#it is likely that i start depression meds and i hope they fit
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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.
sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.
( lando norris x photographer!reader )
━━ part one.
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yourusername a smiley lando is the best lando in my books! to celebrate the end of the 2023 season, here's a handful of my favourite photos from throughout the year!
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mclaren What a happy lad! We can't wait to see that smile again in 2024 😁🧡
↳ yourusername you and me both! 🤝🧡
user she's got the dream job omg
↳ user IKR??? imagine just getting to follow lando around and take pictures of him all day, i'd be dead within the first hour
↳ user he'd smile at me and i'd be asking “what are we” on god 😩😩😩
↳ user is that literally all she does??? she just follows him around and takes pictures??
↳ user there’s probably a technical term for what her position is and i just don’t know it, but bc there’s so much going on around the track at any given moment, sometimes the press and other media workers are focused on something or someone else, so she’s hired on by mclaren to specifically focus on mclaren to make sure that there is content for mclaren or mclaren sponsors to use. she’s not just lando’s photographer, she also takes photos of oscar, the pit teams, and the other staff that work in the garage, but she was hired on when lando started so her portfolio is pretty full of him. hope this helps!
user didn't know i could need so much orange in my life but here we are
user LANDO NORRIS SUPREMACY
oscarpiastri i see who the favourite is 🫤
↳ yourusername you literally SAW me picking photos for your post too
↳ oscarpiastri yeah but you posted his first 🫤
user guys this is the face of the 2024 wdc winner take it in now
user i could write a 50 page thesis on the importance of these photos and what they mean to me and how the serotonin they make me release could replace my depression meds
user lad’s like a mini danny ric with how smiley he is
landonorris best photog right here folks
↳ yourusername you're only saying that bc i always get your good side
↳ landonorris i'll have you know that all sides are my good sides 🤨
↳ yourusername whatev helps you sleep at night luv 😊
In 2019, when you took on the job of being McLaren’s lead photographer, you hadn’t expected it would garner you the amount of attention it has, or that it would slingshot your career to levels of success you never could have anticipated, or that you would get a best friend out of it.
When you first met him back in those early days, you’d thought Lando Norris was an arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous prick who thought he was hot shit because he was a Formula One driver. However, he’d quickly proven you wrong when he’d admitted to you that a lot of the confidence was an act━ carefully constructed to hide his insecurities about his performance both on and off the track.
“I mean, we’re drivers, yeah?” He’d said. “But we’re also actors. We’ve got these personas that we have to uphold even out here on the paddock, and I’m always worried I’m not playing the part well enough.”
It hadn’t made a lot of sense to you then, you thought he was pulling off the persona of Total Douche remarkably well, but in Shanghai, things changed.
After the Chinese Grand Prix, things were dour. Lando had DNFed━ the first in his Formula One career━ which contrasted greatly with his previous accomplishment of P6 in Bahrain. Carlos Sainz hadn’t been doing very well, either, and it didn’t paint a very pretty picture for McLaren so early in the season. You’d thought he’d throw a hissy fit, tear Daniil Kvyat apart for his role in the crash, or at the very least throw some shade his way, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d accepted his fate with grace, joked to the media about how boring the race had been because of what had happened, and then gone on to congratulate Carlos for at least finishing.
What was even more shocking, was that despite his disappointment and the frustration he must’ve been feeling, instead of going back to sulk in his lonesomeness or drown out his feelings with booze and loud music at some club, he’d comforted you later that evening.
The morning of the race, as you’d been getting ready in your hotel room, you’d gotten a text from an unsaved number admitting to you that they’d been taking part in a months-long affair with your boyfriend but had been previously unaware that he was already taken and therefore wanted to let you know to clear their conscience. You’d managed to hold yourself together then━ mostly because you’d already done your makeup and, quite frankly, didn’t have the time to sob it all off and then attempt to salvage it━ but as the day drew to a close and the adrenaline of the race and its excitement wore off, and with nothing else to keep you distracted, you were struggling to keep yourself composed.
Lando had somehow noticed in that weirdly perceptive way of his that something was off, and he’d sat with you, asked what was wrong, and listened when you━ through tears━ explained the situation to him.
“He sounds like a total fucking muppet,” he’d commented after you’d said your piece, and he’d done it with such a deadpanned expression that it had startled a genuine laugh out of you. Because yeah, you’re (now ex) boyfriend had been a muppet.
After that━ and after all the rom-com and ice cream binging you’d both done in his hotel room afterward much to the chagrin of Lando’s nutritionist and the displeasure of his PR officer━ you’d rescinded your initial judgment of him. He was significantly less dickish than you’d originally thought, and it let you finally understand what he’d meant when he’d talked about putting on a persona.
The cocky, know-it-all prick that Lando pretended to be half the time was all just an act to hide his overly self-critical nature fueled by his insecurities.
By the end of the season, he’d gained a little confidence of his own and had subsequently toned down the assholery when he no longer needed to “fake it til he makes it,” and you were calling him your friend.
It’s 2023 now, and he’s since been upgraded to best friend status━ a role he takes very seriously, and constantly reminds you of.
“I’m your best friend━” case and point, “━you have to come to Bali with me. Literally, like, what am I gonna do without you there? Do you expect me to just go by myself? What if I get lost? Or what if somehow the mafia, who have unknowingly had a hit out on me for years, track me down there and I’m kidnapped and ransomed off for billions of dollars? What will you do then?”
“You just want me to take pictures of you,” you answer, rolling your eyes only because you know he can’t see you through the phone.
He gasps in mock offense. “I cannot believe you think I value you so little! I want you to take pictures of me and be here to help me make fun of awkward tourist spray tans so I don’t feel like a total asshole for being the only one who laughs.”
You laugh at that. “Well, unfortunately laughing at bad fake tans doesn’t pay the bills.”
“But taking pictures of me does.”
“Yeah, when McLaren is paying.” You turn back to your laptop, a photo put on pause mid-edit splayed across the screen. It’s of Lando, as most of your photos tend to be despite your attempts at keeping things even between the McLaren boys. It’s the last of the images you need to send over for their 2023 sendoff, and when it’s finished you’ll officially be without work for a painstaking two months. “I’m on break too, technically, until they need promotional shit for the new season.”
He huffs, and you can almost imagine the childish pout on his face. “What are you even doing, then?”
You hesitate, not because you don’t want Lando to know about your winter plans, but because you don’t really know how he’ll react, which means it could be anything between genuine happiness for you and congratulations, or abject horror and feigned screams of anguish. He’s always been dramatic like that, but even more so now that he’s comfortable enough with you and himself to have crawled a decent way out of his shell.
Even still, he’s your best friend and it would make you a pretty shitty person if you didn’t tell him.
“Believe it or not,” you start, wringing your hands together, “but Manchester City actually hit me up with an inquiry. Asked if I’d be interested in working with them on a project documenting their training throughout the winter months. I said I would love to.”
He pauses for a good long moment, and you prepare for the screaming, but all he says is━ “Man City? You traitor. I thought Man United was our forever!”
“Be so fucking real right now, Lando Norris,” you answer, laughing as you do so. You’re relieved, at least he hasn’t gone the feigned anguish route, but you also can’t tell if he’s happy for you or hiding his true feelings behind humor like he’s prone to doing. “You know damn well you only watched them for Christiano Ronaldo and he hasn’t played with United since 2009.”
“Technically he played for them in the 2021-2022 season,” he grumbles.
“Yeah,” you deadpan, “and he was dogshit. We both agreed to pretend it never happened.”
He groans, “I can’t believe this. My day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.”
“Oh, get over yourself. It’s only for the winter. I’ll be back in McLaren Papaya by February when they need me snapping shots of you and Oscar next to the new livery,” you promise.
The reality is that it’ll probably be sooner. McLaren has always been good about getting you back at HQ pretty quickly, either to get some snapshots of the beginning of Lando and Oscar’s pre-season return or to just capture some material of the engineers at work to promote their readiness. You understand why they can’t keep you around all year━ no Lando and no Oscar means no you━ and with the sheer amount of content you capture and edit for them throughout the season, they’ve got enough to last them the handful of weeks you aren’t working.
Unfortunately, you aren’t working with a driver’s salary to keep you sustained over the break and rent certainly hasn’t been getting cheaper. In past years, your bank account has been chirping with crickets when you’ve returned to work after the winter, and that was before your landlord had decided to make your life a living hell.
You have an important job, but it’s by far the most important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Working in sports media taught you that early on.
“Who knows?” Lando’s voice snaps you back. “Maybe Jack Grealish with his perfect hair and perfect calves will steal you away and you’ll be in sky blue forevermore.”
You laugh, “Jack Grealish is a happily taken man, and although he does have perfect hair and perfect calves, I’m more of a Haaland girl anyway.”
He guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re so far gone that you already have a preferred player. Jack Grealish is England’s poster boy! Everyone loves him whether they like City or not!” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Christ, I can already feel you slipping through my fingers. I give it a week over there at Etihad before you call me up telling me I can find a new best friend because you’ve replaced me with Phil Foden and Julian Alvarez.”
“For someone who supposedly hates Manchester City, you’re certainly well-versed in their roster.”
“Well duh, I need to know my competition,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“Ah, yes,” you snark back sarcastically. “Because you, a Formula One driver, have to be worried about the football players of Manchester City.”
“Apparently I do if you’re calling yourself a Haaland girl now!”
You burst into cackles and he’s following shortly after with chuckles of his own that eventually peter out into a comfortable silence. You are really going to miss him for the few months you aren’t working with him.
The Formula One schedule is so jam-packed across the season that it typically means you’re getting to see him every day for an hour or two at least, if not for the entirety of the time he’s at the track. You follow him and Oscar to their sponsor obligations, their interviews, and everything in between. It’s honestly rare if you’re not getting a moment to goof off and dick around with one another━ and it’s even rarer for you to not actually see one another face to face in passing at the very least.
The off-season is your least favorite time of the year for this very reason, and though it makes you feel a bit full of yourself to think so, you imagine Lando doesn’t enjoy this time of year much either for the same reason.
“I promise I won’t replace you with any of the City boys,” you say after the silence has stretched on a moment longer.
He huffs again, but you can envision the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even if you do, I’ll just show up to a match and steal you away again.”
“As if. Have you seen Grealish’s calves?”
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footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward caught with mysterious woman revealed to be well-known Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The two were seen sharing a romantic evening on Friday, the 5th of January, ringing in a passionate start to 2024. Garrett Ward has been with Manchester City since 2021 but was out on loan to a lesser-known Championship League team until 2023. He has just recently begun to play for his team again, but an injury early into the season has seen him benched for a majority of his time back. Y/N L/N is a photographer for Formula One racing team McLaren and has been working with them since 2019. Recently, she has been working with Manchester City to help promote a new docuseries following the men’s team’s winter training. Check the link in our bio for the full article!
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user OMG GARRETT WARD??? NOTORIOUS BACHELOR GARRETT WARD???
user who is she? like genuinely how is she relevant 🤔
↳ user no literally cuz like who even gives two shits about formula 1?
user girl works in f1 why can’t she stay there
↳ user i’m sure there are plenty of drivers who’d smash her idk why she needs to try and get footballers too like bffr 😒😒😒
user aint no way this bitch is kissing my man rn
user literally what does he even see in her??? she’s not even cute AND she’s wearing man united colors 💀💀
user Y/N L/N??? I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS???
