warnings: pre-existing relationship, drug use (molly), public sex, marking (kinda)
desc: in which your boyfriend and your date night includes a fun time with molly. youre at the club. you both just cant wait. this is part of whorehouse’s intoxicated collab, check out the masterlist here.
If you were being honest, you didn’t really like clubbing. It had just been so long. Normally the grinding of bodies on the dance floor reminded you of sweat, of lack of personal space, of overbearing heat. Normally it was too much.
But now, here, tonight the only thing you could feel was the bass, the music pumping behind your ears, the lights dancing behind your eyelids even when they were closed. And the body against you, their sweat, their heat, welcomed and comforting. But now, here, you greeted the excessiveness with open arms, and legs apparently.
You had entered the club about half an hour ago. Or had it been more. You were starting to lose track of timing. You had barely crossed the threshold of the grimy, shitty club, when Atsumu gripped your jaw. He popped a pill lightly onto the middle of his tongue, wagging his eyebrows suggestively before pulling you towards him. When your lips met, it was all business, and he pushed the small pill to the back of your mouth. You took a beat to swallow, and for him to pop one of his own into his mouth.
a/n: here is my hell piece for the intoxicated collab <3 yes it is a direct follow up to caged my yuudai drabble (read it first!!!), yes i copied the banner from caged to use on here bc i am lazy and there r no yuudai caps, do not perceive me <3
dedicated to my wife @pomsuki <33 happy (belated) birthday pommie <3 let yuudai into your heart ;)
18+ university age | pls read all warnings
warnings:drug use (weed), alcohol use, dub/noncon (reader is thouroughly inebriated), size kink, no condom, uh no real prep (what’s new with me), some toxic behavior, manipulation
warnings: cheating (everyone’s cheating in this frat house tonight), drugging (reader thought she was doing coke, actually percs), drug mentions: coke, weed, percs, non-con, gas-lighting, manipulation, iwai and oiks are shitty frat boys what can i say
wc: 1.9k
a/n: my piece for the intoxicated collab hosted by the whore house <3 you can check it out here! i have never written for this pretty rat bastard but I kinda like this version of oikawa that now lives in my brain. he’s a shitty bastard but meh. this is very, very, very, v e r y loosely based on a real experience i had with percs ( i don’t condone the use of percs !! ). also, do not mix drugs if you are doing them, especially percs with alcohol!
you know you’re fucked as the last of the pretty white line vanishes through the end of a cut-up straw and into your nose. that too pretty smile tooru’s wearing almost looks sinister as the feeling of prickles dances across your brain and the feeling of slight numbness snakes up your appendages. it’s cemented further when drowsiness sinks in.
worst of all, you know you’ve lost when tooru’s featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn’t somewhere else in the same house
leading up to the frat party, you were excited ! time spent with your roommate was always fun, your partner in crime for getting wasted silly before proceeding to call your boyfriends to be picked up and continue the fun from there.
their frat’s parties are always choice, thematic some days and just a reason to drink and make poor choices others. your poison of choice always being egging hajime on throughout the night to be fucked dumb when he’s pushed beyond his limit– the perfect fun for you.
but there’s always tooru.
it’s been too many times to count where you think you’ve finally got hajime right where you need him and then tooru’s there to effectively whisk hajime away– always with a snide reminder that you’re there with your roommate, his girlfriend so ‘why don’t you go find her, she’ll get lonely!’
ironic, considering that if she and you were up to trouble together he’d badger you over being negligent of hajime.
regardless, you fully entitled to enjoy yourself tonight– tooru be damned.
before you could fester longer on the leech that was tooru, your roommate poses a comment about the outfits planned for tonight. it’s enough to steal away your attention, and you find yourselves trying and tossing off clothes interspersed with chatter and gossip of all manner. by the end of it, you look downright sinful– dressed in a silky feeling black bodycon with lace trim.
the intention is to rile hajime up, get him irritated having to be watchful over you to keep his sleazy frat brothers away. except for tooru, he’s always the exception. he couldn’t let any of his other brothers be the exception? you’d take temperamental kyotani over tooru any day. it’s only a minorbonus kyotani is nice to look at.
by the time your roommate is ushering you to the uber you’re quite tipsy, still aware of yourself but relaxed enough to giggle along to the lame jokes your uber throws over his shoulder at you two. idly, you think he’s kinda cute.
the party is in full swing by the time your uber pulls up, people idling out on the lawn in stark contrast to the blaring music coming from the house itself. hajime and tooru are waiting outside for the both of you as you exit the uber. giving the uber a sweet smile before closing the door.
you try to ignore the lingering look tooru fixates you with as you make your way to the boys.
