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lavendermunson · 4 months

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mistletoe - steve harrington

day 13 of leia’s christmas tree farm

cw FLUFF. mentions of steve’s mental health. henderson!reader. preestablished relationship

Steve isn’t a pretty big fan of the holidays because he doesn’t spend the night like the others. His mom pays someone to make dinner for her, she gets them out of the plastic containers and places them in expensive personalized dinnerware. His dad buys expensive whiskey and finishes the bottle in a couple of minutes along his friends.

He has grown to believe Christmas is just a holiday about showing off. Giving expensive gifts and seeing people use them for three days just to bury them at the bottom of their dressers.

That’s something his parents always did, brag about money and big houses instead of having a good time. He thought he deserved this, a life so soulless and unkind.

When he met Dustin, your mom, and you his whole world changed. He fell for you so hard, risking all for you and making sure you were always happy. You do the same for him, you always do.

You are his safe place.

It’s Christmas Eve. His family is having dinner with his dad’s colleagues and his mom’s loud best friends. He hates this, he hates that he has to put on a fake smile on his face while he feels miserable.

Steve wishes you could be by his side, but he couldn’t put you through this. His dad will ignore you and try to set him up with someone else. He knows his mom would love you but eventually side with him because that’s the way their relationship works.

Their marriage is stupid.

His parents are stupid.

This day is so stupid.

Surrounded by the stiffness of his room, looking at the pictures of him with you and the friend group. He feels like he could cry, he wants a good Christmas Eve just for once. He misses you all so much.

His head is heavy and his vision is blurry. He sits on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot against the carpeted floor and preparing himself for the night.

Then he hears a knock on his window. It’s you. Like he summoned you. His heart skips a beat when he sees your face, you are all dressed in black.

“What are you doing? My parents are here!”

“We are here to steal you, like a precious piece of art from a museum!”

He laughs, looking at you.

“I can’t, honey. I can’t leave, they are going to kill me!”

“They won’t because…” you hold your index finger in the air, waiting for your sign to escape. When you hear Steve’s mom scream you take his hand in yours, pulling him to you. “Your house is infested with cockroaches”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain in a bit, let’s go”

You take a step back from the roof, Steve is impressed to see you climb his house for him knowing how difficult it is for him to get to your window. He escapes from his own room, his hands gripping the window frame as he gets out quietly.

When you get off the roof, you hold his hand in yours running with him towards your car. He opens the passenger door and sits down excited, ready to escape this hell of a house.

He did it. He is out, he is with you. The cold breeze hits his cheeks, he feels calm for the first time since he woke up.

“Dustin! Hurry” you scream at your little brother, he holds an empty box as he runs to meet you.

“Mission accomplished!”

Both of you join Steve in the car, you are quick to drive away from his house before their parents catch you. He misses his mom telling him not to come downstairs.

“You guys are crazy,” he says, anxiety slowly disappears as he rubs his abdomen. He looks back, noticing how his house disappears from his vision. “When did you come up with this plan?”

“Today” you answer, eyes focused on the road as you speed up to get to your house quickly.

“And why are you both dressed in black?”

“It’s our steal-a-museum outfit,” Dustin says, feeling Steve’s eyes glaring at him “It was her idea!”

“I couldn’t leave you there, I spent all day trying to come up with something for you to spend Christmas with me”

“Thank you, honey”

“And your parents freaked out when they saw the cockroaches, it was hilarious!” Dustin says, getting out of the car when you finally get home. Safely and with Steve by your side.

Steve holds your hand as you walk to your house, his fingers interlock with yours and he leans to the side, kissing your cheek before pushing the door open.

After opening the door, he sees a crowd of people cheering and screaming. Your mom, Robin, Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, and all of his kids are there.

Steve smiles brightly, feeling his cheeks warm as well as his heart. Everyone comes up to him, hugs him, and welcomes him before they follow Dustin, who cannot stop laughing as he tells the story of how they got Steve here.

Your mom gets close to him, hugging him tightly.

“We are happy you are home,” she says. Steve holds back his tears, home. He finally feels like he has a home.

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson” he smiles at her, his chest heaving up and down from the excitement. “I’m surprised you were okay with this plan”

“Oh Steve, who do you think got that box of cockroaches!” she laughs and you join her, both looking so happy that he is here. How is it possible? He feels like he is dreaming. It’s all just too good to be true. “I’ll leave you guys, you are under the mistletoe”

You look up at the branch of mistletoe that wasn’t there before you left the house. Steve looks at it too, then he wraps your waist with his arms pulling you to his chest.

“Thank you, baby”

“Don’t. It’s the least I could do, they are going home at ten but you are staying here with me”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I love you, honey”

“I love you too, baby”

You cup his cheeks in your hands, the feeling of your soft fingertips makes Steve melt. Pressing your lips against his, he feels in heaven.

He feels you, he tastes you.

The one who saved him from one of the worst nights of his life, he owes you everything.

His head falls to the side as you tangle your fingers in his hair. It makes Steve moan softly, feeling all his body warm and bubbly.

You spend the night together. Sharing jokes, laughing at Dustin’s stories, and drinking. He only gets more excited because he gets to sleep with you, maybe thank you for what you did, and wake up on Christmas to open his presents.

reblog to support your creators! comments are appreciated !! ♡ thank you for following my christmas event, your support means so much to me 🎄

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samtheflamingomain · 2 years

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sometimes our problems are caused by having problems

In society's haste to destigmatize disorders like anxiety and depression as a "chemical imbalance" one cannot control, I think we accidentally did ourselves a little dirty.

See, and hear me out, lots of people diagnosed with Medical Depression do not have Medical Depression. They have all the symptoms of someone with Medical Depression - but the cause is not a chemical one. It's a social one.

"Situational Depression" is a well-established phenomenon, yet rarely acknowledged or put into the mental illness conversation.

If you're miserable from living in abject poverty, no SSRI is going to make you less miserable. Y'know what would? MORE MONEY.

Between telling all the younger generations that if they're sad it's a medical problem and that money doesn't by happiness, it's the perfect equation for a generation of depressed poor people pissing through depression treatments and never getting better.

Of course Medical Depression is very much a real, proven thing. But I think pretending 100% of cases of Depression are actually Medical and can't be improved by an increase to one's quality of life actually lets people in power keep our quality of life shitty.

In my personal case, I'm depressed because I'm poor. I'm poor because I'm disabled and receive the "Ontario" "Disability" "Support" "Program". I mean, I guess Ontario is right. Calling a monthly $1100 payment "support" is very generous, unlike my monthly $1100 payment. That's $13200/yr. Show me a single person on earth making 13 grand a year that isn't depressed.

I got my first Medical Depression diagnosis at 13. After a few months of therapy not helping, I started my first SSRI at 13 and a half. That was 14 years ago.

Before my first manic episode that officially made me Bipolar, I tried well over 150 different Depression Drugs - not just SSRIs, but medications made to treat, specifically, Medical Depression.

Not only did none ever work, I never even experienced a single side effect (at least that was bad enough to notice). I gave each new drug the standard 6-8 weeks to start working, then onto the next one. For 8 years.

Then when I was rediagnosed with Bipolar 1, it all made sense why Depression Drugs didn't help - Bipolar Drugs are different. So then I tried all of those. I do have a pill that works on one thing - keeping me from getting manic. Y'know, the only part of my life when I'm not extremely depressed. Relax, I do take my meds, it's not worth it for me to not.

But here's the thing: I'm not Medically Depressed. I'm Situationally Depressed, and always have been. From abuse as a kid, and poverty as an adult.

I had chronically bad health as a kid in a lot of random ways. Migraines, strep throat every few months, heat intolerance. Many therapists have gotten me to the point where I consider those things caused by the stress of always being afraid for 18 years straight.

Then, when I was 19, on November 16th 2014, I woke up refreshed for the last time. Since then, I have not felt awake. I have not woken up feeling refreshed. Not. Once. I forget what wakefullness feels like.

After 8 long, frustrating years, I finally got diagnosed with Idiopathic Hypersomnia - literally, "too tired without explanation". As a rare, neurological, sleep-related disorder, it's possibly the least-understood problem your body can have.

The studies they have done - few and far between - are very, very hard to draw large conclusions from, but there's one thing that's pretty consistent: it never gets better.

Brain science is tough. Sleep science is the top 1% of hard sciences. We barely know anything about sleep itself and advances in knowledge are slow even by scientific standards.

This means a few things: firstly, there's little incentive and ability to study it and develop treatments for it. Secondly, even if they put every resarcher in the world on solving IH, it could take forever, or it could forever remain a mystery. Which brings me to what was the most horrifying thing I had ever concieved: Chances are very likely that I will never feel wakefulness ever again.

The reason I opened with Situational Depression is because I think IH, at least from the very few anecdotes I've read, is kind of like growing up abused and developing migraines as a stress response. Except, instead of being a result of abuse, it's a result of chronically bad sleep.

For example, one person on the tiny subreddit mentioned they have always had severe insomnia and never got it treated until they were in their 20s, then had their last refreshing sleep. When the sleep study and diagnosis was handed down, the doctor explained there's no definitive cause, but when she told him she would lay awake for up to 5h a night every night as long as she can remember, he said that could very well be the cause - but he can't say for sure.

I also had insomnia for a while, but never that bad and rarely that chronic. Instead, the thing that fucked up my sleep from the ages of 9 to 19 was my active effort to avoid sleep at all costs.

I woke up May 12th, 2004 to the sound of obnoxiously loud and dirty sex. Even headphones in, full volume on a shitty mp3 player, I could hear them.

While multiple therapists have validated this as a traumatic experience, I still feel a little silly saying that that one night completely ruined my childhood. But it did. And when I tell the story, unless it's to a professional, I always downplay just how awful it was.

After a few months of waking up to them fucking a few times a week, I started working my way through dozens of ways I could try and work around it. Because when I woke up, I felt paralyzed, absolutely convulsed, cried and would have to lay there listening for sometimes several hours.

The strategy I eventually had to use was as follows: stay awake till they go to the bedroom, taking a 1/4 risk that they'll just do it in the living room and I'll be trapped. The minute their door closes, mine opens and I tiptoe down to the basement, sit in the dark for 3 hours, then, praying they're done, go back upstairs. It was the only way to nearly-guarentee I wouldn't hear them.

I did this every night from the age of 11 to 16. For 5 years straight, I was lucky to get 4 hours a night. Anywhere from 0 to maximum 6 or 7 on a non-school-day. Then when I discovered over-the-counter sleeping pills at 16 I stopped.

While I didn't tell this to the sleep doctor, if I had to guess, this is probably the direct cause of my IH. Maybe a gene is wrong or I'm missing a chemical, but like my brand of depression, I'm starting to question the Medical-ness of my IH.

Which is a weird place for me mentally - cuz for 99% of my life, I've been desperate to convince any and all authorities that no, it's not my diet/meds/exercise/sleep hygiene and most-blamed, my depression, causing my endless fatigue. To get the diagnosis, I had to get doctors to take me seriously, and giving them any reason to blame my childhood for my problems and say "go to therapy" wasn't coming out of my mouth, and therefore, wasn't in my brain for a long time.

I became convinced that it's a medical mystery and my only hope would be a miraculous scientific breakthrogh or Dr. House himself leaping out of the TV.

The only recommended medical treatment, that might work maybe if you're lucky and Mercury is in retrograde, is Ritalin and its siblings.

I'm currently on a dose of Adderall recommended for severe ADHD, and just shy of a dose that could get a normal person high - like, cocaine-lite. I can and have taken my Adderall and then fallen asleep an hour later. When asked by the doctor if I had ever done coke and I said no, he said, "Good, because even cocaine would not make you feel awake."

So I did what I had to to get the diagnosis to get the okay to start Adderall. It helps with my brain fog that comes with the fatigue but it doesn't wake me up. Mostly I did all that so I can say that I've tried everything.

And for a while, I thought I had. Because I became so convinced that it's Medical IH when it could very well be Situational IH.

The way this came to me was when I saw on r/ELI5 "Why can we have sleep debt but not sleep surplus?" which I was like huh never thought about it. I did in fact guess the correct answer, but the way one ELI5 was worded particularly got me thinking.

Basically, your brain is a phone battery. When it gets low, it gives you a warning - fatigue, sleepiness, mental exhaustion. Then if it gets really low it slows down background applications and lags and can be buggy - you can't think straight, get a headache etc. Then when you recharge it to 100, it can't get any higher, thus no possibility for a "sleep surplus".

They go on with the metaphor by saying if you let the battery drain all the time, try to do complex tasks at 3%, run on 1% (stay up super late, bad sleep hygiene, pulling-all nighters, frequently getting just a few hours, insomnia) it can damage the battery. Sometimes irepairably, to the point it will never hit a full charge again. Sometimes you'll only be able to get a few hours of use before it drains again. It can struggle to turn off and on. I think you get the idea.

While I've actually used the metaphor myself to explain IH to others, I never got very deep to the point where I'd ask myself, "I can never charge my battery to 100 - why?" because it seemed, what with the unsolved nature of IH, there was no "why".

Obviously there has to be. If we keep the battery analogy, I kind of subconsciously assumed it was a phone that just had faulty wiring from the start - like a gene mutation causing IH. But instead, what if the phone is super old, and when you first used it, you abused the battery like crazy, then took it to a shop where a guy fixed it as best he could but after so long it just can't be brought back to the state it started in?

I'm unsure whether the "Situational not Medical" aspect of IH will change anything when it comes to my hope of ever waking up again. I've accepted that I haven't. In doing so, I've made the choice that my life isn't going to continue much longer.

But if you gave me an extra 10k/yr, I'd be less depressed. Situational Depression is treated by bettering the situation. But I don't know that I can correct the situation that may have caused my IH because it already happened.

However, when the situation is in the past, it's treated with therapy. I've been convinced for a while that I've gone as far as I can with therapy, but it's something I'm going to think about.