↳ user LITERALLY ME TOO?? like she posts him all the time on insta so i just kinda thought they were an item or smth?? trouble in paradise maybe
user she’s fucking ugly wtf
user i wish these footballers who get with regular women would realize there are so many better girls out there that would ACTUALLY treat them well and would support them in their careers. like i bet this girl doesn’t even know anything about football. she works in f1 and that’s where she should stay bc nobody cares about that shit round here. she probably doesn’t even know the first thing about how football works, but i bet she’ll be at matches pretending like she knows what’s happening. garrett ward is gonna flush his career down the troilet for this chick bc she’s gonna convince him his busy schedule ain’t worth it and then city will be down a great forward for good, and it’ll all be her fault
user i mean she’s kinda pretty tbf
↳ user stfu she really isn’t
↳ user she gen looks like any random bitch off the street
user these comments are not it…. 😬
↳ user maybe you f1 fans just don’t know how to handle constructive criticism
↳ user is the constructive criticism in the room with us rn?? cuz all i’m seeing is bullying and hatred directed towards an innocent woman who’s only “crime” was going on a date
user ok so she can take photos?? 🙄🙄 maybe she should get a real job
↳ user she’s probably only with him so she can mooch off of him like a fucking gold digger
user AINT NO WAYYYYYY
user it’ll last a month max 😌 i’m calling it
user ayo lando come get your girl
━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette
━━ a/n: here we have it! took me a bit longer than the start of american smile did, but lando's story is officially here! (and it's a whopping 2.9k words to start us off). first and foremost, before we get started, garrett ward is 100% an oc and obviously does not play for manchester city, and this is bc i would feel absolutely horrible portraying a real person in the way that garrett will be later on. gather from that what you will haha! regardless, i hope you enjoy this first part and stick around for the rest!
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#social media au#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#ln4#oscar piastri
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Hello if you dont have a problem with it coud you write something about the reader in crepus fic being younger like a teen and another fic about the reader having mental health problems and needing medication ( I have recently been diagnosed with depression and severe anxiety its been thought)and the acolytes and parental crepus freaking out cos they don’t know what to do and then comes albeido and recreates the medicine
Abyss anon🌌
Diluc, for all the horrors he had seen, could not remember a darker day.
His father had been hidden away in the room belonging to the Divine Creator, Diluc's beloved younger sibling. For quite some time now...
The skies of Teyvat were a deep purple, shrouded with dark clouds which collected near Mondstadt most prominently. The plants were beginning to wither and the animals were all more flighty than one might expect.
The Divine Creator was in distress, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Diluc watched from the window as clouds swirled and crawled across the sky, hoping that somehow this would all end.
Crepus' heart ached.
Disheveled and more than disheartened, was his child. Creator or not, an innocent creature who did not deserve the suffering they had been through. Crepus comfortingly smoothed out their hair.
It had been a few weeks now. Sometimes their Grace hardly had energy to eat, other times they were near hysterics. Going over possibilities of doom over and over again, clinging to him as though Crepus would disappear if they let go. Two such afflictions didn't fit together, but this child suffered all the same.
After the initial confusion and excitement of getting settled in Teyvat, a small capsule was found, and The Creator scooped it up in recognition. This was medicine, meant to help them regulate their mood.
It only lasted about a week, unfortunately, as some of the greatest scientific minds were dipping their hands in, taking more and more in an attempt to understand and recreate the compound.
Chief Alchemist Albedo of the Knights of Favonius, Forest Watcher Tighnari, Second of the Fatui Harbingers, Doctor Baizhu of Bubu Pharmacy. Each and every one searching for the answer. Teyvat may not have all the same compounds, but surely their could make an equivalent.
But the process was taking a long time. Even with as great of minds as theirs, there just wasn't anything to speed along the process.
The Creator insisted that it would be fine, that they could go a little while without their meds. But a little while turned into a month, a month turned to two, and they simply couldn't hold out any longer.
Their Grace whispered an apology to Crepus, hardly noticing the shaky breath their father took before he took their hand in his.
"Don't apologize, this isn't your fault, none of this is your fault."
.
.
.
Albedo burst through the doors of The Angel's Share, his frazzled state an odd sight to the staff who had volunteered to keep the space clean whilst the tavern remained closed to the public. Diluc whirled to face him.
"I've done it, hurry, bring me to-" Albedo hadn't even finished his sentence before Diluc had grabbed his arm and started dragging him away. The two men running frantically towards the gates of the city. The few citizens who were out and about watching with curious gazes.
In what felt like hours of non stop running, Albedo was stood in front of the Ragnvindr Manor, it felt especially cold there. Nervously he glances at Diluc who nodded and gave him a quick shove to usher him inside. Albedo followed closely as Diluc led him to The Creator's room.
"Your Grace?" Albedo asked, hardly receiving any reaction. Crepus fixed his eyes on Albedo, and the little bundle he had in his hand.
"Your Grace, I have brought you some medicine... It should be just like the one from before. I..." Albedo found himself at a loss for words when Diluc gave him another rough shove.
He approached the bed, seeing his god bundled under the blankets with a look that could only be described as exhausted on their face. Crepus stood and went to fetch water.
Crepus leaving caught their full attention, and they sat up, watching after him. "Dad?"
The voice they called him with broke each heart in the room. Small and vulnerable. Crepus didn't want to leave their side. He didn't want them to be afraid or alone. This wasn't just his god. It was his child. His baby.
"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you some water." Crepus soothed, though it took everything in him to stop his voice from wobbling with anxiety. His footsteps echoed throughout the halls as he retreated into the vast home.
Albedo hadn't ever been in the Ragnvindr Manor. He assumed it wasn't usually this dreary. Or... maybe it was considering how Diluc usually was. But the deep pit in his stomach was artificial. It was just an extension of the pain that Their Grace was in. How could one being feel anything so deeply? Albedo's mouth felt dry as he and Diluc waited in silence for Crepus to return.
"Your Grace... how are you feeling?" Diluc was reluctant to ask. He knew how they were feeling, he could feel it too. It dragged at his very soul, calling him to lay in the abyss and never emerge again.
And usually, they would correct him. They didn't much like being called by such a respectful name by him or Kaeya. But when they spoke it was not to chastise him.
"Fine." They lied. They lied and it broke Diluc's heart. Did they know how much their misery was torturing him? Should they know?
There weren't any words spoken as Crepus returned with the water, he guided The Creator to take the medicine. Diluc and Albedo waiting on baited breath. This had to be it. This had to fix it.
And it didn't. That heavy, suffocating feeling remained. Diluc was about to turn to Albedo. Bark something or other about his incompetency. But Albedo just closed his eyes and nodded.
"It will take a few weeks of consistent doses for this to clear up... but their body isn't rejecting the compound so far..." Albedo trailed off, mumbling something under his breath as Crepus and Diluc watched The Divine One closely.
It was going to take some time... But Crepus was going to be there along the whole way.
I'm sorry this is so late, Abyss Anon!
#sagau#genshin impact#genshin impact sagau#genshin x reader#kaeya alberich#genshin diluc#diluc x reader#diluc x you#crepus x reader#crepus ragnvindr#sagau albedo#albedo x reader#sagau diluc#sagau crepus
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Dumbass - Adam Warlock
Adam is a tough guy, but he's also a hard headed dumbass who doesn't know when to stop, and who also doesn't know how to ask you to help him.
Adam Warlock x guardian!fem!reader
contains: inury, cussing, fighting, tension, stitching someone up. reader is human like quill, a lot of dialogue.
requested by the lovely @carliim mwah! <3
Adam was a dumbass. Grade A, classic, book defined dumbass. All he knew, all he was good at, was fighting. Defending, throwing punches, using his powers to tear others down. He didn't think, he didn't process, he just fought.
And that is how he ended up here, lying on the dirt with a gash on his shoulder and his uniform torn halfway off. Groaning in pain, unable to lift himself up off the ground. This is it, he thought to himself, this is my end.
"Goddamnit, Warlock."
Standing above him, a cloud of dusty haze surrounding the fighting grounds as the enemies laid dead on the ground, you shrugged looking down at the pitiful god beneath you. He groaned again once he made eye contact with you.
"How come I always have to clean up your messes?" You leaned down to help him stand up off of the ground. Draping his arm over your shoulder you helped him walk back to the ship. Both of you rolled your eyes at the team's comments, rocket's whistling and laughing.
You took him back to the medical bay where you began to patch and clean his wounds, taking care of him like you've done time and time again. Frankly, you were getting sick of it. You were tired of always having to pick him up off the ground, stitch him up, to only do the same thing again two weeks later.
"Why do you look like that?" he asked you, laying on the cool table while you cleaned out the gash would as best you can.
"Like what?"
"Like you're mad, like you want to punch me." Adam responded, his voice raspy but quiet as he laid at the mercy of your healing hands.
"Because I do. Each time I stitch you up, I hope it's the last. I'm tired of this shit," Adam winced as you began to thread stitches to his shoulder after the wound had been cleaned.
He scoffed at your words and rolled his eyes, "humans, you're so entitled." Adam winced again in pain when you pressed hard on his shoulder after his comment toward you.
"Gods, you're so fucking dumb."
You spent the rest of the time fixing his wounds ignoring his comments, groans, fits of rage he had against you. He always did this any time you cleaned him up. It was so unfortunate that you were the only one available to do it, wasn't it?
You sent him off to sleep while you cleaned the med bay, and to cool off. It always took everything in you to not rip his head off. You always thought to yourself that one of these days, he is going to cry for your help again, and you won't give it. One of these days...that's gonna happen.
"Mind if I sit?" Adam asked, standing behind you with a blanket wrapped over his shoulders.
"Kind of." He sat beside you anyway, not too close but not far enough where it was awkward. Adam rested his head on his hand which was propped up by his knee, staring out into space as he sat next to you in the cool night air.
Minutes of silence went by before he spoke, his low and raspy tone making goosebumps appear on your skin against your will.
"I don't intend to be so rude to you, I don't know why it's my first reaction." Adam admitted, looking down at the dirty ground beneath him. He heard you sigh and saw you shake your head, biting back a smile.
"I forget you're only...a few years old." You started in response, "it's because boys are mean to the girls they like. It's just...how it is."
Adam frowned, looking out into the stars. He felt bad. He didn't intend on hurting her feelings, he didn't like making her feel bad. He didn't like seeing that sad and depressed look on her face.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. You don't deserve to be treated like that, you are deserving of the stars and everything beyond them." Adam turned toward her, gracefully putting his hand on her knee.
She sighed, taking a deep breath looking over at him with heavy hooded eyes. "I know. Maybe one day you'll man up enough to give them to me."
masterlist | feedback
#j's writing#adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock imagine#adam warlock blurb#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#marvel blurb#mcu imagine#guardians of the galaxy vol 3#guardians of the galaxy#guardians of the galaxy imagine
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Gatos e Rosas will be on hold for a week or so since I have a VERY busy week ahead of me and won't have time to write the new chapters.
As an apology, I did a thing on twitter that for every like the tweet received, I would post one fact about a character of the GeR universe (mainly fitpac ofc).
So here's part one of those facts, hope you enjoy :) lmk if you want more!
Ramón was adopted by Fit and Spreen when he was barely 3 years old
Pac lost his leg in an accident (will be explained in the story) when he was 19
Fit went to the army straight when he was fresh outta highschool, thinking he knew everything (he didn't)
Pac's amputation is an above knee one, also known as a transfemoral one
Phil and Missa are in a queerplatonic marriage
Tina works in the fashion industry and has dreams of owning her own boutique and line in the future
Quesadilla City is a small city in a fictional island located in the Northern Hemisphere
Ramón is autistic, and he goes nonverbal whenever he's extremely stressed or overstimulated. He and Fit communicate through sign language when that happens
Pac has diagnosed depression and anxiety and takes meds for it
Cellbit and Roier met when they were called to the school because Richas and Bobby had a fight
Fit figured out he was gay when he was in his teens, but didn't accept it until he was in his late twenties/early thirties
Roier does drag, aka Melissa
Quackity HATES Chayanne, and the feeling is mutual with Chayanne. Their hate-relationship started since Chayanne was a toddler
Missa works in a really famous orchestra, which means he often has to travel around for concerts, leaving his family behind for long periods of time
The first few weeks after Pac was alone in his new apartment for the first time, he fell into a rough depressive episode. He slowly got better after adopting Xereta
Ramón's special interest is the Krebs Cycle. Fit has no idea when, what, or how his son even learned what the krebs cycle is, but he's happy to listen Ramóns infodumps
After Pac and Mike immigrated from Brazil, Mike searched high and low for somewhere they could stay that would be cheap until they could get back on their feet. He met Bagi, who was searching for more roommates at the time. They moved in, and the Favela Five apartment was born
Death Family live in the more country side of the city, around the same area as Mike and Mine
Fit lost his arm up until the shoulder, also known as shoulder disarticulation
Pac and Mike met in the orphanage at Brazil when they were both seven and five, respectively
Fit and Phil met just when Fit was discharged and lived together as roommates until Phil met Missa
Quesadilla City is a VERY diverse city, with immigrants from all over the world having their little communities spread around. The Favela is one of the most popular communities, though!
