#side note my mouth is so sore because i needed extra of the numbing stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dumbass-extraordinaire · 3 years

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Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate. She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse. A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it. This one doesn’t sound like Duck. She ignores them both and keeps walking. The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face. Aubrey is grateful for it. Having a body feels like an impossible task right now. Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened-

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet. She doesn’t remember falling to her knees. That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance. They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop. She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse. He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over.

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful! Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder. Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head. “Honestly, Sarah? I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed. “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries. When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird. If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.” She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister. I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck. He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly. A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them. He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting. He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck. There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt. He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

…

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets. Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone. Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay. The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side. He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends. Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo. Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress. A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head. Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed. At least Aubrey is okay. And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy. He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards. The man was damn near unkillable. He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance. He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?” He asks, “Aubrey?” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign. The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day. It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name. “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me. I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.” Nothing. She just keeps staring blankly ahead. He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Again, nothing. Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!” He snaps. The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!” Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked. Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained. Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange. Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away. He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color. He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has. He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned. They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china. “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…” She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying. But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!” Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder. Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…” She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue. Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly. “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid. I’m sure you did everything you could.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead. He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench. Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken. Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this. Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice. Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen. Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down. The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question. Duck nods emphatically. Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention. The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction. She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks. The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose. “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.” Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face. There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened? What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No! Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps. “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.” The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey. She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her. “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head. “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this. Mama, uh, can you explain, please?” Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles. Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright. Ned ain't hurt, honey. I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead. Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead. Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead? No way. This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke. It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed. It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit. It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead. And he can’t handle that. What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?

“Duck?” Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain. He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all. But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected. Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards. The least Duck can do is be strong for her. He’s good at being strong. So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later. Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.” He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?” His voice trembles right at the end. He clenches his jaw.

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey. “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says. Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier. Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television. The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it. That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase. It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em. He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani. And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her. Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt. And tonight, that was Ned. He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late. There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that. “And that’s… that’s the whole story. I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply. Because how do you respond to something like that? What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them? What do you say? What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid? What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

#i wrote this right after listening to ep 28 of amnesty and it's been sitting in my docs ever since so i figured i'd post it here #enjoy the angst y'all #ned chicane #duck newton #aubrey little #mama #taz amnesty #taz fic #taz amnesty spoilers #my writing tag #angst #grief #found family #fanfiction #fanfic #baby's first fanfic #writers on tumblr

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unbealevable · 3 years

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A LITTLE BIT OF BUTTER ➝ BECHLOE.

TAGGING ➝ Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell.

LOCATION ➝ Beca, Chloe and Amy’s apartment.

TIME FRAME ➝ 2/6, evening.

WARNINGS ➝ Boobs I guess.

NOTES ➝ Chloe helps Beca with her new piercings.

BECA MITCHELL

“Ow… ow, ow, ow, ow, fuck!” She grumbled from the tiny bathroom, leaving the door cracked as she believed herself to be home alone. Her audible grumpiness carried even over the chill after work playlist she’d left streaming through the rigged bluetooth speakers in their bed/living room.

Beca stood in front of the mirror in a pair of drawstring plaid pajama pants sitting low on her hips with her t-shirt almost pulled all the way off and hanging loosely around her neck. She frowned at her chest, now sporting two white gauze pads taped around her sore-as-fuck nipples, newly pierced. She had been trying to remove said pads for the past minute, but every time she tugged more at the corner of the surgical tape she yelped in pain. “Fucking Stacie,” she growled as her face screwed into a deeply concentrated and aggravated expression as she reached up to try yet again.

CHLOE BEALE

For the most part, Chloe’s somewhat generic date of dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant and then a movie back at his place that they hadn’t actually watched had gone pretty well. Right up until the end, anyway, hence Chloe now trudging with a frown toward the door of their shoebox apartment, grumbling petulantly to herself. She was pretty free with her body, but even she knew how unprofessional a giant hickey would look right there on the side of her neck at work, but Tinder Ben hadn’t listened, so Chloe had huffed and left.