Thanks for reading if you did.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#ih #idiopathic hypersomnia #depression #mental illness #chronic illnesss #abuse tw

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lily-drake · 3 years

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Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life. An earth where everyone is born with wings. Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed. If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul. Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian. It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6. But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout. Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers. Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that. She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil. Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety. She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance. She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone. He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings. In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed. She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective. He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health. She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects. Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”. Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training. He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base. She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame. She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up. She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother. She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him. Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that. They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone. She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault. She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction. She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else. So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran. She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran. An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away. Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods. She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing. Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground. She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible. She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves. Pearl-like apples growing on a few. She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark. She was cold, it felt very cold. She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones. She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm. Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet. They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started. It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it. What they discovered broke their hearts. There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them. They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care. They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives. Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it. She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital. How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that? It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything. And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in. They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents. It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off. She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before. The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose. There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache. She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad. She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could. The entire room was white and there were bright lights. There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying. She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here. Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up. It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently. Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever. They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her? What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you? If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction. These were randoms, innocents if you will. They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings. Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed? The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings. Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings. She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is. Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does. Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers. She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept. She didn’t want to hurt them though. But maybe she could protect them? Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt? Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did. She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed. Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok. If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread. She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug. She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though. So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted. She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did. They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France. This was supposed to be her new home. The city of light and love. Maybe here, it would stop her curse. It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness. She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one. Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it. It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now. It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere. They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them. They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission. They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings. She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them. Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed. When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them. Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”. She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged. She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up. The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous freak.” And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest. Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero. She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die. She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk. Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings. He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had. Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could. She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings. It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to. When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out. But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch. Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth. Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi. To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections. Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did. Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth. She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it. After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case. Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly. She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with. That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people. Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon. She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. She had abandoned her brother. She betrayed the league. She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use. The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip. Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would. She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*. Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted. During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get. He almost discovered her wings at one point. She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment. Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful. He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once. But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions. They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him. She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE. The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it. She often thought of Damian when she sketched. She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close. She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die? She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well. Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry Marinette! Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that! I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar. She would never lower herself to do that. She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled. She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her. Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something. She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice. She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop. The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next. The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded. Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak? Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying. They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again. She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body. Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined. When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open. She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable. Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were. He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class. She didn’t listen though, she just observed. The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out. He had such lovely wings though, they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them. They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening? Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention. The insults and jeers stopped after that. She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely. They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them. Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously. She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette. Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you. Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did. Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting. When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight. Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room. The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”. Their father was Bruce Wayne?! She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life. No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen. She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop. Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head. Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them. Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air. Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes. She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had. Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers. The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom. But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something! Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

296 notes · View notes

woniepop · 3 years

Text

encore

➜ sunghoon had never fallen in love with anything the way he did with skating. the wind in his face, the crunch of the ice beneath his feet, it was wonderful. and yet, something about it made your blood boil. you once loved ice skating too, for the same reasons as he, but maybe all you needed was a simple goodbye to understand park sunghoon.

wc: 4.6k

genre: ice skating au, best friends to lovers (ish), angst, fluff, romance, slice of life

content warnings: illness, mentions of medication, mentions of blood, death, mentions of anxiety, mentions of fainting, hospitals, angst, death of a loved one

heavily based off Your Lie in April

tagging: @svnghoonie @unghoon @swanlakesujin @heeblr @sweetseung @ferxanda @katberri @usdolans @kisshoons @scintillasofbeomgyu @leemika @qngelhoonie

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first time i’m writing something like this, so i hop eyou guys enjoy it because i’d be super down to write more in the future.

Friday, October 16, 2020

The busy sounds of couples, families, and friends fill the air as the cold wind hits your face. Holding hands with your mom, you glide through the ice, laughter filling the entire rink. The bleachers, the other skaters, the floor, it all disappears and the only thing that’s left is you and your mom. Your seven year old self had never felt so alive.

And yet, here you were, seventeen, staring off into the ice rink as other kids and their mothers ice skated. Ever since you fell in love with the sport it had been the bane of your existence. Mom died, so you stopped. You swore to never go back again, it gave you anxiety. You tried, you really did, but something about being on the ice reminded you so much of the past you wanted to leave behind. It went downhill from then on.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” a familiar voice calls out to you. Sunghoon, who had been practicing for his upcoming competition, leans against the side of the rink, talking to you who was sitting on the bleachers.

“Just my mom again,” you reply.

“It’s been a while since she passed away, huh. Should we go get some ice cream to cheer you up then?” He says as he skates towards the exit, walking to you. You stand up, bag in hand, and wait for him to change out of his skates. Sunghoon, who had been your best friend since your five year old skating class, had been with you through everything. He always seemed to know just what to say to cheer you up.

“Hey, y/n. Do you think you’d ever try to skate again?” Sunghoon asks, fully knowing the answer but hoping maybe this time it'll be different.

“Haha, you really want me to get back into skating that badly?”

“Well, it’s been a while since you’ve done it. You don’t have to compete with me again, you know. But why don’t you just try it again for fun?”

You stop in your tracks and think about it. It wouldn’t hurt to try for fun. It was your life at one point. “Fine, tomorrow afternoon. But that’s it.” you say, watching his face light up.

Saturday, October 17, 2020

“Don’t let go, Sunghoon. I SAID DON’T LET GO.” You shout, as he laughs.

“Y/n, just relax. You know this. I’m letting go now.”

“SUNGHOON!” you shout. Your legs bent and you stand in place, too scared to move. You watch as he takes your hand and guides you around the rink. The nostalgia comes rushing back. The wind in your face, the feeling of your feet gliding across the ice like nothing, it had been so long. Before you realize it, you had let go of Sunghoon and gone way ahead of him. Looking back, you find him smiling at you. You remember this feeling, and you loved it.

You’d definitely got your love of skating from your mom. Being the daughter of a professional skater, it had been your dream to be like her. She was and always will be your role model. When you had quit skating you wondered if she’d be disappointed in you for quitting, but thoughts of her always flooded your mind and you could never focus on the task at hand. You knew your mom would never be disappointed in you, but you were disappointed in you.

It had been half an hour of skating and an all too familiar voice calls out to you.

“Y/n!”

“Mom?” you say in response. You look back, no one. Not soon after, your breathing gets heavy, the world starts spinning and the nostalgia of the rink gets washed over by spots of black, your head was pounding. You keep looking. Where was she? Why was this happening? You wanted to hug her. Was she proud of you? Upset that you didn’t skate anymore? Why did she leave you? Before you know it, you could feel Sunghoon holding you on the floor before going unconscious.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Sunghoon says, clutching your hand while kneeling next to your bed.

“Sunghoon, I’m fine. It’s not your fault.”

“BUT IT IS! I asked you to skate with me and now you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt. It’s okay.” you say as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. You look at the clock. 7pm. It was the next day. “Don’t you have practice? Let’s go.”

“What do you mean let’s go?!? You just woke up??” Sunghoon utters in a panic.

“Yeah, which means I’m energized. I need to make sure you don’t stay there for too long and hurt yourself too.” you say, standing up to shoo Sunghoon out so you can change. “Wait on the couch,”

A few moments later you both were out the door and on the bus to the ice rink.

“I’m not going to stay for long then. I don’t want you to be out for too long.” He decides.

“That’s fine.”

The noise Sunghoon’s skates made as they hit the ice and the chilly air gave you comfort as you watched him run through his routine. Running his fingers through his hair, your eyes follow him wherever he went. He knew you were watching, which was why he was putting on his best performance. The both of you had never felt butterflies for each other like the way you did now. Before you knew it, the two of you were falling hard.

“Y/n, let’s go now.” Sunghoon says as his chest rises up and down, panting from his last run.

“Okay, you did good today.” You compliment him as you walk to the bus. His hand accidentally bumps into yours. You desperately wished that he had gone to hold yours, but he was just your best friend. Nothing more. The ride was filled with a comfortable silence. You stared out the window while Sunghoon stared at you. Feeling his gaze on you, you turn to look at him only for him to turn away and pretend like he was looking the other way. Having spent almost everyday for the past ten years with Sunghoon, you guys never needed to talk constantly, having each other there was just enough to have a great day.

You get off together, but Sunghoon was acting suspiciously jittery. He walks you home, but you see him turn the opposite direction of your house once you’re inside. Weird.

Alone, Sunghoon gets back on the bus. His home was close enough to walk from your house, though. “What was he doing?”, you thought.

Arriving at his destination, Sunghoon sighs as he puts a hand up to his backpack strap.

“Name?” the receptionist asks.

“Park Sunghoon.”

“Sunghoon! I’m sorry to see you back. You’ve grown so well. The doctor is ready for you in room 306. Good luck!”

In and out of hospitals ever since the seventh grade, twelve year old Sunghoon stands in the dark hospital hallway, watching his parents cry in the moonlit lobby. He didn’t have much time left, he thought.

Trudging through the all too familiar hallways, Sunghoon makes a left turn and opens the fourth door to the right. He knew this place like the back of his hand.

“Hey Sunghoon! Welcome back! Just take a seat over there and I’ll start preparing to run some tests and then we’ll talk about starting your physical therapy.” The doctor says in a way too cheerful voice.

“That sound’s good. Thank you.” Sunghoon replies. Hearing the sound of the door clicking shut, Sunghoon sat deep in thought. He wanted to skate with you again, but he was worried about your health. Just one more time. That was what he wanted. The glimmer in your eyes, you huge yet adorable smile. He wanted to see it again.

Next Saturday, October 24, 2020

The day started out hectic but you finally found your seat in the stands. You waited for them to announce Sunghoon. Alas, he came gliding out and the crowd was already cheering. Before he starts his eyes search for you, smile widening when his eyes finally meet with yours. Although he had other passions, like skating, his favorite one would always be you. The music starts and the audience quiets down. You had probably seen this routine over 100 times, but something about the setting, the mood, made it seem like a whole new dance. Every move he made drew you further in. He pushed the audience to the edge of their seats leaving them in awe. It was all for you. Everything about him at that moment was brilliant. Once he ends, the audience roars and Sunghoon, not surprisingly, ends up winning. Of course he won. He was your Sunghoon.

You make a beeline towards the performers’ hall and jump onto Sunghoon’s back, accidentally hitting his face with the flowers you had purchased a few moments before.

“Y/n, I told you to stop buying me these. They’re a waste of money.” Sunghoon giggles, happy to see you. You’d had always brushed them off as a pretty reward for a pretty performer, but there had always been a separate meaning behind the red tulips you give him. They would always end up in your home, in the glass vase next to the couch. A gift from your father to your mother, every Friday. Red tulips, the symbol of true love.

“Alright, I need to go change, wait here.” he says, leaving you behind.

An hour goes by and you were starting to get a bit worried. You knock on his changing room door. Nothing. Did he leave without you? You knock on the door again, and nothing. Opening the door, your eyes widen and you let out a gasp. Sunghoon had fainted due to exhaustion and the blood from his head injury had stained the floor.

You call the ambulance and thankfully they arrive quickly. Refusing to leave Sunghoon’s side, you watch as the nurses wrap bandages around his head. This had been the first time you’d seen Sunghoon like this. Was it happening often? Did he not get enough sleep last night?

“Sunghoon, I’m glad to see you’re awake. You passed out from exhaustion again and we’ve handled your head injury. You’re free to go anytime.” The doctor says.

“Again?” you ask.

“Yeah, but only a long time ago. You don’t need to worry about it.” Sunghoon says. “My parents have been overreacting and making me get routine tests, though.”

As a kid, you hated going to the hospital, and Sunghoon knew that. It was bland, it was boring, but most of all it’s the place you lost your mother. You hated the hospital. You’d come almost every month, week even, watching them run tests on your mom, prescribe her what seemed to be like hundreds of different medications, it was terrible. Losing your parent to cancer was not fun. No more skating, no more family days, no more cheering at competitions. Your family dinners turning to just you and your dad, and then just you. Referring to your parents as my “parent,”. Learning how to live life without the person you cherished most. It seemed like your life revolved around that retched place you called the hospital.

The rain poured and thunder boomed through the quiet hospital. He had sent you home before it rained, not wanting you to get wet and sick from the cold. Sunghoon sat still and thought to himself in his bed. “I see, so I’ve passed out again,” he thinks.

Monday, October 26, 2020

The chair screeches across the floor as Sunghoon drags it to your desk.

“Y/nnnnnnn” he whines, seeing you eat your gummy worms.

“No.”

“But I’m hungryyyy” he cries. You roll your eyes, placing one in his hand. You watch as he holds one side close to his mouth as if he was waiting for something.

“Sunghoon, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bite the other side” he says, causing your face to go red.

“No”

“yes”

“no”

“why not?” he says with his best attempt at puppy eyes and a pout.

“why?” you ask, hoping he hasn’t noticed your tomato red face yet

“cause I want to. we can lady and tramp it.” he says. “you know you want to.”

“I’m not going to lady and tramp a gummy worm with you. eat it or i’m taking it back.” you argue.

“Fine, but I have a proposal.” he announces. “I want to enter the next competition with you. Just one. Give me one more duet before you quit for good.”

“no,” you reply. “I’m never skating again.”

“Why not? You love it”

“Why do you want me to skate so badly?” you ask. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell you the real reason. He couldn’t tell you he was dying, that was a huge no.

“I miss being able to skate with my best friend. I feel so lonely.” he says, puppy eyes resurfacing.

“I’ll think about it then.”

“Good. Meet me at the ice rink on Saturday at 10am” he exclaims before getting up to go back to his desk.

“I haven’t even agreed.”

“Oops I can’t hear you!” he says as you roll your eyes.

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Little you steps off the ice as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes. Running out of the rink into the changing room, you latch on to your mother.

“Mommy, I’m not gonna win,” you say. Her hand comes up to run her fingers through your hair. She coos at you until your breathing has relaxed.

“Why don’t you think you’d win, honey? I loved watching you out there. You were so beautiful.” she says.

“I fell on the ice! Winners don’t do that. I wanted to win just like you.” you manage to sniffle out. You feel your mother give you a kiss on the forehead before kneeling and holding both of your hands.

“Ah, you see, my love, they do! Mommy fell all the time! She still falls! I promise you no winner has never fallen. Mommy only wins because she knows what it’s like to fall! Even if you don’t win, mommy is very proud of you, okay?” she says.

You bolt up from your sleep. It was just a dream. Scrunching your face, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out, you force yourself to get ready for the day, not giving any time to be sad and reminisce.