Cellbit works at Ordo Theorita’s Publishing House, and he dreams of publishing his own thriller book in the future
Pac is transmasc, and had his top surgery in his midtwenties after the Favela Five managed to scrap enough money to pay for it
Ramón's biggest fear is his dad being lonely. His second biggest fear are heights
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Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. I love the universe you've created for ava and beatrice. I could have said Avatrice but the thing is you write them so beautifully as individuals, all their triumphs and losses, that it doesn't feel right not to acknowledge them as they are on their own as much as they are as a couple. Anyway! I pretty much have bookmarked all your work and I keep suggesting your fics on Twitter, I'm pretty much your unofficial publicist at this point, proudly so 😆
I just finished the multitude of loving and once again you made me laugh and smile and cry and you made my heart warm and for a while, my depression didn't feel as debilitating. So thank you. I don't know what you're gonna write next whenever inspiration strikes, but if you ever do another outside pov, would you mind writing one from Diego's? I guess I'm biased because aside from your fics, I've been obsessed with do a flip by sunsafe and it warms my heart to see Diego in fics because well, I think it's safe to say that he was the one who loved ava first, he was there by her bedside and all and so it would be lovely, to know how he feels and thinks about ava and beatrice, after all the years of living his own life, after all the years wishing to see his sister, his best friend, his... Ava, because there's no traditional title that really fits them, after all the years wishing that ava is okay and... Alive, more than just surviving because even when he was a child he knew, ava was meant for such a bright and grand life, just because she was all that herself.
Anyway, just an idea, of course. My rambling is not in any way meant to pressure you into writing it 😆😅 I hope you're having a good day wherever you are. Cheers!
[first of all i love do a flip!!!! 100/10 recommend if anyone hasn't read it!!
anyway, here's a little diego pov in the butch bea universe. he's like 18 or 19? idk. yknow just roll w it :) ]
//
university is busy as hell, and it's cool that they pay for your doctor's appointments and, when you actually started getting the care you needed, you were able to do basically everything in the normal, big wide world with regular meds and check-ins — but mostly you just want to play rugby and flirt with girls (not well, but you're 18 and always kind, so who cares your success rate) and pass all of your classes. when you got adopted it had seemed like a miracle, and so you don't take any of this time for granted — not the bright sun or the grass stains on your knees or how rachel plays with your hair when you hang out in her dorm.
you don't think much of it when you get a random email from beatrice gu-knight, partially because emails are a pain in the ass and partially because nico brought over a six pack of stellas and his nintendo switch — you're the mario kart champion, undisputed — but, in the morning, when you open your phone, you think your heart might stop in your chest.
Hello Diego,
I hope you're well. I know it might seem strange to get an email like this from someone you don't know and have never even heard of, and, if you don't wish to follow up or connect, please just let me know, and that will be the end of it.
But, in the hopeful chance that you do: my name is Beatrice (she/her), and I'm reaching out to you because Ava Silva is my life partner. We've been together for a few years now and she talks of you often, and fondly; I know from her stories you were an extraordinarily joyful and sustaining part of her life at St. Michael's, and, if nothing else, I hope you understand my deep gratitude for that. I work in tech, so I was able to find this email address for you in the hopes that you might want to reconnect with Ava. We live in Los Angeles, and she's, as I'm sure you remember, wonderful. Maybe even more wonderful now, as I hope you are too.
Again, if you are at all uncomfortable, please feel no pressure to engage in any way; I won't let Ava know, so don't worry about that. If you would like to reconnect, though, you can respond to this email, or call or text me at my cell listed below. Thank you.
Warmest regards,
Beatrice
it takes you a few seconds to get it together, because, what the fuck, first of all. second of all, ava — one of your favorite people ever, and someone you miss every day. who apparently has a very proper and seemingly kind partner named beatrice, and lives in california. ava is alive, and probably really happy. the last time you saw her she was scared and upset and you had thought she died before that. you had thought you would never see her again.
Hey, this is Diego, you text the number on Beatrice's email. you think about the time difference, and, sorry if it's the middle of the night for you
it takes a minute or two, but then your phone vibrates. Diego, wonderful to hear from you! I'm glad my email wasn't too intense.
and, like, maybe it was a little, but your calc III professor is a fucking nutcase, so you kind of have a high bar.
Ava works late sometimes, so don't worry about the time difference right now
it's sweet, you think, that beatrice doesn't work late, or, whatever, maybe she does, but she's up because ava is awake. because ava will be coming home, or finishing up in an office. you wonder about their life, what their home looks like and if ava's laugh is still just as awesome. and, like, what is ava's job? is she still paralyzed, or can she walk like she had the last time you saw her? you're glad for her, honestly, that her partner is a girl, because ava thought boys were hot but also seemed to like girls more — so, like, how did they fall in love? it's funny to imagine ava as a grownup, with a partner and a home and a whole life, but it's also the best.
do you want to facetime tomorrow or something, you text, because you don't really know what else to say, but you want to find out: about your sister, and the life she's apparently built. you think — if ava is anything like how she had been when you were younger — you definitely want to be in it.
I would love that, beatrice responds immediately. you work out the details and, eventually, you go to class and try to have a normal day. but ava is out there, happy, in california, with a partner who clearly cares about her. it feels like a gift, even to know. it feels like a gift, to get to be in her warmth again.
/
beatrice, when you answer the facetime call at exactly the second the clock hits 7 pm your time, is beautiful. it doesn't surprise you, not really, because you remember ava being pretty, and, even more than that, fucking awesome. beatrice is younger than what you think someone with that formal a name would be, with short dark hair that flops into her eyes, which are kind of gold in the light through the window of whatever room she's in. 'hello, diego,' she says, and, yeah, ava probably loves that accent.
it makes you laugh, but, like, in a nice way, to know that ava has a whole partner. a whole entire person who shares a life with her, who helps her with stuff and — beatrice is a saint for this — laughs at her puns.
'hey,' you say, feel awkward and a little sloppy in the face of the chic big oil painting behind her, the hoodie you know is expensive because your friend artur had had it marked on his stockx for, like, months now. 'uh, i'm diego. nice to meet you.'
beatrice smiles, and you see her freckles, and you realize, in a flash, a truth you know implicitly — that ava loves this person. ava picked this person to spend her life with. the world is cruel, you know better than most, but the world is also so, so kind.
'i'm so happy you responded to my email,' she says, less formal and with a slight laugh, mostly with joy. 'ava is the best, and i know that — she misses you. she loves you, a lot. i've always wanted to meet you.' you kind of don't know what to say, and you're relieved when she shakes her head. 'sorry, i'm being a lot again. believe it or not, this is my first rodeo with something like this.'
first rodeo sounds foreign from her, and it inexplicably makes you laugh. 'you're doing fine.' you realize that beatrice is just as nervous as you are, maybe even more: she loves ava. she has a whole life with ava. 'i — does ava want to talk to me?'
'i haven't told her yet. i wanted to see how you felt first, without any pressure, and i didn't want her to feel disappointed. but i know she will be... overjoyed, to have you in her life again, if you want.'
'yeah.' you think of ava's jokes and how full of life she was, even when she didn't have access to much of it herself. you think about the clumsy drawings you had made her, and how happy she was every time she got to go outside in her wheelchair. 'i do, want that. a lot.'
beatrice's smile is relieved and grateful. 'i can talk to her, then, and then maybe you two can set up a video chat? i know she'll be beside herself with excitement.'
'yeah,' you say, and you can't help but smile looking forward to it. it doesn't sound like ava's changed much, in the good ways, which is super cool. 'i'm excited too.'
/
your palms are clammy and you feel like you might throw up, but beatrice had sent you a link to a zoom and asked if the evening worked for you; you're so thrilled but also, like, what if ava doesn't like you anymore? what if she's way way cooler than you, or too grown up, or just bored by your life? it had been one thing, to lose her when you were young and confused, to have to grieve her absence so obliquely — but it would be an entirely different thing now, to know she's alive and has a life of her own and just doesn't want you in it. you don't really know how you would handle that. ava was your friend and ava was your sister, in the ways that really matter.
but, you realize very quickly, all of your anxiety was for nothing, because ava's face pops on screen — older, and her hair is shorter, and there are slight laugh lines settling into the skin around her eyes, but she mostly looks the same — and her smile is so warm and then she starts to cry and laugh and, yeah. if you do too, it's fine. no one else is in your dorm room anyway.
'hey,' she says, the first to get any words out. she's sitting up, and she waves, and you feel like you're seeing a real life miracle, right there on your computer screen. 'you look so old. i really missed you.'
'you look so old too.' she grins. 'i really missed you.'
it's a little stilted at first, probably because you're both overwhelmed, but then it's just... the fucking best. ava is a bartender, 'mostly for fun,' she says, which, whatever that means, and she still loves the beach. they apparently have a house right by the water. she starts crying again when you tell her you got adopted, that you're not so sick anymore because you have good doctors and caring parents, that you're in school to become an accountant.
'the family business?' she says, choked up, after you tell her that your adoptive mom is one too, and that she wanted you to be able to take over one day if you were interested.
it's as unbelievable to you some days as it seems to her, on bright mornings or when you get to go skiing in the cold snow, when your friends pass around a joint or when you get to go to a museum, whenever you want. 'yeah,' you say — a family; you learn ava has one too. 'it's pretty incredible.'
/
'holy shit, ava.'
she just laughs, letting you go in front of her into her house. well, her and beatrice's house, you guess. you'd facetimed and texted a bunch with ava in the past two months, so you had figured out they were kinda loaded, and they'd both picked you up from the airport in a very sleek, fancy volvo, but, like —
'this is nuts.'
you think you might immediately cry again when you notice, right away, how there's not a single part of the house you can see that isn't accessible for someone in a wheelchair. ava had told you that she can walk but some days has a lot of pain and a hard time with mobility, and that beatrice was awesome and she had a good chair and even a van and a service dog, but you never could've imagined this. their house is huge and beautiful, like something you'd see in an AD tour you like to watch when you're stoned. ava has a cane today, and beatrice trundles in with your bag — she had insisted, quietly, but with a look that told you it would be totally pointless to argue.
'your house is awesome,' you say, to both of them.
beatrice smiles gently. 'we redid it last year, for accessibility. i think it turned out great.'
'wanna see the best part?' ava says, using her cane to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and you have to clear your throat because you had known her for so long. you had loved her for so long, your best friend in the entire world, who was smart and funny and bursting at the seams to feel it all, to really get to live.
'dude,' you say, 'of course.'
'i'm going to put your bag in your room,' beatrice says. 'and then i have a work call. but i should be done after the hour, for whatever you'd like to do, if you want me to join.'