It was kind of late, so with the assumption that her roommates were sleeping, Chloe entered the apartment as quietly as possible, surprised to see she and Beca’s pull-out bed empty. Taking note of the light spilling through the cracked bathroom door, Chloe dropped her purse down onto the bed, then began to shrug off her jacket as she floated toward the tiny bathroom. “Becs, is that you?” she called, pushing the door the rest of the way open without regard (when did Chloe care about privacy, after all?). “I don’t think I’m—” she trailed off, brows tugging tightly together as her eyes landed on the sight of Beca, almost shirtless… and with two big pads over her boobs. “Oh, what is that?” she questioned, walking into the bathroom to get a closer look.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had been so focused on getting those annoying pads off to let her nips finally breathe after their traumatic afternoon that she didn’t even notice the door opening wider. “Dude!” she cried, turning her back on Chloe the instant her roommate had stepped inside. “Can you not?? I’m--I’m busy!” Her cheeks burned beneath the bright-as-fuck fluorescent bathroom lights when she realized Chloe probably saw her... situation.

CHLOE BEALE

“Oops!” Chloe jumped back quickly, though not so far that she actually left the bathroom. Considering the compact size of their apartment, she could toss her now discarded jacket onto the bed, though her focus remained on Beca. Her tightly knitted brows eased, until one had begun to arch a little bit, gaze sweeping over Beca’s bare back. She knew what she’d seen, even if Beca was trying to hide it now. “Bec, what are those things over your boobs?” she questioned, lips pulling inward to bite back her amusement. “Did you get nipple piercings or something?”

BECA MITCHELL

Ugh. Busted. Heaving a heavy sigh, Beca crossed her arms over her chest (to the best of her ability, because fucking ow) and turned back around. She sported a scowl as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Lost a bet to Stacie and… yeah.” Puffing out a hard breath, she cut a glance to herself in the mirror. “I’m supposed to take these gauze pads off but the tape they used hurts like a bitch and a half.”

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe had never been the best at holding back her reactions; they were always written plainly on her face, so right now was no exception. Her eyes widened at Beca’s admission, feeling a mixture of both surprised and, frankly, impressed. “Wow, what kind of bet resulted in...that?” she motioned vaguely toward Beca’s chest, gaze unabashedly dropping toward it in spite of Beca’s folded arms. It didn’t matter that she was still trying to bite back her amusement; that, too, was written all over her expression. “You had needles through your nipples and you’re worried about the tape?” Chloe chuckled softly, instinctively taking a step closer. She brought her gaze up to Beca’s face, head tilting slightly. “You want some help? I deal with this stuff at work all the time,” she paused, nose wrinkling in thought, “Not piercings, obviously. But I know what I’m doing, I’ll be super gentle.”

BECA MITCHELL

“Mario Kart.” Beca puffed out a hard breath and considered for a few beats. She’d always been super private about her own body, while some Bellas were borderline nudists. Even in tight living quarters, she’d always been mindful to change in the bathroom or at least keep her back to her roommates while swapping shirts.

Now, though--she needed help, and though her instinct was to stubbornly insist she could do it herself, the past few minutes proved otherwise. “Fine. Yeah. I guess.” She willed the color out of her cheeks but knew she was mostly unsuccessful in that endeavor.

CHLOE BEALE

Of course it was Mario Kart. Chloe didn’t really understand the game, she just liked to play the cute green character, but she knew how competitive Beca and Stacie got, so it wasn’t all that surprising. She only offered Beca a sympathetic smile, before dropping her gaze back down to her arm-covered chest. “Okay, you’re going to have to let me see, though,” Chloe urged, lifting her hands to reach for Beca’s wrists, though she paused then, taking a step back. “Actually, I have a really good tip for this. Hold on.” She held up a finger, signaling that she’d be right back, before dipping from the room to head for their fridge.

Returning with a tub of butter, she held it up to shake in Beca’s view. “Helps it slide off easier. It’s gonna be super easy, I promise you won’t even feel it.”