You enter the complex, Sunghoon standing at the entrance of the rink, impatiently waiting for you. He was so excited. This was going to work out for him. You both walk to the bleachers to satrt lacing your skates, Sunghoon practically bouncing off the walls.

“Aw man, I forgot my hair tie” you complain. Sunghoon pauses lacing his boots and holds his arm out to you.

“Here” Sunghoon says as you look at the extra hair tie on his wrist.

“Why do you have these.” you ask.

“You always forget.” he says, unsurprised.

“Awwww you were thinking of me?” you teased.

“Of course, idiot. Did you forget? I’m never not thinking of you” Sunghoon argued, wallking away, leaving you dumbfounded and blushing like a tomato.

Once again you step into the rink. You were stronger this time. Taking a deep breath you start to glide across the ice once again. It was very unsettling, though. Being on the ice, having fainted the last time you were here. Both you and Sunghoon were on edge, but you were determined to help him win this competition.

The day was filled with talking with your instructor, cleaning up your spins and jumps, and getting back to where you were before. You were getting it and you showed no signs of panic. Sunghoon was so proud of you. YOU were proud of you.

Sunghoon was happy, and he was hopeful. On his walk home all his thoughts were filled with you. Loving you ever since the seventh grade, when he found out he had an illness. He had decided never to tell you, fearing his time would come and leave you alone, but it was too late now. He didn’t want to push you away, you were his ride or die. His heart ached, he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want you to have to live alone.

Opening the door to his home, he walks through the hallway, leaning against the wall limping to his room. Every big event Sunghoon would write you a letter, and so tonight he poured his heart out onto this piece of paper, tears staining his face.

Sunday, November 1, 2020

On Sunday, you show up to his house unexpectedly but not surprisingly. “Sunghoon, get dressed. We’re going to the market.” you say. Without question, he does as you ask and you both head to the market in no time.

Walking down the ice cream aisle, you grab all the flavors you enjoy, filling your whole basket with different ice creams, toppings, fruit, drinks, and even a cake. “You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” Sunghoon teases, earning him a slap to the arm.

As soon as you get home, you send Sunghoon alone to his bedroom, telling him you need time to prepare everything. You had pulled all the stops, whipping out the cheap snoopy shaved ice maker, birthday party hats, streamers, balloons, and banners. It was no one’s birthday in particular, but the fake birthday party put you in a festive and refreshing mood. You had set up a giant ice cream sundae bar, and had even made lemonade.

Calling Sunghoon to come out of the bedroom, he was not surprised but very impressed. Wanting to make it even more fun, he suggests to make sundaes for one another, which you happily agree to. The day was so fun, and it was hardly possible, but Sunghoon had fallen in love with you even more.

Sunghoon was so happy that you planned something like this. He was never one to do anything cute for you unless you begged, so this time he wanted to show you how grateful he was to you by giving you one FREE boop on the nose. Scooping some ice cream with his fingertip, he lightly taps your nose, leaving the melted strawberry ice cream to drip off your nose. You turn to look at him in disgust, eventually dipping your finger in the ice cream and starting a war.

Monday, November 2, 2020

From: Sunghoon (sent at 7:30am)

[ GOOD MORNIN PARTY PEOPLE!!! ]

From: you

[ where are you ]

From: Sunghoon

[ Oh yeah I forgot to tell you I’m not coming today. ]

From: you

[ what, why? I don’t wanna eat lunch alone like a loser. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ oh yeah. i’m back at the hospital LMAOOOO ]

From: you

[ WHY ]

From: Sunghoon

[ idk i forgot. i just woke up here and they were like “hihi” and i said “hihi” back ]

From: you

[ you are unbelievable. i’m coming after school. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ NO DON’T ]

From: you

[ why ]

From: Sunghoon

[ i don’t wanna get yelled at again. only come if you bring me more gummy worms ]

From: you

[ fine. since you’re sick ]

You acted like you didn’t care, but you were so worried. What could’ve happened? Why couldn’t he remember? Even when bed ridden, he still managed to get you to fall head over heels.

That afternoon, you arrive at the hospital, finding Sunghoon playing video games while lying in bed. You chuckled. Even with head bandages and an IV drip, he still managed to be his teenage boyish self.

“Y/n! Today was so boring. Can we take a walk in the garden, I’m sick of being here.” he asks, to which you reluctantly agreed.

During your stroll you talked about anything and everything, a common activity you both did.

“How was school today? Did you miss me?” Sunghoon asks cheekily.

“I did actually. I didn’t realize how much time I spend with you until today.” you respond. “But, it was okay. I got your gummy worms and some other snacks too. I know you hate hospital food.”

“Well I missed you too, there was no one but the staff to bother.” He chuckles. “You know, I’m not always going to be around to help you.”

“I know, but we have time.”

Before you knew it, the sun was setting and Sunghoon sent you home so you didn’t have to walk alone in the dark. On his walk back to his room, Sunghoon worried. The thing was, you didn’t have time. The fact that you missed him in just a few hours? How would you feel about forever? He never wanted you to have bad days, let alone be the one to cause them.

Walking through the hallways he trips and falls. Landing on his knees. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. Why wouldn’t his legs move? He punched his leg. Nothing. Again. It was no use. He had lost feeling in his legs. Tears start pouring out of his eyes. Move, it’s just your leg. Get up. Move. Water droplets fall from his face as he bangs his fist on the floor. Why can’t he move. Eventually he gives up, dragging himself back to his room with his arms. They hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurt. Was this it?

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

After last night’s events, Sunghoon felt out of it. He wouldn’t be able to go back to school for a while, the nurses claiming that if it happens again the situation can be way worse. He couldn’t skate anymore. He couldn’t see YOU skate anymore. This was it. His illness was getting to him.

With a knock on the door, Sunghoon falls right out of his daze and watches as you come in with another bag of goodies.

“I brought you some stuff from the convenience store.” You say, taking out a bottle of green tea and handing it to him. He reaches out to grab it but as soon as you let go the bottle slips out of his hands.

Ah, so it’s spreading to my arms too, he thinks as he realizes he was too weak to grip the bottle. The doctors told his parents last night that surgery was an option, but it would only give him a little more time, but he wanted to take it. He wanted to be able to skate a little longer. He wanted to make it to the competition.

“I’m in the mood to watch all the Studio Ghibli movies in one sitting.” Sunghoon says as he leans his head back.

“Scoot over,” you reply, getting up to sit in his bed with him. “Good thing I brought my laptop.”

“Are you sure? That’s gonna be like all night.” He asks.

“Of course, I’m always in the mood for you,” you say as Sunghoon wraps an arm around you, prepared for the whole night of cuddling and movie watching.

Half way through the marathon you feel Sunghoon nuzzle his face into your neck. His soft snoring tickled you. You bring your hand up to stroke his hair. Park Sunghoon, I am so in love with you, you think. Your smile. Your eyes. Your lips. Your hair. Your voice. You teasing. The way you say my name. The way you stare at me. The way you talk. The way you smile at me. The way my day isn’t complete without you. I love you.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

The next day was supposed to be better. Sunghoon was going to see you and you were gonna get him more gummy worms. Sitting up with him on his bed, you were cuddling, and he seemed to be getting paler and paler by the minute. He seemed really tired, like he was sick to his stomach.

You got up to go get him a drink from the vending machine, and as you came back nurses and doctors were rushing in and out of your best friend’s room. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of it’s chest and you run to his room. Sunghoon was clutching onto the sides of the bed, doctors scrambling to get the defibrillator going. His heart had stopped.

You’d later learn that he had gone into cardiac arrest, and you watched as the nurses wheeled his bed to the ICU. But the surgery didn’t work, and he didn’t survive. You felt numb. Stretching out a trembling arm, you took hold of Sunghoon’s hand. You shut your eyes and squeezed his palm. It was cold. Your hand trembled harder with each passing second, as if the movement would cause Sunghoon to wake up. Your face buried into the crook of his neck. You nudged the bridge of your nose against the cool skin. Your lips brushed against his collarbone in desperate search of that familiar warmth. Both hands had clasped around Sunghoon’s, quavering without pause. Devastation weighed down on you. It was a surreal feeling, one that you could never in one million years describe. It squeezed you, threatening to crush you from the inside out. The pain seared itself into your soul, hindering him, rendering him speechless to a point where he no longer knew what words were. A sob wretched its way out from your throat. You tried desperately to hold it in. Tried so hard to keep yourself together, but you knew you were too weak to pull such a bluff. Once the second sob had left you, you felt yourself spiraling. There was no hiding it.

The doctor comes to hand you a letter. Weakly reaching out, you read it right away. You were desperate. You needed to hear something from Sunghoon, anything.

Dear Y/n,

HI BESTIE, I know I write you one of these every big event, but I’m afraid this might be my last. I’m sorry if you’re getting the before the competition. I desperately wanted to skate with you, but I guess if you’re reading this then my time has come. I hope you’re doing okay. I don’t want you to miss me too much. Please keep skating. I love watching you skate, more than anything. You look so happy, so carefree. I want you to live like that always. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I don’t want you to associate something you love so much with sadness. I’m with your mom now, and we’re rooting for you. Always.

I know it was pretty obvious, but I love you. Actually, that’s an understatement. I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts when I’m not with you. I’m in love with you. And I love that I’m in love with you. I love the feelings. The happiness when I think of you, the butterflies when you text me, the excitement I get when I know I’ll get to see you. It’s amazing. And you’re amazing, and I love you. And I’m sorry I had to keep so many secrets. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the competition. I’m sorry for not telling you about my illness. I didn’t want you to carry this burden with me. You’re the light of my life, Y/n. I love you.

Love,

your bestie, sunghoon.

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eyeofthedrgn · 3 years

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I have finally decided on a title for this multi chapter Rowcan fic: A Heavy Battle Symphony. Inspired by two Linkin Park songs (Heavy{feat. Kiiara}, Battle Symphony) that seem to fit the bill of the overall tone of the story. Since it deals with such dark topics and mental health, it just works. I wasn't intending for this to be song inspired, but here we are.

Also, I'm bad at summaries, but here we go:

Set in a modern high school AU. Lorcan was forced to live with his Aunt Maeve and boyfriend James Perrington, both of which are abusive. Once they move to Orynth, Lorcan's life is thrown into disarray when he meets Rowan.

Trigger warnings : language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: just over 2k

Chapter 1 - Numb

Lorcan Salvaterre has had a pretty shitty life for only being 17. He's been to so many different schools, he doesn't remember them all. His mother died long ago, he didn't have a father, and he was then forced to live with his despicable Aunt Maeve when he was five. Lorcan didn't remember his mother anymore, all he knew was the cruelty of his aunt and her boyfriend, James Perrington.

Maeve's job required them to move every few months. Which meant his schooling was rather poor and often overlapped from school to school. He was always the loner and easily overlooked, at least until his growth spurt last year that catapulted him to be six and half feet tall.

He'd never had a friend in his life. No one would ever want to be friends with him in the first place. He always had a scowl on his face, wore black, long black hair, head down, his skin was a beautiful deep olive, his eyes dark as onyx. He was rather strange. And since his growth spurt, his hulking frame kept everyone away.

He never smiled, he rarely talked. To anyone. Not that he had much to say. He had no hobbies, no pleasures. All he was allowed to do in this meaningless life were chores, his homework, and lay in his room staring at the ceiling.

The way Lorcan had grown up was brutal. There were beatings for not finishing chores, misbehaving, or most of the time, just existing. He never got three meals a day, on the very rare occasion, he would get a small dinner, but generally, the only meal was usually lunch at school or when they were traveling. Even then, Maeve would order the smallest meal for the boy, gods forbid she had to spend more money on him than necessary or look bad in front of people.

That also meant that if he needed new clothes or something for school, he had to work extra for it. A lot of the time, he felt like a severely more abused Cinderella. His aunt made him do some of the most tedious chores in payment for his necessities.

The chores he could handle, sometimes they were even relaxing. The beatings on the other hand were less than desirable. Especially when most of the abuse wasn't even a result of Lorcan's supposed incompetency. But every beating was recorded in Lorcan's journal and accompanied by self harm.

Lorcan's mental health was far from healthy. He wished he had the courage to slice his wrists deeper, but if he failed to finish the job, he couldn't imagine how Maeve would react and what she would make Perrington do to him. So, he settled for the scars.

His wrists and forearms were covered in scars. Every shirt he had was long sleeved to cover his coping habit. He didn't want questions or people staring, he hated being pitied. Honestly, he hated pretty much everything.

---

The new apartment Maeve had rented in Orynth was just like the rest of them. Lorcan's room was the smallest and also used for storage. Not that it mattered to Lorcan he only had a few things anyway, but it did mean that either his aunt or her boyfriend would barge in, whenever they wished, to grab something. Since Lorcan realized they were never going to stop and they always removed the lock from his door, he took to changing in the bathroom.

Lorcan was exhausted. He had spent all day moving every single box Maeve and Perrington had into the new apartment, making sure he put the boxes in the correct rooms. And setting up his room to give himself some semblance of privacy with the way he piled the storage boxes.

A sleeping bag, a duffel bag full of worn and faded clothes in various shades of black, a few well worn books, a journal that he used to record every beating and every cut, and a fraying backpack full of school supplies were all of Lorcan's belongings. He didn't even have a real bed. Or a pillow.

Almost asleep in his sleeping bag, Maeve barges into his room and starts yelling at him.

"Lorcan! Where in the gods' forsaken apartment are my hair products!"

Lorcan had no idea why she needed them at midnight. "They're in your bathroom." Obviously.

"If they were, I wouldn't be here, you useless piece of shit!" She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, then shoved him into the hall. He knew better than to fight as he stumbled down the hall, he did his best to keep his face neutral, but fuck, that hurt.

Resisting the urge to rub his poor scalp, he stalked to Maeve's bathroom and opened the box labeled MAEVE'S HAIR PRODUCTS. Lorcan sighed when he was greeted with her towels.

"I already looked there, you little welp," she snarled. "Now find my shit!" She stormed out and slammed the door.

Lorcan hung his head and looked around the room. He just wanted to sleep. It wasn't his fucking fault she mislabeled her fucking boxes. Again. Finding the box labeled MAEVE'S TOWELS, he opened it and sighed with relief as he set eyes on her missing items, and set the box on the counter. He informed Maeve of his discovery before heading back to bed.