'of course we want you to join,' ava says, and beatrice blushes and then gathers herself and kisses the top of ava's head before she offers you a thumbs up — nerdy, and it makes ava snort — and then lifts your bag like it weighs two pounds or something. 'love of my life,' ava says. 'definitely doesn't have a work call, but she's been stressed all week about making sure she gives us time to ourselves but doesn't seem aloof. huge weirdo.'
'she's hot.'
'ew, diego.'
you shrug. 'all i'm saying is that, like, i get it. not for me, because she's, like, super gay, but you know. for you.' you take a breath. 'sorry, i'm just excited.'
ava laughs. 'bea is super gay, it's true.' she points to a button on the wall nearby and then floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the living space from the patio. 'now, check this out.'
it's pretty fucking wild that ava went from the horrible orphanage, and tons of abuse that you were too small and too weak and too scared to stop, to a whole house that opens up to a day bed and an outdoor kitchen and dining area and a hot tub, a small patch of grass, and then the sea behind — but in the best kind of way. the kind of way that makes you want to tell everyone you meet that things can get better. that good things will happen to good people, at least sometimes. at least ava, who is the best of all of them.
ava motions for you to come with and walks outside, and then it's, like, genuinely the best thing ever when a black and white dog — korra, who ava sends you pictures of all the time and has featured in multiple zoom calls — who was napping in the sun, perks her head up and you swear she, like, dog-smiles at ava. 'hi, good girl,' ava says, and then claps her hands once and korra obediently, and happily, comes to ava's right side and sits, leans her little head against ava's thigh.
'i can't spend this entire time crying,' you say, and ava laughs. 'can i say hi?'
'of course,' she says. 'she's not usually formally working at home, unless i'm having a really bad day. which, you know, i'm not, but they do happen sometimes.' she shrugs and you kneel down in the sun and pet korra's soft ears as she nuzzles your face.
'she's so cool,' you say, and then kiss the top of her head and her nose. 'hey korra! i'm your uncle, i guess?'
'yeah! uncle diego.'
it makes you beam, to sit on the patio with ava as she shows you some of the tasks korra has been trained to do, and tells you about her bar you'll go to later, and points toward their outdoor shower with a sly smile. you do her the courtesy of fake gagging, although you really are just mostly happy for her, with her partner and her dog and a house that was built just for her.
eventually, beatrice comes outside, carrying a very intense charcuterie board. she places it down on the day bed, between you and ava, korra happily snoozing at your feet.
‘hi baby,’ ava says and scoots closer to you, then tugs on beatrice’s hand until she sits. ava kisses her temple. ‘this is very extravagant.’
‘well, we have a guest,’ beatrice says. ‘there’s wine inside, if you’d like a glass.’
‘i know nothing about wine,’ you admit, ‘but if there’s one you think… pairs? well with, you know —‘ you gesture to the elegantly laid out spread of food in front of you — ‘then i’ll trust you and go with that.’
ava grins. ‘yes, beatrice. be our resident sommelier, please.’
beatrice rolls her eyes, again with a blush, but then stands, ignoring ava’s pout. ‘i’ll be right back.’
‘she’s, like, really nice.’
ava lays back with a grin. ‘well she’s on her i was raised by diplomats and nannies most proper behavior right now. i don’t get charcuterie boards like this… ever.’ she takes a bite of cheese. ‘but bea is wonderful. she’s brilliant and funny and so, so kind. she’ll loosen up. i’m really excited you get to spend time with her.’
‘i’m thankful she reached out. i — i’m so happy to be here, and to see you.’
‘me too, my dude.’
beatrice comes back out with fancy real crystal glasses and a bottle of wine she explains is a vintage napa chardonnay, which mostly just makes you think it’s expensive. it probably is, with the way she efficiently uncorks it — ava practically drools, annoying, and you elbow her in the ribs — but it’s, like, really good. at least compared to the cheap wine you sometimes have with your friends when you order greek food.
‘diego,’ beatrice says, measured and anxious and, if ava’s stupid expression is anything to go by, endearing, ‘as you know, i like to surf. although it’s quite early, i was wondering if you might like to join me tomorrow? one of my best friends is an excellent instructor and the wave report looks ideally calm. ava thought you might be interested, if you’d like to learn?’
‘yeah,’ you say. ‘of course. that sounds sick.’
beatrice grins, relaxing a little. ava squeezes her hand. ‘i find it quite fun. it can be hard at first, but it’s nice to be in the water.’
‘diego gets his astounding athletic ability from my side of the family,’ ava says, patting you on the knee.
‘your side of the family?’ beatrice arches a brow.
‘yeah, the orphan side,’ you say, an old joke coming back to you, and ava gives you a high five.
‘i —‘
‘don’t think about it too hard, beatrice. diego also gets his bisexuality from my side of the family too.’
‘now that i’m willing to believe.’
ava winks at you, and then settles back into beatrice’s side.
/
admittedly, you're exhausted, so the mezcal margarita — smoky and just the right amount of sour — is hitting harder than you thought.
'okay,' ava says, 'boys are easy to flirt with.'
beatrice rolls her eyes.
'they are, bea,' she insists, then looks to you. 'sorry, diego, but boys are just... simple. they see someone hot, especially me, and there's, like, no thoughts.'
you think of the way luis had kissed you one night at a party — with his strong hands and his strong jaw and the rough, delicious scratch of his beard — after you'd just offered him a drink politely, so. honestly, that tracks.
'girls, though, diego.'
you laugh.
'you know, people who aren't men.'
'yeah, of course.'
'difficult. i just — whew.'
'aren't you, like, basically married?'
'well, yes, we're domestic partners. but beatrice is horrible at flirting. she's just lucky she's brilliant, and beautiful, and handsome, and funny.'
beatrice rolls her eyes again, although a blush spreads across her cheeks. 'i think i have more women try to flirt with me than you.'
ava huffs. 'that's because you're just — ugh.' she turns toward you. 'bea has grown into being a lesbian magnet. i once was superior. plus, boys flirt with me too.' she claps you on the back. 'either way, between the two of us, we'll teach you everything you need to know.'
'they won't,' one of their friends says, sliding in next to beatrice, who smiles and kisses him on the cheek. he's maybe the hottest person you've ever seen, with tattoos down both arms and a neat fade, probably a few years older than beatrice. 'i'm keiko,' he says, and offers his hand. his handshake is so strong and you feel yourself blush. 'i own the dojo beatrice goes to.'
'my favorite sparring partner,' beatrice says. 'partially because i have never lost.'
keiko waves her off.
'uh, i'm diego.'
ava laughs, delightedly, at how flustered you clearly are.
'well, if you want advice on boys, i am quite successful.'
'i'm sure you are.'
ava gives you a high five, mortifyingly. 'that's my man.'
'i'm cutting both of you off,' beatrice says.
'one shot, bea, please. come on. all we have to do is walk home.'
beatrice sighs dramatically and runs a hand through her hair, and keiko nudges her in the shoulder. 'for once in your life, beatrice, have a little fun.'
it takes a moment, but she laughs. 'fine. one shot, and then home.'
/
you surf the next morning, early as fuck, but you’re kind of jetlagged anyway and it’s really beautiful to watch the sunrise while you rest on a board. you haven’t popped up and you got tired pretty fast, but beatrice’s friend, ray — and beatrice herself, obviously — are patient and relaxed and don’t seem to care at all. ava wanders out eventually, setting out a towel and drinking a to-go cup of coffee. she waves happily and blows a kiss in beatrice’s direction, who blushes. it had made you laugh, quietly, when she had put a special bucket hat designed for surfing on after she situated her wetsuit.
‘i don’t want to get sunburned,’ she explained, and then handed you a bottle of spf 100 sunscreen and a zinc stick.
eventually you ride a wave in on your knees, laughing, and then go sit by ava while you watch ray and beatrice and the rest of their little crew surf the next set, bigger on the outer break. you can tell beatrice shows off, for ava and, maybe a bit, for you. it's still early, and ava's happy to sit back in the easy quiet.
'hey,' you say after a while, during a break in sets, 'so, beatrice introduced me this morning as "ava's little brother".'
she turns to you, studies your features carefully, just like she always would when you were in the orphanage, trying to pay close attention. 'did that feel okay?'
'other than the fact that i'm taller than you —'
'— hey —'
'— of course,' you say. 'i love being your brother.'
ava scoots closer to you and bumps your shoulder with hers; you have your wetsuit down around your waist and she has one of beatrice's hoodies on, but you've mostly dried off by this point so you put your arm around her shoulders and tug her to you.
'do you, uh. sister? sibling?'
ava smiles. 'either is great.'
'okay.'
'thanks, diego.'
'nothing to thank me for there. i should be thanking you, honestly. all expenses paid trip to a bougie beach house in california to see someone i've missed so much? the dream.'
she sniffles. you don't know all the details but you know ava has been through some real shit after she — came back to life, you guess? 'i missed you too, so so much.' she clears her throat and wipes under her eyes. 'in the spirit of being your cool older sibling, what mild to moderately wild things do you want to do here. i don't want your parents to be mad at me so consider wisely.'
'tattoo.'
'do you have anything planned that you would want?'
'well, no.'
ava laughs.
'what? beatrice has cool tattoos.'
'she is a staunch believer that you should plan your tattoos in advance. but think of something and then next time we'll get you all set up with her artist, if you want.'
there's a level of maturity and care that's a little unexpected but, like, really cool? really nice. it's kind of weird and makes you a bit emotional, because ava is grown up. she's still an idiot, and constantly annoying, and very funny — but she's gotten to get older, and so have you.
'we could dye our hair,' she says, shrugging. 'easy to rectify, if it's a disaster.'
'i'm so in, man.' your hair is darker than hers, and you have no idea if she knows what she's doing, but you trust beatrice — with her neat hair and neat house and neat clothes and seemingly undying love for ava — to monitor the situation.
'maybe we can do the bi flag.'
it makes you laugh, imagining how silly it would look. 'what about just purple? like, a light purple situation.'
'i've done that before,' she tells you excitedly. 'loved it. definitely time to return.'
'deal. also, i want to try california weed.'
ava grins. 'we would have let you last night, you know, but you were actively falling asleep at the bar after one cocktail.'
'it's the time difference, i swear.'
'sure it is.'
'well, bea loves her edibles. she's very particular about them. i'm... much less particular about joints, but we can start off chill. maybe this afternoon. and then we can have tacos.'
'that sounds like a perfect day.'
she smiles. 'yeah,' she says. 'even more perfect because i get to share it with you.'
'gross,' you say, although you might suddenly cry. 'sappy.'
'yeah, yeah. whatever.'
you keep your arm around ava's shoulders and watch beatrice and ray trade tricks the next set, and then they both call it and walk, laughing, toward you. ava struggles to stand with a frown, and you offer your arm for her to take if she wants. she does, smiles quickly in thanks and then, you know too, moves on without a word. she kisses beatrice soundly on the mouth, then pushes her goofy bucket hat off her head, fastened around her neck and resting on the back of her shoulders, and then gratuitously unzips her wetsuit while ray rolls her eyes.
it's a whole big world, you learn more and more every day. ray joins you for breakfast and then ava takes you shopping while you're pretty sure beatrice just naps. ava uses her chair and brings korra, which is mostly just the coolest thing in the world to you, because she has a whole van customized too, and she just — you had known, when you were younger, when ava would get to go outside in her chair, that nothing was limiting her other than care, and access. you had been limited too, and you ached with it. you ache differently now, because ava navigates her day fully and independently: a wheelchair lift for the stairs, and a huge, beautiful closet and kitchen where she can reach everything without having to stand, and korra, who can turn on lights and open doors and brings you a juice from the fridge when you sit down and mention you're thirsty; ava grins with the command and then praises korra, and you scratch her soft head and even softer ears.
beatrice does supervise when you and ava dye your hair, but ava mostly knows what she's doing, and really gets distracted the most when she looks over at beatrice in lowslung joggers and a cutoff tank and a beanie, leaning against the doorframe quietly, a fond expression on her face. ava wears crop tops and wideleg pants and expensive sneakers and you both end up laughing when you have your matching lavender hair.
you eat edibles that make everything feel lush and slow and perfect, and beatrice laughs softly at ava's ramble about her arms, and she orders a ton of her favorite chinese food that you eat on the patio at sunset. you take some pictures on your film camera, at sunset, and beatrice takes a few of you and ava. you wish you could go back in time and tell both of you, when you were small and sad and scared and abused, that things would be this beautiful one day. that things would be this good.
ava and beatrice eventually say goodnight before they head inside to their bedroom. there's too much light pollution in los angeles to see many of the stars, but you know they're there all the same.