“ tooooruuuu~” your roommate all but throws herself into her boyfriend, giggly and happy to see him. he returns the embrace, peppering her cheery face in kisses before returning her greeting “hi princess, you look ravishing as usual.”
you fight to keep the cringe of your face at the nickname, opting to ignore their sugary-sweet pda in favor of hajime. you link your arms behind his neck before blinking up at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his chin before grinning cheekily “ hi bubs, missed you today”. his own hands settle on your hips, rubbing softly at the material of your dress before smiling down at you. he mumbles his own greeting before pressing a kiss to your temple, beginning to drag you inside.
you don’t miss the familiar stare of someone staring down your neck.
all too quickly, between games of cup pong, kings cup, and random shots; your separated from hajime and squished between hanamaki and matsukawa on a ratty couch in the garage with an odd group of people. you’re vaguely aware of matsukawa’s arm thrown over your shoulders.
you don’t try to move it.
you’re half engaged in the conversation going on, between being drunk and swimming in the heady smell of weed, you’re just kinda sitting there zoning in and out. there’s a sizable bong being passed around, and despite only having met them a handful of times prior, hanamaki and matsukawa seem to know better than to offer you a hit– at least that’s what you tell yourself. across from you, there’s a blond girl cutting lines of coke on a handheld mirror, looking up briefly with a raised eyebrow in question. you’ve met her prior, you’ve literally done lines with her, but her name is escaping you.
you feel stupid.
you’re about to nod along when matsukawa’s arm is thrown off you, two hands coming down on your shoulders in a bruising grip. you wince when you meet tooru’s chocolate eyes.
he looks kinda pissed.
“y/n ! I’ve been looking alllll over for you !” his voice is as princely as ever, but the sneer on his face and the barely there anger under his tone pisses you off. you decide to push him before he starts pushing you.
“where’s 'princess’ at? can’t believe you left my poor roommate all alone in this house” you tsk and pout, shaking your head. tooru’s face momentarily sours before he’s looping around the couch and dragging you to your feet, pulling you to the door without a word. you glance back briefly at hanamaki and matsukawa, but they look just as put off as you.
weird.
you follow, not sure if it’s curiosity or just being drunk for you simpered obedience. you’re led past hajime’s room where you hear noise– notably hajime and someone else but you can’t think too hard about it with tooru’s tightening grip on your wrist. this would be nice if it were hajime pulling you along. you stop in front of a door at the very end of the hall.
it’s tooru’s room.
volleyball trophies and keepsakes line the shelves, along with other commemorative keepsakes. a picture of him and your roommate, him and hajime, a group picture of the four of you as well. you’re about the prod for answers when he beats you to it.
“don’t worry about my 'princess’, she with hajime right now!” he sneers down at you, loving the confusion that crosses your pretty little face before continuing “i figured i’d come check in on you since hajime seems to be doing a shit job of it.” you’re only partially surprised by the drop from his usual cheerful speech and vocabulary, but to hear him come at hajime unabashedly is strange.
it’s actually really fucking weird all things considered.
“what do you mean by that? why’s he with her…” and not me? the sentence practically finishes itself and tooru’s sneer grows as your mind begins to tumble over itself. “ you know, maybe he just can’t handle you anymore? he’s always bitching to me about you” tooru sighs, hand raised to his chin thoughtfully. something in your chest aches at the thought, mind nowhere near sober enough to see past tooru winding you up.