---

Five hours later, Lorcan woke up, like clockwork. He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. Hel, he was tired. Time to start an exhausting day of learning a new school and schedule.

Every morning was the same, up at five, shower, get ready for school, make breakfast that he wasn't allowed to eat. Only the adults were allowed breakfast. He'd get a knee to the gut if he attempted to snatch a strip of bacon or a link of sausage, or even a piece of toast. So, his stomach would growl until he got to eat a pathetic school lunch.

This morning would be slightly different from the rest, though. Maeve would have to take him to school and make sure he was registered. She always acted the caring aunt in public. It disgusted Lorcan. Especially when she would go the extra mile and kiss his cheek.

After Maeve left without a word to Lorcan, he stood in the main hall with his schedule and map in hand. This school was huge. Much bigger than most of the other high schools he had been to. That was to be expected, though. This was Orynth High after all, the biggest high school in the biggest city of Terrasen.

He looked over his schedule. He had no idea how he made it to senior year with all the holes in his education.

Fuck, why was pre-calc first? At least he was good at math.

He looked at the clock at the end of the hall, he still had half an hour before school actually started. Rather than wasting time, he found all of his classrooms in order, twice, and then went to the library to grab the necessary textbooks.

By the time he left the library, the halls were filling up. Kids all around him were chattering, he was either ignored or kids looked at him with scared eyes and scurried out of his way.

He tugged his hood up and shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and made his way to first period.

---

Since it was the start of a new semester, most teachers ignored that Lorcan was new to the school. That was fine, he didn't want the attention anyway. But in his last class of the day, creative writing, they had to split into groups for an assignment. Lorcan hated group assignments. He was partnered with the smallest teenager he had ever seen.

"I'm Elide. You're new here aren't you?"

His nod was barely perceptible.

"It's Lorcan, right?" He nodded again. "Where are you from?" Her eyes were filled with pure curiosity.

He cleared his throat. "Originally from Doranelle, but I don't remember it. My mother died when I was five. My aunt took me in and we move a lot." He blinked and shook his head in confusion at himself for telling a complete stranger something he hadn't told anyone else before.

How did this petite young woman bewitch him to talk more than he had in weeks? Lorcan felt exposed under her gaze. It felt like she could read him like a book. It was unnerving.

"That sounds rough. I hope you like it here and I hope we can be friends." She finished with a smile.

Lorcan just turned back to the assignment.

The class passed without much other conversation besides about the assignment they had to do together.

Finally, the bell rang signalling the end of the day.

The first day at this school was done and he was exhausted and hungry. Lorcan was so focused on packing up his supplies into his ratty backpack that he didn't realize Elide was talking to him.

"A group of us are going to the park to hang out, wanna join?" He was zipping up his backpack, not hearing a word she said. "Lorcan?"

"Huh?" He looked up, confused. She giggled. His cheeks heated just slightly.

"Do you want to hang out with my friends and I after school?"

Why would he want to do that? Lorcan did remember saying she hoped they could be friends, but he thought she was just being polite. Now, she was trying to follow through.

But there was only one answer.

"No."

---

Elide adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she walked to the park to meet her friends. She could see Lorcan walking on the other side of the street away from her. His hood was up, head down, hands in his hoodie pocket, his posture slightly hunched. She thought he could almost pass for a shadow if his black clothes weren't so faded and worn.

She remembered looking into his eyes during class and seeing deep pools of onyx, they would have been gorgeous, but instead, they were dull, and lifeless. He had been so hard to read. Elide had guessed that he didn't have a good home life and they were poor, by the state of his clothes and backpack. She had seen the scars on his wrist when he reached into his bag for an eraser. It broke her heart. Watching him walk away, she noticed how awkwardly his clothes hung off of him. He was definitely too skinny for his frame.

So lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear one of her friends come up behind and loop his arms through hers. Elide yelped and then realized it was her friend, Rowan Whitethorn. He had silver hair and pine green eyes that were always bright.

"I didn't mean to scare you! I called your name, but you were off in your own little world!"

"Sorry. I was thinking about the new kid that you will probably end up having a crush on." Rowan scoffed, Elide just laughed.

They walked a bit in silence until Rowan made his confession.

"He is hot! He's in my gym class. Tell me everything, my precious Elide! I want to know!" Rowan was so excitable, it was infectious.

"He's in my creative writing class and we were partnered together. He said he's from Doranelle, his mother died when he was five, and his aunt took him in. And apparently, they move a lot." She also told him about the assumptions she made from her observations.

Rowan soaked up every word.

---

Lorcan was doing homework at the kitchen table when Maeve and Perrington came in with take out. It smelled good, Lorcan's stomach rumbled. Damn it. To his surprise, Maeve set down a small Chinese take out box right in the middle of this textbook. He blinked at it, and then up at his aunt, she looked kind for once. "Thank you." It was barely a whisper, but he knew she heard it because she nodded before walking away.

Sometimes he actually thought she loved him..

After his studies and meager dinner, Lorcan laid in his sleeping bag, using an old hoodie that didn't fit anymore as a pillow, trying to sleep. A sigh left his lips and he rolled over.

He couldn't sleep even though he was exhausted, so he pulled a well worn novel from his duffle bag. It was The Hobbit. Lorcan had read it many times. The spine was broken, pages were dog eared, some of the pages weren't even glued in anymore. But he enjoyed the adventure.

Lorcan was halfway through his book, when his window started lightening with the new day. He groaned and his stomach growled.

++++

Rowan couldn't get that new dark haired boy out of his mind. Lorcan Salvaterre. He had soaked up all the information he could from Elide about his new crush. Concentrating on his homework was so hard.

"Ugh." Rowan ran his hand through his hair and smacked his cheeks a couple of times to get himself to snap out of it. He still had homework to finish.

"Rowan, love, would you like some hot chocolate?" His mom leaned into his room. "You seem distracted today."

His mom, Barb, was the sweetest lady and the best mother one could ask for. They talked about everything. And he swore she had eyes everywhere because she always knew everything. Sometimes, Rowan hated that his mom was so observant.

"Yes, please." He got up from his desk and followed his mom to the kitchen. He enjoyed his cocoa with marshmallows. After taking a few sips, he told his mom about the new kid in school. She just smiled knowingly at him.

"Elide says he moves a lot. But I don't know exactly what 'a lot' means. Also, he's probably not into guys." He quirked his lips to the side.

"You should probably start with actually talking to the boy."

Rowan whined, "Mom!" She just laughed and kissed the top of his head before retreating to the living room, leaving him with his thoughts and empty cup.

_____

Thanks for reading! I'll probably post the next chapter next Thursday or Friday.

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #fanfic #rowcan fanfic

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gaystuffgarbage · 3 years

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I think i owe you an explanation to my inactivity, or i’ll just need to vent out

This month hasn’t been kind to me, I decided to publish some snippets from my mood diary. I wanted show you the reality of living with depression.

SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING FOR ONCE, this writing includes uncensored directly translated thoughts i have in my head at the time of writing it, it may not apply later but it’s important to see this the way i feel at the moment. The topics include:

-Abuse of alcohol

-Direct or indirect self harming references, acts and thoughts

-Over all not so pleasant thoughts about everything really

So if you feel like you’re not ready to face these topics I think it’s best for you to leave this post unread to the end. I don’t want to affect your own mental health, it’s not my purpose, my purpose is to talk honestly about what i feel.

Snippets from my mood diary (translated to English):

(keep in mind that the entry is written in an European time and date)

15.6.2021 / 2:44 (past midnight): My anxiety is infernal. I drank a bit. Not too much tho. I'm suffering from heart burns and i feel terrible. This was what I was going for tho. I just have to make the situation worse.I just want to tear my wrists open. I'm using common sense tho so i won't do it. I st wanna talk to someone all night. 15.6.2021 / 13:40 (day): Last night was terrible. I listened a whole short podcast, laid in my bed and went to my balcony to smoke cigarettes constantly. I felt this unbelievable deep, crushing sadness in me, i almost didn't get myself up from the bed at all. I wasn't able to get any sleep even tho i was tired. I felt like i wasn't supposed to exist. I fell asleep for about 2 hours and constantly woke up in cold sweat and fear. When I woke up around 1.pm I was disappointed that i was still here. When i was asleep i didn't have to suffer. I got up from my bed just now, even tho i didn't want to. It takes so much energy. I don't have a hangover, i hydrated myself enough. I should eat but i'm afraid to. My back hurts.

20.6.2021 / 2:55 (past midnight) : I'm so stressed that i cannot sleep. What stresses me out? -Fucking everything. From brushing my teeth to my future. I hear voices. Do they come from the outside since i have my window open? I don't know maybe i'll check them out the next time i have a smoke if they bother me still. My sleeping schedule is fucked up too. Everything is. I don't have money, i'm so anxious, i'm so anxious, i'm so anxious. Obviously my stress toleration is completely gone. Everything makes me feel like my life is falling apart. Even just basic ordinary non-specific days of my life, normal chores. I haven't done anything in days, barely eating, sleeping restlessly, taken a shower and smoked a lot. I'm so bored. I wish i had the guts to jump off of my balcony. That would bring some action.

20.6.2021 / 14:21 (day) : I finally fell asleep around 7.am. I was so sad and tired that i did. I woke up around 1.pm and the same feeling are still there. I just wanna go back to sleep. I feel hopeless. I feel like i have fallen to a limbo. Between the worst and getting help. In the beginning of the rehab sorta say. I'm bored. I don't feel like doing anything. I haven't been focusing on my hobbies that used to make me happy. Everything looks like shit. I feel that nobody is able to help me.

21.6.2021 /23:27 (evening/night) : I drank today again. Tho I said that i won't. I'm trying to keep it minimal this time, i drank 2 long drinks and a cream liquor blended with milk. I cannot take the carbonic acid. I feel light headed but not tipsy or drunk. I'm still drinking. I just felt like doing it to get somewhere. I just wanna escape since i cannot escape from reality any other way at this point. I will do anything to mess my head up. Alcohol just happens to be the most legal and easiest option for me. I just want to forget about life and my situation. I'm afraid of possible sobering up, i cannot tolerate the depression caused by that. I think I should call a crisis hotline to vent a bit. I just need to come up with something i'd actually say. Today was bit of a better day, even tho i just played on my phone the whole day. I just had to sabotage it. I feel unsafe and restless. I get anxious thinking about my future. I don't know who would be able to help me. I wish my common sense didn't stop me, I could be just so drunk that i'll pass out.

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multismarvel · 4 years

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Help – Part Two (Oscar Diaz)

tw– blood, shooting

By the time the ambulances came, you were unconscious. You were barely breathing anyway and when you did, they came out in long, dragged breaths. Blood was seeping out of your chest and if it wasn’t for the just about noticeable movement of your breathing, it looked like you were dead. But you weren’t yet.

“Please, help her,” Cesar begged as the paramedics wheeled you into the ambulance. He couldn’t live with the fact you died because of him. You couldn’t die. He needed you. Oscar needed you.

“We’ll try our best, kid,” the paramedic told him. “What’s your relation to this woman, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brother,” Cesar replies without a beat, joining your barely conscious body and the paramedic onto the ambulance. “I’m her brother.”

The paramedic began the attempt to save your life and the shock of it all was really beginning to hit Cesar. He couldn’t sit here and watch you die.

Your heart rate began to slow and the lines representing your heart beat on the screen got lower and lower. Cesar didn’t know much but he knew enough to realise that wasn’t good. You had to pull through. Your life couldn’t end here. If it wasn’t for the cardioversion that the paramedic used to resuscitate you, who knew what would’ve happened? You were knocking on death’s door and Cesar had never been so scared.

The nurses wheeled you away as soon as they got on the hospital grounds to perform surgery. Ceser was left in the reception, alone and afraid with only his thoughts to help ease his mind but they didn’t. He was by no means a religious person but he was praying to whoever existed up above that you survived the surgery. And Olivia. And Ruby. Three deaths were going to be on his conscience. He was well aware that Oscar wouldn’t even consider forgiving him if you died.

Oscar. Only God knew how badly he’d take all of this. Cesar was an obvious physical wreck at the moment but he knew Oscar wouldn’t show how it affected him. He always had to put on a front but Cesar didn’t think he’d be able to hold it well once he found out about you.

Getting his phone out of his pocket, Cesar called his brother.

“Mano, what’s up?”

As soon as he heard Oscar’s voice, Cesar cried hard, his chest convulsing with powerful sobs. How could he let his brother down? How could he let you down? Tonight was supposed to be the best night for everyone and now because of one action he made, it was the worst.

“Hey, hey calm down.” Oscar’s voice was gentle though Cesar knew he was worried. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault,” weeped Cesar. “She’s going to die because of me.”

Oscar immediately knew the she in question was you. He didn’t know what happened or why or how but he knew something was wrong. He hoped Cesar wasn’t calling from the hospital and that he was just being melodramatic as usual. For once, Oscar wanted his gut feeling to be wrong. He couldn’t lose you.

“Where are you right now?” Oscar questioned.

“The hospital,” Cesar sniffed. The feeling of guilt in his body increased every second.

“I’ll meet you there. Don’t leave and don’t contact anybody,” Oscar demanded before hanging up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dread, anxiety and fear filled Oscar’s body. He was a gang member – a gang leader even and he’d never felt so afraid than in that moment. He even felt something was wrong seeing Cesar’s name flash across his phone. He felt it deep inside and it took over his being. As long as he lived he would never forget that feeling. He’d worked so hard to stay away from you to keep you safe and it’d done the complete opposite. Guilt wrecked his body. It could’ve been a different story if he was there. He would take a bullet for you without hesitation any day – even if it meant he’d die.

If you woke up, and judging by Cesar’s cries that seemed like a hard if, Oscar would get you out of the hood. He’d give you money, he’d threaten you to leave, he’d do what he had to. It was too dangerous for you to be in Freeridge. You were in a safe place with people you trusted yet you were still in danger. It wasn’t only the people but the place too and he’d make sure you were away once you were back in good health.

The drive over to the hospital was no doubt the longest drive Oscar’s ever and he was speeding the whole way. He was so frightened he’d get a call about you. He was more afraid that when he saw Cesar, he’d tell him that you were dead. His heart felt like it was going to burst if it beat any harder.

