So many people hate their own body so much and are so casually fatphobia toward themself and the thing is, when you're not, when you've healed yourself enough that you can look at yourself and say "my body is just a body that does body things" it becomes nearly impossible to be around people who openly hate their bodies. It feels like they're flinging their muck all over you, and you gotta shake yourself out so it doesn't stick. And misery really does love company. They'll talk about how fat they are and how they can't eat this or that or wear certain clothes or cut their hair short, and they want you to lament with them. And you gotta not, okay? You gotta not. You gotta walk away from that shit.
And you HAVE to pay attention to the things you say about your own body in front of other people, lest you become the person flinging your muck onto others.
It's been a while since I've posted anything inspector related... I love inspectors a lot, they're still my all time favorite creatures in the game if the fact they're my blog's namesake wasn't enough to tell! I thought it'd be a fun concept if inspectors had different physical characteristics between different iterators, inspectors my beloved <3333
warnings: cannabis, language, minor angst(?), smoking, fluff (?), possessive!simon kinda? idk man i just had fun with it
thinking a little bit about running into Simon as you're leaving the dispensary... a/n at the end
~
You step into the warm evening air with a genuine smile still tugging at your lips and a nice little treat in your hand for later.
The lady at the weed store remembered you, remembered your preferred strain, and recommended something that you're pretty sure you're gonna love.
It's a Friday night, you're off work, and you've got absolutely nothing planned for the weekend.
Just how you like it.
Until...
"You buyin' proper grass now? Mine no good anymore?"
Your heart skips a beat and you spin around with wide eyes, clutching your pack of pre-rolls like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
Simon pushes off the wall of the shop and takes a step toward you with his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Can't roll y'er own?" He asks dryly, head cocking to the side as he reads the small letters printed across the blue tin.
A thousand things come to your mind to say in response, but none of them make it past your lips. You just stare up at him for a few long seconds before finally coming to your senses.
"The lady at the store said I should try these." Is your weak defence.
He snorts, long fingers snatching them out of your grip.
"Hey!"
He ignores you, skillfully dodging your every attempt at retrieving what's rightfully yours. You've even got the receipt to prove it .
"Hope you don't spend all your money on this shit," he murmurs, nose wrinkling when he reads the details.
You roll your eyes with a huff and cross your arms over your chest.
"What I'm smoking isn't your business anymore, Simon."
He ignores you again.
"I could get you better shit for half the price, Love, you know that."
You snort, snatching the pack back from him.
"Yeah, with double the trauma. No thanks."
A grin tugs at his lips and he steps in front of you when you try to step around him.
"So you agree, my shit is better."
You open your mouth to protest but the look on his face tells you you've already lost.
"Well, you're in luck, sweet one. I've got some real nice stuff back at mine. How's about you come sample a bit, see if you change your mind about this government-grown bullshit. How's that sound, hmm?" As he speaks, he gradually gets closer and closer until he's got his big warm familiar hands on your hips, flexing and pulling you closer to him.
You shake your head but make no move to escape him.
"You know that's not a good idea," you whisper, meeting his gaze.
He's got that usual semi-bored look on his face, but his eyes are so warm and open that you find yourself reconsidering.
He must see it. See that tiny moment of hesitation as it flickers across your face like a shooting star, because he tugs you a little bit closer.
"All I know is I can't stand the thought of you smokin' this shite."
Somehow, it's all the convincing you need to climb into his car and rumble on away from the dispensary with a silent promise to pick up your car tomorrow.
The drive to his place is quiet, save for the humming of the radio that barely works. As you gaze out the window, your stomach begins to churn when each street is labelled 'memory lane'.
Or at least, they should be.
Back when Simon was the only dispensary you needed, he'd take you on drives with him to deliver his product to some of his other customers.
Nothing sketchy, not at all. Most of his customers are ex-military and use it for any number of medicinal purposes, but would rather get it from a friend than a store.
On more than one occasion, you found yourself bent over the hood of this very car with Simon's thick cock rearranging your guts after a night of deliveries (and smoking, on your part).
Hell, you'd even met some of the friends before you had eventually had enough of his fear of commitment.
He'd do all the relationship things, touch you in all the relationship ways, you guys weren't seeing other people. Ticking all the relationship boxes you needed.
Well... almost all.
So, you Ghosted him.
But, like all that is well and truly yours, he found his way back.
Your brows furrow as you realize how ridiculous this is.
"How many weed stores did you try?" You ask, turning to face him.
He doesn't look away from the road. "Three before this one. Figured you'd hit one near your place after work"
Now your brows touch your hairline.
"So, what? You just drove around looking for me?"
"I've tracked men through the arctic circle in the middle of winter and found them. You're gonna hafta do better than ignoring my texts if you wanna get rid of me."
You fall quiet as his words hit you.
He went to four different places looking for your car after a few weeks of silenced phone calls and muted texts, and he found you in one day.
When the car rolls to a stop, Simon turns to you and puts a big hand on your thigh.
"Gonna let me get you high and eat your pussy? 've missed her."
~*~*~*~
a/n: y'all i have so much to say about this i got this idea leaving the herb shop cause i saw two old people who i thought would be cute together. i feel like i gotta throw out there that i know how to roll lol but our reader dont like to okay shes a puff princess also i keep saying 'you buyin proper grass now'
okay but imagine a fic where we see mickeys perspective all the way through s1-11. like. i wanna know what he did in mexico and i wanna know what he was feeling in prison. i gotta know whats in that lovely little noggin of his
My bipolar folks who experience mixed episodes, how the fuck do you cope? For months I thought I've just been having a depressive episode, but the reality hit me tonight that I've been experiencing hypomanic symptoms as well, and I now understand why all the shit I usually do for full depressive episodes isn't working.
I recently went up on Caplyta (from 42 to 52.5 mg) and I don't think it's done much. Therapy has been spent talking about the unbridled rage I've been carrying in my throat my entire life. Idk I would love to hear what others have found helpful outside of meds and therapy.