“you know, I tried arguing with hajime about it on your behalf. sure you’re needy as hell and a borderline nympho but you’re soooo cute! if i wasn’t dating my princess, I wouldn’t hesitate to steal you away~” it comes out teasingly, but his words are downright awful. you’re not needy…right? sure you like sex, but hajime never complained about it.
you kinda feel like shit.
turning on your heels, you make for the door before tooru latches onto your wrist again. that same bruising grip back again, you whirl on him ready to lay into him before he shakes an orange pill bottle in your face. eyes narrowed, you glare up at him. what the hell is he up too?
“to make it up to you for bumming your night and causing you to miss out saeko’s cheap shit, why don’t we have a little pick me up?” his sneer is gone now, simmered down to what could be a genuine smile. you weigh your options, dull red flashing lights go off in your mind but safety be damned– you need a pick me up. “fine, fine. i’d rather get something from you than just anybody.” tooru looks a little surprised at your admittance, but you plop yourself on his bed before you can stare up at his pretty face any longer. he turns his back to you in favor of his desk, clearing space and procuring his debit card and a dollar bill before popping the lid on the pills and grabbing one.
you don’t watch him crush the pill, and that’s your fatal mistake.
all too soon, zoned out staring around the room while lost in your pitiful thoughts, tooru calls you over. “you’re a big girl, I’m sure you know how to snort it” his voice is teasing, but you fail to notice just how focused he looks staring down at you. you grab a cut straw, no longer than two inches, and line one end to your nose and the other to the white line.
it feels wrong.
you know you’re fucked as the last of the pretty white line vanishes through the end of a cut-up straw and into your nose. that too pretty smile tooru’s wearing almost looks sinister as the feeling of prickles dances across your brain and the feeling of slight numbness snakes up your appendages. it’s cemented further when drowsiness sinks in.
worst of all, you know you’ve lost when tooru’s featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn’t somewhere else in the same house.
god this so wrong, but the way tooru ushers you backwards until the back of your knees meet his bed, and you fall on your back feels nice. everything feels nice, his thumb in your mouth, his comforter on your back. the way he’s staring down at you, laser-focused on just you… it’s verynice.
but incredibly wrong.
hajime is in a room nearby, the fact eats at you.
tooru withdraws his hand from your face, thumb briefly pressing along your plush lips before crawling over you. he buries his head in your neck, nibbling and sucking along the length of it like a starved dog. you whimper, it’s wrong but why does it feel so good? a particularly nasty bite forces a moan from your mouth, mind spinning at the pleasure despite the numbness.
you’re terrible for getting off on this, you’re a terrible girlfriend. tooru, evidently, is a terrible boyfriend. he drugged you but who’s gonna believe you? you did agree to do it, you didn’t ask what it was. your thoughts are spiraling.
tooru’s hand leaves a blazing trail up your thigh, sliding up underneath your little dress and squeezing your upper thigh. you don’t like this. weakly, you grab onto tooru’s wrist in an attempt to halt his movements. he shakes it off, kissing along your jaw before mumbling to what you assume is more-so to himself than you.
“knew i was gonna fuck you when you strolled up in this, hajime’s really missing out tonight”
Before reading forward, I just want to remind everyone that all people deal with trauma strikingly differently from each other. This is fanfic y’all, don’t forget that. That being said, I, personally, don’t deal with my trauma the way that I probably should, so please take it with a grain of salt, this is a reverse harem plotline, it’s not okay and I have never been in said exact situation. I doubt the grand majority of you have as well, (there’s always that one person that somehow managed to experience even the most bizarre things)
Also, while English is my first language, I sometimes forget how it works (I speak multiple languages) please give me some grace haha.
I know that in my tumblr post, I said that there was going to be a mention of sexual assault and self-harm, but I felt that it wasn’t appropriate. So I deleted that, so those trigger warnings can be ignored.
Trigger warnings, if any of these will upset you, please turn away: reverse harem, mention of alcohol and drug addiction, mention of sex, torture, bodily fluids (sexual and blood) and Faire just losing it.
Hiding the trauma is easy, at first. It’s when he grabs her wrist that the lying becomes difficult.
She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and throws herself away, she hits the wall across from her. The response is almost instant.
Frankie goes to throw his hands up in the air as if to show he means no harm. Her face freezes and turns bright white, and her hands go in front of her face in a defensive position.