#wn#warrior nun fic#avatrice#avatrice fic#butch bea 🥺🫡#they just get to have such a good life#diego is just like ... wow ... !! ava is so stupid. i love her so much
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adderall day 1
I'm not going to have any particular deep thoughts about this, but I feel like I should write stuff down. Several people have advised that.
I still don't know how much this is going to cost me, as my insurance couldn't be verified and I'm going to have to do messy things probably to find out. But I've got the pills in my hot little hand, 16 of them, and a follow-up appointment, and perhaps by then I'll know what this is actually costing.
It seems that it varies wildly how people manage to get ADHD dx's. Many many PCPs will not diagnose it or prescribe for it. It seems extremely gatekeepy to me, and not in a helpful way. my own PCP, as I describe more and more of my struggles to get healthcare in general, is being revealed to me to be less and less of any kind of a good fit-- she just seems baffled by everything I say. She asked if I have heartburn, for example, and I said, truthfully, oh yes, if I don't eat regularly, one of the ways I realize I've gone too long is that I start to have heartburn. So I've learned to be conscientious about my eating schedule, and eat small meals and snacks at regular intervals throughout the day, and that has cleared up the problem. And this actively baffled her, she was like "i've never heard of anything like this", and I can't imagine what she thought I was saying. Does no one else in the human race ever get queasy/stomach-acidy from going too long without food? Especially eating heavily and then not eating for a long time afterward? That's the worst for me, so I avoid that. I highly doubt I am the only person ever to experience this. But she seemed convinced that I must not know what heartburn is.
That's just one example. So. If I can get my head on straight at all, I am going to start looking for a new primary care physician. I'm sure this doctor is fine, just not for me.
(She is obsessed that my fasting blood glucose levels are too high. I read an article about it, in the 2010s sometime the CDC decided that 5.7 was a new worrying number (I don't know what the units are, but 7 is what people with well-managed diabetes shoot for), and now they were going to declare this new number "pre-diabetes" and start medicating it. The WHO has refused the concept of "pre-diabetes", pointing out that about 2% of people with this number wind up developing full-blown diabetes whether medicated or not, and that's about the same number of people who develop diabetes without having had this diagnosis, so it is in fact not any kind of reliable indicator of looming diabetes, so it should be referred to as "elevated fasting blood glucose levels" and not the new fictional "pre-diabetes". But there's money in selling that medicine, so American doctors are encouraged to make this diagnosis. And my doctor has put it into my chart that she plans to start me on Metformin if this number does not go down.
I'm refusing that. Medicate me for diabetes if I develop diabetes. I can be annually screened for it just like anyone. Sure, keep an eye on it! I take this seriously. But i am not getting medicated for a condition the WHO thinks is fictional. Thanks.)
Anyway that was a digression.
I'm hoping to at least make a start on dialing in my meds with this online guy, so that when I switch PCPs I can show up with the ADHD treatment as a fait accomplit and not have the new PCP throw a fit. I might try it with the current one too-- "Idk you told me it was incredibly complicated and insurance doesn't cover it so I went to my insurance company and they sent me to this guy and it wasn't complicated at all and I'm responding super well to the treatment so I guess this is what I do now?" but I am just anticipating her throwing a fit of some kind, since she is absolutely convinced I have major depressive disorder and has been trying to get me to go back on Celexa, which did me so much no good that I cold-turkeyed off it and gave myself horrible brain zaps. Don't fucking do that guys.
(It was with this same practice! It's on there, I no-showed to an appointment because I had so little executive function I wasn't even able to keep track of it! And she's still like yah medicating u for depression is super what's going to work. ma'am i have never been suicidal but I remember being on Celexa and most of it was my shitty life situation at the time but mostly it is a gray expanse of despair and ineffectualness, and getting inexorably fatter whilst starting to develop an eating disorder about it, and getting benched by my roller derby coach despite exercising myself to constant exhaustion and performing better than I ever had on the track because she saw my spreading waistline and assumed I was slacking off, and anyway. Yeah no.)
So anyway. I'm letting myself be stream of consciousnessy because it seems right. I had a reasonable breakfast, a lot of water, some coffee, a multivitamin, and my first pill about an hour ago, and am now ensconced in the recliner with the cat because the cat insists. I have started to feel.... kind of... like my throat feels kind of dry so I'm drinking more water, and I just got a little bit not quite dizzy and am acutely aware of all my eye movements, so I guess that's notable.
OK the plan. I would like to someday be able to make to-do lists, that's a medium-term goal. Meanwhile I'm still doing narratives of how i'd like a day to go. I have fallen off that a bit; I've been trying to do not a bullet journal but a just regular day planner in this new year (i got something on clearance off amazon lol) and mostly what I've used it for is as a diary post-hoc, writing down what i got done, and making little notes of what I want to get done, because otherwise my memory wipes itself and I don't know what I did all last week either. I fell off it this week because Dude was out of town and I was off kilter. But I'm going to fill back in what I can remember-- I'm keeping track of what meals I cook, what exercise I do, things like that-- and hope to keep it up going forward.
Routine, I hope, is what will help me.
Today. It is rainy today. I didn't get some of my stuff done while Dude was gone because of course the list I made would have taken six weeks of work, that's how my lists go. But I did get a lot done, so I'm going to write all that down. And today it is rainy, so I can spend time in the basement. What I want to do is empty out all my nice baskets I use to tote craft things around, and re-fill them with more curated selections. I think one basket for like, all the sewing tools, just all of them, in one place, and then another basket that is like, all of the embroidery supplies, and then a container that is An Adequate Selection Of Thread and also machine-sewing supplies? maybe? and then Active Projects can go into a third container that may or may not travel with me. Anyway, thinking about that is a work in progress.
I need to pack for my first trip of the season to the farm. I need to put away all the supplies from painting the kitchen, because I am finally officially totally completely done with that. I need to then tidy the kitchen counter and there's a little wooden cart that used to have our coffee stuff on it and I've been using it to dump all the shit and assorted project detritus from the ongoing painting on, and I need to then move that cart somewhere once I've put away all the things on it.
That seems like a reasonable amount of things to expect to complete today. OK I need to get out from under this cat because I have to pee now. All right. She'll be fine she just wants the chair really.
Yah ok i really gotta pee and dude is in the shower so i'm going to go get dressed and dance around a little lolsob. wish me luck.
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hi would u be willing to talk more ab ur belcher hcs that theyre all schizoaffective? :]
i can defs try! i cant promise i have really anything "smart" or insightful to say, cuz my husband and i just kinda draw from our own experiences :o
(if u are reading this and dont know what schizoaffective disorder is, im writing this w/ the definition of "a combination of schizophrenic symptoms and mood disorder symptoms like major depressive and bipolar disorder")
bob has felt the most schiz to us from the start, he's got his voices, which feel way more like he's acting as a mouthpiece for the objects he's talking to, rather than him just doing a bit. he knows its not "real" but also. it is to him. (i think hes also had some? hallucinations? but most are drug or stress induced and he also has a lot of cartoon dream sequences so...?) he struggles with paranoia and anxiety, and he's had pretty manic and depressive episodes in the show. i think he tries his best to stay grounded and self-aware with his delusions. he's very skeptical, and gets really irritated by misinformation. (probs also an affect of his autism tbh)
we also have a hc that he's more irritable and negative in the early seasons bc he's on meds that arent a good fit for him. (we dont really have meds hcs other than that. they might not be able to afford them)
linda's symptoms arent as obvious beyond her delusions like the raccoons and the cemetery stuff, but i think she's taught herself to suppress her issues so she could better support gayle who had more disruptive ones. her parents seem like the "stop being mentally ill its annoying" types. she has her own instances of paranoia and anxiety, but she mostly tries to smother and ignore anything negative she feels. VERY manic and impulsive tho. i think she also has some hallucinations in show but im drawing blanks on specifics.....
i would personally say tina is pretty depressive, but she's good at trying to cope in (mostly) healthy ways. her family is a good support system for her! she does have the most instances of visual hallucinations that arent cartoon bits (she seems to have them a lot when shes feeling guilty...) her anxiety and paranoia reminds me a lot of bob but also of gayle. they have similar outburts
gene has the least examples that i can think of.... i think he considers ken to be pretend and is just joking about him being real bc it annoys bob (compared to tina who thinks her horse Jericho is maybe...a little real) but i think he has some other hallucinations tht arent like that. hes surprisingly anti-social! he definitely often views himself as superior to the kids he knows. gets that from his dad lol. and his mania and impulsiveness are very much like linda :) he doesnt have depressive episodes as much as the others, but they hit him really hard :(
and louise! shes paranoid and has lots of aggression issues! to me she is also very depressed. (the puppet ep is esp relatable to me lol........) and she's VERY manic in the ambergris ep! i think she also has a couple instances of voices similar to bob's? but its kinda hard to tell the difference when shes still a kid who plays pretend with her toys. her talking to the taffy dummy feels more like what bob does tho.
i hope? thats the kind of hcs you were talking about? ive been trying to think of the right words for like 3 hours now. im very bad with words and so much of this stuff can also be attributed to other brain stuff, and one person can have a lot going on in one brain! so i hope i dont upset anyone with this post. thank u for ur time :)
#also gotta remember that its a Silly Jokes Cartoon so i dont really....think most of this is intentional#bob's burgers#hope this isnt. illegible word salad also. sorry......
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I REALLY don't want to come off as mean because I understand what it's like to struggle financially and the stress that puts you under, but I really really think it'd be for the best if you stopped using curseforge, Ceci.
Please do early access if you must! We get that it's not a matter of greed but rather a matter of survival, but please please use the means less damaging to others while keeping yourself healthy. Sims politics is nothing compared to a genocide. I hope you think about it, and I hope you can meditate on this choice. My thoughts are with you and your family 💜
Thank you for this kind comment, nonny! 💜
Honestly, I have considered it. Having a paywall is the last thing I want to do, but after living under this much financial strain for around a year now... well, it's weighing on me. As is using curseforge in the first place. I'll be honest- this month, I'll get $50 from cf. For the whole month. Sometimes it's more if I have points leftover from the previous month (so like $100 in one month), but usually that's the average. Having to use it for such (relatively) little money and dealing with the guilt of using it and the hate that results is pretty damn tough, I'll tell you that much. Like, curseforge fucking sucks and even beyond the boycott I resent the hell out of it at this point. I literally hate it and want to delete it so bad but it's the reason I was even able to even buy my meds this month. I've been working on making my patreon have better benefits without having an actual paywall, and some amazing people have kindly donated, but the amount per month varies so much it's tough to rely on. I'm really getting to be at a loss of what to do at this point. I've been exploring every other possible avenue of extra money I can that fits with my current job schedule, I do other freelance work online on top of that and cc making, and sell any stuff I have left from my collecting days. But I'm still in the red every month and it fucking sucks man. And then to come on here and have people say you love/support genocide, while researching and finding out even more about how Overwolf fucking sucks and trying to figure out how to help the boycott, then people just straight up lie about what you said so others will gossip about you publicly like middle schoolers- it's seriously awful all around. Sorry to vent at you nonny, but it's honestly depressing.
