like you?” He asked her, “Or her father?”

She smiled, a bit tightly, and didn’t answer.

He did a funny thing then - hie eyes narrowed just a bit, he tilted his head, and his mouth twisted in what wasn’t quite a smile but couldn’t be defined as anything else.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Hermione said, “Do you want something to help you sleep?”

“Not yet,” He said, “I don’t want to sleep while you’re here.”

Her stomach twisted at that, and she a strange, nervous feeling made her hands twitch, as if there was something humming just underneath her skin.

“I’ll bring you some food.” She said.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He said.

The guards watched her as she left the room.

–

He was the easiest patient she ever had.

He let her run his IV, administer the antibiotics, check his vitals, all without any complaints, just a few odd questions. He didn’t ask about her daughter again, perhaps because he noted that she became uncomfortable when he did. Instead, he asked what her parents did for a living, he asked where she was from, he asked irrelevant things like her favorite flower and how she took her tea.

He was much chattier than she expected him to be.

“Miss Granger,” Minerva said in the break room, using her surname as if she was a patient. She always did that. “How has Mr. Riddle been?”

“Fine, actually.” Hermione said. “The guards are more difficult than he is, although the ones tonight aren’t so bad. They’re quiet.”

Minerva raised a single eyebrow and said nothing else.

Hermione gave Tom Riddle a sleeping pill at the end of her shift, and he took it with a smile.

–

“Do you have to go?” Rose asked.

It was 7:00pm. The babysitter had just arrived and Hermione was dressed in her scrubs ready to go to work for the third night in a row and Rose was crying. Hermione brushed her daughter’s hair out of her face and felt her heart wrench.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said, “I’ll be back in the morning, just like always.”

“But I want you to read me a story,” Rose sniffled, snot running out of her nose. She wiped at it messily with the back of her hand. “I want you to read me a bedtime story.”

“I’ll read you a story in the morning, I promise.” Hermione said, “I’ll come back home, just like always, in the morning. When you wake up I’ll be right there next to you.”

She never once wished that Rose’s father was around - he didn’t even know he had a child, and Hermione would keep it that way - but in moments like this, she always wished she wasn’t alone. Maybe it would be easier that way.

Rose wouldn’t stop crying. Hermione had to shut the door on her crying and begging her mother not to leave.

–

“Again?” Hermione snapped as soon as she saw the assignments for the night. “Again? Seriously?”

“Stop complaining,” Lavender snapped, “Everyone knows he’s an angel with you.”

“Why are you still here?” Hermione snapped back, and Lavender glowered back at her.

“I’m just leaving,” She said, “He has given me hell ever since he woke up, so good fucking luck.”

She watched Lavender storm out, but the only thing she really took from that conversation was that he finally got some rest. She looked at Room 119, saw the guards outside the door. McLaggen, the annoying one, he still wasn’t there - it was the same guards from the night before.

She started toward the room, and the guards watched her closely as they always did. They nodded to her as she entered the room.

And she stopped short.

A tall, blonde man was sat by Mr. Riddle’s bed. He had one of Riddle’s hands clasped between his, and looked as if he was saying something quite passionately before Hermione interrupted.

Visitors weren’t allowed on the night shift.

Tom Riddle wasn’t meant to have visitors at all.

“What the hell is this?” Hermione asked, quietly, let the low tone of her voice fill the room that was silent except for the steady beating of Mr. Riddle’s heart monitor.

Tom Riddle blinked at her, and said nothing.

“No visitors.” She said firmly, and turned toward the guards, “Why the hell does he have a visitor?”

The guards looked at each other, and then her, and said nothing.

She turned toward the blonde man, feeling as if she was in a dream or on a TV show, something that couldn’t be real life, “Get out.” She snapped, “No visitors - what part of no visitors do you not understand? Who let you in here?”

“Nurse,” The blonde man snapped, holding up a finger as if to say ‘wait, one second, “Give us a moment.”

“No, I will not give you a moment.” Hermione snapped, “No visitors. Period. You need to leave.” She turned to the guards, “Excuse me?” She threw up her hands, hoping they would soon understand the ridiculousness of the situation. “Get him out.”

The guards walked in, finally, and said, “Sir, it’s time to leave.”

“No, it is not time to leave.” The blonde man snapped. He must come from money, Hermione thought, that was the only thing that would explain his tone. “We are having a private conversation, so if you don’t mind–”

“Abraxas,” Mr. Riddle interjected. “Do as Hermione asks.”

First, the blonde man - Abraxas - screwed up his face and looked at Mr. Riddle like he thought he was crazy. Then he looked at Hermione, and back at Tom. His expression changed, flattened out, like he suddenly understood something, then he turned his eyes back to Hermione and stared.

He just stared and stared, his expression unreadable, in a way that made Hermione acutely uncomfortable.

“Goodbye, sir,” She said, then turned to the guards and said, “Could you both do your job, please?”

“No need,” Abraxas said, his tone quieter, less snobby, less snippy. “I’ll see myself out.”

He reached down and clasped Mr. Riddle’s hand once more, but said nothing. Then he left.

Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to shut the anger away. She felt on edge tonight, it started with the way she left her daughter and was only made worse with all this bullshit. She turned on the guards again, who were returning to their post.

“No visitors.” She snapped, “At all.”

One of the guards nodded tersely. Neither said anything.

She turned back to Mr. Riddle, who was watching her patiently from his bed.

She shouldn’t mention it to him. She knew he could get nasty, she shouldn’t try his temper, she should try to have a nice night at work, but she couldn’t help herself. “You know you aren’t allowed visitors.” She said.

“I know.” He agreed, “I apologize. He always visited me in custody - it is a wasted effort to try and explain to him that anything should be different here.”

“Seems its a wasted effort to explain anything to him at all.” Hermione snarked, pulling on her rubber gloves. Mr. Riddle chuckled.

“You aren’t wrong,” He agreed, and watched her very closely as she approached the bed, “You seem agitated.”

“How are you feeling?” She asked, ignoring his observation.

“I am steadily improving,” He said, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing just fine,” She said, moving to take his blood pressure. He caught her arm, far more gentle than the last time he touched her.

“Hermione,” He said her name quietly, reverently, it made her stop in her tracks for a moment. “I can tell that you aren’t.”

She met his eyes then. She had no desire to entertain whatever delusions he was experiencing, whatever it was he thought was going on here. She wanted to get on with her job and return home to her daughter and let him be dragged back to prison.

“I am frustrated that the patients of this hospital are incapable of following basic instructions, and concerned about how incapable the guards outside your room seem to be at doing their job.” She said, “I would like to check your vitals, and then go about my job. I have patients other than you, Mr. Riddle.”

His jaw clenched. He let go of her arm.

She went about her business, and he let her. No questions, no comments, no interruptions. It felt strange, charged, she found that she preferred it when he asked her odd questions.

Abruptly, she felt guilty. Not because she felt like Mr. Riddle didn’t deserve to be told off, because she believed that he did. But it was her job to be his nurse, not anything else, and she had no business telling him off when he was being nothing but polite. She always hated the idea of someone being treated like a burden, or an animal, or anything other than a person in need of human interaction, and who was she to tell off the patient when it was the guards and the nursing staff who allowed it to happen in the first place?

“My daughter,” She said after a long stretch of silence, “She was crying when I left. I hate to leave her like that.”

“It must be difficult,” He said, not missing a beat, as if he was ready for her to break the silence. “Raising her on your own.”

“Yes,” She agreed, “It is. I wish I could be with her all the time.”

“You are a good mother.” He told her.

She stopped her work, raised her head to meet his eyes again. He was always staring at her so intensely, in a way that made her hair stand on end.

She couldn’t help herself when she asked him, “Why do you have armed guards all throughout the hospital guarding you?”

He smiled, “Because I’m a prisoner.” He told her.

“I can’t imagine you committing a crime so terrible you need to be brought in by six guards.” She admitted.

He smiled, and said nothing else.

And something about the way he looked away from her then, looked toward the guards, still smiling, like something about this whole situation was deeply amusing that made her think; it truly wasn’t so far fetched.

And remember the way he acted to people other than herself, remembering the way he somehow had a visitor with the permission of the guards and the nursing staff, she wondered why she had thought it was far-fetched, even for a minute.

She needed some air.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But not yet.”

A strange answer, but Hermione just nodded and left the room.

The guards, as always, watched her as she left.

–

Hermione researched Voldemort on her break.

Neville wasn’t wrong, he was in prison for life. He was found guilty on counts of Assault, kidnapping, theft, robbery, murder, and multiple drug charges. He was the kingpin for the Death Eaters, which as Hermione understood from the news she read, was an organized crime unit that participated in predominantly drug and arms trading.

If the hospital was an escape plan, as was the original concern, she wondered how someone like him could take so long to carry out his plan. She wondered why he was still there, sitting in his hospital room surrounded by prison guards, sitting patiently, as if he didn’t have any plan but to get well again.

She called the babysitter to check on Rose. She was asleep in her bed.

Hermione took a deep breath and returned to work.

–

“You don’t work tomorrow night.” Mr. Riddle said when she was checking on him after her break.

“No, I’m not.” Hermione said, “Did you ask someone if I was?”

“Yes,” He admitted, “You’re my favorite nurse.”

Hermione smiled. “Try not to call any other nurses whores and you should be just fine.”

“I can’t help it,” He said, “It does make me angry when I have a nurse who isn’t you.”

“That’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

“You know, we’ve met before.” He admitted, and that abruptly caught Hermione’s attention.

“What do you mean?” She asked, quietly, as if they were telling secrets.

He lowered his voice to match her tone, “Once, you looked after a gunshot wound for one of my friends,” Hermione furrowed her brow, shaking her head, she was sure she would remember meeting him. “Before that, a colleague who nearly lost their leg,”

“Mr. Riddle–”

“But that wasn’t the first time.” He continued. His gaze was decidedly intense now. Hermione felt helplessly caught up in it. “The first time, I came to the hospital on business.” He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, “You were a patient, and I was in the wrong room.”

She didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t remember.

“I held your daughter in my arms,” Hermione felt something heavy settle in her chest, something cold, “You were half asleep. You asked me to hand her to you, you didn’t know who I was. I realized I was in the wrong room but I couldn’t bear to leave.”

“Why were you there?” She asked, her voice was shaking slightly, try as she may to conceal it.

“I was waiting for someone,” He said.

“To threaten them with their baby in your arms?” She guessed. He had that strange expression again, his eyes slightly narrowed, his head tilted, and she knew she was right. “What are you doing here, Mr. Riddle?”

“Right now,” He answered, his voice soft, “I’m looking at you, wondering how many more times we should cross paths before I finally begin paying attention.”

She moved away, feeling unsettled, afraid. She turned, and the guards were stood at the doorway as if nothing was happening at all.

“Mr. Riddle, are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But I don’t want hospital food.”

“I’m afraid thats all I can offer you,” She said, “I’ll let you get some rest.”

She left him like that. She didn’t check him again for the remainder of her shift, and then she left.

She went home, and made good on her promise to Rose to read her a story in the morning.

–

Rose was coloring at the table while the TV was on that morning. Hermione stayed awake despite the long night shift before to have more time with her daughter.

No matter how many channels she switched through they all had the same message.

Voldemort escaped from Hogwarts Medical Centre at 8:22am.

Police had yet to make a statement.

No one knew where he was.