She panics, realizing how big of a mistake she might have just made. It had been so easy to say she was fine, that she was good and not struggling anymore. That plan went out the window, specifically the window that she broke on her first day at the penthouse.
Frankie looks at her like she’s a deer in headlights, he steps towards her slowly, unwaning to scare her.
“Faire, are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She quietly shakes her head. Her breaths come in shakily.
“Okay. Take a deep breath, honey.” He turned his hands down, staring at her eyes, look at me, honey, not my hands, he thought. “What’s wrong?
She shook her head slowly, her eyes glued to his hands. “Please-” she whispered, a hiccuped sob catching in her throat.
He stared into her eyes, willing her to look at his instead of his hands. “Faire, look at my eyes. I’m not going to hurt you, no one here will hurt you.”
He assumes it’s an aftermath of the attack that happened last month. When she had been slammed to the ground with the man’s body towering over her small, fragile figure. Or maybe at the restaurant when the man had bruised her pretty throat, wrapping his hands around it and throwing her into the wall, his fault.
What if Ironhead hadn’t been there? Would they have killed her? Probably. Even if it meant the wrath of Baron and Ironhead, they would have broken her pretty body and left her there for them to find, maybe they’d carve their name into her face, or maybe they’d carve his. A message, Fish killed my brother, this is the consequence.
Her bottom lip started quivering, her eyes turning red and shiny. He could not handle it if she started crying. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Breathe, no one will hurt you.” her eyes stared at him, a small tear breaking through her waterline.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“It’s okay, honey. Just breathe.”
She reached her arms out towards him, seeking the comfort of his warm arms. Although their comradeship had been broken down after he left her on the floor, filled with him, there was something about his saddened eyes that made her feel safe.
He opened his arms, not used to comforting. Cuddling her on the patio during her panic attack had been a damn blue moon in its own way. She walked forward, throwing her arms around his neck and shoved her face into his shoulder, wet tears and slobber splashed on his shirt and she sobbed.
He rubbed her back, calming her with quiet mouth sounds and pulling her tight into him. “What triggered you, honey? Is it the restaurant?” he asked.
She shook her head. He tried again, “Baron’s men here?” she shook her head again.
He feared her response, “me?” she shook her head again. “Then what’s wrong sweetheart?”
She shook her head again, not wanting to talk about the trauma she endured even before she was kidnapped.
She shook her head out of those thoughts, it wouldn’t help her get out of her panic, she thumped down on the floor, sitting in a fetal position, she needed the stability before her legs gave out.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, honey.” he was squatting in front of her now, his big eyes filled with concern.
It was then that the rest of the boys walked in, hearing the thump of her body hitting the floor, upon seeing Faire sitting on the ground with glassy eyes staring over Frankie’s shoulder instead of in his eyes as he shook her lightly, whispering to her.
“Faire?” Will whispered. She slowly met his gaze, a blank look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers to Frankie.
He sighed, “why are you sorry, honey? You did nothing wrong.” he whispered back to her.
“I- I- I’m sorry.” she stuttered. Her pretty lip started quivering, a tear running down her face.
Will crouched down in front of her now, looking over her with a careful eye. “Baby,” he whispered, wiping away her tear. “What do you need?” he asked.
She mumbled, unsure.
“Do you need to go somewhere quiet, or do you need a distraction?” he asked.
She looked helplessly at Pope, and whispered with heartbreaking cracks in her voice, “Why?”
He blinked at her, “What?” he asked.
“Why did you- why do you keep me here? I- I- why the fuck am I still here?” she sobbed. “I- Why haven’t I left? What the fuck have you done to me?” she asked.
“Honey, you’re here because we need to protect you,” Will answered.
“What the fuck am I doing? You- you all, you all kidnapped me and I’m- I’m fucking- oh my god. What the fuck am I doing?” She whispered.
They knew it was coming, her moment of realization. Her panic, they knew shit would hit the ceiling, and they still weren’t prepared for it.
“Breathe, honey,” Will whispered, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, she retaliated violently, slapping his hand away.