“How is she?” Oscar asked when he saw Cesar.

“They haven’t said anything yet,” Cesar told him.

“How did this happen?” Oscar thought back to what Cesar said. ‘It’s my fault.’

Cesar sniffled, “I didn’t kill Latrell. Then he came by the party. Ruby and Olivia got shot.” He choked out your name. “She got in the way and tried to save them.”

“You fucking what?” Oscar seethed. “I gave you one job and you couldn’t even do that? You could’ve killed the kid. Now he’s coming for the people you care about.”

“I don’t want to be a murderer,” Cesar said. “I just wanted to have a normal night with my friends.”

“You’d better hope they all pull through,” Oscar told him. “Otherwise it’s on you.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Cesar admitted truthfully. All he wanted to do was be a good person and it backfired in a way he never anticipated.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Oscar challenged. “He was a Prophet. We’re Santos. Obviously he was going to come back to finish the job. The job that you were supposed to get done.”

Gang affiliations and orders always took precedence over what people wanted to do. It didn’t matter if Cesar wanted to be a good person. He was a part of the Santos and as a result of that he was supposed to kill a Prophet who threatened him. A threat to one member of the Santos was a threat to all of them. Now Oscar was going to lose the love of his life and for what?

It still seemed so surreal. Neither Oscar or Cesar knew when you’d be out of surgery or if you’d even make it. They didn’t want to hear from the nurse that you died on the operating table. Oscar had lost enough people he cared about like that and didn’t plan on adding you to the list.

“Was it bad?” Oscar inquired about your injuries.

“Oscar...” Cesar trailed off. He didn’t want to put his brother through more anguish.

“Just tell me,” Oscar pleaded softly.

Cesar nodded silently, sitting down. “It was bad.” He shut his eyes and shuddered as the memory of you getting gunned down flashed back into his mind. “If I could’ve taken those bullets I would have.”

“I know.” Oscar sat down next to him. He couldn’t be angry with Cesar – not right now anyway. They were both hurt and confused about what was going on. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

The two of them stayed side by side all night. Hours and hours passed by. Cesar answered calls and texts from everyone and informed them about you being in surgery. He’d also found out Olivia and Ruby were in the same situation as you and hoped they were alright too. The suspense was all too much and it didn’t help they couldn’t see you.

A nurse walked to them and said your name. At last.

Oscar’s head rose up immediately and Cesar’s heart broke seeing the glint of hope in his eyes. The last bit of hope Oscar had depended on you being alive and after that everything was lost. Oscar would never be the same without you around.

“Is she okay? Can we see her? How is she?” Oscar questioned.

“She’s okay,” the nurse confirmed and the two brothers breathed a sigh of relief. “Only family members can come in. I was informed one is her brother but who is the other?”

“Husband,” Cesar supplied. “He’s her husband and I’m her brother in law.”

Oscar would’ve given Cesar an incredulous look but he didn’t want to give anything away so he went along with it. “She’s my wife. I just want to see that she’s alright.”

“Follow me,” the nurse ordered. The three of them took a quick walk to the room where you were. “She’s on pain meds so she may be in and out of consciousness. Try not to make the conversation too heavy.” She pointed to the room you were in and made her way back to the reception.

Oscar’s heart was racing and he felt so nervous. Part of him wanted you to never leave his side and the other part of him wanted you to leave Freeridge and be safe. You deserved to be safe and not worry about yourself or the people you loved.

“You see her first.” Oscar pushed Cesar towards your room.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Cesar walked to your room and felt his heart swell with emotion as soon as he saw you. His eyes welled up with tears all over again.

“Cesar,” you called out his name, ignoring the ache in your chest. You’d been conscious for a little while but with the help of the meds, it’d helped drastically.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, sitting in the chair next to your bed. He held your hand. “I can’t believe this even happened. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you dismissed. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Cesar’s tensed shoulders had sagged slightly at that comment. He was relaxing. He needed to hear that from you.

“We didn’t think you were going to make it,” Cesar spoke. “There was so much blood, God, I was so scared. I’m really relieved you’re here. Alive.”

“Me too.” You didn’t have the best life but you didn’t want to die. There was still so much time ahead and so much life left to live. You didn’t want to be robbed of that.

“Oscar’s here too,” Cesar told you.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. Even in your drugged, weak state you’d wondered why he didn’t come and see you when you looked good. Instead he was here to see you dressed up in a hospital gown with gauze and scars on your chest. “That’s good. I know you guys must’ve been worried sick.”

“He won’t admit it but he was really scared,” Cesar said. “He doesn’t want to lose you. He loves you.”

That might’ve been true but you still wondered. Oscar was so closed off it made you question things. It made you want to be around him more and it made you care more when it should’ve been the opposite. You were baffled and hurt but still in love. Just like he was.

“He’s like right outside. I’m going to get him now.”

Before you could argue otherwise, though you’d wondered why he hadn’t come first, Cesar went to get his brother. When Oscar came in it was like the tension couldn’t have even been cut by a knife. No one knew how to react and everyone was anticipating what was going to happen next. Cesar pat his brother’s back in a show of encouragement before leaving the room. He’d probably go visit Monse and the others.

Oscar welcomed the feeling of relief when he saw your body. Words couldn’t explain how he felt knowing you were alive. His knees would’ve buckled in shock if he wasn’t so good at keeping up his facade. You were here, living and breathing and Oscar would do whatever it took to ensure it stayed that way.

“Uh, hey.” Oscar slowly made his way to the seat once occupied by Cesar.

“Hey,” you repeated back. All these emotions you felt were all so sudden and made you feel drowsy. No way were you going unconscious now.

“I, uh.” Oscar knew what he wanted to say. He wasn’t ready for the emotion that would come with it. You always told him to be more open and honest with his emotions. “That was scary.”

“It was,” you agreed, knowing that even if Oscar didn’t talk much that his mind was racing with thoughts and questions. “But I’m okay. You don’t have to worry now.”

“Don’t I?” Oscar thought otherwise. “I kept away from you to keep you safe and this is what happens. You’re not okay. I think you should leave Freeridge once you’re better. Move to a safe area.”

“Are you serious?” You hissed, not being able to shout. “I’ve just woken up and this is what you’re telling me?”

“What did you want me to do? Get on my knees and confess my dying love for you? That would only make you stay.” Oscar snapped. “You’re not safe here and if this happens again, you might not be as lucky.”

“Why are you being like this?” You snapped back. “Why can’t you just be nice for once? Couldn’t this conversation waited til I got out of hospital?”

“Look, the best chance you have is leaving this place and making something for yourself,” Oscar told you. “You’re not going to find what you need in Freeridge.”

You shut your eyes and sighed. “If you’re going to rebuff my non-existent advances again, quit while you’re ahead.”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Oscar’s tone wasn’t annoyed like it usually was. It was softer as if he’d accepted defeat.

“Why do you have to be in denial?” You asked.

It was Oscar’s turn to sigh. “Stop. Don’t do this. Not now.”

“Oh, come on.” You gave a small smile. “You have to answer my questions. I was shot twice after all. You’re not going to add salt on the wound, are you?”

Oscar kept his eyes on you the whole time. You were expecting him to break away but he wasn’t one to back down from confrontation.

“Tell me how you really feel about me and if you’re lying, and I’ll know, then I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me ever again.”

Oscar’s stomach lurched in fear at those words. That part of him he’d pushed away that wanted to spend his life with you was getting harder and harder to override. He wanted to be the first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you went to bed. He wanted to wake up with you in the morning and go to sleep with you at night. Jealousy erupted in him at the mere thought of someone else getting to share their life with you.

“Fine, I don’t like you.”

“Try again.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” Oscar confessed. “I can’t stand being away from you but I’m scared of what will happen if I’m with you. If you were ever in this situation because of me, I’m not sure I could handle that.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you echoed your words from a few weeks earlier. “Why don’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Why don’t you just give up on me? Everyone else has,” Oscar pointed out.

“Because I love you,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “I love you, Oscar, and I have done ever since freshman year. I know you love me too and I know we can be something really good and you keep fighting me. It’s okay to feel, Oscar, good and bad and it’s okay to love. It can be scary but it’s good. I’m falling really hard for you and I want you there to catch me.”

“What if you want out one day?” Oscar voiced his thoughts.

“I won’t,” you insisted.

“But what if?” Oscar repeated. “You might not feel the same way all the time.”

“I will never stop loving you,” you promised him. “The same way you never stopped loving me and wanting to keep me safe.”

“I love you,” Oscar started, “but-”

“But nothing,” you stopped him. “I lived a life without you and I don’t want to do that anymore. You deserve to happy. We both do.”

“You really want this? Me?” Oscar quizzed you again just to be sure.

You rolled your eyes. “My outpouring of love wasn’t enough?”

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Oscar admitted. “I’ve hurt you enough and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“So be with me,” you told him. “Love me. Stay by my side because I can’t spend another second without you.”

Oscar kissed your hand and your heart swelled at the act. “Okay, I will. I won’t fuck this up, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Truth be told, you believed him with every fibre of your being. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

In that moment Oscar Diaz was the love of your life and nothing could ruin that for the both of you. Your new life was beginning and because you were getting to spend it with Oscar, you never wanted it to end.

#on my block #on my block x reader #on my block imagine #cesar diaz #oscar diaz x female reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #spooky x reader #spooky imagine #spooky imagines #spooky diaz #spooky #julio macias imagine #julio macias #netflix on my block

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hearthandhomemagick · 3 years

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Cottage Witch Journal Entry

I have a longing for Tennessee.

I have a pure, unadulterated and wild attraction to the Tennessee Mountains. This is a dream I’ve had, and a yearning I’ve felt, for years. A need to be hidden deep in the mountains in a tiny cottage/cabin of sorts. I’m sure this is an affinity very popular in mainstream culture today, and all I can think of when I hear people say they want a cottage or cabin in the mountains is, “How the Hell does everyone expect to FIT on these mountains?!” But, this is my Shadow Self, the over realistic and overthinking side of myself. And I easily get discouraged from my own wants thinking of others wants.

This is a side of me to notice in myself. I need to be able to move past thoughts of, “If everyone wants it, I’ll never have it.” and move forward with thoughts of, “This is something I want for myself, and I deserve to work hard for it.” And that’s a goal I have with myself.

You see, this post isn’t just about my want to be in Tennessee in the woods, it’s much deeper than that I feel. It’s about improvement and wanting to grow.

I bring up Tennessee because that is not a goal I can easily obtain within a couple of weeks or even a month. But, it is something I want to build up to obtaining. Something I want to do right so that everything is exactly as it needs to be. And I can’t fully accomplish this until I accomplish other goals that take precedent first. For Example, my physical health.

As a witch, I truly believe in loving every part of yourself, the good and the bad. The exciting and the terrifying. The understood and the neglected. Part of this acceptance process is learning what is and is not acceptable for my body. Now, I have struggled with my weight and how I see myself since I was a child. I remember a little boy seeing my tummy in a bathing suit in 1st grade and him telling me I was fat and that his dad said fat girls were ugly. Comments like this, stares and whispers were constant when in regards to my weight. It felt like an overwhelming amount of attention was directed at the way I looked, even if no one was looking at me I felt as though everyone was thinking about it. Over the years, this mental state took a tole on a lot more than I expected, even affecting me today with my Significant Other. The consistent attention to my own weight pulled me into depression, our of depression, into anxiety and out of anxiety. What I mean is I had an up and down relationship with my tummy.

I felt abandoned most days. I would get this idea that I was too much and not enough all at once. A gentle and cooing tone from my toxic thoughts led to a lot of issues and concerns for me and my health. Some days, I would read something that made me feel as though I was a Queen. A bad bitch lurking in this cruel world and taking it by the throat to stare it in the eyes and say, “I love my body fat.”

The sad part is your heart, mind and body know when you are lying to it. I didn’t love my body. Not in those confident moments and not in those depressed moments. I was locked away in a cage in my mind that gave me two illusions to choose from, while hiding my third option under the rug. I neglected my feelings because I didn’t want to experience them. I neglected my health because I didn’t want to deal with it. And I neglected my body because I hated it.

Reality here is that this is the only fucking body I have. Do you understand that? Let me repeat this so maybe you can understand how harsh of a reality this was to me.

I am on this Earth for goodness knows how long. 50 years, 20 years, 72 days. I don’t know, and no one does. I was literally forced into owning this body, whether I like it or not, it is mine. I can move houses, I can get a new car, I can get a new job. I cannot get a new body.

I heard this in High School and started what I called my weight loss journey. I lost maybe 20 pounds while attending a workout-boot camp of sorts and trying to maintain a healthy diet. That sentence resonated so much with me that I repeated it every day to myself. My motivation was on point. Then, I stopped going. There are multiple reasons why I stopped, but none of them are rightful excuses.

I just stopped.

Now, during those days I had lost weight, I was starting to gain confidence in myself and was attempting to genuinely look out for my health. I had more energy and felt amazing! But like I said, I had stopped for terrible reasons.

Fast-forward to college and you will find a very anxiety filled, sleep deprived and mentally exhausted Carly. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep but for 4-5 hours. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I believe my stay up streak was 3, going on 4 nights. All due to homework. My coping technique has always been eating food, too. So when you have a sleep deprived student settled next to a 24/7 pizza joint with half baked cookies, you gain 30-40 pounds.

At 245 Pounds, I was at my heaviest. This weight gain came on as my roommates were saying I was fat, stupid and were making me question myself frequently. Self hate festers among others who don’t value your worth, remember that. So, through those years of college I weighed an uncomfortable amount of weight that made my body start shutting down physically.

Mental Health had a lot to do with my physical health, here as well. When I was in a really bad place, I would stop moving completely and just sit still. If I had a terrible feeling, I’d cook something to make myself feel better or would just grab a processed, quick snack. It was a pattern of mine. I’d get just enough motivation to do one or two things, and then I’d stop all together and feel as though that was enough for a few weeks.

Eventually, when I was done with college, I started back on that rollercoaster of healthy and unhealthy. I’d lose 5 pounds, then gain 7 pounds right back. I started detail critiquing myself and stressing myself out. My weight never could get under control, and I couldn’t break the 200 mark to save my life. I would see pictures and videos of myself and feel as though I had eaten an entire buffet. Not too long after getting with my S/O and starting my job as a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, I got sick.