“Mummy,” Rose called, looking up from her coloring book, “Can we bake muffins today?”

Hermione tried to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled deep in her gut. She smiled at her daughter, and thought of the nurse that had so gently handle her daughter over to her that first night. The man who wasn’t really a nurse at all.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Hermione said, and she smiled.

She switched off the TV.

#bubblesbeemma #slightly inspired by a story someone told me abotu a patient they had who was a millianair murderer who held his pee for days #so he would be brought to the hospital #and they thought it was an escape ttempt #and i found it really funny #anyway also i wante dto write something #IM SORRY ITS NOT SURGEONS AT ALL #BUT ITS STILL A HOSPITAL AU #ilu hope u like it #tomione #i didnt proofread because thats my brand #i love typos #meow writes

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lunavadash-creates · 3 years

Note

Hello there! It's your favorite Knifey of all knifeys.!

Sorry for lack of response but.. but what. I dont know if it's because of vaccine, but I'm exhausted lately. I could sleep all day and all night. My concentration doesn't exist anymore. And yes, vaccine knocked me out! My hand didn't hurt to be honest, but I had high fever and migraine. I got blood test to see if there is anything wrong, but the results are good. I have no idea what's going on. 😐

How are you Sweetie? Did you have proper rest after your trip? Tell me how it was! What did you see! Tell me everything!

I was thinking about words you said. That adventures starting in a secret are the best ones. You were right. When I got my dog I was trying to hide my allergy for almost 4 month! I was determined to have a doggo, so I have been talking my friend's meds for allergy as she is hardcore allergic. I admit, it was stupid and irresponsible, but definitely it was worth all the risk!

Haha, yes, I was in Venice and in Florence and other Italian cities. I just love travelling! It's not I am from wealthy family or something, I am not. I have no savings, because I spend all my money on traveling. I was working for 3 month everyday for 12-13 hours in a pub so I could spend half month in South Korea. Dealing with all those creepy and drunk men was also worthy!

And I just wanted to say you are the sweetest! Your messages always make me smile! Always! Thank you so much for all your encouraging words! They make me feel better! Your messages, your writing, everything.! I love to check your blog, I love content you share with your followers. And you deserve all the support! Please don't change, you are wonderful and so asdfghjkllove!💕

Sorry for all mistakes and grammar, my brain doesn't want to cooperate.

Loads of love! Take care of yourself or Altair will be highly disappointed if you don't! And me too.!

🔪

Dont worry about response! Its worth waiting to see your message in my inbox! And I get it, vaccines are scary and you never know how it will make you react. For example i had jj vaccine my hand hurt for like 5 days but except from that i was fine! So if you feel exhausted just rest, drink water, eat something tasty. Im happy you are not so much more safer! I hope you'll feel better soon, please keep me updated!

Ah as for me... I have health problem again. My leg suddenly got swollen almost 3 weeks ago and now it hurts a lot so I cant walk. I already have usg of veins and x-Ray but it showed nothing so tomorrow ill call another doctor and make appointement.

Fortunately my trip was amazing! What I saw? Well I love museum so we went to musaum of torture and museum of sex toys. Honestly the second one was my fave - the have sex toys from all around the world and from different periods. Like they have full bdsm equipement and shoes and ancient roman prostitutes (u know, the ones that left foot print on the ground with words 'follow my foot steps'). It was so amazing! I also saw charles university, charles bridge, rose gardens, cafhedrals and all amazing places. I also was in metro! (there is 1 line of metro in my country and its in the capital). I also had Czech McDonalds which is so tasty! And for the first time in ny life i was in a vegan/vegetarian restaurant and i truly liked the food!

As for adventures. It was my firdt. I love traveling but unfortunately i have no friends to travel with. So I used to travel with family and prague was my first, alone travel abroad to visit a friend. I hope i can do it more often because world has so much to offer. And you know what? Our lives are so short there is no point of wasting them on being afraid to risk!

YOU WERE IN SOUTH KOREA?! I ENVU U SO MUCH GOOD GODS. Knifey you are such a role model for me 🥺💜 i want ti be as brave as you. And hard working as you.

Tell me everything please?

Also doggy! Yes, hiding allergy wasnt the smartest move but im glad you are fine (you are, right?). I hope you can fight thst allergy and enjoy floofy companions!

One again thank you for your kind words and support. Honestly I want to change a bit, i need to go back to who i used to be in terms of working. I cant focus on stuff, i cant make myself do things i love. It tiring, you know? I used to read one book a day. Write a lot and a lot of fiction and my own stories. I used to study Japanese fir fun, writing all the signs and trying to remember them. Now I feel like a wreck that cant concentrate. But I will work hard to become a better person so I can post more! And I wish to make more people happy. You know whag is for me the biggest achievement? When people say i managed to make them smile/laugh and something i made made them happy. Your messages give me so much positive energy! Thank you again!

You asked for pictures so here is astronomical clock, president Palace and a rose from rose garden!

#Knifey #Ask #knifey my beloved

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

Curtains Part 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Roger F!Reader

Summery: Exams, a car show, and an entirely too long wait.

Warnings: Smut (18+), nothing overly kinky, a little bit of a dom/sub dynamic, dom!rog, some light degradation, a little breast/nipple play,fingering, honestly quite tame considering the shit these two normally get up to lmao

Words: 7129

A/N: Oh my god its finally here. The last chapter. I am so sorry it's taken so long but it's been super busy around home and whenever I did get a chance to write I got very worried I was going to balls it up and ruin the whole story lmao. Anyway, I've really loved writing this series and these characters and I hope you enjoy the last part!

Also the British International Motor Show was a real thing that really was held at the Olympia. And Roger did eventually own a Ferrari and a Mercedes, although as far as I know not a Rolls Royce (that was Freddie’s).

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

@bohemiansweede @rogershoe @lnnuend0 @funitrog @moonlit-wilde

The exams hit you hard. Most nights were spent at the library, staying as late as possible before you dragged yourself home and collapsed on your bed, the morning alarm always coming too soon to start the whole thing over again. The biggest downside of the routine was how little you’d been able to see Roger since it started. When you had managed to catch him he looked as tired and stressed as you felt, neither of you capable of talking for too long before one of you yawned or remembered you were meant to be revising. It filled what little space in your brain that wasn’t already full of anxiety about exams with anxiety about your relationship. You still weren’t entirely sure how solid things with Roger were. They were certainly at a better, more normal, place after your two dates and a not-quite-a-date at the markets. Freddie had spent the entire first half hour you were there eyeing you suspiciously, as if you were going to bolt suddenly or tell him off. He stopped eventually though and you’d had a lovely day, helping to sell a few items when you weren’t wandering around with Roger looking at other stalls. But everything still felt so new and uncertain, especially after the rocky start you’d had, which left you not entirely positive you were officially a couple, and now you couldn’t help worry that the forced distance would make Roger lose interest in you or set you back a few steps after all the progress you’d managed. It didn’t help that you were on edge from not getting laid recently. The last time had been an age ago, in the backseat of Roger’s car. You would have slept with him again at the markets, or more likely after you’d gone home, except your period had started the day before and you couldn’t bring yourself to suggest having sex like that. So, since then you’d been on forced celibacy with only the end of exams to look forward to. Sure, you could have masturbated but between the hours spent sitting the exams and the hours spent cramming for them, you never seemed to find time for it. It all added up to a rather unpleasant desire crushed beneath a lack of sleep and a constant voice in the back of your head telling you that you were fucking something up. Unhelpful for cultivating a good mood or an opportunity to convince Roger to come over for a quickie. In fact, you barely saw him until the day after his final exam.

Feeling slightly better rested since you were free from needing to regurgitate months of class notes, you walked up next door’s driveway and knocked on Roger’s door. “Y/N, what a pleasant surprise, come on in,” Freddie said as he opened the door, “all done then? Exams I mean,” “Yes, thank god. You?” “Yeah, I finished earlier in the week. Never been more relieved in my life, although the day Rog finished was a close second,” he led you through the cluttered living room, your eyes slipping from the old, worn couch to the record player by the phone, into the kitchen where Roger stood, a bowl of cereal in his hands, eyes out of focus as he stared off into space, “Rog, wake up darling, the girl you’ve been whining about is here to see you.” Roger blinked, tired eyes falling to you and pulling a smile onto his face, “Y/N,” “Hey Rog,” He hastily put down the bowl and pulled you into a hug. You sighed into him, mind already more at ease than it had been when you arrived. “How were your exams?” He asked when he finally let you go. “Oh y’know, okay I guess. Probably failed one of them but I’m beyond caring right now, you?” “Yeah, yeah, all good I think. I’m just glad to be able to sleep normally again. Kept having this dream about turning up to an exam naked and then realising it was the wrong subject anyway.” “Jesus, Rog, if you’re going to sit here dissecting your dreams again I’m going to have to leave.” “You call yourself my friend,” “And aren’t you lucky for it. Just remember to wash out your bowl this time,” Freddie grabbed the cup of tea he’d been making and exited with a wave that you returned. “Was that because of me? Does he still not like me?” “He likes you fine, I promise,” Roger grabbed your hand and led you out to the living room, “I’ve just been driving him nuts these last few days.” He dropped onto the couch with a creak and pulled you down onto his lap. “Nuts how?” “Oh y’know, exam stuff mostly. Weird little rituals I started doing to make sure I passed, like, um, I had to wear a particular pair of shoes to every exam, my sparkly silver ones, otherwise I was convinced I would fail. Nearly had a breakdown when I couldn’t find them one morning. Stuff like that.” “Would the other stuff be related to his girl you’ve been whining about comment?” “Maybe,” Roger looked away, as if slightly embarrassed to admit it, “I might have kept bugging him with questions about whether he’d seen you around. He went right off at me the other night, told me to pull my head in and just go see you but it was one in the morning so,” he shrugged as he trailed off, still focused on the other side of the room. “You really thought about me that much?” “Yeah, course,” he finally looked at your properly, “I missed… hanging out with you,” “Me too,” you smiled shyly, trying to work out if hanging out was a good sign or not. You decided to continue with the plan that had brought you to his door that morning, just in case, “But, if you’re up for it, I have an idea of something we could do tomorrow.” “Oh yeah? Does it involve making out a lot?” “I guess it could,” “Consider me there,” You laughed as he took hold of your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Maybe it was a good sign after all.

If Roger hadn’t broken off the kiss to yawn three different times, apologising after each one, you would have been hard pressed not to end up in his bed. He wasn’t quite as worked up as you were, admitting he’d developed the habit of wanking on the morning of every exam he had, but he was still eager for more than just making out, encouraging you to roll your hips and grind against him. But he was clearly too exhausted. “Where’re you going?” he asked as you wriggled off his lap and stood up. “You’re dead on your feet Rog, you should go catch up on some sleep,” “I’m not, come on come ba-“ he was cut off by another yawn. “See?” “Okay, fine. Maybe you have a point. But you don’t have to leave, you could come nap with me and then when I wake up in a couple of hours we can continue this, but tucked up in bed.” You laughed, “Nice try, Rog, but I’m gonna go home, let you rest properly. We’ll have all of tomorrow though. I’ll come by at tenish okay?” “Tenish it is. Can you give me a hint about what you have planned?” “No but I promise you’ll enjoy it.” “That could be anything,” he said as he walked you to the door, tilting his head and resting it against the frame. “Exactly. Don’t want to spoil it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you made to leave but Roger caught your hand and pulled you back against him, leaving you slightly breathless, lips tingling with the kiss. “One for the road,” he shrugged, trying not to grin too much. “Go get some rest Rog,” you laughed, “Oh! And wear comfortable walking shoes tomorrow,” “Walking? That doesn’t sound like making out.”