I'm on the verge of just saying fuck it, but the truth is, I'm scared to. The bottom line is that I can't function without my meds, and no one here on tumblr is gonna be with me irl to help me or pick my ass up, you know what I mean? When I log off here, simblr doesn't matter, I'm the one that deals with my own life and any negatives of that. And no matter what I do online or irl activism wise, I have this shit haunting me in the back of my mind. It feels like selling your damn soul for 50 fucking dollars, man. And how pathetic is that, you know? I guess it probably sounds like a simple choice to everyone else, but it isn't. I'm still deciding what to do and hoping, praying, that a few opportunities I'm trying to get irl yield some results. Cos like, even with CF, I'm kinda screwed either way at this point lol. I don't know. What does it even matter, right? I'll consider the early access option, but it's more probable I just quit CF and not do any paywall/CC making in general before that happens. I think if I did early access all my want to be a cc creator would suck out of my body even more than it is now. And boy has it fucking waned ever since I started posting on CF. I don't know. It's literally midnight and I think I need to sleep on it- I was supposed to already be asleep, but I saw your ask and had to answer it, oops. Sorry to ramble, nonny. Thanks again for the ask and being understanding 💜
#asks#ceci speaks#anonymous#negative#on my part not yours#highkey depressing sorry lol#hopefully ill have a better plan tomorrow/the next few days
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hallo !!
I'm not sure if anyone reads these?
read more if you want? ૮ ˶′ﻌ ‵˶ ა
i was working at a vet clinic and the last 2 months or so the owner was coming down really really hard on me for very minimal learning mistakes (i've only been working in vet med for 4 months before starting there) and it was really really difficult since i moved to a new city for the job and still haven't made any irl friends yet
I've never had a manager/owner have such weird aggressive one sided beef with me, it was like every honest mistake was worth a one-on-one meeting in her office - also they didn't train me..? ive just been doing my best with the minimal experience i have to fall back on :'3
having an awful time at work plus having no social interaction all winter made my mental health absolutely tank. i've felt completely worthless, stupid, isolated and unwanted - also my libido totally fizzled out which is wild cause im usually a fuckin horn dog
thankfully my parents are amazing amazing amazing otherwise i dunno if i wouldve made it through that - yikes
i quit that job just about a week ago, and i didn't realize my depression was almost entirely linked to that place. Not even a week out i'm drawing again, sleeping better, my stress acne is going away and i'm feeling so so much better! Also little bits of libido coming back, hello old friend! :'3
i started a new job immediately, it's just an easy barista job which i have loads of experience with, but i just need something low stress for a little while i recover from that last bad bad bad job before trying for vet med again. ive never had a job do me like that and i've been working since i was 14 it was CRAZY
i'm hoping i can also meet some people my own age working at a coffee shop! at the vet the closest person to my age (26) was 42 :'3 i didnt exactly fit in with all the middle aged moms
all the other baristas are really really nice, under the age of 40, actually say nice things to me, and are training me??- crazy! I know!
in an ideal world some big beefy hairy rugby playing farm boy would come in and ask me out (i live in wine country, lots of orchards!) so if y'all wouldn't mind manifesting that for me that'd be appreciated :p
anyways, sorry for the big rambling life update post, not sure if anyone will read it?
｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:｡
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hm. ive thought im possibly autistic before, and i have almost a blackout on the bingo, (just one i couldnt mark, the "even if you know they don't care" phrasing in the one about infodumping, if i know someone doesnt care abt what im talking abt id rather die than speak. or i keep starting a sentence, but they keep replying to other people and not me? guess ill die repeating the first few words/(sometimes i drop it and stop trying to say it. but it's still there rentfree in my head for HOURS.)).
i researched everything i had or thought i might have so fuckin much at that time. (4ish years ago. my focus at that time) i almost made my summer project for a credit about autism, i was looking at articles so much. (some were nd author 4 nd readers, but theres way too many allistic article writers and not nearly enough neurodivergent ones.). its hard to express certain things in the questionnaire [especially since i answered "how i feel today" when i took it, i took it before seeing the "answer like its your worst case day" post about diagnoses, but also symptoms no questions talked about]
yet?? the time i tried getting diagnosed, they said "no autism! just depressed" even tho so many of my traits are neurodivergent related symptoms and nowhere near depression related symptoms
(tbf, i now, few years later, think its adhd, not autism. which also fits most of my symptoms convergently, and my dad thinks he might have too but wont test, so genes fit that as well. so "no autism", but ALSO NOT "just depressed". also also i had a friend in middle school diagnosed with adhd, she shared her meds with me once, (dont remember context for why), and they helped. they worked as they were meant to. dont allistic people usually get high off adhd meds though? either way, i had too much going on that WERENT typical depression symptoms, that i included on the questions, for it to "just" be depression.)
...shit, do anons still have a character limit?
Hi there,
I’m not sure what question/advice you’re trying to ask, but I agree that there needs to be more neurodivergent writing.
I’m sorry if this didn’t answer your question. Feel free to send a message if you’d like.
Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ❤️
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Taking a depression day off always makes me feel like a terrible person, but the fact is that I've been barely able to work as it is, and I'm really hoping one day is enough to kickstart me back to normal. I actually slept last night - in fits and starts, yes, but still probably close to 11 hours - and this is the first time in weeks I've woken up feeling like I could breathe and I wasn't on the verge of sobbing. I thought about going into work anyway, if I'm a little less fragile today, but I think my best shot at getting okay again is to take today to catch up on the schoolwork and dishes/laundry I haven't been able to bring myself to do, and have a nap that isn't me gasping for air on the couch, and maybe I'll even be able to convince myself to eat more than an apple today. And I'll go pick up the meds that might help when it's time to start taking them in a couple weeks. Generally, today is about trying to pull myself out of the dark hole I fell into over the past couple weeks, and yes, I feel guilty about taking a sick day for that, but I do genuinely believe this will help me get better, and isn't that the point?
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Before having our son mine and my husbands sex life was completely normal, after having our son (who is nearly 3) i can barely stand the thought of being intimate with him even though i still love him dearly, i legit have absolutely zero libido for physical intimatacy (yet some how i am a smut writer), i have no idea whats wrong with me since my hormones have been tested and they are fine
taking on the role as a mother changes you in ways you weren’t even aware of. i’ve talked to other moms who have felt like they lost their identity after having kids and it’s so true.
social media makes motherhood into something so fucking beyond fake like it’s not even real. like you’re trying to fit yourself into a box of these moms on tiktok with their perfect tits and teeth and their houses are immaculate and they probably love sex! (bitches)
but what is real is losing your sex drive.
after having kids your body is NOT the same and idk about you but i never felt worse about myself the 2 ish years after i had my kids. i stopped wearing makeup, didn’t do anything with my hair and i wore the same outfits on repeat (oversized shirts and leggings what’s up)
to get myself out of the funk i read a self help affirmation book, listened to podcasts and honestly found this fandom- au started doing things that made ME happy not as a mom or a wife but ME as a person.
also if you are taking any depression meds or anxiety meds that will destroy your libido as well. if i think too much about sex i don’t ever wanna do it but if it’s random and a time limit (have to leave the house in 20 mins kind of a thing) i find it easier to get into it and enjoy it immensely.
i hope this ramble of whatever the fuck i was even talking about helps! ��🥰 i’m always here to chat
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is me again :> i was wondering if you could write something based around a reader who refuses to take their medication and the character/s of your choice have to force them to take it for their health? i had a weird spur of prompt ideas at the exact moment i couldnt write so i thought id share them lol. i cant think of any specific characters so whichever you find fitting and easy to write works fine, ill be back with more (and i will return the favour soon i swear)
I'm starting this on Thursday on my phone because I love this prompt and I love all of my followers, all of you are my best friends and I will kill anyone for you (legally that is a joke). I do take meds for my adhd, hrt, to help regulate pain and some for when I get migraines. I'm going off of meds I know about so I don't fuck anything up and be really insensitive. I loved the last prompt and I hope you love this one too. One last thing please take your meds. I know it can be a chore to get out of bed and take them but please do it. Even if it's the only thing you do
Includes: Poly Sinclair brothers, and RZ Michael Myers
Warnings: Strong language, mentions of vomit, forced taking of medication
Sinclair brothers
You're having another migraine. God you hate these so much. The constant sharp sting and pounding in your head drives you nuts. You have a nasal spray to help, but it always leaks down the back of your throat with a horrible bitter taste that makes you almost vomit. But the only way the migraine ends on its own is with you also vomiting. So either way you lose. You're in your room with light shut out and the Vincent by your side, holding you hand and letting you squeeze his. You let out soft groans and you rub your temples. Bo opens the door and soft light floods in. You sit up and look at him. "Darlin you've been in here for an hour now. I hate seeing ya in pain. Just take yer meds and I'll get ya somethin to help with the taste." You shake your head.
"No Bo I'm fine I just need more time, I can handle this." He sighs.
"You need to take yer dam meds Y/n. “
“Bo I’m serious I’m fine just let me wait this out.” He huffs and shuts the door. You lay back down and Vincent rubs you hand with his thumb. About ten minutes later you hear footsteps again and the door opens you groan and sit up. But this time you find Lester. “Lester I’m fine I just need to wait this out.” He looks over to Vincent and back to you.
“Darlin we hate seein ya in pain. Just take yer meds and it’ll be over soon.” You lay back down.
“Lester it’s still a no ok? I’ll be ok.” You hear him walk over to the bed and sit next to you.
“I’d hate to do this but I’ll make ya take it myself if ya don’t do it Y/n.” He doesn’t often use your name unless he really is serious. You look to Vincent for any support and you can see he wants you to take it too.
“Fine I’ll fucking take it. God you guys are so annoying sometimes.” You get out of bed and go downstairs to find a big glass of water and your spray waiting for you. You open it, take it and start to chug your water as the bitter taste moves down your throat. The water wasn’t enough to stop it. You gag and sit at the table. Lester gives you a kiss on the cheek and Bo sits with you. But in the end, you knew they were right.
RZ Michael Myers
It’s another day you don’t want to get out of bed. You’ve been stuck in your bed for a good few days now. Only getting up to use the bathroom when you really had to or if Michael dragged you out of bed. You’ve been so depressed lately you’ve been forgetting to take your meds. You know you should take your anti depressents but whats the point in doing that now? You’re looking back up at the celieng again, doing nothing like normal. Michael walks in but you don’t get up to greet him. You hear the soft rattle of your pill bottle and that makes you sit up. He has a glass of water with him too. “Michael I don’t want to take my meds ok? It’s not going to help with anything anyway, just leave me alone.” He stops next to your bed and sets down the water. He holds out the pill bottle for you to take.
You push it away but he brings it back. You do this a few more times before you look up at his masked face. “Michael I’m not taking them ok? Leave me alone.” He pauses for a few moments before he moves the bottle closer to his face. He sits down on the bed and opens the bottle. He takes out your dose of pills and sets the bottle down. He holds the pills in his hand and brings them over to you. “I’m not fucking taking them ok? I don’t need them they don’t help.” Your frustration transfers to Michael. He grabs your jaw with one hand slightly firm and pulls open your mouth. He puts the pills in your mouth along with water quickly. He shuts your mouth and puts a hand over it so you can’t spit anything out. With no other option you swallow your pills and he pulls his hand away. He opens your mouth again and checks to make sure they’re gone.
He sees how upset you are over this. He doesn’t do the best with emotions but he does press a masked kiss on your forehead. He lets you go back to laying around but he returns with some food for you to eat.