“Please don’t, please don’t touch me, I- please.” she crawled against the wall. She hadn’t pleaded like this since her first day when she’d talked to Pope in his office after trying to break out. “Please let me go, please. I can’t- I can’t do this. What the fuck have I done?” she muttered, her head between her knees.
The boys shared a similar look of confusion, no idea what to do. Any option they had would not work with her while she was in this state.
She kept her face shoved in between her knees, mumbling nonsense, rocking her body back and forth.
The men were at a loss, she’d cried in front of all of them, yes, but that had been fixable. They had all been moments where she’d just needed someone to hold her or a drink burning through her throat and warming her stomach.
It had been a month since the incident in Cristo’s parking lot, why was this all hitting her now? With the way her body had practically been vibrating throughout most days, it was clear she was struggling, that she was unhealthy. It had started like that with Fish, hidden but the small things, when found, told the whole damn story.
Frankie had figured that she wasn’t just hiding the vodka under her bed, but the oh-so-convincing smiles told him she was okay. There goes that.
It had been Benny’s light, warm palm on her knee that shocked her out of her panic. Just barely brushing her skin.
The wrong person obviously. They figured when she’d whimpered away from him.
Her eyes were raking over his features, his soft hair that she loved to fist when his face was in between her legs, his golden boy face and ocean eyes. She’d been grateful for that specific difference. The eyes were what calmed her, not enough, albeit, his face had contorted into the pretty boy she dated in high school.
You’re still as much of an idiot now as you were then, she thought. Going for the pretty ones instead of the good ones.
But Benny is good? They’re all good. To me, at least.
Her mind was constantly rearranging its perception. Her head hurt, the ions of her brain running too slow, she still couldn’t catch up.
Maybe benzos weren’t such a good idea, you dumb whore. Get off the floor, walk out. You’re insane. Get the fuck out.
It felt like back when she’d woken up in her bed after Benny drugged her.
Yeah! Remember that? Not a good guy. Get the fuck out!
Yeah, but he made you eggs after. He kissed you, he’s fucked you, he’s made you feel good. Will made you squirt first try, you’re good here, Pope said you were safe. Safe.
You’ve fucked your insane kidnappers, get the fuck out! You almost died. Twice.
She looked down at the floor and stood up, Benny had put out a hand to help, but she ignored it. Rather keeping her eyes down at the ground.
She starts walking away, willing her body to just leave. The words, you’re insane, this is insane, get the fuck out! Running through her head. Her brain still pangs against her skull. She holds her hand up as if to say “please don’t touch me or follow me, just let me go.”
Benny gripped her shoulder and pulled her into his chest, “please don’t go.” he whispered into her ear. He circled his arms around her. She went limp, silently hoping he’d let her go, but also relishing in the stark heat of him, compared to the cold response of her body. He was whispering to her, willing her to stay.
I’ve got you.
I can’t protect you if you leave, baby.
I can’t think if you leave.
You’re the only one.
My back. I told you. I gave it to you. I trust you. I need you. I need you. Baby, please. You make it hurt less.
You make me forget. About the blood and the bone and the scars. I let you touch them. No one else, you, pretty baby. You fill them like I fill you. I need that. I need you.
You. Your broken mind, your heart, your blood, you.
You.
She’d burst into tears yet again, crying into his shirt. It was starkly different from when she’d first tried to leave when he’d mocked her. Desperation instead of fear. He was begging her now. About to get on his damn knees and hug them like a desperate child.
im so sick of tiktok nurses and doctors trying to mock their patients for coming in and saying their pain is at a ten but not performing the pain for them
every time ive been in the hospital near death i was simply too exhausted to perform pain for these people. it was a ten on the pain scale but they thought i was faking it for whatever reason until they got my lab tests back and realized i would need to be checked in for quite a while
like maybe you, able bodied young doctor/nurse who has never experienced chronic pain and disability cannot fathom me rolling up near death and a flat expression unable to scream and holler about my agonies but I assure you some of us are just too fucking tired to scream about something we generally live with every single day
on god wanna punch the smug off their faces.
where do these people who have never experienced the pains theyre trying to judge others rankings get off mocking how chronically ill people express themselves?