You only had to knock once the next morning before Roger was opening the door, looking excited and better rested, though there were still heavy bags under his eyes. You’d seen the same bags on your own face but, thankfully, makeup covered a multitude of sins. “So, will you finally tell me where we’re going?” “No but if you don’t mind driving, I’ll instruct you where to go,” “You’re kidding me! You aren’t going to tell me anything but you want me to drive?” he narrowed his eyes and stared at you but you just smiled sweetly back until he relented, “good thing I like you so much or I woulda told you to shove it up your arse.” “You’re the best Rog,” you giggled, swooping in to kiss his cheek, “promise it’ll be worth it.” “Yeah yeah, get in the bloody car,” he shook his head but you caught him smiling to himself as he got into the drivers seat. “Your gonna need go left out of the driveway,” “I am, am I?” he said before following your instruction and turning left. You directed him there with only one minor detour when Roger managed to get stuck in the wrong lane and missed his turn. A few streets away from your destination he saw a sign directing passers-by to visit the British International Motor Show, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, just let you tell him where to go. You could tell he was getting more excited with each street you directed him down, trying not to get his hopes up as you seemed to creep closer to the show. The dam burst when you told him to pull up in the carpark of the Olympia. “No fucking way,” he said softly, trying to concentrate on not hitting any other cars as he pulled into a spot, even as his eyes darted around the crowd of people entering the venue, “You got us tickets to the motor show?” “Mmhmm,” you nodded, digging around in your bag for your pre-purchased tickets, “you mentioned on our last date that you were a bit of a rev head so I thought you might like it.” The way he looked at you made your whole body feel like it was infested with a swarm of butterflies. It was a look of barely contained glee and adoration that had you beaming right back at him. Once he was out of the car he hurried round to your side, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around in a circle as he squeezed you tight. “Christ, Y/N,” “I guess that means you like it?” you laughed as he put you back on solid ground. “Like it? This is the sweetest thing a girl as ever done for me. Might actually be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. As if I needed more reasons to fall for you.” Your breath caught in your throat and the swarm under your skin went haywire but Roger barely seemed to realise what he said, too excited and impatient to see the show. He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the entrance.

Most of the day was spent wandering around the show, Roger almost bouncing from one car to the next. There were all sorts to see, some brand new and unveiled that morning, some the kind your parents had driven around in as teenagers. There were more economic models, aimed at families or young adults looking for their first car and some were high end, luxury models with sleek designs and shiny finishes. Those were the sort that caught Roger’s eye most, never mind the outrageous prices you couldn’t even dream of affording. It was while standing in front of one of them, a gorgeous black Rolls-Royce from the mid-60s, that you nudged Roger with your elbow. “Y’know how when I first saw your Morris I said it wasn’t the type of car I imagined you in?” “Yeah,” “This is the sort of car I was picturing.” “Really? I’ve always loved a Rolls. Them and Ferraris. As a kid I used to have pictures of them ripped out of magazines and stuck up on my bedroom walls. Well, them and about a hundred other cars,” he chuckled at the memory and then fell silent for a bit, lost in thought, absentmindedly squeezing your hand. You were about to ask what he was thinking when he spoke again. “One day I’m going to own one.” “Are you now?” “Yup. One day Queen’s gonna hit it real fucking big. I’m not just saying that either, I mean it. We’ve really fucking got something the four of us, and one day we’ll have the number one song in the country and sell so many albums I’ll be able to buy one of each, a Rolls and a Ferrari. Maybe a Mercedes too. And I’ll take you out in them, wherever you want to go. We could drive down the coast, spend the weekend in our beach house. Or maybe out to the countryside, nice and peaceful and quiet. And if we stay at home I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll go to all the high-end stores and buy everything we want. Shoes and jewels and fur coats and everything." You leaned your head on his shoulder as he spoke, “That sounds wonderful,” “You haven’t heard the best part though,” “Oh?” He dropped his head down, lowering his voice so only you could hear him, “Haven’t even mentioned how I’ll fuck you in the change rooms of all those fancy shops. A hand over your mouth to keep you quiet because we both know how loud you get.” It was a mark of how long it had been that you began panting just from feeling his breath against your ear, “Looks like this car has enough room in the backseat. Just in case the shops are closed.” He stood up straight again, laughing, “Maybe we’ll sneak in there later. Shame I’m not rich already, could’ve just paid off the security so he’d give us a few moments alone with the car.” You knew he was joking about sneaking into the car but it didn’t help you calm down at all. Roger must have sensed your need, had probably been able to feel it seeping out of your skin, because he spent the rest of the day teasing you with small touches and whispered comments. He may have given up the teasing and just fucked you except that the number of people and the amount of security hired kept you from finding anywhere even remotely appropriate. The bathrooms were too crowded, extra portaloos hired and placed around the side of the building to accommodate everyone, and the back of the building faced the carpark and had a constant stream of people passing by or standing around directing traffic and loiterers. You considered suggesting the backseat of his car again but your head and thighs ached at the thought. After a final quick look around inside you decided to call it a day and head home where there was plenty of space and a big comfortable bed waiting.

By the time you arrived home it was early evening, your feet sore despite wearing your most comfortable pair of shoes. Roger’s stomach grumbled as he walked you to your front door, a loud reminder that neither of you had eaten more than a few snacks vendors had been selling at the show. “I had so much fun today,” he said, valiantly ignoring his stomach, “like an unbelievable amount of fun.” “Me too. Didn’t realise a car show could be quite that good,” you teased, “You wanna come in? Keep the fun going? We could get dinner, watch some TV,” “You’ve spent all day with me, sure you aren’t sick of me yet?” “Course not. Come on you sound like your starving and I’ve got a coupon for pizza stuck to my fridge,” “Well who am I to say no to that?” he said as he followed you inside, “where’s the coupon, I’ll call the order in.” “You don’t have to do that,” “No, no, let me. Least I can do to thank you for today. Any preferences?” “Uh, pepperoni if you don’t mind,” you called from the kitchen, returning with the coupon and handing it to Roger. “I definitely don’t mind, pepperoni is obviously the best,” Roger laughed and picked up the phone, as you quickly ducked into your room and made sure it was tidy. He followed you when he was done, peering into the living room and the kitchen as he searched for you. “Don’t have to clean up on my account,” You jumped a little at the sound of his voice behind you. “I’ve been in your room before, you’re much neater than me.” “Surprised you noticed the room enough to make that judgement,” “True, was always much more interested in you and how little you were wearing,” “Exactly,” you said, trying not to let on how fast your heart was racing at just the mention of the previous nights you’d spent together. “But I’m very messy,” Roger shot you a grin as he walked over to your desk, fingers brushing lightly over a few of the knickknacks you kept there before he moved to your modest bookshelf. You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself as you watched him investigate your belongings, perching on the end of your bed, hoping he liked what he found. For the most part he just brushed his fingers lightly over your belongings, smiling softly and occasionally pausing to make a comment. He picked up the candle from your desk to smell it, complementing the scent as he put it back in its place. A few of the books on your shelf were pulled off and held up as he asked your opinions of them. He found a pair of your sunglasses and pushed them into his own face, checking himself out in your mirror before taking them off again, and then turned his attention to your record collection, spending much longer examining it than anything else. When he was done shuffling through the stack, making impressed hums when he found ones he particularly liked, he turned back to you. “Well I’m sorry to say but you have fantastic taste in music and I really have no other choice but to steal half of them,” “Is that so?” you asked, releasing a relieved breath, “Doesn’t seem fair,” “Well,” he walked the few steps towards where you still sat, leaning down until his lips were mere centimetres from yours, “it’s either that or you keep them and I fall madly in love with you.” The butterfly feeling returned, “Oh?” It was all you could manage to say. A loud knock from the front of the house interrupted you. “That’ll be the pizza,” you said quietly, torn between answering the door and closing the space between you. The decision was made when Roger’s stomach growled again. He dropped a quick kiss to your lips and then stood up with a small sigh.

If it had been up to you the night would have been spent snuggled up on the couch, eating pizza, drinking wine, and goofing around, until you retired to the bedroom and let the street hear you screaming Roger’s name. And you were pretty sure Roger’s mind was running along the same tracks. The only obstruction to your plan was the lack of sleep you’d both been suffering from, causing both of you to nod off before you could move from the couch. You woke in the morning, the TV no longer playing the comedy it had been left on but a test pattern card with odd organ music behind it. You blinked the sleep from your eyes as you tried to remember why you were on the couch and not in your bed, the night coming back to you as you sat up and realised you’d been curled up with your head on Roger’s thigh. He woke with a start when you stood up to stretch and turn off the TV. “Y/N?” he voice was still thick with sleep, eyes bleary and hair all over the place as he lifted his head from what must have been an uncomfortable position. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. We fell asleep on the couch.” “Oh, right,” “You can go back to sleep if you want,” “Nah, ‘m up now. Bathroom?” “Just through that doorway over there.” Roger nodded his thanks as he yawned and, rubbing his eyes, headed off. You grabbed the last of the, now cold, pizza and the wine glasses and followed him towards the kitchen, dropping the leftovers on the bench before turning to stick the kettle on. When he returned to the kitchen he looked marginally more alert, hair not quite the bird’s nest it had been when he woke. He dropped a kiss to your temple. “D’you want breakfast?” you asked, peering into the fridge, “I can do eggs on toast.” “Only if it’s no trouble,” “Not at all,” you grabbed the carton of eggs and the butter before you closed the fridge, “if you make the tea.” “I can do tea. Make a pretty good cuppa if I do say so myself.” “So you’re a tea connoisseur now?” “Never said that, where do your mugs live?” “Cupboard on the left,” “Ah ha,” there was a tinkling as he pulled out two, “All I’m saying is I’m good at making tea.” “Rog it’s adding boiling water to bagged leaves, not sure you can be bad at it,” “Well tell that to John. He’s a fantastic bassist but Jesus every cuppa he’s ever made me has tasted like shit.” You laughed, glancing away from the stovetop to watch Roger move about your kitchen like he belonged there. True, that might have been to do with how similar your kitchen was to his, most of the student accommodation in the area having the same basic layout, but it was nice all the same. “How do you take it?” “Uh,” your first thought was something entirely too inappropriate for so early in the morning, “dash of milk, two sugars,” “Coming right up.”