BECA MITCHELL

When Chloe dashed from the bathroom and she heard the fridge or freezer door open, Beca was kind of hoping she’d return with a large bottle of alcohol to help numb the pain. And then… she returned with the butter tub. Wrinkling her nose, she skeptically eyed the tub and then Chloe. “If anyone finds out I let you rub butter on my tits I’m gonna murder Stacie in cold blood.” With another huff, she dropped her arms to grant Chloe full access.

CHLOE BEALE

Stripping in front of her roommates was really nothing out of the ordinary for Chloe, though the same could not be said for Beca. If she wasn’t in work-mode right now, intent on making sure Beca’s experience was as painless as possible, she’d likely realize that this was kind of a big deal. As it was, though, Chloe simply shot her a reassuring smile, before pulling the lid from the tub.

“Our secret. Promise,” Chloe winked, scooping a little butter from the edge of the tub onto her finger, then stepped closer to get a better look. Lips twisting as she mulled over which corner to tackle, she reached out to carefully rub the butter over the edge of the tape, sweeping it around all of the edges and definitely not thinking about how she was literally touching Beca Mitchell’s boobs right now.

“Okay, super fast,” Chloe promised, bringing her gaze upward to meet Beca’s as she pushed her short nail beneath the corner of the pad. “Just a big bandaid.” Her free hand lifted to hold onto Beca’s shoulder in an effort to keep her steady, before she peeled the pad away with a quick tug, instinctively glancing downward to see the pierced result.

BECA MITCHELL

Something about Chloe’s wink hit differently this time, and Beca swallowed the lump in her throat. (Because she was anxious about the pain, right? Yeah. Definitely that.) She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose when Chloe’s fingers began spreading butter around the tape, biting down on her lower lip so hard she nearly drew blood. (Chill the fuck out, Beca. This is not a big deal.)

Her eyes popped wide the beat before and then-- “Fuck!” Her free hand slapped over her mouth as tears stung her eyes just as they had during the piercings themselves. She groaned and grimaced. “Just--hurry up and do the other one before I lose my nerve.”

CHLOE BEALE

Beca’s jolted reaction caused Chloe to grimace, offering her an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she pouted, though forced herself to keep her gaze from the exposed side of Beca’s chest and instead on the other pad. Just like she had the first one, Chloe spread the butter around the edges, then slid her nail under the corner. Without warning this time, figuring it was better to just get it over and done with, she tugged off the second pad. “There, all done,” she stated, fingers still curled around Beca’s shoulder, the tips brushing soothingly over her skin.

It was impossible not to let her gaze fall again, and while she noticed the marks from the pads, her focus was easily pulled in by the actual piercings. They looked understandably sore, but wow, they looked really good, too. Like, really really good.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca’s chest had always been annoyingly larger than her small frame would suggest, and the resulting jiggle from Chloe’s bandage tear caused another flash of pain to rush through her. “Holy shit. Might still murder Stacie in cold blood,” she mumbled, closing her eyes for a moment as the ache receded.

When she opened her eyes once more, she found… Chloe looking at them. No, staring.

Beca’s mouth went dry and it took her an extra second or two to find her voice. “Seriously? Eyes up, Beale.” She couldn’t resist casting a heatless glare Chloe’s way while her cheeks continued burning. But curiosity got the better of her and she turned a quarter way around to face the mirror, blinking down at her piercings once more. They still hurt like hell, but… okay, she didn’t hate them. “They look okay, I guess,” she conceded, glancing back at Chloe. “Thanks for the assist, Doc.”

CHLOE BEALE

“Mm, you might want to wait until you’re healed a bit. Murder probably requires a lot of movement,” Chloe teased, forcefully ignoring the part of her that wanted to reach out and touch. Just...to see what the piercings felt like, obviously. She only pulled her wide-eyed gaze away at the sound of Beca’s voice, dutifully bringing it up to Beca’s face instead.

“Just admiring your new piercings,” Chloe shrugged, shooting Beca an innocent smile as she leaned over to drop the removed pads into the small waste basket. She kept hold of Beca’s shoulder to steady herself this time, though let go once she’d straightened again. In the interest of being respectful, she chose not to look again, though she did glance briefly at Beca’s reflection in the mirror. “No problem!” she grinned, the name sending a shot of warmth throughout her. “So, you like them? They really do look good.”