#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair x y/n#bo sinclair x you#lester sinclair#lester sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x you#lester sinclair x y/n#vincent sinclair#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x you#vincent sinclair x y/n#rz michael myers#michael myers#michael myers x y/n#michael myers x you#michael myers fanfic#slasher#slashers#slasher x y/n#slasher x reader#slasher fanfiction
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in darkness shall you be reborn
Chapter 10
Word count: 3763
Warnings: violence
A/N: im sorry this took me so long, life got in the way. i started taking meds for my depression and got into a new relationship, and also my thesis deadline is looming... also i had to practically rewrite this one from scratch too. idk when i'll be able to update, i have exams in a month, but i'll do my best <3
When they walked out of the bathhouse and into the pub next door, night had already descended upon the town, the full moon high up in the cloudless sky bathing dirty alleyways and shabby houses in silvery light. There they found Holmes and good two-thirds of the Shout crew, who rather predictably deemed the establishment a worthy investment of their scarce time off. Holmes seemed to be familiar with many of them, shaking their hands and conversing in that hardly legible pirate jargon Vince still struggled to understand. If it wasn’t for his suit, he’d fit right in.
“Ay, you came!” He noticed Nikki and Vince at the door and beckoned them to the table he was occupying.
“I fucking wish,” Nikki grumbled, maneuvering between the chairs. The Shout crew was far from the only clients of the pub tonight, and it was messy, busy and loud. The room was soaked through with smells of smoke, cheap beer and onions, and the walls practically rattled with every roar of laughter or cry of indignation drunk sailors emitted, which they did plenty.
Holmes must have fought a hard battle to keep the chairs at his table in their places, as the sailors at the tables nearby, many of them on shaky stools, frequently shot him resentful glances. When Nikki and Vince sat down, these glances redirected their ire at them – the bastards coming in so late yet getting the good chairs! – but no verbal complaints were made. The benefit of dining with two pirates armed to the teeth, Vince almost chuckled. Holmes wasn’t a walking armory like Nikki, but didn’t make much effort to hide a pistol on his hip and a dagger on another either.
“Why’s your hair wet? You two had waste poured on you or something?” Holmes squinted when they neared the table. “Wait, no, you’re too clean for that. Was there a sudden rain that I inexplicably missed? Did you go swimming? Or worked up some sweat unloading cargo? No, Sixx, would never carry loads himself when he’s got a slave nearby. Nay, I can’t even imagine what you two were doing. Or maybe I can, but later, when I’m in private.” He flashed them a toothy grin. Vince pretended he hadn’t heard the last part.
“Done jeering?” Nikki scowled, plopping onto the chair. Vince lowered himself carefully onto his, as if it could crumple under him any minute. “We were in the bathhouse across the street.”
“Oh, there were no rooms at the inn?”
“You rascal,” Sixx said sweetly. “We were bathing. A thing you do in bathhouses, among others.”
“Now, that’s the most improbable guess of all I’ve made,” Holmes laughed. “For all I know, you’d rather suffocate on your own stench.”
“Lies and slander,” Nikki huffed indignantly.
“It was my request,” Vince said. He knew he’d have to pay for this later, but just couldn’t help it.
“Ha! I knew it!” Holmes banged his fist on the table. “He ain’t gonna let you fool anyone, right, Sixx?”
“Yeah,” Nikki said with an unnerving smile. Vince only saw a glimpse of his hand in the air when a slap on the cheek burned his skin and sent his head swaying.
“Damn, Sixx,” he heard Holmes sighing, “keep your disciplinary process behind closed doors, won’t you?”
“Won’t work with this one. He’ll behave only if he knows he can get his ass kicked whenever and wherever.”
“From my experience, all stick and no carrot never made any slave more docile.”
“Well, then your experience is clearly limited. Now, I thought I came here to get pissed, not lectured.”
“Very well.” Holmes leaned onto the back of his chair. “Hope you’re right about this. Hey, waitress! Over here! Whatcha gonna have?”
“They got any wine?” Nikki picked up a crust of bread from a plate at the center of the table and carefully bit it. He could as well gnaw on the table itself, Vince understood from his expression.
“Wine? For you?” Holmes raised an eyebrow, but Nikki’s face remained serious, so he chose not to continue with a joke he clearly had in mind. “Sometimes, when there are shipments. You can never count on it, though. A Dutch ship docked here a couple weeks ago, so I reckon they still may’ve got some left.”
“I shall have some then. Sure hope it’s not that sparkling shit the French keep pushing. I don’t want any air in my wine.” Nikki dropped the crust back onto the plate with disgust on his face. Vince last ate in the morning, and with every passing minute the crust looked more and more alluring. He hadn’t fallen so low, though – for now.
“You’re being unfair to the French.” Holmes laughed. “They hate it as much as you do. It’s the English who you should berate. You an Englishman, Vinnie?” He suddenly turned to Vince.
“I-“ Vince began, but Nikki didn’t let him finish.
“That don’t matter, Chris. He ain’t got no home anymore besides the Shout.” Nikki appeared nonchalant, but Vince could see his body tense up like a taut string.
Holmes, smiling placidly, didn’t seem to notice anything. “That’s what I tell all my slaves too. The past is in the past. It’s the present you should think about. Ya hear me, Vinnie?”
Vince didn’t reply, his throat tightening.
“You should do that too. It’ll make life easier for both you and your master. Oh, at last! It’s only been a whole day!” He lashed at the waitress that shuffled to their table, a thin, tired woman, the silver in whose hair didn’t match the still youthful face. She withstood the attack with indifference of a rock, making Vince a little bit envious of her thick skin. That’s probably what spending one’s days and nights surrounded by crude, vulgar men could do to anyone, more so to a woman.
Nikki ordered his wine, and Holmes brandy. Vince watched them detachedly, nursing his burning cheek. He had already realised that the combination of the collar and ragged clothes on him were the reason people here pointedly ignored him, addressing only Nikki, so Vince didn’t expect the waitress to turn to him after she took the orders. She did, though.
“And you? The blond fella? Whatcha gonna have?”
It took Vince a couple of seconds to understand that she was talking to him. She was probably just too tired to figure it out, much less to notice what her question did to Vince, but if he had any money, he would tip her twice her wage.
He looked questioningly at Nikki, who after a short hesitation nodded. Vince didn’t expect this part to be over so fast, moreso with such an outcome, which was why the next one - choosing the drink – took him an embarrassingly long amount of time. One part of him wanted to get so drunk that he would pass out and lie uncaring and senseless through whatever debt Nikki would want him to return. Another still buzzed annoyingly in the back of his mind, if you want to escape you need your mind unclouded by spirits. Wouldn’t Nikki get suspicious if he refused to drink, though? Maybe he could pour the drink out while no one was looking?
“Rum,” he finally said when the pause stretched for too long. He’d never tried it, might as well get a taste of this lowly drunkard experience. He was living on a lowly drunkard ship now, after all.
“Oh, he’s really in it now!” Chris laughed, and his laughter spread like contagion to the Shout crew, shaking the walls of the small pub. Other clients didn’t seem to like that much, frowning and murmuring disapprovingly, but didn’t yet dare to protest out loud. “A bottle of rum and a mug for the pretty boy!”
“I don’t need a whole bottle-“ Vince protested, but nobody listened to him anymore – nobody except Nikki, whose sharp gaze almost clawed into him when their eyes met. Damn, he was certainly suspecting something. Now, if Vince didn’t drink the whole bottle, he’d grow wary.
The tired waitress brought them their drinks, flung the mugs and the shots on the table so forcefully Nikki’s wine and Holmes’ brandy splashed over the rim of their mugs, slapped Chris’s hand off her butt and left. The bottle in front of Vince was made of dark, foggy glass, the darker liquid inside it barely visible. The bottle was smaller than he feared, though. He always handled alcohol pretty well, and the dark glass obscured the amount of liquid inside, possible to determine only by putting it against a light. Maybe he could still pull it off?
“Well, for the meeting!” Chris toasted, clinking his mug against Nikki’s. Then both looked at Vince expectingly. Vince hurried to pour some rum into his mug (only hoping its taste would mask whatever was in there before) and clinked it against theirs awkwardly, acutely sensing that they only permitted him to do so as long as this fickle illusion of their equality amused them. Then Holmes sucked in nearly half of his brandy at once, and Nikki took a few gulps of his wine – such a sophisticated drink wasted in such an inelegant manner, Vince shuddered. Not wanting to attract even more of captain’s suspicion, he followed suit and took a big sip of his rum.
Oh, that was a mistake. The liquid, somehow both sickly sweet and bitter, burned its way down his mouth and throat, making him grimace and cough. The room again roared with laughter.
“Our princess isn’t used to strong spirits!” someone shouted. Vince’s cheeks began to burn. God, why was he always so easy to turn red?
Embarrassment and alcohol got to his head then, he later figured, shame and anger muddling his rationality. For a moment, the hurt and humiliation of the insults overpowered his desire for freedom, and he upended the mug into his mouth and swallowed the rum in two forceful gulps.
His mouth burned, but there was no water in sight to wash down the disgusting taste. As the rum dissolved the remains of Vince’s dignity, the lonely crust of bread finally served its purpose, like an old, wrinkly hooker finding a client desperate enough. It tasted just as stale as it looked.
“Wow, look at that,” Nikki grinned. “How ya feeling?”
“Very well,” Vince exhaled, trying not to break a tooth on the crust. “Don’t feel anything.”
“For now,” Nikki nodded condescendingly. “Just you try to go take a piss.”
“And what’s gonna ha- oh, shit.” Vince clutched the table to stay up after he so recklessly sprang onto his feet. His mind was still clear, but his legs liberated themselves from his tyranny and now were doing their own thing, which didn’t coincide with Vince’s intentions. “It all went into my legs.”
“First time’s always like this.”
“I have drunk before.”
“Well, that’s no wine or sherry or whatever you used to drink in your villa. Its purpose is to knock you off your feet as quick as possible. Because you don’t wanna drink more of this shit than necessary.”
“It does taste like shit,” Vince nodded, his mouth still burning, and dropped back onto the chair. Time seemed to slip between his fingers, and he could only watch it run out. Maybe the spirit would clear out just as fast as it hit?
“More?” Chris pointed at the bottle, still perceptibly half-full. “Or maybe you’d like something lighter, like we unassuming folk here?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Being the most sober person in the room is no fun, you know.”
“I’ll manage.”
“He’s a delight to have in the crew, I see.” Chris told Nikki, smiling sarcastically.
“Absolutely. You haven’t heard his best yet – not in his element today, it seems. He’s usually much bolder. I would have taught him how to talk to his seniors if I didn’t enjoy it so much. He’s like a small dog barking at dogs ten times its size.”
“Small dogs also bite.”
“Yeah, he tried.” Nikki rolled up his sleeve and showed Holmes the cut Vince dealt him in the first fight. It had already closed, though the edges were still red and inflamed. Hoping that Nikki would die of infection was too unrealistic even for Vince, though. “I was impressed, really – that was a close hit, almost cut open my axillary. Too bad it got me angry.”
Rage sparked inside Vince’s chest. They talked about him like he wasn’t there – no, worse, like he was an animal or an object, and to them, he probably was. He wanted to bang on the table and scream, I’m still here, bastards, but they would laugh at him at best and grow angry at worst.
“I won’t listen to this anymore,” he said through gritted teeth and rose from the table. Not quickly enough, unfortunately - Nikki caught him by the sleeve and pulled him back onto the chair.
“Nobody’s asking your opinion, slave,” he grinned unpleasantly. “You stay here as long as I do.”
Vince bit his lip, a bitter retort lingering on his tongue. His snarky comebacks were the only revenge he still could enact, but if Nikki enjoyed them, he wouldn’t give him that pleasure. The problem was, his tongue was often quicker than his thought.
Nikki and Holmes, meanwhile, had finished their drinks and craved more.
“Hey! Waitress!” Nikki waved his hand in the air, but the waitress, who shortly before went into the back room, didn’t answer his call. “Where’s this bitch? Were she my employee, I’d already had her flogged. Vinnie, go fetch her.”