It started as a birthday dinner at a Korean Barbecue in 2019. I was with my two best friends at the time and having a blast. We all ate the same food, but when I woke up the following morning I was throwing up everything in my tummy.

The throwing up went on for 4 days before I was taken to the hospital, only for them to release me saying it was virus. My personal doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong and it eventually became an everyday thing. I would wake up between 3-6 in the morning, go to the bathroom and be sick for hours before pulling myself together to make it to work.

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year.

I lost 50 pounds from this thing that no doctor could seem to figure out. I got x-rays and everything, but nothing and no one could tell me exactly what was going on with me. I couldn’t eat anything friend, only raw fruits and veggies, or broth. I only drank water and ginger based drinks, and could not for the life of me stop what was going on with my body. Many doctors tried to pass it as a virus, stomach ulcers, GURD, or even Heart Burn (?). None of them were right.

After a long time, my mom finally confessed that every woman in our family has Endometriosis. If you don’t know what this is, it is the build up of scar tissue on the outside of your uterus. This leads to nausea, ovarian cysts (which they found on me in x-rays) and sub or infertility. No doctor can diagnose it, either, unless you have a surgery to see if there is scarring. So for many, suffering on your own is easier than seeing a doctor.

I discussed this with my doctor, and it was as if a light flashed in her brain. This is a disease she cannot say I have, but can say it sounds very much like that. It is hereditary and once you have it, you have it for good.

After this information entered my line of though, I decided the stress from my job was too much for too little pay, and chose to leave. Leading up to my leaving the job, I was sick almost every second of every day. The moment I left, I felt better.

I still feel pain in my ovary area, but because I don’t have the money to see a doctor, and can control my pains with eating habits and physical influence, I choose to work through it alone.

I said ALL THAT BACKGROUND BULLSHIT JUST TO SAY THIS!!!!!

This is the part that marks my new journey. It is the Journey to Strength and Well Being. The Journey to Feeling Good. The Journey the Choosing my happiness over anything else. And the Journey to choosing the health of my body over my insecurities.

I wrote this because a couple of days ago I had a very graphic and vivid dream about my boyfriend falling in love with the woman I wanted to be. In other words, I seen him with a woman who literally presented all of my insecurities to me. Small, lithe and dainty, gentle and calming, and everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful. And he seen this, and did things for her that he never did for me. I woke up almost in tears, because my emotions were raw, but I had no idea that my insecurities were still very deeply rooted.

I pondered over the last few days of this dream. What it could mean, what I should do, how I should feel and I have finally come to a conclusion.

This dream is a depiction of my fears. My brain was saying, “You need to address this shit right now.” and did it in the most face slap kind of way I could think.

I still, even after learning to love myself genuinely, have image issues that need to be nurtured and tended to before I can move forward in my life.

So, I’m making 1-3 goals every month that are attainable and reachable. This will be a brick road to my obtaining that cottage/cabin in the Tennessee Mountains.

This months Goals start today!

GOAL 1 - Learn to do a split, find a healthy yoga sequence, be able to do 15 pushups, & 30 Squats by the end of December.

GOAL 2 - Make a conscious effort to what you eat/making a new dish once a week to try.

GOAL 3 - Save $100.

This is a process, and I am only human. I don’t want to fall back into the habits of toxic mentality. I don’t want to neglect myself or how I feel and I don’t want to lose myself in to the world in the process of searching for freedom from myself.

I expect myself to exude self control, self love, and empowerment. I expect to expect better from and for myself, and I expect to accomplish my goals.

I manifest it here, I can do a split. I have a healthy maintainable yoga sequence that I have committed to growing expanding and changing. I can do 15 push ups and 30 squats. I have 100 dollars saved up already and make concious decisions that better my health rather than hurt it. This is part of my lifstyle now!

And it is for the better!

Thank you to anyone who read this through. These entries are more for my benefit and thought process, but appreciate anyone who recognizes it or even relates and wants to talk about it. It’s personal to me and means a lot. I intend on being on here more often to update my challenges and express how I use my witchcraft in the process of this Journey.

I love you all! Stay safe, warm and full to the brim! Later Witches! xx

#yule #witch #witchcraft #thinspo #healthy #yoga #workout #food #meal #habit #mentalhealth #comfort #hygge #cute #fun #craft #magic #magick #happy #storyline #witchjournal #journal #writing #creative

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leftfantasywriting · 3 years

Text

The End?

Chapter 1

How could I have been so stupid? So reckless. So self-serving in my own belief, that I was untouchable.

I had waited two weeks, two whole weeks and still in my mind I was clean, I was healthy, I had the world at my feet and could take on anything. However, in my heart the truth was screaming at me. As if on some atomic level my body was telling me something wasn't right, that nagging feeling wouldn't go away, no matter how much I filled my time with menial tasks.

The call came early on a Wednesday morning, the sun broke through my blinds and the warmth of that spring sun caressed my face as I heard my phone ring. It had that recognisable sound as if it was angry and urgently needed my attention, that loud obnoxious ring that refused to be ignored. As I picked it up I did my best to try and wake up before I answered.

"Hello?" My voice breaking my trust as it obviously gave away I was just awake.

"Hi, hello, is this Liam McGowan?"

There it was, that call, its never good when they call.

"Eh, yeah, hi, how are you?" I knew what was coming, its only ever a call when its serious.

"Hi, Liam, sorry if I woke you, look a quick call" - here it comes - "the results of your test came back, and there is something that I need to talk to you about". Money shot, right there. From that moment I knew what he was going to say. He asked me to come meet him in his clinic two hours after the call.

Living as a gay man, there are risks. Risks from society and those who don't accept you, a risk with your mental health when you can't accept who you are, and the scariest of all, the risk you take when you have sex with other men.

Being young and gay, you live a promiscuous life, with all these dating apps you can use to find random men to hook up with in those dodgy places or some very very nice places, but you also leave yourself exposed to those things that lurk in the dark underbelly on that promiscuous lifestyle. Boy have I put myself at risk.

Just before I left my apartment, once I had everything gathered and a coffee brewed I put on the TV to take my mind of everything that happened in the morning. It was the usual stuff on the news in Ireland, talks about government, blah blah blah, then a new one popped up, just a brief news story about something in the UK. Apparently few small towns and villages have to be cordoned off because of a new flu that has been making the rounds. I listened intently, I've always been interested in these new outbreaks, SARS, H1N1, Spanish Flu and the likes, not to mention my zombie viruses. Ever since I was a boy, zombie stories and movies fascinated me.

My alarm, that grating sound an iPhone does to wake you up, anyone who has an iPhone knows it. The type of sound to give you PTSD as soon as you wake up. I knew it was time then, to make my way to hear my prognosis.

It was an unusually warm and breezy day in Dublin that morning. I'd chosen to wear my coat but I was starting to think maybe that was a bad idea. I walked to the bus stop, stood there, rolled a cigarette and watched the people walk by me, some smiling, some with frowns and others in that land you make in your head when you need to escape for a while. I definitely make that face, the dead pan looking off unto the distance, thinking about anything except my own boring life. The bus pulled up unknown to me just as I took the last drag of my cigarette, being unready I had to fumble for my bus card so I don't get those looks that people give you when you don't move fast enough. It always caused me anxiety thinking or knowing that people were staring at me.

You always see those stereotypical people on the bus, I wonder if all cities have the same characters, the mum with her children, the old granny in her beanie hat, the "junkie" falling to one side and then the young girls and guys who sit at the back and listen to their music up to the last. I've always thought, they're almost like the stages of life you go through, you start off the young guys or girls at the back of the bus playing your music with not a care in the world, then you become I suppose the young adult, who right now, is played by me I supposed, then you can go one of two ways, start your family like that mother or make some questionable decisions or have a series of unfortunate events cast upon you to bring you to rock bottom like the addict. You shouldn't pity the addict, pity to me is looking down on another person for being lower than you, all addicts ever get is pity, never help, that could be any of us one day, it just takes one wrong decision for it all to come crashing down, but, that silver lining is the only way from the bottom is up. Right? Then finally, you get to enjoy your golden years, hopefully with the person you love if you're lucky. I don't think anyone is going to love me with what's about to come. How could they? I'm dirty.

The bus finally let's me off at my stop and as I get closer to the clinic my footsteps seem to get heavier and heavier until it feels like I'm drudging through an ocean getting deeper and deeper. My breathing gets heavier like all the oxygen is being drained straight from my lungs. Is this a panic attack? I take a moment, compose myself, lift my leadened hand and pressed the buzzer and wait. It feels like an eternity. I feel the sweat forming beads on the nape of my neck. Finally I hear that mumbled sound of someone speaking to me through the intercom.

"Uh, hi, it's Li-Liam. I have an appointment?"

Silence.

Then the door buzzes open.

If you like this please follow my Wattpad for Chapter 2 and 3. I'll be uploading other works onto here and also onto Reddit. Enjoy!

https://www.wattpad.com/story/266842454?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Drimnagh_writer&wp_originator=BA501k8Iw0MBvseSXDZzZ7IbHOAry43VLdE%2F7EP6jgVQKvPB4ixTIh38uVZmoskdOvAk9INHCIdjqIoxtl928EI0g67AwRiZqtHQ0Psc%2BFYSKkpxd3%2FrCYkaKLFyh2Cr

#books & libraries #fantasy #fiction #reading #writing #art #wattpad #zombies #sexualhealth #lgbtqplus #lgbtlove #undeadkin #apocalypse #original character #original story

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xseildnasterces · 3 years

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long live.

It’s been a hell of a day. I can’t even attempt to sugar-coat it because it’s been horrific throughout, and it’s now even worse because I’ve got a banging headache from forgetting to take any medication at all today. I was already anxious about today. I was dreading the meeting I had first thing and I couldn’t sleep at all because of it. When I did sleep, I was waking up every hour or so because I was so worried and stressed. I woke up before my alarm this morning laying in bed with extreme anxiety, my heart beating at a million miles a minute and my stomach was in crippling pain. My IBD is so much worse when I’m anxious, and extreme anxiety cripples me.

Having not really slept I already felt flustered for the meeting. I had no idea what I was even going to say in the meeting. Essentially I was being expected to present what I’m going to say at another meeting next week, but no one told me what I was supposed to be doing or gave me any of the information I needed yet I was expected to just know. I’ve talked about this ordeal so much today and I’m not going over it again, yet I was left in a meeting being ‘ganged’ up on by three grown women who basically told me I wasn’t good at my job and that I had ‘so much to learn’. I was made to feel like a teeny tiny person who had no idea what they were doing and was completely useless. I felt horrendous. I somehow managed to keep it together for the meeting, but as soon as I closed my laptop I burst into tears. I spent the next few hours literally crying hysterically laying first down on my yoga mat as it was the nearest thing to me, before moving to the bedroom and laying in bed. I tried to nap but couldn’t get to sleep. I was so upset, frustrated and genuinely just devastated at the whole situation. I wanted to leave. I wanted to quit right away. I started counting down how many months I must work before I can leave, and then started working out how much I would need to pay back if I was to leave now. Happiness is worth so much more than money and right now happiness would be oh, so lovely. Maybe taking this job will turn out to be one of my biggest regrets in life. Yet I shouldn’t regret it because I learnt that not all workplaces are as wonderful as my last job and somewhat learnt how to deal with bosses who make you feel like shit. I also met H, which is one of the greatest things I could have hoped for. I’ve also gained more experience in an international organisation, and regardless of the type of experience it’s still another good thing to have on my cv.

For the last few months, I’ve been feeling so much better with my job. I’ve managed to rise above snarky comments or anything else, yet today I just couldn’t handle it. I had three women laughing when I asked questions and making me feel so inferior. I need to remind myself that I do not suck at my job. I work hard, but there is only so much one person can do. The current situation is not my fault. Being understaffed is not my fault, and me being the sole member of the archives team is also not my fault. I keep telling myself this, yet I still feel the size of a pea and as though I’ve been stepped on numerous times and squished into the floor.

I had intended to go to the office today, but after that early morning meeting I just gave up. I left my laptop closed. I lay around and did nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to read my emails or do any work. I spoke to H and told her all about the situation and as always, she made me feel a little better and shared similar situation she had been in with out team. It is always reassuring to hear that I’m not the only one dealing with this shit, but also brings about the issue of what the real issue is here. Is it bad management? Bad communication? Or just a toxic workplace? Or most likely, all the above.

I ordered delivery and lay on the sofa eating my sandwich when my phone went off. I wasn’t expecting anyone and saw it was R. I was so happy. I couldn’t stop smiling. We talked for well over an hour and it was just what I needed. We talked about her new job, and the toxic work environment she is leaving. We discussed her baby plans, her sister’s wedding and everything else we needed to catch up on. It really was long overdue and exactly what I needed in general, but also right then in the moment. I hope that if I get home at Christmas we can meet up – socially distanced of course and catch up again. We haven’t hugged in almost a year and that makes me so incredibly sad, but if I get to see her that will be good enough for now!

I got off my call with R and it was literally 5 minutes before therapy which was a bit of a transition to make as I wasn’t really ready, in the mood or properly dressed. It was the most intense group therapy session I have ever had. It resulted in four of us crying. Everyone had clearly had a horrendous week. One persons dad had covid and is struggling to breathe, another’s brother has covid, someone else’s partner had just up and left with no explanation and everyone seemed to be missing family and having a pretty shit time at work. Despite it being incredibly emotional and intense, it was also a strange sort of comforting session. Everyone was there for each other. Everyone wanted to be in person and have a group hug. Once again, I felt part of something. Part of a group of people who are all from completely different backgrounds and with some different and some similar issues with family, work, relationships, identity, mental health and everything else. I really love these people. I love how we band together and comfort each other and are just there for each other in a way that friends aren’t. It’s a very different type of relationship, but it’s a good one. It’s a ‘safe’ environment. One where you can test things out, where you can be open and not feel afraid of judgement. It’s a place where people resonate with you, ask the hard questions and express their authentic emotions. I feel so lucky to be part of such a group – especially with the people I have been lucky enough to have in mine.