BECA MITCHELL

“I guess they kinda fit my aesthetic,” she said with a shrug--wincing as soon as she did. (Note to self--stop shrugging for a while.) Carefully, she raised her arms to pull her t-shirt back down, pressing her lips together to bite back a whimper. Eager to turn the topic away from her sore-as-fuck nips, she cut Chloe another glance. She couldn’t stop her eyes flickering toward the notable bruise on Chloe’s neck. “Whoa, dude. Did you just hook up with Dracula?”

CHLOE BEALE

“Definitely,” Chloe nodded, a part of her feeling relieved when Beca finally covered up. It felt super disrespectful of her to even want to look; it wasn’t like Beca drooled every time Chloe walked into their bedroom-slash-living room with nothing on, after all. This was easier, even if she knew a quick glance downward would show her the metal balls through the thin fabric of her shirt. Again, Chloe forced herself not to look.

More concerned about Beca than the mark on her neck before, Chloe had almost forgotten about it, but frowned as Beca brought it back to her attention. “Ugh, no,” she huffed, bringing her hand up to cup at the side of her neck. “I told him no marks. I definitely don’t think I’m going to be seeing him again.” Frown still wrinkled onto her face, Chloe reached for the butter, pushing the lid back into place. She turned to exit the bathroom. “You almost got the bed all to yourself tonight, but you can blame Tinder Ben for ruining that.”

BECA MITCHELL

“What a fucking asshole.” Rage bubbled in Beca’s belly when Chloe shared she told him not to but he did it anyway. Part of her wanted to find Tinder Ben and knee him in the balls. He totally deserved it. “Also a dumbass, screwing up a shot to spend the night with you. Hopefully he learned his lesson.” Relief washed over Beca, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She should’ve been bummed learning she lost a chance at having the bed to herself, but instead… yeah, fuck Tinder Ben.

Beca followed Chloe out of the bathroom, turning out the lights en route to said bed. She crawled beneath the blankets slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and risk more nipple related pain. “Sorry he fucked up your night.”

CHLOE BEALE

“I know,” Chloe frowned, and while a part of her really was annoyed—because everyone liked a night of meaningless sex, right?—another part of her couldn’t help but feel kind of relieved. The sleeping arrangements in their tiny apartment weren’t exactly the most convenient, but Chloe liked her little pull-out bed, the one she shared with Beca each night. Besides, she’d been in a bad mood thanks to her date, and Beca had lifted that without even trying. “You know, I dated a guy named Ben before, and he turned out to be kind of sucky, too.” Her nose wrinkled as she placed the butter back into the fridge. “Maybe it’s a Ben thing.”

Making her way toward their bedroom area, Chloe shot Beca a small smile. “It’s okay, there’ll be others,” she reasoned, hands dropping to the hem of her dress to begin tugging it upward and off of her body. Unlike Beca, Chloe had no problems with showing everything off, so she didn’t care to hide, and only hummed to herself as she tossed the dress into the laundry hamper, then set out to pick out something to wear for bed. “You should take a picture of your piercings to send to Jesse,” she suggested as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. What a waste of a good matching underwear set.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca snorted. “I dunno. Does that make Benji the exception to the rule, or is your Ben luck just shitty?” A smirk curved on her lips as she settled the blankets over her lap. Her eyes popped wide as Chloe crossed the room and whipped her dress over her head without a second thought. Seriously, it wasn’t fair… Chloe had an absolutely perfect body.

Not that she was looking. Not like that, anyway.

Heat prickled back onto her cheeks and she cleared her throat as she dropped her gaze to the phone in her lap, not really focusing on anything on the screen in particular. At Chloe’s suggestion, a grimace pulled across her lips and she shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. I texted him about them earlier though. He didn’t seem to mind, so that’s cool.”