one video in particular drives me up the wall, as it is some young nurse pretending to do patient intake in the ER and he is both the patient and nurse so he asks himself
what would you rank your head pain?
and he the patient flatly without emotion is like “ten”
so skeptically he as the nurse is like “so ten is the worst pain youve ever felt, like if someone with a chainsaw cut off your arm right now how would you rank your pain knowing that”
and he as the patient flippantly is like “9.5”
and the whole ~joke~ is “yeah youre lying”
but this situation really happened to my brother, he has a brain tumor and brain swelling to where he was dying, but was in too much pain to express it in a way an intake nurse would recognize as legitimate pain, so ofc they blew him off and he did get way too close to death because of that.
not all of us express extreme pains the same.
also need i fucking remind anyone, head pain and head injuries specifically can alter how you express your emotions and moods
theres a case of a man being literally shot in the head and he said he was in a lot of pain but everyone ignored that because he kept forgetting to act out the pain.
I have Cerebral Palsy. I walk and stand in eays that are not natural for our bones and after 28 years, that shit hurts. All the time. Its hurt my entire life, so I have a God damn HIGH pain tolerance.
Add onto that that my parents actively told me not to perform my pain. I was told that expressing or showing that I was hurting was selfish, annoying and needy. What’s the end result of that?
I get to an 8 on the pain scale and the only ways I perform that high of a pain are:
Deep breathing
Closing my eyes against it
Pinching my nose
Maybe rubbing the bones that hurt if I can reach it
I spent the last 5 or 6 years with my daily average being a 6 and I would hit an 8 at least 3 times a week.
Constantly being in that amount of pain means that you earn to mask it very well. And yeah, when I’m in terrible pain, seeing double, about to puke, my voice is flat as fuck. I turn really pale but I keep my mouth shut.
I’ve had doctors not believe my pain levels were that high regularly and all it did was make me reluctant to reach out for help managing my pain. They also refuse to believe my pain is that bad and yet I’m not taking opioid-based pain medication. I dont because I’m an addict. Same reason I dont keep a giant bottle of vodka in my house, I wont, but I also CANT. I promise if I did I’d become a raging alcoholic, just like one of my grandmothers.
My point, though, is that people are sometimes taught that they aren’t even allowed to perform pain or discomfort and fuck those doctors and nurses who mock their patients or dont believe them.
I literally had my back broken in four places as a kid and had to wait for my dad to essentially force the supervisors where I was working to take me to the hospital, because all I could do was sit and cry silently and they insisted I’d be screaming my head off if it was “that bad.”
My older brother has Downs Syndrome. He’s really good at masking his pain. Like, when he was 7 he had tonsillitis and my parents didn’t know until he passed out, because he didn’t tell them he wasn’t feeling well. We have to watch him to figure out if he’s hurting, and it scares the shit out of me that a doctor or nurse might not believe that he’s in pain because he doesn’t show it.
Would like to again point out my experience from being a firefighter/emt who has had to do triage at multi-car pile ups:
Dead people don’t scream.
The more hurt someone is, the quieter they are. People who are screaming are breathing. People running around and shouting for help have brain and motor function. It’s the person quietly sitting still on the corner who is going into shock from internal bleeding.
Also some people are just built different. I’ve had a person with a broken leg offer to limp themself to the ambulance. I had a woman complain of foot pain, apologized for calling 911 over something trivial, and when we put her on the 4 lead heart monitor she was clearly having a minor heart attack. The heart attack was presenting weird symptoms, which is not unusual for woman as they have higher pain tolerances than men. If we had assumed she was just being dramatic and skipped the ECG part of the assessment protocol she could have fucking died.
This is why when you go to the hospital every medical person who sees you keeps asking the same questions. We don’t know if the last asshat who did an assessment missed something important.
also, like, if I performed my pain according to expectations, I’d probably be shouting all day and crying all night
instead of doing literally anything useful, entertaining, or even distracting
I feel like this would start annoying my housemates fast and me faster
so like, how about I save expressions of intense pain for when it’s acute pain, something that needs immediate attention, not merely the chronic nonsense
Performing being in pain takes energy; pain itself also takes energy. At a certain point, the energy you would need to perform how much pain you’re in is deemed less important by the body than the energy needed to deal with the pain itself and/or the cause(s) of pain—or, depending on your circumstances, the basic acts of living. Medical and emergency professionals need to remember this.