“So,” you said, dragging the word out as you brought your plates down to the table, Roger already there with the mugs of tea. “So, what?” Roger imitated your lengthened word, an amused lilt to his voice. “Dunno, you got any plans for today?” “Meeting the boys a bit later, band stuff. Might try and squeeze in a nap at some point. No offence but your couch isn’t overly comfortable to sleep on, although the cute girl using me as a pillow did help,” You giggled as he nudged your foot with his, it really was unfair how attractive he looked even when ruffled from a night on the couch. “What about you? Any plans?” “Oh, uhhh,” you didn’t have anything specific but couldn’t very well tell Roger you’d kept the day open in case he’d wanted to stay in bed with you for the better part of it, “Think my friends said something about going out for coffee, so I’ll see if they’re still keen for it.” “Oh yeah? Do these friends know about me?” “They know I’ve kind of had a thing going on and they know I was avoiding a particular guy for a while, but I haven’t, like, actually told them about you yet. Wanted to wait until I knew we were going to be okay, y’know?” “Yeah, I get that.” There was a moment of almost silence, the only sounds those of your knives and forks scraping across your plates. Your brain was suddenly much louder than it had been a second before, full of thoughts about whether or not you should tell your friends about Roger when you saw them, nerves about theoretically introducing them to him and then, oh god, introducing him to your family, having to meet his, all the stuff that a proper relationship would mean, all the stuff you’d been trying to run from when you’d cancelled that date. But there wasn’t really any way to go back now without everyone getting even more hurt than last time, he’d twice now said he was falling for you and, though you hadn’t vocalised it, you thought maybe you were falling for him too. But of all the thoughts jumbled in your head, the loudest by far was the realisation you’d be going another day without getting laid. It was torture. You’d got so close last night and god you wanted it so much. You had a brief vision of sweeping everything off the table, plates and cutlery hitting the floor, and Roger instantly pushing down your pants and lifting you onto the clear surface, his fingers slipping into your underwear and - Roger broke the silence and pulled you from the fantasy, “If you wanted you could come over tonight. I’ll make you dinner,” You shook your head to clear it, “really? “Yeah, really. I’ll even let you rummage through all my junk like I went through yours,” “Sounds fun, I’ll be there,” “Cool, uh, I think I should get home around three-thirty, so any time after that.”

Roger helped you tidy up the dishes before he left, another lingering kiss your souvenir, in addition to the desperate need to get off. You attempted to kill some time doing just that, but nothing seemed to be enough. It wasn’t Roger. You wanted Roger. And as lovely and terrifying a sentiment as that was, it did mean you had to go to meet your friends completely worked up and wet. When you told Roger later, sleepily blurting it out while curled up in his arms that night, he chuckled and, though it was dark, you could tell he was grinning. The same grin he’d been wearing when you knocked on his door that afternoon. “Is Freddie here?” you asked as he led you towards the couch. “No, just us. I’ve kicked the others out for the night. Freddie’ll end up staying with Bri or John, they were still arguing about it when I left them.” “Arguing?” you fell into the seat beside Roger, toeing off your shoes and curling your legs up under you, angling your body to face where he was leaning against the arm of the couch, one leg bent in front of him, one touching the floor. “Something about John’s girlfriend, I think, or maybe it was Brian’s roommate? I don’t know, I didn’t hang around to listen, they’ll sort it out,” he waved his hand dismissively, “But that means more food for us.” “So what are you making me then?” “Well, actually,” he glanced away, hand slipping into his shirt to rub his shoulder, “was thinking I’d order some takeout. There’s really nothing to cook with in the fridge and I’m a terrible chef anyway. I could offer you toast but the chance of it being edible is about fifty fifty. But there’s the chippy a few streets away or, um, an alright curry place, whichever you prefer.” “Fish and chips sounds good. I’ve eaten nothing but cake and coffee today so anything savoury would be brilliant really.” “So your friends were free then? How’d it go?” “Yeah, really fun. You might have been mentioned once or twice,” “Only once or twice?” “Once or twice is practically unstoppable gushing for me. They’re both insisting on meeting you, by the way, so that’s something to look forward to I guess,” you scrunched your nose up in discomfort. “I’d love to meet them,” he said, taking your hand leaning towards you, “And you’ve got nothing to worry about, they’ll love me. I’m very loveable.” You let yourself relax as you laughed, Roger joining in as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw, kissing you softly.

It should have come as no surprise that you’d end up making out within minutes of arriving. The weeks since you’d last slept together plus the unfulfilled tension from the previous night all boiled down to a neediness you couldn’t remember feeling with anyone else, the soft kiss fast becoming firmer as you found yourself underneath Roger, fingertips digging into his back. He was grinding against you rhythmically, your skirt pushed further up your thighs, trying to pull you tighter against him, breathing getting more ragged with each passing moment. It felt good but there were too many clothes in your way, you needed more. A whine fell from your lips unexpectedly. “Someone’s a bit desperate,” Roger said, tone vaguely mocking, giving you just a hint of the teasing control he usually showed you, “should we move this to my room?” “God yes,” He grinned and planted another kiss against your lips before he pushed himself to his feet, pulling you up by your hand, not letting go until you were standing in the doorway of his room. It was similar to your own room in that it faced the back yard, a big glass door leading outside. The biggest difference was the curtain, open to let the sun in but no doubt it actually existed. Roger dropped your hand to cross the room and you turned your attention to the rest of it, tempted to rummage through his belongings the way he’d examined yours. If you hadn’t been so worked up you would have but instead you stepped into the room and glanced around, killing time until Roger was back against you. It wasn’t neat but it wasn’t as messy as you’d been led to believe it would be and you wondered how long he’d spent tidying it. The bookshelf wasn’t full and yet not all the books were lined up, some of them stacked in uneven piles, some leaning against others, no discernible order to them, though you could spot a few titles you recognised from your own collection. His desk held a stack of textbooks and a few loose pages of handwritten notes, and you could easily imagine him hunched over as he studied, scribbling down things he recognised as important even if his tired eyes and brain couldn’t fully comprehend them. Your gaze had just fallen on the neatest part of the room, his collection of records all meticulously lined up and just begging to be rifled through, when a noise drew your attention. Roger checked the back door was locked and drew the curtain over it, blocking out the view of the back garden and the natural afternoon light. Your stomach did a flip. “We, uh, we’ve never had so much privacy,” you tried to make it sound like a joke, though you weren’t sure you succeeded, suddenly feeling too nervous to speak properly. “Yeah, s’pose that’s true,” he gave a small half shrug and took the few steps towards you, stopping just in front of you, “but that’s okay. We’ll make it work,” and then his lips were on yours, the rough neediness almost forgotten as he held your face, reassuringly rubbing his thumb over your jaw. It helped you relax again, stoking your desire though you couldn’t help thinking things would be vastly different with an empty house and closed curtains. Your fingers fell to his belt, blindly struggling to unbuckle it, but Roger grabbed your wrist. “Hey, there’s no rush, okay?” “I know but it’s been so long,” it wasn’t a lie, it had been far too long, but that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to speed things up. You didn’t mention that you were nervous about your dynamic changing with the privacy, worried it wouldn’t be as good if you weren’t being controlled or degraded or performing for someone. “So you won’t mind waiting a little longer then,” You whined as his lips brushed over your neck, his hands still holding your wrists, “Please, I need you,” “Patience, love. First time I’ve had my slut all to myself, can’t blame me for wanting to take my time.” Your breath hitched at the name and the casual way it was said, not expecting to hear it when you were so closed off from the world and he was being so deliberately, infuriatingly, slow. It made your head spin. He let your wrists go, moving his hands to your shirt and pulling it up over your head, fingers trailing softly down your sides to toy with the waistband of your skirt. “Good girl for wearing this, you’re learning.” The praise made you shiver but it was nothing compared to his touch. Every light brush of his fingers made you want him more, had you almost vibrating with need, but he refused to speed up or even touch you where you most wanted him. And you melted into it, hovering on the edge of begging, surprised at how easily he could play you but not really surprised at all. Yes, it was just you and Roger with no one to see or overhear, none of that tension you loved so much that came with the possibility of being walked in on or caught out. But you didn’t miss it.

Your hands once again slipped to his belt and this time he let you undo it, taking the chance to tug his own shirt off as he kicked the discarded pants across the floor, before he slipped your skirt down your legs, kneeling as he did so, leaving a single big bruise on the inside of your thigh. He leaned back to admire the mark and you stepped out of the material pooled around your feet. For a fraction of a second you thought he was finally going to give you something real, his breath ghosting over the front of your underwear as he leaned towards you, still looking up at you, blue eyes glinting. “Hop on the bed, love,” He chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet, listening to you whine and curse even as you did exactly what he told you to. You didn’t stop complaining until his weight was over yours again, your legs trying to wrap around him and pull him against your throbbing cunt. He just held your legs down and laughed softly, “You’re still just a desperate slut aren’t you. Little bit pathetic how much you want me after a couple of weeks without. But no, you don’t get my cock that quickly. I told you I want to take my time.” “You want me too,” you whined, sounding nowhere near as convincing as you’d hoped, “I can feel how hard you are.” “Yes, I want you. Of course I do, love, been thinking about it since you came over the other morning.” Roger resumed the grinding he’d started out on the couch, dragging his cock along your folds, still too many layers between for you to be satisfied. It was torture, but no matter what you tried he wouldn’t give you more, “But there’s this little thing called delayed gratification, you might have heard of it.” “You’re such an arsehole,” you half whined, half laughed as he chuckled into your neck, doing his best to leave you with another mark. “Well, yeah. That’s not news. Maybe I’ll let you have my fingers though, since you have waited such a long time,” “Please, I need something, anything,” “Add ‘begs easily’ to the list of things I love about you,” he left a kiss against your neck and then shuffled backwards. He paused, glancing down to your underpants and then back to your chest. “What?” “You’re still wearing a bra. Can’t have that.” “Oh,” you giggled, “easily fixed,” you sat up and quickly unhooked the clasp behind your back, shrugging it from your shoulders and adding it to the clothing that littered the once clean floor. “Thank god for easy fixes,” Roger said softly, pushing his fingertips against your shoulder until you leaned back far enough for him to drag his tongue over one nipple. “Hey, you said fingers,” you whined. “You said anything,” he grinned back at you, “but I guess fingers could work too.” You hissed when he pinched your other nipple and pulled on it, gently biting on the first, “Rog, please,” He ignored you in favour of dipping his lips to the inside of one breast, sucking at the skin until another purple bruise formed.

Roger shuffled back further and you squirmed at the thought of finally, finally getting what you needed. Just the motion of him hooking his fingers into your underpants to pull them down had your stomach tightening with anticipation. As soon as they were free of your legs he held them up, “soaked,” was all he said before they too were discarded and he was settling into place between your legs. You could feel his warm breath against your pussy as he dragged a single finger between your folds, a whine escaping you as your frustration grew. And then the finger was slipping inside you, so easily it made Roger whine himself. “God you really are soaked. I was just teasing before but Jesus,” “M-more,” was all you could think to say, stuttering it out as you bucked your hips. “Patience, love,” he reminded you but added a second finger, pumping them into you slowly, still not enough. Your back arched as you tried to readjust your position so he’d hit the spots you knew he could but he just placed his other hand on your thigh, stroking you softly until you relaxed again. “Tell me what you want, love,” “More, please,” “More of the same? Just my fingers?” “N-no no,” “Then tell me,” “Your cock, please, want you to fuck me now,” the sentence devolved into a whine as he pulled his fingers from you, pausing to push off his underwear, and crawled back up the bed, hovering over you. Once again you tried to wrap your legs around him, arms around his neck to pull him closer, but this time he didn’t stop you. Instead Roger lined himself up and sunk into you, as easily as his fingers had, his hands slipping up to your sides. He dropped his mouth to your neck and then your jaw and then your lips as he slid his arms under your back to hold you tight. “My good, patient, girl. Fuck your cunt feels so good.” he said softly, quickly finding your lips again as he fucked you steadily. You whimpered at the praise, finally getting what you’d so badly wanted as you clawed at Roger’s back, making sure he wouldn’t pull away too far. Though he’d started off intentionally slowly, deliberately working you up before he’d even finished undressing you, now that he was finally inside you, finally where you both wanted him to be, he’d lost all of his methodical pace. His hands were on your back and then one was on your arse and then your breasts, unsure where he wanted to touch you most. He was kissing you passionately one moment and the next he was whispering filth into your ear, praise and degrading names alike, thoughts broken up by small hickeys sucked into your skin. The second it occurred to him that something might drive you wild he was doing it.