CHLOE BEALE

“Oh, no, Benji’s different. He’s a Benji, not a Ben. And he seems to be making Emily really happy,” Chloe sighed dreamily. For someone who was so content with meaningless encounters, she really was a sucker for a good romance, and seeing her friends in their happy relationships always warmed her heart. Mostly, anyway.

Selecting a pair of blue pajama shorts and a mismatched white sweater, Chloe began to tug both on, then turned toward the bed as she pulled her hair from beneath the neck. “Didn’t seem to mind?” Her brow lifted at that. “It’s your body, it doesn’t matter whether he minds or not.” Jesse was a nice guy; the very definition of Nice Guy, in fact… Of course he wasn’t going to judge. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth, you wanna set up a movie or something? Or are you tired?”

BECA MITCHELL

“Pretty sure they’re both Benjamin but whatever, weirdo. I guess Benji really is one of a kind.” She had always rooted for Benji and Emily, and it was pretty damn cute how happy they were. Stealing one more quick glance up to Chloe while she pulled the sweater over her head (and instantly berating herself for doing so--seriously, what was wrong with her lately??), Beca sighed. “No I know, I didn’t care about what he thinks I just--I’m glad he didn’t seem to care either way.” He didn’t ask for a pic, but she wouldn’t have sent one either. She scrunched up her nose once more at the prospect of a movie. “I was just gonna put a chill playlist on, but if you really wanna watch a movie that’s cool, too.”

CHLOE BEALE

She shot Beca a playful glare, but only shrugged in response. Either way, Tinder Ben would not be getting any of her attention anymore, and it really was not too much of a loss. Beca and Jesse’s relationship always kind of confused Chloe—if she was in a long distance relationship with Beca, Chloe would certainly have asked for a picture. Not that that hypothetical situation mattered, of course. Rather than respond, she simply breezed toward the bathroom. “Doesn’t matter, music or a movie. Whatever you want,” she chirped, disappearing to go brush her teeth and wash up for bed.

Chloe was serious, it really didn’t matter what they did, just as long as there was some kind of distraction from having to lay there in silence and think about the fact that she’d had her hands on Beca’s bare chest only moments before. She mentally cursed herself for replaying the scene over in her mind—it wasn’t like bringing up Jesse had been accidental, after all.

#char: beca.#f2f: beca.#f2f (2) beca.#thesickestbeats

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nothinggoddess-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Intermittent Fasting Day 10

Weight Morning: Not taking again until at least Friday

Measurement Waist: Not taking again until at least Friday

Amount of Exercise Done: 45 minutes of cardio, roughly

Number of Carbs/ Calories in Evening Meal: 181 carbs, 2174 calories

So day ten clearly didn’t go too well, I ate a ketosis-boning number of carbs and a lot of calories. Thanks to my cardio and my advanced weight, I didn’t come out of a calorie deficit, but I would really have liked to stay in ketosis. Just not enough to battle it out with the PMS beast. I think now that I have fed that horrible monster all that it desperately desired, it should shut up now. But it was just too much a strain to keep my carbs down when I have been crying for no reason for two days, and just really a super-bitch. It’s not the hunger, either, it’s just the hormones. Since mine come in pill form (very rare genetic condition I was born with makes me basically not-produce ANY of my own female hormones, even though I have perfectly intact ovaries and shit), the fasting can’t possibly affect my female hormone levels to any great degree. I literally stick my hormones in my mouth every afternoon. The trouble I’m having now with the intensity of PMS actually comes from not having been able to afford my meds a couple of months ago. My body was able to coast on the residual hormones until I could buy them again, but things are still getting back to normal, during which the mood swings, appetite, etc, can be a little more intense than usual.