My head is absolutely banging. I always have headaches from withdrawal when I don’t get my medication, but today has been such a (shitty) ride that I just completely forgot to take them. I’ll have this headache for probably about three days straight, so it’s going to be a pretty rubbish few day, however, one more day of work tomorrow and then it’s a three day weekend, and my god, I need it.

[Blog title: Long Live - LIGHTS ft. Travis Barker].

#thought #thoughts #feeling #feelings #emotion #emotions #memory #memories #me #life #update #personal #diary #journal #write #writing

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years

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SkyFire 2: Chapter 12

The Late Show with Steve Colbert: September 28th, 2016

Word count: 2.8k

Song is Reaper by Andie Case

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

Aurora was anxiously pacing backstage as she waited for her time to walk out onto the set. She listened as Stephen Colbert began his opening monologue and she swallowed thickly as he explained how the following day marked the first anniversary of the shooting and how this episode was in honour of the 43 lives they had lost that day. Mark squeezed her shoulder in support as she was announced and she let out a shaky breath, trying to push her anxiety aside as the curtain was pulled back for her. Her hand trembled as she walked out into the bright studio lights, the crowd applauding as she approached were Stephen Colbert stood in front of his desk. She hugged him before taking a seat on the sofa next to the desk; the audience continued to clap and cheer for a few extra moments before Stephen shushed them and she felt the weight of everyone’s gaze fall on her. She had a smile plastered on her face and if her family were there, they would recognise how fake it was, but to the audience in front of her she looked calm and collected, some would even say excited to be there.

“Aurora, welcome,” Stephen said once the audience fell silent. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”

“Thank you for having me,” Aurora replied. “I know we’ve been trying to make this happen since your first show last year.”

“We have and of course everyone watching knows that it’s been an incredibly challenging year for you, so we are very grateful to have you here. What has this last 12 months been like?”

“Like you said it’s been really challenging. When I woke up in the hospital they told me I’d been shot about a dozen times, once in the abdomen, 4 times in my shoulder and then another 7 or possibly more in my left hand, so for the first few months I was just focusing on all the surgeries and trying to heal.”

“And about a month after the shooting you were trending online after you joined your fiancé Harry Styles on stage for One Directions last concert show. What brought that about?”

“I think in the wake of tragedies like the Columbia shooting we all focus on the victims and their recovery but not a lot of thought goes to the victim’s friends and families if they survive. For those that die, their families receive overwhelming support, but if your loved one survives, there’s not a lot of emotional support and that’s something I never realised until I found myself in that situation. While I was recovering physically and receiving the help I needed to deal with the PTSD and the emotional trauma, my family was struggling and that became pretty clear to me when I watched fan videos from the One Direction tour and I saw the way that Harry and the other lads were hurting. I can’t begin to imagine the trauma of hearing someone you love has been involved in a mass shooting and that they might not make it. That leaves such devastating wounds that I knew I had to go to London and help them through that pain. Getting on stage was just this last minute idea we cooked up to celebrate that I was still there and to thank the fans for all their support.”

“It was a beautiful moment to watch,” Stephen replied, “but you’ve been pretty quiet online since then.”

“I have yeah. I stayed on Instagram and I’ve kept posting there but I deleted all my other social media accounts after the shooting.”

“Why was that?”

“Emotions were running high and unfortunately the anonymity of social media really encourages the worst in people. There was quite a lot of awful things being said about myself and my family in those first few weeks and mentally I wasn’t in a good place so I just deleted everything and my manager does a great job of keeping my Instagram comment section clear of the worst of things.”

“Why stay on Instagram at all? Why not delete it as well?”

“Despite the fame and attention, I’m like most 21 year olds. I want to see what my friends are doing and share the aspects of my life that I’m comfortable sharing and I love my fans. They’re really wonderful people and I like being able to invite them into my world in small ways, I’m just learning how to do that in a way that’s right for my mental health.”

“You said you were receiving a lot of hate after the shooting, what kinds of things were being said?”

“While most people were incredibly supportive, there were also a lot of voices pointing out the special treatment I received because I’m a Stark. I saw the best surgeons and I never had to worry about hospital bills. I also survived because my parents responded to the emergency as quickly as they did, and I was rushed to the nearest hospital. A lot of people died because nobody got to them as fast as they got to me.”

“Did you agree with what they were saying?”

“Of course, and I still do. Growing up poor and then being thrust into my dad’s world has always caused me to have a tremendous amount of guilt. I have so much privilege and even though I knew how lucky I was I didn’t use that privilege to help people. It was really confronting to get called out for that on such a massive scale, especially when I was at my most vulnerable.”

“And you used that as a wakeup call, didn’t you?”

“I did. My father’s charity, the Maria Stark Foundation stepped in immediately in the wake of the shooting and set up the ColumbiaStrong fund to pay for the medical care and funeral expenses of the other victims. The fund has ensured that everyone had access to the surgeries they needed, as well as providing therapy for those of us who developed PTSD and other mental illnesses from that day.”

“It’s an incredible initiative,” Stephen agreed, “and we’ve heard that you’ve taken a more hands on approach in recent months.” Aurora looked at him for a moment, trying to work out what he was referring to. “It’s been reported that you’ve been visiting hospitals over the summer.”

‘Ahhh’, she thought, ‘So people finally caught on to that.’

“I thought I was doing a good job of sneaking around and keeping that out of the news,” she chuckled, attempting to cover her nervousness. “Ever since my own amputation I’ve been visiting the children’s hospitals and speaking to kids with prosthetics and residual limbs.”

“They must love meeting you.”

“They’re incredible kids. Honesty I think they’ve helped me more than I’ve helped them. They’ve always got a smile on their faces and they don’t see themselves as victims. Meeting them helped me come to terms with my own situation.”

“You’re very humble.”

“I just don’t like to take credit for things like I’m some hero. I’m just 21 year old girl that survived something horrific and I’m just trying to do the best I can with what I’ve got.”

“Well we’ve got some people joining us tonight who are also doing the best they can with what they’ve got,” Stephen said to the camera, the audience clapping along. “We’ll be right back with more of the incredible survivors of the 2015 Columbia Shooting and a performance by Aurora Stark.”

As the cameras cut to the commercials, Aurora stood up, making her way off the set to where Mark was waiting for her. “You did great,” he said and they both turned to watch the crew swap out the seat she’d just vacated with a three seater sofa and add three bar stools behind it. There were 5 other survivors of the shooting guesting on the show, all choosing to be interviewed together as apposed the solo interview that Aurora had just given.

“Welcome back to the late show,” Colbert said when they returned from the commercial break. “I’m joined by 5 incredible young men and women; Chris Watkins, Jacinta Flores, Brandy Taylor, Jacob Lawler and Daniel Thomas.”

Aurora watched the interview on one of the monitors backstage. She felt like her own experience was being recounted by the 5 people on set as they discussed their own recoveries and the challenges facing them, so similar to her own. 3 had returned to Columbia to continue their studies, while the other 2, like Aurora, couldn’t face going back. They all had a range of injuries, but she found that they all shared the same burden of nightmares, flashbacks and guilt. After Colbert threw to another commercial break, Aurora headed back out onto the set, this time heading for the stage area. She smiled at the members of Harry’s new band, grateful that they agreed to join her for this performance, and she felt a little less nervous with them sitting behind her after spending so much time with them all in her home studio. Sarah gave her a supportive thumbs up from where she was already sat behind her drum kit, Adam similarly smiling in support with his base guitar in hand, and despite feeling more at home with a guitar in his hands, Mitch had happily volunteered to play piano once he’d heard Aurora talking to Harry about how scared she felt to play live. She didn’t allow herself much time to be nervous about her first solo performance in years, taking a seat on the stool set up behind the microphone and listening on silently as Stephen continued to interview the other 5 survivors. She wiped her sweaty palm against her thigh and then she heard Stephen thanking his guests before walking over towards where she and the band waited.

“With her new single raising money for the ColumbiaStrong fund,” he said into the camera, “this is Aurora Stark with Reaper.” The lights dimmed across the set, a solitary spotlight softly lighting where she sat as the song began.

Broke down, thought that I would drown Hoped that I'd be found, 'fore I hit the ground Sun rays out the corner of my eye Saw you weeping, saw you creeping Saw you sneaking in the shadow's dawn I feel so strong Saw you out the corner of my eye

Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I'mma savour it Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I remember when You came to take me away So close I was to heaven's gates But no baby, no baby, not today Oh, you tried to track me down You followed me like the darkest cloud But no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today

So come back when I'm good to go I got drinks to drink, and a man to hold I got good things to do with my life, yeah Oh, I wanna dance in the open breeze Feel the wind in my hair, hear the ocean sing I got good things to feel in my life, yeah

Reaper

As the song finished, the lights lifted, and Stephen walked out to hug Aurora before turning to the camera as the audience applauded. “Aurora Stark everybody!” Stephen yelled. “Reaper is available now, all proceeds going to the ColumbiaStrong fund to support victims of gun violence. We’ll be right back.”

She quickly hugged Mitch, Sarah and Adam before following Stephen back over to the desk, joining the others on the sofa.

“That was an incredible song,” Stephen said when the show returned from the ad break. “Thank you for sharing that with us, Aurora.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Now back at the start of the show we were talking about the ColumbiaStrong fund started by the Stark family to help survivors of the shooting, and I’m interested to hear what you all think about it.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here without that money,” Brandy said. “My mom’s health insurance wouldn’t have covered the therapy I needed afterwards, and I was really struggling. My dad isn’t around so my mom was already working 2 jobs to pay the bills and send my 3 younger sisters to a good school. My medical bills would have bankrupted us if the Starks hadn’t helped us.”

Everyone else nodded and agreed, adding their own versions of the same story, while Aurora felt her eyes growing damp. She knew that the foundation had paid peoples bills and she knew that her father’s money had helped people but being confronted by it made it all the more real to her.

“I know Aurora was saying earlier in the show that she felt guilty that Iron Man and Captain America got to her so fast, but I’m grateful they did,” Daniel added. “If she hadn’t been on campus and they hadn’t responded, I hate to think about how many more of us would have died that day. When Iron Man stopped the shooter, he was heading for one of the busiest parts of campus. A lot of people walked away unharmed because Aurora sent out that SOS.”

As he spoke, Aurora felt her cheeks burning and she ducked her head in embarrassment. If she’d known that agreeing to this interview would lead to these people praising her for her actions last year, she would have declined the invitation. She didn’t deserve their praise or their thanks. All she’d done that day was cower under a table in fear and call her dads to come save her, but here these other survivors were, acting like she’d saved peoples lives. She hated it.

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I know I deal with a lot of guilt,” Jacob said. “My therapist called it survivors’ guilt and he said it’s pretty common for those who experience trauma to struggle with trying to understand why they survived when others died.” Everyone else nodded in agreement. “Aurora, I want to thank you, even though I’m pretty sure you don’t feel like you deserve it. You saved a lot of people that day and the money that your family has donated has saved a lot more. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your privilege because your using to help people around you. So, thank you.”

Aurora felt a few tears slip down her cheeks, painfully aware of the audience and cameras watching every moment. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want them thanking her for something she didn’t deserve.

“It’s very nice of you to say all of that but I shouldn’t be the one you’re thanking,” she said, quickly wiping at the tears threatening to drip down her blushing cheeks. “The first responders deserve our gratitude. The doctors and nurses. And my dads were the ones to set up the money so please don’t thank me for that. I was lying in a hospital bed just trying to hold myself together just like the rest of you. I’m not anyone’s hero.”

Jacinta, the blonde sitting next to Aurora on the sofa, pulled her into a tight hug.

“As you can see ladies and gentlemen,” Stephen said to the camera’s as the two girls hugged. “The emotional scars left behind by this tragedy are still very fresh in the minds of those who survived. Thank you for joining us this evening in commemorating those we lost and those still healing. Aurora’s single, Reaper, is now available for purchase from all the usual places with all profits going to the ColumbiaStrong fund to ensure support is available for those affected by gun violence. Thank you for watching and goodnight.”

Stephen stood up, walking around the desk to shake everyone’s hand as the audience applauded and Aurora pulled herself back together. She said her farewells as soon as she could, making her way backstage to where Mark and the band were waiting for her.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know it was going to go that way.”

“It’s ok Mark,” Rori promised. “I don’t think anyone expected that to happen.”

“Let’s get you guys home yeah?” Mark replied. “Steve said he was cooking a big dinner for everyone.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark #ptsd #domestic fluff

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shadowling-guistical · 4 years

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Milestones

SUMMARY: After deciding to take a gap year, Virgil Sanders expected to enter his freshman year of college feeling anxious and out of place. But not if his childhood friends; Patton Hart, Roman Prince and Logan Croft have anything to say about it.

CHARACTERS: Virgil Sanders/Anxiety, Roman Sanders/Creativity, Logan Sanders/Logic, Patton Sanders/Morality, Thomas Sanders (mentioned/background), Remy Sanders (Mentioned/background) Dr. Emille Picani (Mentioned/Background).

PAIRINGS: Platonic LAMP but can be romantic if you squint and sorta tilt your head to the left.

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of therapy and medication. Discussions about university related stress

Read an extended version on AO3.

For @sanders-sides-fanzine‘s The Core of Us Fanzine! If you enjoyed this, consider downloading the zine (which is FREE!) and give the team and contributors some love!

It was, by all means, a normal summer day for one Virgil Sanders. He woke up, had breakfast, took his meds and logged on to chat with his close friends. That is, until his mother told him he had mail before she headed out to work. She had kissed him on the top of his head, as if she didn’t just send a jolt of electricity striking through his heart, oblivious as she handed him money to share with his siblings.

He excused himself from their voice chat and went down to retrieve it. As though psychic, each of his friends wished him luck in their own ways. They gushed and reassured him in their group chat while sending something totally separate in the Direct messages. Patton sent him a wholesome, motivating meme. Logan sent him a single question mark. Roman began blowing up his direct messages with fragments of excited texts. He in particular was excited for Virgil to finally join them in campus after taking a gap year for mental health reasons.

He passed by his baby brother watching his morning cartoons. His middle brother, Remy was probably still asleep. Virgil ruffled Thomas’ hair as he retreated back to his bedroom.