“You sure would,” Vince murmured under his breath.
“What did you just say?” Nikki inquired sharply.
“I said,” Vince raised his voice, rum stirring boldness inside him he’s been suppressing the whole day, “my legs won’t let me, remember?
“That’s definitely not what you said.”
“Maybe you misheard.” Vince smiled into Nikki’s frowning face. Holmes stifled a laugh.
Nikki narrowed his eyes, eyeing Vince for a while, counting pros and cons of lashing out. The cons seemed to have won, because he exhaled and leaned back onto his chair.
“Maybe I did,” he said with a one-sided smile. “Anyway, you heard me. Go fetch the waitress. And don’t you veer off somewhere I can’t see you.”
“If I fall down halfway, I deflect all the blame,” Vince dropped, rising from his chair. He didn’t catch Nikki’s reply – maybe he didn’t reply at all. This would have alarmed him were it not for the rum.
Vince staggered between the tables, leaning on chairs and sometimes on someone’s shoulders, eliciting angry cries from their owners, though the offence wasn’t considered serious enough to warrant use of force. He peered into the back room and found the waitress there, leaning onto the counter, staring at the wall with empty eyes. For some reason, a shiver went down his spine.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said into her back, “my… companions there would like a refill.”
She turned to him quickly, startled, and eyed him warily from head to toes. Then recognition appeared in her eyes.
“Of course,” she said, making an effort to smile. “What did they have?”
“Brandy and wine.”
“Very well. And you?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“All right. Tell your companions I’ll be back in a moment.”
She disappeared behind a small door in the other corner of the room, probably leading to the cellar. Vince backed away a bit – look at me, Nikki, I’m behaving, I’m keeping in your sight – and leaned onto the counter. Being away from crude jokes and sleazy glances of the pirates felt nice-
A slap so strong landed on his ass that it rang throughout the entire pub. God, why couldn’t Nikki leave him alone just for a second…
“What’s a pretty lass like you doing in the place like this?“ leered some sailor, long-bearded, bald and reeking of cheap beer. When Vince turned to him, sporting his two-day stubble, his mouth fell open.
“You’re- you’re-“ the man didn’t get to finish, because Vince punched him right in the face. It was a vile thing to do – the fella just made a mistake, after all – but Vince was so wrought up from the constant mocking and taunting that this was the last straw.
Rum led his fist astray, the punch landing on the cheekbone instead of swiftly breaking the nose like it did in his good days. The sailor wavered on wobbly legs but kept his balance. His face flushed red with anger.
“You fucker!” he grunted, throwing a punch at Vince. Vince leapt back to dodge the hit, but his legs betrayed him at the worst moment possible – he’ll never drink this foul substance again, god damn it - and he had to clutch onto the counter to stay upright. The man used this moment of weakness to grab him by the collar of his shirt. The sound of fabric tearing reached Vince’s ears, although the collar held on so far. Mick would hardly lend him another shirt, a thought flashed through his mind.
Vince pulled the sailor’s beard as hard as he could. The man yelped in pain and planted a punch under his eye. Vince couldn’t dodge, his collar in an iron-like grip, and white exploded in front of his left eye, pain shooting through his skull. His head fell back, and the guy kicked him in the stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs.
His grip suddenly weakened, then released Vince entirely. He staggered back and would have fallen down if not for someone’s arms propping him up in the back. A mop of black hair flashed past his seeing eye, and then he heard the sailor’s nose crack.
“Hey, you all right?” he heard a familiar voice. It took him a few seconds to recognize that it was Holmes holding him by the shoulders. He didn’t answer - he was listening to the sailor’s pained cries as Nikki rammed his fists into his face until he was gurgling on his blood and spitting out his teeth. And when Nikki let go of the guy, letting him slide down the counter lifelessly onto the floor, and turned to Vince and Chris, his face was so distorted by rage Vince shuddered. The next second it smoothened out, but the vision stayed in front of Vince’s eyes for the rest of the night.
He grinned – no, bared his teeth, so much like a panther Vince almost expected him to growl – and, not sparing Vince another look, headed back to their table. From there they then heard a cry of a poor bastard that wanted to steal their chairs. The crew cheered and raised their mugs for a toast.
The bald sailor lay on the floor bloodied and beaten, his face a single enormous bruise, his chest rising and falling heavily. The bartender looked him over with a frown, then called his errand boys (probably his sons – same heavy jaw, same droopy eyes) and they promptly grabbed a leg each and dragged the sailor out.
On wobbly legs Vince returned to their table and sank onto the chair, avoiding looking at Nikki. The captain sat there sipping wine – the waitress must have brought it during the fight - with an indifferent expression, but Vince could see he was pleased as a cat that snatched a fish off a table.
“He almost knocked you out,” he taunted. “D’ya ever think before fighting a fella twice your weight?”
“I could handle him just fine,” Vince murmured and pressed the cold rum bottle to his throbbing eye. The pain lessened somewhat. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“Because he would have kicked your ass,” Nikki dismissed him confidently. “And I ain’t gonna drag your body to the ship on my back. I saved your ass, and this is what I get! And then you act all offended that I’m so harsh with you. Your manners leave a lot to be desired.”
“Vinnie, it’s clear he’s expecting a thank you kiss,” Holmes laughed. “Or maybe something more upon your return. Look at that face - not a single pristine thought behind these eyes.”
Nikki snickered shamelessly. Vince felt sick to the stomach.
“I have to visit the latrine,” he murmured, dropped the bottle onto the table, got up and stumbled to the door, holding onto the tables on his way. His mind was crystal clear, but his body was still under the influence of the spirit, although less so after the beating- fight, he meant fight. He expected Nikki to follow him, but he only followed him with his eyes – Vince could feel it burn holes in his back.
There was a barrel with water outside, next to the door. Vince drank from it hungrily, then washed his face. The water dripping back into the barrel was pink. Vince carefully examined the damage with the tips of his fingers. His nose wasn’t broken, and his eye could still see, although it was hard to open because the skin around it began to swell. There’ll be an ugly bruise for a while, but no permanent damage, hopefully.
He looked around, but people in this part of the street were few and far between – everybody who wanted to go to the pub already got there. The latrine – a wooden outhouse with a smell so malodorous Vince had to convince himself to breathe around it – looked exceptionally uninviting. Vince decided he would rather take a leak onto the bar wall in front of the whole street, which he promptly did. Judging by the typical stains on the walls, he was far from being the only one to resolve so. Unexpectedly, he remembered his governess, a woman of great knowledge and manners and little to no sense of humor. She probably would faint were she to see him right now: dressed in a torn shirt with bloodstains on it and dirty breeches, barefoot and collared, hair loose and disheveled, face cut and bruised, pissing on a wall outside a port bar. Here, though, nobody spared him more than a passing glance: he matched the surroundings really well.
And if he just walked away, nobody would spare him a second thought as well.
Vince pulled his breeches up, buttoned them with trembling fingers, washed his hands in the barrel, wiped them on his shirt, looked around sneakily and darted into a dark alley behind the bar.
#nikki sixx#vince neil#vinikki#motley crue#pirate au#motley crue fanfiction#yknow i. really feel better now. with the meds and all.#i have more energy and spring is coming which means the seasonal part of my depression is off for now#but idk how it will affect this fic. i used to write it to express my anguish through it. now i have little to no of it left#i still have like 16k of unedited writing in my document so maybe that will tide you over until next fall#but i also itch to write something original. so maybe i'll be doing that#in darkness shall you be reborn
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Retrospective on being thirty. Heavy content ahead.
I don’t particularly like turning thirty not because it’s cringe to be getting older or anything but bc my teenage years and childhood was spent training to be a evangelical Christian with an art career. I was a model of everything they wanted me to be. Annoying little narc perfect behavior kind helpful helpful helpful.
My twenties were spent reeling in extreme depression that comes from failing to do what I was trained for my entire life and my entire worldview changing.
And greatly disappointing my family making my mother cry bc I won’t let her call me her daughter anymore.
My father tells me this is my fault for rejecting Jesus, being a socialist, and appropriating manhood.
Plus the ADHD that never got treated till I was 23 bc my parents thought meds would be bad for me. So it only got worse.
Maybe I should be grateful they didn’t or I wouldn’t have flunked college and had those discoveries.
Geeze. Anyways.
And now I’m thirty.
And im ��happy”to be here i guess?
And im glad I rejected Christianity bullshit and figured out I was guy. But I’m still depressed bc when you’ve been depressed for an over a decade that’s how your brain gets stuck.
I’ll be honest I was planning to be dead by any means necessary before this, but didn’t have the guts and now I don’t know what to do. Like, Hey. I wasn’t supposed to make it. Why the fuck am I still here.
And now My life still hasn’t started bc I never got training wheels for this kind of bike. I’m raw doggin a two wheeler and my balance would make the Wii Fit lady cry.
I guess I can stay just to see if I can make it to 40 or 50. I want to see the end of all the stories I’m following. I wanna see my friend graduate with those degrees. Change my name so they can’t put the dead one on a stone just in case. Maybe even get the tits chopped.
Plus if I don’t try to stay I’ll make my friends cry and I can’t stand the thought.
Sorry if you read through that and it was depressing. I’m going through it. It’s birthday. I hope I get to eat sushi and Chinese food and cake.
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Maybe
At 10:44 today I took my first 10 mg dose of methylphenidate teva (adhd medication) that my doctor thankfully agreed to let me try - I've been waiting about a month for this appointment, since I figured out that dopamine defficiency/dysfunction might explain practically all my problems (maybe not all my quirks, but the things that are actively causing me grief, yeah). It's a slow release kind of medication, so I won't know immediately if it works (unlike some of the older type of meds), and of course, I have no idea if it's the right dosage even the right type, but it's a start. It's a damn good start, actually, because this might be it - this could actually, practically, physically fucking help. I've been spending most of my adult life constantly either searching for answers for why I am like this, or actively ignoring my problems just to get a bit of a break from the helplesness of it all. And finally, this might be it, this might actucally help.
I don't know if I have adhd (it would be the inattentive type if it was) - I did get a psychiatric assesment last year, but got a firm no to both adhd and autism (although I'm not sure if somethings didn't get lost in translation, just like it usually does when I try and ask for help - I've lost count of the times people have dismissed my concerns about depression as if it was a silly little thing (there's nothing wrong with you, why don't you get yourself a boyfriend, that'll cheer you up! - this is litterally what I've been told, to my face, by two different doctors... let's just say it wasn't helpful).
But still, it might not be typical or even diagnostible adhd, I might fall between the cracks of psychiatric definitions, but that doesn't mean something ain't wrong.
By the way, the psychiatrist back then, she terminated the assesment with the sage advice that "sometimes not getting a diagnosis is the best thing that can happen to you". What bullshit. I'd much rather she simply kept it at "we don't have a box that you fit in" instead of trying to make the dismissal sound like it would magically propel me into being a better version of myself. It didn't, it just left me floundering.
So, now, I wait. And by that I mean that I take a pill every morning, go on as usual (trying to write my thesis) and see if it makes a difference. Gods, I hope so.
I plan on keeping on with this planning-commenting-writing what goes on in my head-thing, that I started on tumblr (and then moved to paper), since it has been the one thing that helped me clearly see my own patterns for what they are (without all the convoluted explanations and excuses I used to give myself - well, I still do that, but now I can see that I'm doing it). Beyond that I guess I'll try to take good care of myself, you know, as one should and which I've been trying (and constantly failing) to do: eating proper food, having a decent day rythm, actually doing my work, cleaning my appartment (and myself), having some kind of social life, you know... being a functioning adult. I don't think meds will magically change everything (it won't rewire my brain after all), but hopefully it'll make it all a bit easier. Make me have to fight less just for the basic stuff. Give me a bit more bandwith to actually be able to enjoy life with.
I'll let you know how it goes.
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