I dissociate so bad when I have pain flare ups. I avoid going to the ER unless I really have to because of medical trauma, so if I go to the ER I’ve probably been in 10/10 pain for hours and feel like I’m dying. By the time I get to the ER, I look bored. The truth is I’m in so much pain that my brain can’t take it and I can’t focus on anything around me, but I don’t look like I’m in pain so they don’t care. They make me wait in the waiting room for a few hours, talk to me and send me home. The last time I thought I’d finally convinced someone to prescribe me pain meds but because of my dissociative state I didn’t realise until I went to the pharmacy that I’d been prescribed paracetamol.
It’s so frustrating because I’m not able to advocate for myself in that state because the pain is so bad, and they just assume that I’m lying because it doesn’t *look* bad. I gave up trying the ER after a few times and honestly I still haven’t been able to find a doctor who will help me get pain management or anything.
This is why we turn to drugs btw, and yes, I am in the process of finding a dealer so that I can turn to drugs too. I wish it wasn’t so hard to find a good doctor, I’m not sure if I ever will.
[Id: Drawing of Cirava Hermod from Hiveswap. They are a gold blood troll with a set of double horns and an eyepatch over an missing eye. They are blowing clouds of vape all around the picture, while holding the vape bug. ]
Two of my favorite shows are getting new seasons the day I’m getting surgery so I will be in the hospital when they’re released and then too high to properly enjoy them when I come home
A few characters from my story. Some of them are very minor and some have a bigger role. These are just rough design ideas for them, I’ll most likely change them a bit later on.
I know looking at random characters isn’t that interesting but I wanted to fill my blog instead of keeping everything to myself ;_;
Under the cut due to potential triggers which are tagged. If any of the tags are your triggers, please refrain from looking under the cut.
bold whatever applies to your muse. italicize the things that only happen in other verses. REPOST , DON’T REBLOG.
been cheated on | been bullied | had your heart broken | broken someone’s heart | told a horrible lie | been betrayed | been framed / set-up | stolen something of value | overdosed on drugs | been drunk | cheated | bullied | been publicly humiliated | punched someone in the face | been beaten up | broken a bone | been admitted to a hospital | put someone in the hospital | had a near - death experience | been drugged | done drugs | smoked | been arrested | been homeless | been forced to commit a crime | died and come back to life | kissed someone you weren’t attracted to | bled severely | killed someone | been forced to kill someone | had an attempt on your life | lost someone | loved someone | watched a loved one die | failed to save / help a loved one |felt helpless | watched your world die / disappear | had your life’s work stolen / destroyed | gone without food for over three days | gone without sleep for over three days | been tortured | been shot | been stabbed | been poisoned | been held prisoner | been trapped | been buried alive | been held hostage | held someone hostage | been stuck in a different world / universe / time | been slapped / punched by a parent or higher up | been abused by someone who should have loved / appreciated / valued you | had a panic attack | had night terrors | been in a car accident | lost your job | lost a fight | had sex with a stranger | been divorced | been abandoned | passed out from pain | cried yourself to sleep | spent a whole day in bed | taken your anger out on yourself | taken your anger out on someone you love | been used | been manipulated | felt used | manipulated someone else | had your memories / mind wiped / stolen or tampered with | been taken over by a hostile force | been terrified | played a cruel game on someone | been forced to smile |felt too many things at once | laughed when you felt like crying | been in denial | been denied |faced your demons
Here you have 100 sentence starters taken from the Operator videos and various trailers of Tom Clancy’s Rainbow 6 Siege! Please note that Rainbow 6 Siege is a first person shooter game about violence, terrorism and war. Potential triggering/adult content might be present or suggested in those sentence starters. Feel free to change pronouns as you see fit!
When I was little [name] taught me that “Silence was a woman’s best garment.”
I never really took her advice to heart.
Amateurs…
In a life-threatening situation the average person’s heartbeat can be upwards of one-hundred-seventy-five beats per minute.