It didn’t take long for you to cum, so much pent-up desire coursing through your bloodstream that you fell over the edge easily when he hitched your leg higher on his hip. It changed the angle he was hitting you just enough to have him rub against your wall, a jolt running through you and stealing your breath. “So pretty when you cum, can you show me again?” You nodded, unsure you’d be able to form words if you tried. Small aftershocks were still making you whimper into Roger’s shoulder and yet you could feel the same tingly warmth building again already. “Oh,” the sharp sound escaped you when Roger’s thumb brushed over your clit, his breath hitching as you clenched around him, “Rog, god, ke- keep doing that,” He brushed your clit again and smiled as your head fell back, a low moan tumbling from you when he began rubbing it properly. All you could hear was rough uneven breaths, not sure they were yours or Roger’s, the sound dulled under your heart beating in your ears. And then suddenly you were there again, moans getting louder as you crept closer to the edge and fell over it. Roger’s eyes were squeezed shut as he thrust into you a few more times, extending the ecstasy you felt until he hit his own climax, coating your walls and gasping in your ear.

For a while neither of you moved, just lay there trying to clear your foggy minds. When he realised he was still laying on you, Roger carefully extracted himself and rolled onto his back, an arm stretched out, inviting you to cuddle up close. You did, humming lightly when he gently rubbed your arm. “So, was that good? Even with the closed curtains?” “Mmhmm, might go so far as to say unbelievably good.” “Any other adjectives you wanna throw out there? Mind-blowing maybe? Or Incredible? The best you’ve ever had?” When the giggles subsided, Roger continuing a little more seriously, “I really liked it too, y’know, having my girlfriend to myself and all.” You’d been expecting to feel anxious when the G word eventually got used. After all, it represented so much of what had made you nervous enough to run away, what still made you nervous about dating and what it might eventually lead to. But there wasn’t really any anxiety or worry when you actually heard it, maybe a small pang in your stomach but you barely noticed it. Instead you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat, “Girlfriend?” “Yeah,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “that okay?” You quickly flipped onto your front, bringing you face to face with Roger, “More than okay. Say it again?” “My girlfriend,” he grinned as he spoke and you felt an equally large smile stretch your own cheeks in response. “My boyfriend,” “Yeah, like the sound of that,” You kissed him hard, not quite believing how far you’d come since he’d first caught you masturbating or how much you liked being with him, dating him. “Y’know, I think we could fit in another round before we need to worry about dinner,” he traced his finger along your shoulder as if he were playing connect the dots with the hickeys he’d left you, “Two maybe. You always cum fast when I use you rough.”

#my writing #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #(lowkey have a couple ideas for blub/hc things maybe #)

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how-to-survive-a-factory-tour · 5 years

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How to Survive a Factory Tour - Chapter 5

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory FanFiction

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I am so fucking exhausted. And hungry. Well, I always am, but recently I’ve been more so than usual.

For the past few days, a lot of my co-workers have been off for Christmas. This meant little old me had to pick up god knows how many extra shifts. For the past few days, I’ve had to skip out on proper meals, only having a quick snack when I got home.

And, no, by snack, I do not mean the Wonka bar. Still haven’t eaten it. No one has.

Two days after Roman Prince won a ticket, I expect Remy to say the fourth ticket’s been won. You know, since there’s been a pattern of them being found every two days. However, when Remy comes in, he simply orders his drink, chats a bit and leaves. It’s honestly surprising, especially with the tour being in five days.

Anyway, I continue working for the next few hours, praying the tips at the end will be worth it. Then, finally, my manager comes out and dismisses me, but not before dividing my share of the money in the tip jar. I hang up my apron, pull on my hoodie and leave the shop.

If there’s one good thing about being poor in Florida, it’s that you never have to worry about freezing. With winters of 75°F, it doesn’t matter that my thin, patched-up hoodie is the warmest thing I own.

It doesn’t mean the walk home is perfect, however. My stomach’s being as loud as an earthquake. Shut up, will you. Just wait until Mom comes home and hopefully she brings some dinner.

I soon arrive at our little shack, gently opening the front door and stepping inside. “Thomas, I’m home!”

I pause, waiting for my brother to reply. There’s no response. “Thomas? Hello?” Nothing. “Thomathy? Thomas the dank engine?”

Still nothing. I feel my heart rate picking up. Oh god, what if part of the ceiling collapsed on him... o-or the lack of food in the house caught up on him and he starved...

All the worst possibilities come to mind. Thomas is supposed to be here, he always is when I come home. Something’s wrong, he’s hurt, I just know it. I can’t breathe. Everything’s going blurry. My heart’s thudding too hard.

Suddenly, everything’s black.

...

”Virgil! Virgil, wake up!”

I come back to my senses to find myself led on our lumpy couch, and someone leaning over me.

”Th-Thomas...? You’re okay?”

”Virge! Thank god you’re awake! I was so worried... What happened?”

I sit up, Thomas helping me adjust. “I... You weren’t home. I got scared something had happened, and...”

”Panic attack, huh?” Thomas asks. I nod. “I’m really sorry, Virge, I should’ve left a note so you knew I was heading out...”

It was only then I notice a shopping bag at Thomas’ feet. “What’s that?”

Thomas takes a deep breath. “I have a confession. While I have put most of the money you earned for me towards college, I’ve also been saving up for something else.” He reaches down into the bag and pulls out...

”A video camera? What do you need a camera for?”

”I felt bad that you and Mom were doing so much for me but I wasn’t doing anything in return. I’ve wanted to get a job for a while, but I didn’t know how to get one that fit around my school schedule. I decided I needed to do something where I can organise my own hours and I didn’t need to get a whole lot, so I figured maybe...I could do YouTube. I’ve got the camera, and Remy said I could record at his and edit and upload on his computer. Hopefully, I’ll get enough viewers to monetize and get some money to help us, all the while making fun content.”

”Thomas... that is fucking brilliant.”

Thomas smiles. “Thanks. But none of that matters right now. You literally just passed out, you need to get your strength back.” He gets up and leaves the room, heading to the kitchen. A few moments later, he comes back and pushes something into my hand. “Eat.”

I look down at the bar. “I... I can’t.”

”Why not?”

”The money was meant to be for you...”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “It’s okay! It was only a dollar or so for this. You deserve a reward for everything you’ve done for me. Now, open it and eat.”

I sigh, knowing Thomas won’t give in. He can be really stubborn if he needs to be. I start peeling back the wrapper.

HO. LY. SHIT.

GOLD. FUCKING GOLD.

Thomas and I both stare at the ticket. He breaks the silence.

”This is gonna make a great first video.”

I pause before holding it out to him. “You have it.”

”What?! No way in hell! You won it and bought it with your own money. And as I said, you deserve a reward.” Thomas pushes the ticket back into my hands. “Virgil, you��re going to Willy Wonka’s factory.”

”FOURTH TICKET!”

I practically slide into the room upon hearing Emile’s yell. I plop next to him on the sofa and watch the TV screen.

There are three guys there, and I can’t tell which the winner is. One is wearing sunglasses, a white t-shirt, a black jacket, black jeans, and has an arm around the shoulders of the person in the middle.

The one in the middle has brown hair, and is wearing a purple shirt, ripped black skinny jeans and a patched black and purple hoodie. He looks pretty uncomfortable at all the attention.

The third looks identical to the second. He looks more comfortable on camera than who I presume is his twin brother. He was wearing a grey shirt, an old brown jacket, and jeans.

As I watch, they’re revealed to be called Remy Sleep, and Virgil and Thomas Sanders. Virgil’s the one who won the ticket. He seems so shy! Well, I’ll make sure to make him feel welcome during the tour.

Speaking of the tour, Virgil lives in Florida, and in the same town as the Wonka factory! That’s awesome! He’s sooooo lucky. Imagine being able to buy Wonka bars nice and fresh. I bet they’d be even more delicious then.

Oh boy, four out of five tickets have already been won with five days to go! I can’t wait to find out who wins the last one!

It seems my predictions have been proven right yet again. The next ticket was found in Florida. Just the one in Australia left now.

There’s not much else to say about the ticket being won, really. Nothing worth saying. Robert still blames me, so some things never change.

Joan and Talyn have been trying to find a way to hide a camera on my person so they can see the factory for themselves. It’s rather funny to hear their extravagant ideas, though I doubt I’ll try any. They’ll have to settle with my explanation.

They’re going to be coming with me to Florida, though. Of course my family aren’t, but Joan and Talyn didn’t want me to be alone, so got tickets for the flight too.

I totally didn’t beg them to come because I have a fear of flying...

Okay, I watch Air Crash Investigation too much. It’s educational and very intriguing, if slightly anxiety inducing.

But the point is, they’re coming with me. We’re arriving the day before the tour and leaving the day after. Joan and Talyn are going to be heading up to Orlando the day of the tour to go to Universal Studios. They’re going to meet up with me once the tour’s over. Everything’s arranged, and I’ve even written up schedules for us all so no one will be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Some may call it excessive, I call it efficient.

But I digress. The point is I’m fully ready and prepared...

To wipe this in my brother’s face.

Oh, how perfect! An emo nightmare just won the final ticket and is coming with us on the tour! How wonderful!

That was sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.

Call me quick to judge, but I’m not too fond of those edgy, melodramatic, dark emo types. They just seem to always bring down the mood. I’d rather my time at the greatest factory in the entire world didn’t be ruined by some moody, angsty, and by the looks of it, very socially awkward guy.

But I guess it’s too late now. He’s got a ticket, he’s going. Fun.

However, lets brush that aside for now. There’s more interesting stuff than ‘Virgil’ or whatever his name was winning a ticket.

The day after I’d won my ticket, my dads were out so I hosted a party at my place to celebrate my victory. It was great. We played spin the bottle and I got to kiss none other than school heartthrob Nate Christopher. It was probably one of the greatest moments of my life. Valerie even took a picture and sent it to me so I could “treasure the moment I could pretend Nate was gay and into me”.

Why are all the best guys straight? Let’s hope I’ll find the one in Florida and he’ll actually be gay, or bi, or pan, or just likes dudes in general.

Anyway, in the middle of the party, I got a call from Pa. He said he and dad had arranged, not just flights and hotels, but a two-week holiday in America. First, a week and two days in Florida, two days in the town with the factory, then the morning after the tour we’ll drive up to Orlando to go to Disney World. Then, we’ll fly up to New York, which is where we’ll spend the rest pf the two weeks, because Dad managed to get us all tickets to see Be More Chill on Broadway! I’m so excited, it’s going to be the best two weeks of my life.