I’m still really, really proud of myself and happy. It took me ten days to binge, and it occurred more because of an intense hormonal thing; this wasn’t just me numbing my everyday emotions with food. I don’t think I’ve ever been ten full days without a binge. This is the longest ever, and because of the way I eat now, the damage was completely mitigated. And with the damage mitigated, there’s no guilt to feel, no angst. In the future, if I continued IF indefinitely, made it more of a lifestyle than the effort to lose weight rapidly, this big meal would just be compensating for the fact that my usual calories would be slightly on the low side most days. It seems to me like I can be satisfied, and eat around 600-800 calories one or two days of the week, but 3/4 of my meals are in the 1200 average range, 1000-1300. Then, probably every once in a while, I’ll have a big day. If I were down at my goal weight, all of this would balance itself out just about perfect. And I think this is actually how normal people get along. They have mostly moderate days, but every now and again a light food day or a heavy food day. Because when you just aren’t that hungry, you just aren’t that hungry; nobody in their right mind is gonna force food on themselves when they aren’t feeling it. Or you just have a busy day. And a splurge every one or two weeks. But most of the time, eating with your brain. This feels like it could become a very natural progression to me.

Now that I’m used to fasting, I’m wondering if I need to keep eating a low carb diet, or if I would be fine eating normal meals. It would certainly help me to reduce my calories if I could eat carbs again, since carbohydrates are more filling and in my opinion, healthful. At least if you eat the correct carbs, and not a bunch of shit-food. But... nah. I WILL try to keep with low carb for the 90 days. I might not be in super deep ketosis like a lot of keto dieters out there, but I want and need to burn fat, so at least low grade ketosis is necessary. I think tomorrow, I will hit the cardio for a full hour, if my leg isn’t killing me. My right leg seems maybe a bit too sore, like it could become an injury if I did anything crazy. If it’s not feeling better tomorrow morning, I’ll have to do something like a chair workout. Luckily, I’m prepared. I have some chair workouts downloaded to my computer! And some bed ones. Or maybe I’ll just do a really hard core and upper workout, like some floor stuff, because my legs are just dying, I swear. I can not bounce even one more time. I’m considering icing/ elevating them when I go to bed in a little bit. I have a pillow for my legs from a time when my ankles were swelling (I was chronically dehydrated, turned out I just needed to drink more). And I always have ice packs, because it gets SUPER hot here in the summer. I don’t want to hurt myself, but I also want the endorphins and to burn off the extra glucose ASAP. Grr, conflicts.

Oh! I have been thinking of some rewards for myself, and just couldn’t really figure anything the hell out. There’s not a lot of things I could think of, but someone on a video suggested “things that make you feel beautiful” and it suddenly all clicked. So tenatively, here are some things I want: A nice pair of earrings or two, good makeup (things like eyeshadow primer and shit), a push-up bra when I get small enough for one. The only reward I’m settled on 100% is some lingerie at 90 days, so I can take pictures for my boyfriend and such. We’re long distance, the poor guy doesn’t have a whole lot to get by. I don’t feel like I’m in a place where my body is even okay enough to take sexy photos, but I think after the full 90 days, I should be down by enough that with a little body shaping and lace, I can do something in the way of provocative photos that don’t look awful. At least not to someone who loves me. Anyway, at this point I don’t even know how often I’d do rewards. Maybe every 30 days? Seems like a decent time to me. Maybe my first one can just be some thrift shop clothes, though, because I can see myself needing new ones. I could get some that fit, some that are a little too tight, and some that are a size down from that. Just... motivate myself to get into the pretty things I pick out.

In other notes, I’ve decided that I need to lock down my meals a little tighter so I’m less prone to eating fast food. I’ll start knocking out some recipes tomorrow, so I can begin making food. I’m going to actually make more than I need for the week, because I want choices. Choices are important on a diet. I might up the intake of shiritakis, too, to something like 1.5 packs instead of 1 pack. Volume that brings almost no calories, is good.

Note to self, and idea for tomorrow’s dinner. Just straight up two packs of shiritakis, drained thoroughly and covered in parsley and garlic butter. Almost nothing but fat calories, should help dramatically to bring back ketosis.

Second note to self, you spend a lot of time thinking about diet and exercise, and you do really well when you’re constantly thinking about it, but I think it’s just your way of staying busy, instead of eating. Maybe find something more productive to do now that you know you can get through this. Same with cardio, make it part of your life, don’t talk about it and think about it endlessly, just do it and get on with things. Make a plan of some kind, something to do instead.

Oh man it’s so late. Flopping now.

#intermittent fasting

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