I’ve learned from experience that the place to save lives is in the field, not an office.
Sometimes, the only way to save a live, is to take one.
I trust myself not to move, not to flinch.
I trust my teammates, and they trust me.
If you have a few spare hours, I’d love to share the details of how this device is a masterpiece of design.
All my team needs to know is, “Does it do the job, or doesn’t it?”
Does it do the job, or doesn’t it?
And let me tell you right now, it does the job.
I used to be undercover. I did time. I had to deal drugs. I even had to kill. And I was so good at it that… It got me a promotion.
I used to be undercover.
I did time.
I had to deal drugs.
I even had to kill.
And I was so good at it that… It got me a promotion.
They said it could not be done. They were wrong.
I know what you’re wondering: What’s in the [object]?
I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.
As for what’s in the [object]. It’s best you don’t ask.
The more crutches you have, the more it hurts when they’re kicked out from under you.
If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that a six-inch blade never loses reception.
Do you know what an artist and a sniper have in common? Details.
The only difference is the stakes. Mine are higher.
These soldiers think their training will keep them alive.
They break down doors and come through windows, weapons drawn.
They check the corners, watch each others’ backs, and give the all clear.
They forgot the first rule of survival.
A real hunter always watches where he steps.
Do you think you know anything?
Why do it yourself when a robot can do it better?
Let’s go.
As my friend would say, ‘A really big f*king hole, coming right up.’
Your phone is ringing. Here, let me get that for you.
Your phone is ringing.
Here, let me get that for you.
You never saw me coming.
Don’t feel so bad.
Nobody ever sees me.
I’m in everyone’s blind spot.
They always leave something behind.
The way is clear, I can follow the tracks.
Let me see your pretty faces.
Now you see me, now you don’t.
It’s a brutal, dangerous world out there, but I’ve found my way.
Chaos is my home, and I’ll make sure you never escape it.
I decide when to restrain and when to kill.
Only the best calls the shots.
Illusions are fatal.
If you waver, you’re mine.
If you pick wrong… you’re mine.
Come. Break your back against the mountain.
This is where you stop.
I was trapped, for a long time.
Lived and seen things you couldn’t imagine.
Now I see things… in a different light.
It’s uhh… quite here.
It’s like really… really.. REALLY- Quiet *sighs*
You’ve heard my price. If it’s too high, then we have nothing left to discuss.
You think I run a charity?
I have investors, unlike you.
Call me when you’re serious.
You’re making a mistake.
You rescue this ship or you’ll be walking home! ─ Swimming! ─ You’ll be swimming home! So don’t f*ck it up!
[name], they’re actually shooting at us.
They seemed very committed, and they’ve got another firecracker!
So that’s it? They save a ship, and we let them in?
Yes. They save a ship– I think we let them in!
Welp! There goes the neighbourhood!
Everyone is running from something.
So uhhh is this gonna be on the fernsehen? Or is it on television?
It’s always that which we don’t know that poses the greatest danger.
Don’t worry, maybe we’ll get it right next time.
He has no respect for anything!
If it doesn’t fire a bullet or explode, he dismisses it!
My wife has a strict policy about knives in the house.
And I have a strict policy about not pissing off my wife.
I know [name] is supposed to be the best, but he’s a hammer and I’m– i’m just a nail to him!
It’ll take time for some but you are nobody’s nail.
You’re angry, that’s good.
Anger could be a powerful tool.
We’re terrified of losing control
[Name] faced his demons. He knows how to channel his anger.
Who beat ya?
Come on, leave it alone. It was a misunderstanding.
Oh no, come on [name]. Don’t do this.
This isn’t about how [name]’s been treating you, is it?
It’s– I’m just tired of just trying to prove myself.
Get them to let go a little, we’re not the enemy here.
Where’d ya dig that relic up? ─ From under a lot of dead bodies.
They all look surprised.
Same joke every goddamn time.
The coral reinforces bone, grows like a carapce of armour on the skin. In other words, it makes monsters.
What about nuking the town?
Sunuvabitch! *explosion* We’re good!
Hold your horses [name], I’m just making sure they got it right.
You’re a humanitarian, and I’m not sure you can afford to be.
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