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Tags: @clone-number-1, @pumpkinminette, @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing

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wolfpawn · 5 years

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When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 50

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

“I’m fine.” “Lady Sharpe...” “Mrs Matthews, I said I am fine, please, my letters and some writing material,” Charlotte ordered before shifting slightly. “Perhaps a blanket behind my back?” Margaret immediately complied, recalling when Charlotte was on forced bedrest carrying Thomas Jr and liked to sit up in the bed. “Thank you.” It had been over two weeks since she had caught pneumonia and had been forced to fight for her life. She was grateful at least that she was so delirious with fever, she had not felt her body be forced to cease making milk. According to one of the nursemaids, that was horrid and meant burning and painful breasts. “Little graces” Charlotte had called it. She was still weak, her voice was barely more than a whisper as her throat was still recovering and she was only about to drink liquidised meals and most of which seemed to be chicken soup, but she was fine with it. She did not mind the meal and she could feel her body strengthen with every bowl.

She demanded that Thomas be brought in twice a day to her again. She knew she was too weak to even hold him, but she wanted to see him and have him see her. She was terrified that he would forget her in their time apart and that would hurt her more than any beating her parents ever inflicted on her. She had decided to write to her brother and her husband.

As Thomas suspected, as soon as she was over the fever stage, she was adamant she would defeat her illness and under no circumstance was he to engineer a situation where Mr Brown would gain from them any more than they had to bribe him with. Her first order when given a piece of paper to write with in her weakened state was to telegram Thomas and tell him to stay in Allerdale Hall and ready everything. She knew as well as Thomas that Mr Brown would see that the mines were more profitable than even they had thought it would be and with the local police station being the first of many new and local contracts they had been asked for, there was high chance that if he would not go for Charlotte’s fortune but that he would focus on the mine’s deeds and she could not allow that. That was her son’s future, his guarantee of wealth after she left this world and there was no way she would risk it. If she were to die, she would still die with or without Thomas being in Pembrokeshire.

Dearest Edward,

I miss you terribly. I know that were you here, you would have my head hurting from the lectures of what was I thinking. I can even hear your voice as you say it, that little vein in your forehead only fit to pop because of the frustration my actions have caused you. I am so sorry, big brother. I am sorry for the stress and concern I have thrust upon you. I am fine, tired, worn and more than a little cold, but fine, nonetheless.

I have done nothing but eat chicken soup these past two weeks, I fear if I eat much more, I will begin to grow feathers!

I finally seem to be able to wiggle my toes again. I was worried for a time, they seemed reluctant to even work, all I felt there was coldness, it was not pleasant. I had to be bought workmen’s socks, several pairs. I look ridiculous, I think you would find it funny also.

I love you, Edward, so very much. While I was ill, I thought of you. I dreamt that you and Joanne wed and that you had a little girl with the most beautiful auburn hair. I do not know why I saw her with that particular colour hair, you are blonde haired and Joanne is brown, but if you saw her, I wanted to cuddle her so tight, she was the most beautiful little thing. She looked a lot like you. I hope it comes to pass. It brought me joy in my sickness.

Tell Joanne I think of her too, and Mrs Davies, of course. I hope to embarrass you many times more with her come spring. I think when I return to Cumbria, I will make more time to visit her and you too, I suppose (I jest). I realise here how alone I am, even in Allerdale Hall. It is unhealthy and I will have to rectify that.

I fear I must rest now. I did not think writing would exhaust me so, yet I find myself fighting sleep now.

I love you, Edward.

Please look out for Thomas if you see him.

Charlotte.

She forced herself to stay awake long enough to write the address and seal the letter. “Margaret?” “Yes Ma’am?” her ever faithful maid was to her side a moment later.

“Keep these together. I have written to Dr Thompson of what was said of my condition, I will write to my husband when I wake.” “Of course, Ma’am. I will not have Dr Thompson’s posted until you write to Sir Thomas,” Margaret swore as she took the small tray Charlotte had been using to write on away. “Thank you. I just need a small rest.” With that, she lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Used to her routine from when she had served Charlotte on bedrest, Margaret removed the extra blanket behind Charlotte and placed it to the side, knowing it caused her back to arch too much as she slept before going and informing Mrs Matthews of such.

“What was she like in Cumbria?” Jane, the maid who shared with Margaret asked.

“She is so lovely, she always smiles and is kind. She makes sure Mrs Phillips and I bring home extra food if we’re hungry.” “Don’t you live at the house?” “No, it’s too old and parts of it are falling down. I mean, Lady Sharpe is ‘avin’ it fixed in all, but that ‘ouse is only fit to be knocked. It’s sinking into the clay.” “She really is foolish if she is wasting money doing that.” Margaret frowned. She didn’t like how people dismissed Charlotte as a silly woman with little thoughts of substance. She knew that Charlotte was well read and always seemed to know all the odd and complex things Sir Sharpe’s machines did. She didn’t seem as silly as people thought her to be. “I dunno. She seems to know some stuff.” “She went out in the rain and nearly got killed. She fed her baby herself. I don’t think she is smart enough to be left with so much money. It’s a good thing she married a businessman, according to Mrs Matthews, they are worth even more now.” Margaret said nothing. She walked into Thomas’s workshop more than once with his tea to see her employers discussing business decisions together. One time, she heard Sir Thomas state very clearly that Charlotte’s idea had made them a small fortune. Even if she was not the smartest woman, recalling her leaving the house a few days after Master Thomas was born in anger and postnatal hormones, she clearly was not without some mind. “I dunno but what I do know is, if I ever marry, I want to be like ‘er and Sir Sharpe.” “They love each other?” “It’s more than love. D’you know when people talk about soulmates, ‘ow they say they just know each other and are like dance partners, perfectly matched?” Jane nodded. “That’s them. They always seem so ‘appy to just sit with each other and read some book. I see ‘ow Sir Sharpe looks at her, like she is some sort of rare thing, y’know, som-ing not everyone sees and ‘e is like, amazed by it. He loves ‘er so much and the way she smiles at ‘im.” “Wow, I don’t think we’ll ever see that.” Jane was envious at the fairytale-like manner her employers seem to love one another.

“What, not wiv John the gardener?” Margaret jested, referencing the man of forty years of age that seemed to salute the maids as though there were any chance teenage girls would find him attractive. Both girls snorted in laughter at that.

“The only way I would marry an older man is if he was like Mr Hamilton, God rest him.” “What d’you mean?” “Well, before Lady Sharpe was Lady Sharpe, she was Lady Hamilton, did you know that?” Margaret nodded, Mrs Phillips had told her such when she went to Allerdale Hall. “Well, he was fifteen years Lady Sharpe’s senior. Apparently, as nice as they were to one another, and Mr Hamilton was fond of her, she was here to give him children and that alone, hence him choosing a young bride.”

“Oh.” “Yeah, apparently he took her from marrying some young man and paid his fees for him to become a doctor as a way of buying her off him.”

Margaret’s mind immediately went to Dr Thompson and the fact that Lady Sharpe had written him before writing to her husband. “Really?” “Yeah, that’s why I heard anyway.” Jane shrugged.

“According to Mrs Phillips, she is a cousin of that doctor.” “Why would you push for your husband to pay for some cousin to become a doctor?” “I ‘eard his father died when he was young and she wanted to ‘elp ‘im.” “No one helps like that.” “Lady Charlotte does. She went and found him a suitable courtship too, wiv a lovely girl from our town. She genuinely cares for people.” “If she cared that much, she’d pay us more.”

Margaret silenced, she could see no matter what, Jane thought little of Lady Charlotte, a woman she cared for as an employer. She always checked on her wellbeing in Allerdale Hall and her kindness to care for her wellbeing in Foxgrove also came to the fore.

Thomas looked around warily. The shadows were becoming more and more frequent, as were the cries. When Mrs Phillips left each night, he became all the more skittish. What scared him even more was that Blake seemed aware of said shadows also. Since Charlotte sent a letter to him explaining she was feeling better and that she wished for the work to end soon so that she could see him again, the art room seemed to be far warmer again and Blake seemed to cease his pining in there from the day before the telegram came, in fact, it ceased the day the telegram was dated from as the date that Charlotte had written it. Instead, Thomas noticed that Blake seemed to have taken on a new role; He was now acting as Thomas’s guardian. When Thomas thought he saw shadows or felt a presence near him in the empty house, Blake was by his side, ready to attack, growling and baring his teeth if required at the direction of the shadows. He would not be parted from Thomas now, he clearly felt it his duty to protect his master, even from the unknown.

Tags @whovianwookie86-captainxev @ilovekingt @sigridlaufeyson @lokiloveheart @lokilover9 @texmexdarling @perpetual-fangirl @wolfsmom1

#thomas sharpe #lucille sharpe #when ghosts come for us #chapter 50 #crimson peak story #crimson peak

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followthesavlife · 7 years

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Stress, Eat, Stress, Sleep, Stress Stress Stress.

Im back... after a few long LONG weeks.

In these past few weeks my time has consisted of

-Traveling across the country by car, again.

(This including a 20 hour consistent drive to Colorado from California but totally worth it due to the beauty.)

This is the Great Salt Lakes. I was so amazed by them and the beautiful reflections they create of the surrounding mountains. Very tired at this point though.

And this is Nick and I at the last leg of the drive, exhausted and actually more ready than ever to see SC and our homes again. :-)

-Living with my boyfriend and his parents for a week.

This wasn't all that bad but crashing at someone elses home is always a different type of thing, especially when you haven't been in a comfortable place in a while anyways. This also included all of my clothes and everyday life stuff in my car still packed, so basically living out of my car and two backpacks.

Applying for Jobs. Which I thought would be a lot easier process... but we are always proven wrong somewhere, right?

Moving into an apartment and trying to get everything together.

Our living room once we actually got everything set up, both are very pleased with its simplicity.

Stressing.

Applying for jobs.

Celebrating Nicks birthday!

And also a nice get away to Columbia with Nick’s Father and family. The sunset was beautiful and so was the day on the lake.

But soon, back to stressing and applying for jobs.

so you know.... it doesn't seem like much. But for the life of Sav it has been very very eventful. It seems though, that Im too quick to stress but I often notice this isn't just something I alone struggle with. We get so caught up in the plans that WE want, the things that WE expect, its all about OUR plans.. but as a follow of Christ, it doesn't really work that way does it.

Every time I even begin to mention to someone, no matter who it seems to be, that I am stressed due to the fact that I still haven't found a job and thought this process was going to be a lot shorter and easier.. they don't even let me get a full sentence out before they tell me “not to stress, it will come”. I just sit there and in my mind I'm freaking out screaming “ Do you not understand!!! My money is running low!! My boyfriend is working his butt off to support both of us and that isn't even his job!!! I need a JOB!!!! I HAVE TO STRESS!!!” but I can't help but look at them with honesty and say “you are absolutley right.” I often get the response to pray or to keep my eyes on Gods plan instead of mine. Each time I see that I’m starting to fall off of the track and that is exactly what I needed to hear, yet again.

Ive heard so many times in peoples testimony that they go through a time period when they feel as if God has abandoned them and if I were to believe such a thing as Him abandoning me, I would have to say this would be my time.. and I’ve heard the story so many times that I know it isn't true that instead this is a test of my faith and instead of “abandoning” me he may instead be sitting back and allowing some test to come my way.

So I keep trying to focus, trying to feel in the blanks and attempt to make sure that I don't get mad at God for me being stressed and things not going MY way.

(Instead I seem to be getting frustrated with either myself or worse.. Nick. Neither is fair, so my attempt to stay level headed and upright has been upholding.)

It makes me wonder though and my brain begins to rack the idea of if I am on the right track in life. I like to think I am. I mean...