A whirl of emotions settled in his stomach after Virgil closed the door behind him. It began settling into a poisonous miasma of nervousness and dread, both very hot and very icy.

Virgil slid a nail edge under the flap- tearing it open. He took the contents out, scanned the words and-

…

“…Oh…”

His status soon went from online to idle and finally, offline.

That night, Patton spent his evening fretting over the lack of a reply. Where was the usual emoji of a purple heart? Frustrated, he finally stopped pacing around his room long enough to go down to the kitchen. His freckled face screwed in determination while he took out his mixing bowls. Now, what was the recipe for chocolate brownies again?

Logan waited with bated breath for that single exclamation point. Over the next few hours, he forced himself to calm down. He reminded himself that Virgil probably needed logic and reason the most at this moment. He put away his phone and began looking up the procedure for an admission appeal. The date shouldn’t be too far away, right? Or perhaps another institution nearby?

Roman found himself wishing for a snarky reply about how much they will be seeing each other on campus. He waited as time stretched out to midnight and beyond. Before he slept, he made a mental note to find his copy of Black Cauldron amongst his extensive collection of Disney Movies. A Disney movie night never failed to cheer his friend up!

Next mid afternoon, Virgil found himself nervously tapping his feet as he waited for someone to pick up the call he was making. He spent earlier that morning in his regular therapy sessions with his therapist. Virgil mainly talked about his current development of events. Doctor Picani had advised him to talk to his support system about his fears, and to be open to them. And that was what Virgil was attempting to do.

"Hello?? Virgil?"

Virgil swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

"Hey Pat… um…"

Patton, bless him, patiently waited for Virgil instead of bombarding him with questions.

"Take your time kiddo. Roman and Logan are with me, do you want this to be on speaker?"

"Yeah, Pat… That'll uh… That'll be swell."

Great. Might as well get this over with. There was a click and Virgil can hear rustling from the other line.

"Virgil," He heard Logan speak in his calm timbre, "Are you well?"

"Yeah I am actually… just ...well," A deep breath, "I got accepted Lo."

"Ah… Congratulations!" Logan sounded sincere, while there was a flurry of voices in the background. Probably Roman and Patton being excited.

"Thanks Lo…" Virgil sat down on his bed heavily.

"You don't sound so happy about it, J Delightful. You didn’t even came back to talk to us yesterday,”

"I am Ro.. I am… But… God. I’m sorry for being a jerk. When I read the letter. I was…happy. But…"

"…You panicked?"

"... Yeah…" Virgil mumbled, beginning to rub his eyes, "And it's not even because I'm struggling. Dr P and I are doing great! My meds are fine. He's teaching me how to deal with everything… But I still feel…"

"Unprepared…?"

Patton's calming voice sort of broke something in him, and Virgil felt his throat close up and his eyes water.

“…Scared…"

"Oh kiddo…"

"Virgil…You know that you don't have to go now. There's always the option of delaying or opting to start at the second intake,"

"I know that Lo…But I really want to go NOW. But ugh…" Virgil let himself fall back onto his bed and sniffed, "I just got so overwhelmed. Thinking of the things I need to pack, classes, paperwork…Picking a major. Where do I even BEGIN?"

"We understand. Look, me and Specs need to go soon. How do you feel about Patton coming over to keep you company? We’ll handle the other stuff later. Together."

"That's right Kiddo! I have some brownies here with your name on em!"

Virgil wiped his eyes with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, "That sounds… amazing, Pat. You'd do that?"

"In a Hart-beat," The pun made Virgil smile. "And if you want, I can help you find some on campus resources. The counselling department has some amazing counsellors,"

Virgil took a deep breath, and exhaling slowly, "... Yeah.. I think I'd like that…Thanks Patton"

"Excellent. I shall look up other relevant information for a later date."

"Right…" Virgil agreed, "Thanks L...Princey. I appreciate it a lot."

"Anything for our emo."

"See you soon Virgil!"

The next few days passed by like a blur. It was all hands-on deck, with Patton, Logan and Roman helping him in all matters big and small.

Patton came by, gave him a hug and fed him the brownies. Later, he sat with Virgil in front of his computer, guiding him on all the resources available on campus. After a while, Virgil found himself mulling very little as he sent an email to a counsellor on campus to set up an appointment. In fact, he daresay he started to look forward to it. Patton was there throughout the whole process, just generally providing the best help he could have ever asked for. Virgil asked him questions extensively, and Patton patiently answered each and every one.

His support and help prompted Virgil to later wear a small enamel badge he found while browsing a thrift store. It reminded Virgil that there are people looking out and supporting him at every turn in his life.

With an appointment with a counsellor now booked, Virgil turned his attention to his classes. In this area, Logan came in- keen and determined.

Armed with several sheets of printed out information, he came to Virgil's house the night after Patton left.

He explained Virgil's options, going through one suggestion at a time. He reassured him about choosing his major, telling him that he can remain undeclared as long as he needed to. But also to be mindful about what classes he decides to take. Highlighter in hand, they slowly but surely mapped out the classes Virgil could register in his first year. It was balanced in that it both provided enough time for him to settle in his new environment and for Virgil to still get the credit hours he needed.

It was because of Logan that Virgil started carrying with him a small nondescript journal. He wrote everything in it, from reminders to To Do lists. It helped him plan, and made him recall Logan's words that learning is always something that Virgil has control over.

Roman literally came in full force. Barging in early one morning and boisterously announcing his arrival to help him pack. Surprisingly, he was very helpful. He took the time to help Virgil organise everything and all the while, they just… talked. They bantered and joked. Each day, Roman never failed to show up. He skillfully took Virgil's mind of the stress of moving away as the date crawled nearer. He talked about the plays that will be put on that semester, promising to introduce Virgil to the cast and crew. Remembering their high school days, Virgil promised to consider trying out as the crew and Roman smiled encouragingly, saying nothing more.

And if Virgil started wearing a little red in any instance where he needed a boost of confidence, Roman didn't need to know that too.

Virgil admitted he took a little while to get to certain milestones compared to his peers. But as Roman's car began to move away from their neighbourhood, Logan's GPS pre-set to Florida University and Patton's brownies started being passed around, he realized that taking his time was well worth it.

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notbetty13 · 4 years

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Just a few things to say:

Before all this corona virus stuff took over the USA, I was struggling a lot with my mental health. I have bad depression and my job has been making it worse. I am just unhappy with life currently. I’m not where I want to be, I feel stuck. I finally saw a psychiatrist this week and she was 500 bucks. I didn’t want to spend that money in this time, but it was something I had to do. I feel bad because I personally couldn’t afford it, so my gram paid. It took over a month to actually get ahold of someone and when we finally did, we were like health comes before money. Side note we met over FaceTime.... so 500 bucks for that!!!! Anyways now we have corona virus and dealing with the anxiety and stress of what is going to happen next has been getting to me. I woke up at 5 am with my heart racing.

My father, who has worked so hard his entire life is now facing a struggle of his business. A lot of people are suffering, but I wish there was more I could do for my father. The family business (a gas station in my small town) was started by my grandfather in 1955. My dad works so hard even though he is at an age where he should be slowing down, he is currently 71. Another issue he faces is Scoliosis and it is super painful to watch him walk. It looks like it hurts him so bad! Even though he is 71, he opens the gas station every morning at 5 am and stays until 5/5:30 pm. I feel so bad because he wants to stay open as much as he can. He laid off workers and it hurts him so much because he has a close bond with all his employees. With everything going on he is still trying as hard as he can with his amazing smile.

I am sad that we can’t see @taylorswift this weekend. Obviously, I wouldn’t want anyone to risk their lives, but it would have been a good time and music/ concerts always help me forget my problems, even for a short amount of time. I turn 30 in May and my birthday trip has also been canceled. I am praying for a small miracle that Lover Fest, will still happen. I’m super nervous about it happening though. Fingers crossed, that this all goes away soon, so we can be healthy and not have to stress over job security/ money. I’m just venting because it’s hard to open up to people and welp not like many follow me hear. Prayers and good vibes are greatly appreciated.

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sandeepmaheshwaritips-blog · 4 years

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Best Motivational Quotes to Overcome Anxiety and Depression

Moving statements and motivational quotes to overcome anxiety and depression have a stunning capacity to change the manner in which we feel about existence. This is the reason I find them so intriguing and significant on our ways to progress.

So what's their mystery?

The manner in which you contemplate yourself, including your convictions and assumptions regarding what is workable for you, decides everything that transpires.

To be successful, you have to use each day as an opportunity to grow, to find purpose in life, to be better, to get a little bit closer to your goals. It might sound like an impossible thing or a lot of work—and with a busy schedule, next to impractical. But the best part is, the more you get the results, the more you’ll want to work hard, the higher you’ll want to reach. So as long as you have the hunger for success, you will always have the power within you to achieve it.

You have full oversight over just a single thing known to mankind — your reasoning – and that is the place inspirational statements come in!

Everybody needs a little motivation now and again.

Regardless of whether you're experiencing a separation, you've recently lost your employment, or you just woke up feeling a little shaky toward the beginning of today—we've all had nowadays.

I've assembled a rundown of probably the best-overcome anxiety and depression quotes so you can begin the year by assuming responsibility for your considerations, thinking emphatically and defining new objectives.

Dont Forget to read the best Dalai Lama Quotes and Sayings to bring a positive change in your life.

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Suess

Motivational and Inspirational Quotes

“I think being in love with life is a key to eternal youth.” —Doug Hutchison

"I’m a success today because I had a friend who believed in me and I didn’t have the heart to let him down.” – Abraham Lincoln

“The purpose of our lives is to be happy.” — Dalai Lama

“Feelings don’t try to kill you, even the painful ones. Anxiety is a feeling grown too large. A feeling grown aggressive and dangerous. You’re responsible for its consequences, you’re responsible for treating it. But…you’re not responsible for causing it. You’re not morally at fault for it. No more than you would be for a tumor.” ― Patrick Ness, The Rest of Us Just Live Here

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” — John Lennon

“Get busy living or get busy dying.” — Stephen King

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” — Mae West

“Not how long, but how well you have lived is the main thing.” — Seneca

“If life were predictable it would cease to be life, and be without flavor.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

“How can a person deal with anxiety? You might try what one fellow did. He worried so much that he decided to hire someone to do his worrying for him. He found a man who agreed to be his hired worrier for a salary of $200,000 per year. After the man accepted the job, his first question to his boss was, “Where are you going to get $200,000 per year?” To which the man responded, “That’s your worry.” ― Max Lucado

“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.” —Dolly Parton

“Do all the good you can, for all the people you can, in all the ways you can, as long as you can.” — Hillary Clinton

“Don’t settle for what life gives you; make life better and build something.” — Ashton Kutcher

“Everybody wants to be famous, but nobody wants to do the work. I live by that. You grind hard so you can play hard. At the end of the day, you put all the work in, and eventually it’ll pay off. It could be in a year, it could be in 30 years. Eventually, your hard work will pay off.” — Kevin Hart

“Everything negative – pressure, challenges – is all an opportunity for me to rise.” — Kobe Bryant

“I like criticism. It makes you strong.” — LeBron James

“You never really learn much from hearing yourself speak.” ― George Clooney

“Life imposes things on you that you can’t control, but you still have the choice of how you’re going to live through this.” — Celine Dion

“Life is never easy. There is work to be done and obligations to be met – obligations to truth, to justice, and to liberty.” — John F. Kennedy

“Live for each second without hesitation.” — Elton John

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein

“Life is really simple, but men insist on making it complicated.” — Confucius

“Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.” — Helen Keller

“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.” — Steve Jobs

“My mama always said, life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” — Forrest Gump

“Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.”— Lao-Tze

“When we do the best we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life or the life of another.” — Helen Keller

“The healthiest response to life is joy.” — Deepak Chopra

“Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once.” — Lillian Dickson

“The best portion of a good man’s life is his little nameless, unencumbered acts of kindness and of love.” — Wordsworth

“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on.” ― Robert Frost

“Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.” — Charles Swindoll

“Keep calm and carry on.” — Winston Churchill

“Maybe that’s what life is… a wink of the eye and winking stars.” — Jack Kerouac

“Life is a flower of which love is the honey.” — Victor Hugo

“Keep smiling, because life is a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.” — Marilyn Monroe

“Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.” — Buddha

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.” — Dr. Seuss

“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.” — Mark Twain

“Life would be tragic if it weren’t funny.” — Stephen Hawking

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The greatest pleasure of life is love.” — Euripides

“Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be.” — Grandma Moses

“Life’s tragedy is that we get old too soon and wise too late.” — Benjamin Franklin

“Life is about making an impact, not making an income.” — Kevin Kruse

“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.” – Babe Ruth

“I’ve spent most of my life and most of my friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they won’t leave, and fearing that it’s a matter of time before they figure me out and go.” ― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way

“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.” – Anais Nin

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” – John Lennon

“Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears.” – Les Brown

“The whole secret of a successful life is to find out what is one’s destiny to do, and then do it.”– Henry Ford

“In order to write about life first you must live it.”– Ernest Hemingway

“The big lesson in life, baby, is never be scared of anyone or anything.”– Frank Sinatra

“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”– Thomas A. Edison

“If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.”– Albert Einstein

“Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”– Babe Ruth

“Money and success don’t change people; they merely amplify what is already there.” — Will Smith

“Sing like no one’s listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and live like it’s heaven on earth.” – (Attributed to various sources)

“Curiosity about life in all of its aspects, I think, is still the secret of great creative people.” – Leo Burnett

“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.”– Soren Kierkegaard

“To venture causes anxiety, but not to venture is to lose one’s self…. And to venture in the highest is precisely to be conscious of one’s self.” ― Søren Kierkegaard

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” — Socrates

“Turn your wounds into wisdom.” — Oprah Winfrey

“The more you pray, the less you’ll panic. The more you worship, the less you worry. You’ll feel more patient and less pressured.” ― Rick Warren, The Purpose of Christmas

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking.” – Steve Jobs

Thank you for giving your time to read these beautiful inspirational and motivational quotes about anxiety and depression. Stay connected for more.

Source: Best Motivational Quotes to Overcome Anxiety and Depression

#quotes #motivational quotes #inspirational quotes #anxiety quotes #depression quotes

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