Im back at home, near my family. Im with the guy who was put in my path that I have no questions if he is the one or not. I’m moved into a safe place that seemed to have had many blessings come along with it. I feel as if I’ve followed all the right steps you know?

But the voice is still quite. I still hear silence when I pray. Or do I?

I see so many beautiful things come. Nick and I have yet to struggle with finding the things we truly wanted or needed for our apartment. We had an overwhelming and abundant amount of love and support from both sides when it came to moving into the apartment together. It was all provided so quickly and effortlessly that I think it left us both speechless.

Both of our families are so accepting and open to one another and the learning of two completely different households is an interesting process but it seems to be working.

When life is like that, its so important to not forget the small blessings. Such as cleaning supplies, a couch, a Kuerig, or anything in between. Literally those things seem so unimportant but they are things that we became so grateful for.

Though I do spend my day times alone due to the lack of a job, and Nick working hard each day to provide a good income, I have a ton of time to stress and think of all the negatives as I apply for countless jobs. I can't allow this quite time for the enemy to sneak in. This is my time to be talking to God and asking him to guide my way.

Currently I am waiting to hear back from a job, and Lord knows that if he blessed me with anything, he didn't bless me with much patience when it comes to things that are priorities to me. But I am testing it, and attempting to remain patient. The east coast is undergoing Hurricane Irma who has brought us tons of rain and wind.

As I continue to wait I would love to hear from anyone. I know my blogs are still a mess, but Im starting and trying. So if you've read this and would like to talk or ask questions please feel free to do so! Also share or like or anything you feel you should.

Thanks for reading! Ill try to get back soon.

Love,

Savannah, TheLifeOfSav

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belarath · 7 years

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so I've finally figured out how to vent on here again without falling into a panic spiral which is lovely : and I’m just going to spam myself here cause I really need to let something out : I’m dying, I'm just straight up dying in here : I’m so empty, in many ways : I’m wrecked physically, I couldn't walk up a hill 2 weeks ago without sitting down halfway though, and I don't mean a big hill I mean the side of a lightly inclined large road : I barely can make it to eat anymore, sitting up is a challenge, any you can forget any kind of maintenance : I got better yesterday only just so I could wash my hair enough that after washing it again today its not riddled with dandruff enough to clog up my comb anymore : I finally shaved which I like, but i’ve only been able to enjoy that at home. I step outside and its not good for how anxious I am. I had a fake lining of protective masculinity that I relied on to convince me I’m safe. I still felt uncomfortable going places especially at night but it wasn't to bad. now though I’m double as certain every person I see will shank me. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder which panics me cause every time I do that I'm certain that makes me look afraid which makes me a better target : though shaving has made me feel better physically : I hate my body so much, but shaving makes me feel a bit better which is a relief, the constant loathing of how I look is very very draining : you'd think that like after alllll this god damn time it'd get a little easier to live with such a retched self body image but its just so heavy feeling still : I worry : I’ve always been a very sad person : and like I acknowledge that Its probably not healthy how sad I am all the time but : I’ve been like this my entire life : I’ve never felt happy for longer than like, maybe more than a month or 2 straight : I’m so confident in how well I can endure the deathly long expanses of numbness and hyper draining lack of energy : the lack of passion for anything the tastelessness of food : the contentment to not move the endless wishing for god damn peace and quiet : I have that thing where you really just don't want to exist, I just don't want to have to live in this body and be this mind, I acknowledge I don't have a fear of death because I day dream about not being alive in the sense that being alive is very very very heavy : not all the time but,, so much of the time and that not needing to feel the desire to not want to feel heavy anymore is lovely : like I’ve lived like this for my entire memory and so just continuing to live has been my jam : I know that if I did die, my Mum would not cope, she’s die : I’ve watched her claw her way through things, I swear she doesn't know how hard she’s had it, and I cannot take any joy she's gleamed from this life she's sacrificed so much to reach by selfishly dying : death is out of the option until my Mum dies : and its likely that death will be out of the option until my close friends either drift away or die as, well, they’ve gone though too much, one specifically I worry about, and I think that dying would be rude to say the least : and again its just very selfish : one of the virtues of having been programmed to treat myself as lesser is that this instinct has prevent my death which is cool : it does make for some suffering though : but anyway i’ve drifted : I wasn't worried about myself and my sadness until this week : I think wednesday? I think I had a moment, I’m certain I had a moment where I fantasied about self harm, and the thing about this is that fantasising about it made me feel better, which really is the part I’m scared about : funny thing is though that I have a friend who did self harm but they used like a cutting tool and in my head I was like “ugh no thats just not the way to do it stabing is a way better idea!” : my friend told me about their experience and they said they knew it was dumb thing to do cause they had people they knew that did it but they still did it, I forget the reason why. but they regretted it and for some reason it made me thing that I’m way more reasonable because I learnt from them and decided that using like cork board pins seems like a way better idea XD : I didn't self harm because the pin I had on me I’m sure wasn't clean and I didn't have the energy or the free break to go get a clean one, and going through the rigamarole of sterilising and then trying to hide it was just,,, to much for my stamina to think possible. : luckily again another piece of programming “gifted” to me by good old paterna saved me from this moment of self harm as I believe everything has to be done by the book! not by like a real book but the book he taught me to make for myself. what a lovely instinct! to have half my brain assigned to making rules to punish and contain my self which is completely SELF SUFFICIENT : I’m being sarcastic btw : to the core of me tip to toe I hate it with a fucking passion : one of the few passions that I do have XD : but again I drifted though : the moment passed and I haven't wanted to self harm again since then which is good but I’m still unnerved : I’m so scared : I’ve been dying on the inside for a little bit now : I think i have anxiety, and i think I may have a little paranoia though I haven't googled it so I may not : but gosh its been put into perspective how self destructive I am : there was a post which listed a bunch of self destructive behaviours 28 in total, I had 21 of them and the other 7 involved sexuality which I don't have much of being mostly ace : I remember thinking “its a fairly good list” but it kinda highlighted somethings : it made me think : maybe dressing in wet clothes because you couldnt be bothered to keep your body clothed cleanly and then going out in cold windy weather even though you know you’re going to shiver and probably chafe a bit and then be super hungry cause your cold so you decide to eat out and berate yourself for spending or get home and eat and berate yourself for not making something better and getting fatter or not eating just cause who cares. MAYBE THATS SELF DESTRUCTIVE : or maybe staying at public dnd games which a bunch of people who unnerve you and sap you of energy for sometimes chunks of 3 to 5 hours because you “don't want to offend people” or “don't want to mess up anyones schedule” while also not eating or drinking enough MaYbE ThAtS SeLfDeStRuCtIvE Too : maybe its knowing you will get horrific migraines or want to throw up from lack of sleep and maybe that will spike your anxiety about being fired from your work because you can't shake the feeling everyone wants to fire you but you don't mention anything because you'd feel bad about leaving or something and because some of these people you actually like you'll degrade yourself more because they are worth it and you’re not MAYBE THATS FUCKING SELF DESTRUCTIVE : I WANT TO SCREAM BUT I DONT : I NEVER FUCKING HAVE AND IM DYING INSIDE : god I get so mad and I scream so loud in my head my head hurts : I’m so broken in so many intricate ways and I know I could feel so much better but, theres so much in the way! and most of its me thats in the way! I’m so close to not even just like help Im so close to comfort! I just want be held by people I like, I’m sure I could ask for like more hugs or to cuddle or to hold hands or for people to play with my hair or for just in general human contact of any kind but, theres so much social anxiety to even begin to ask something like that and that even if I were to get consent how the hell could i learn to initiate!? I”M SO FUCKING SCARED to like ask for physical contact from yet another trauma as a kid. If it weren't bad enough that I’m hyper petrified about getting consent for any kind of physical contact but I also believe that if i were to touch people it would be automatically labeled as predatory because I’m male. I’m starting to think maybe sexual trauma as a kid has had a bigger effect on my psyche than I think? which in all honesty is just, its just exhausting to hold in my head that idea.

#I'm just venting here #pls feel free to not read if y'all uncomfortable pls don't #tw #abuse #probably i don't know how tw tags work #me #unpleasant content #ill feel better soon don't worry #i just desperately needed somewhere to vent #v badly

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chxrimoya · 7 years

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ok i guess i’ll finally get around to typing this whole journal post i meant to for the past damn week lmao.

so it’s tuesday night and i’ve ditched class last wed, this past mon and figure drawing today. i just ain’t up for it. for some reason my sleep quality is so poor, even with a full night’s sleep, i can’t stop myself from napping for 3-4 hours. it’s getting in the way of me doing stuff honestly? i get home and want to clean up my room, play some persona, or draw or SOMETHING but sleep is obviously a priority. it sucks but i gotta do it, lacking sleep just makes it so much easier for me to get into a depressive episode. maybe it’s the irregularity of my sleep? for a long time i didn’t sleep past 2am but i slept at like 4am couple of times in the last two weeks or so.

this past week or two i’ve slowly progressed from one thing bothering me to another and now i can’t even place my discontent. general malaise, as i’ve been telling other people. hopefully writing this helps me find some fkn way to articulate myself? lmao. honestly i don’t know why, talking to other people helps me cope but hasn’t helped me confront the feelings. they’re still there, bothering me, and i would like them to go away? but they won’t anytime soon i’m sure. and i, as usual, am invalidating myself and how i feel so megakek

so i’ll talk to my journal like i’m talking to someone.

so recently, i introduced my friend, let’s call her Nu, to my regular group of friends who i usually play games with. i invited her to a bbq at J’s house, and it’s all good and stuff, day passes. I tell her before anything, these lot of men aren’t good at all as dating options but i wouldn’t judge her otherwise, because you can’t rly help who you pick. the only two dudes that day available were J and H and both are kinda shitty, but H is way more shitty than J is; J just got his issues to work out. but fast forward, H messages me about wanting to pursue Nu, and was convinced on trying to be a better person, bc one night on discord we were talking about art and things in general, and i just flat out said i don’t think he’s a good person and he has a lot to work on? so after he says to me on FB, hey thanks i needed someone to say that to me and seemed genuine, so my kind ass heart is like ok sure i’ll help you. he asks me genuinely if it’s ok for him to ask me for help so i say yeah, ofc. he realizes hes being selfish pursing this girl because he’s never had a gf, and that J was also interested but he values himself over J. this was mean of me, but i said frankly to H that i agreed, J is in no place to have a relationship because his life is a fucking mess at home; no school, no work, car’s not passing smog and his dad and mom are still shitty as always (his dad can die for all i care). later tho J agreed with me bc i brought it up with him. anyway, couple days later me and H talk and this guy, he’s probably the shittiest offender i know, because he says autistic, retarded, faggot, gook, all in jest and i HATE him for it. i’m not gonna pick a fight because his dumb conservative ass can choke now, for all i care. i have depression and triggers that send me into episodes, so he keeps using “triggered” all casually and it bothers me. it’s disrespectful. so i ask him if he could avoid using it around me, and i see the typing bubbles for like 4 minutes and this guy is typing an essay about how i’m wrong. deletes it, sends “Lol alright” but goes onto his stupid shpiel anyway even though i wanted to drop it. accuses me of “artificially killing the word” even though i just THINK it’s disrespectful, talking to me in a know-it-all fashion because fucking men always do this. so i remember, this entire time, why i didn’t like him, so i decide this bitch is on his fucking own. but me, being the soft-hearted individual i am, didn’t get mad till couple days later and indignant about the whole ordeal. before my anger, Nu and H and me went to eat and shop a little so fucc everything seemed fine and dandy!! and even now i still help this disrespectful child because i care for Nu, even though I don’t know her well enough to be super comfortable with her. I’m naturally an open person, but the comfort i’m talking about comes with time and i just haven’t known her that long. but Nu, she’s had a bad history that ended only recently, and i honestly would kill for her bc she deserves to be happy. not being pushed around by men who vy for her attention? she deserves someone who cares and validates her, but can still set her straight bc she’s a stubborn girl. the men in her life haven’t been good to her, and she hardly had friends before i met her at work? so i want to be someone she can rely on and talk to but i don’t want her withdrawing into the comfort of a man that can’t even comfort and face his own issues without his toxic pride getting in the way. because that what H is to me.

he calls me saturday before mothers day, 9amish and tells me he accidentally stood Nu up. he obviously feels guilty. but maybe he’s only guilty because he’ll lose his chance with this girl if he fucks up. i’m tired, i comfort him telling him it’s not his fault, because apparently he overslept his alarm and didn’t wake up until Nu called him. Nu also told me that she had been waiting for an hour for him, showed up 30 minutes early to look nice and surprise him, but when she called 30 minutes after the meetup time, she just wanted to go home. she had limited time that day so she wanted to do breakfast at 8. he wants to make it up to her with a gift, but she doesn’t want a gift, so i tell him to draw something for her bc it’s more sentimental. after the call i talk to Nu about it and she seems pretty upset actually, and after everything, she just tells me she feels “jaded” but she’ll get over it.

i don’t approve. i really don’t. i hate this guy but i can’t really be consumed to even be marginally mean to him because Nu is interested, but even she acknowledges maybe she’s been starved of proper affection that she’s just reveling in it. if this guy can’t be bothered to do me a favor, when im trying to be his wingman and get him on good footing with this girl, i’ll fucking light the bridge on fire. but it’s not my choice to make, Nu’s happiness is what matters more. but it exhausts me? i’ve been there, done that with toxic guys and it’s so exhausting. i have issues i still carry and struggle with to this day because i was manipulated and did manipulate other people, for the sake of a guy. and it’s really not worth it. as i talked to her, the friday before, we hung out and spent a whole day with each other... she has a lot of baggage. stuff she doesn’t wanna bring into a relationship. and we shared a lot of similarities with the people we’ve dealt with. i tell her, friends are here to help you carry that baggage. she doesn’t have to carry it on her own. relationships should be always mutually beneficial to both parties. why invest yourself in something you’ll never get shit out of? you end up empty and pining, and anything will satisfy you. it’s not a good cycle to enter. ive been there!! and fuck man, im still recovering. my value is in myself, not in others. and i love to help people because... simply i wish people would have helped me when i needed it. so i help others because they need it. but i wont help people at the expense of myself, at the expense of people i care about.

but also, i just... dunno if i feel right, being some sort of arbiter for their relationship. i don’t feel like i should have this power to judge, i keep telling myself i don’t know either of them that well so i really shouldn’t be doing the things that i’m doing now? like who am i to get in the way of their happiness, judge that someone isn’t good, and say yes or no to them entering a relationship? for all i know, it could turn out well. i doubt it, because H has never had a gf and i feel his selfishness extends beyond ignoring J, and more of “finally i can get a gf and not be lonely anymore” bc i want someone to value Nu for who she is.

maybe i’ll write more when i get to to it but this is way too long already lolol

#yu.txt

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weirdlywisely · 6 years

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Yearly recap : 2017

I’ve done that the past two years and idk i think it’s good to do it and i like doing it anyway so here is my thoughts abt my 2017

So many things happened tbh idk if i’d say 2017 was a good year objectively, but it wasn’t that bad of a year for me

so ! i noticed i didn’t mention it at all but this year has been both really hard but also really good

really good bc I finally moved out ! I’ve been living with my best friend officially since July but really since the end of August and I couldn’t be better !

i love my family i really do... but we’ve been at each other’s throat for like more than a year... if it’s not me and my parents, it’s me and my brother, or it’s my brother and my parents, or my brother and my sister... it’s very tiring... im tired of fighting with them... I really am... but im better since i moved out and see them less! i will have to move back in for summer bc im leaving Toulouse normally but it’ll be good i think

but i should do smthg in a more organized manner hahaha

January was... plain bad... I was still in my double degree thing that exhausted me so much ! and i failed one of my final badly so i was really feeling awful (got my degree in the end thanks retakes) but i got back on my feet ! january was also bad bc i applied for an abroad exchange but was refused pretty harshly. if im being honest that hurt a lot... i may have cried bc i didn’t know what to do if i couldn’t go abroad and get away... but i got back on my feet and i was more or less okay!

I met two wonderful online friends for real this year ! and let me tell you IT WAS AWESOME ! took out quite a chunk of my savings but it was totally worth it ! but with all the money i spent on travels these two years im probably not going anywhere by myself in 2018 hahaha

I met Mathilde in February and went to the eastern part of France, where i never went tbh it was a really fun week ! idk how long we had known each other but it was a loooooooong time hahaha

I also met Lark in May! we took a little roadtrip in the US it was super fun hahaha i never went to these parts of the US so it was super cool to see ! could have done without the “guns make sense” signs... those were awful and didn’t actually make sense but ‘murica my guy

in the end got my English degree (look who has a valid college diploma !) and got my DEUG with an AB (ITS NOT EVEN WRITTEN ON THE DIPLOMA IM SALTY I WANT MY MENTION !!)

I am honestly focusing on the good bc the first half was hard but the second half of 2017 was better, and seeing friends i hold dear was just sooooo good and such an highlight of my year !

i went to Peru with my family for the summer it was super cool ! i met such great people and it was so interesting ! as you know my spanish just sucks but i have the best spanish in my family so i talked quite a bit and it was very fun hahaha there’s one thing im so angry about ! i was sick, like very sick for three days... Which three days ? the ones we did the Machu Picchu ... so i still went up but sat down on a bench at the entrance bc i couldn’t walk without wanting to puke... Fun story, the first day we had to do the famous hike to get to the Machu Picchu with guides and all but i was feeling so badly i couldn’t do it so i took the train all the way to the town and i was told someone would tell me where my hotel was... the guy didn’t... so i went out of the train station, feeling half dizzy half wanting to cry, i saw a guy on a bridge and asked him in spanish if he knew where my hotel was... he seemed all confused so i asked in english and one of his friend arrived and tried to help me with google maps but sent me on the wrong way hahaha so i walked a bit but felt so sick i wanted to cry so i sat down and a few minutes after i saw two guys who seemed to know where things were, so i asked them in spanish if they knew where my hotel was, and they said they knew and i asked if they could tell me, and they were like “oh no we’re leading you there” and like they did and one of the guy tried to speak with me but i was feeling so bad my head was spinning and i couldn’t understand half of it bc it was too fast and i apologized bc of that and then i thanked them so much bc that was so nice and i just spent the rest of the day sleeping bc i was dying inside! it was such an experience hahaha also before that i went up 4910m ! and man that is high ! you can feel the lack of oxygen ! i loved it it was soooo cool !

if there’s one thing i know, it’s that traveling and experiencing new things is something i love ! it’s like the one thing that doesn’t fail to cheer me up soooooo

this year has been very good to me but also very bad... my lows have been pretty awful but i think i managed to open up abt it and get better. i mean im still not fully okay but i’m recovering pretty well, i mean ive never been that bad so it’s pretty okay.. like yeah there are still moment when i want to die or stop existing, and you know some thoughts aren’t the best... but im hopeful for the future so there’s that !

i mean, i didn’t think i could get my english degree bc i hated it so much it basically made three years of my life hell bc i just couldn’t stand it but i did it ! i thought i wouldn’t ever be able to let go of the “fake your confidence” thing but i feel like it’s less fake ?? im better with myself and im starting to actually like myself a little ? bc im trying to become a better person, im trying to become more compassionate and more helpful bc i am trying to better myself

is anxiety still fucking up my life ? yeah it is, but guess what ? i can do it! what my brain is telling me is wrong ! i can do it, people aren’t laughing at me, i’m not making a fool out of myself ! and if i can’t do it ? i have a great best friend who knows that i sometimes cna’t do things and is willing to help and that is just so helpful ??? i sometime worry that i rely too much on her, but actually i trust her to tell me if im bothersome or whatever so it’s great !

honestly, i am hopeful for the future it’s so strange ?? i didn’t think i could have so many things i want to do ??? like i know what i want to do with my life ! i am stressing over which masters i want to apply to and creating so many other plans in case im not accepted ?? i want to travel the world ! meet new people ! see new things ! learn more !

it’s honestly crazy.. four years ago ? I was almost certain i wouldn’t be alive at 20, and now ? im 21 and im getting my life back on track !

another pretty big thing for me was that i cut my hair ! i had cut it all off very short back in may or june 2014 and two months ago i cut it all off at around the middle of my neck and it’s been soooo liberating ! im gonna cut it back shorter bc it’s way too long but wow!

i feel like i am actually growing as a person ??? idk the me from last year and the me from this year, we’re not the same ! im getting better !

tbh 2017 was a train wreck i mean im still a train wreck but a train wreck who wants to get better sooooooo !

2017 was hard, but seeing friends and traveling helped a lot, i think those few days away from home helped so much, and just moving out it was just great ! don’t get me wrong i had very bad breakdowns while living at my flat but i didn’t have to call my best friend crying bc we were fighting with my parents sooooo yeah

lots of negative this year, not gonna lie, but ! like the idealist fuck i am i am hoping that 2018 will be better ! i mean i have so much planned ! im not gonna let anything set me back ! fuck it !

also i got a job this year ! i tutor people in english so it’s pretty good and it gives me experience ! my résumé isn’t empty anymore yay !

also im better at standing up for myself so it’s good ! i can finally just say what i think, not fully but more than before !

So basically in 2018 i want to try and improve on myself more ! i want to be proud to be myself soooooo

i’ll try to talk to more people on here i think bc i really want to talk to people and i just am super shy but idk i want to talk to people and have more friends so why the fuck not hahahha

i’ll also probably confess to my crush... tho i hate that i have a crush on him bc he’s a friend and all but idk i feel like it’s either to move on once it’s out soooooo

i also want to learn how to dance bc i have way too fucking much energy and idk i don’t want to start any combat sport and i really want to learn how to dance even tho i am as graceful as a drunk hippopotamus hahaha

and finally i want to seriously get back intro writing and drawing ! it has been hard last year bc so many fucking classes and pressure but idk im motivated ! tho i always say that hahahha

in conclusion, just be kind to yourself in 2018 ! you’re improving but it takes time ! i really hope i can look back on 2018 and be like “yeah i did it, im proud of who i am and where i am”

#Wis's uninteresting life #it's a pretty long post wow #written with shitty internet yay for the internet at my grandma....#anyway i'll try to post it either tomorrow or on the 31st #depends #anyway not a great year but not that bad retrospectively #i don't talk much abt my uni life but there's a lot to say abt it hahhaa #but yeah in general i think 2018 might be a good year #which is surprising bc these last few years i just dreaded the new year hahaha #also im posting this a bit earlier than usual bc idk if ill be able to go on the computer at all tomorrow hahaha #but ill probably be on mobile tbh #i mean ive been on mobile all last week hahhaa

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