#High Tide is going ‘oh god I broke the kid what the hell’

[my-own-walker]

what difference does it make?

THIS GIF I JUST. BRRRRRRRR. MAKES MY PEA BRAIN GO BRRRR.

summary: ghost bf tate and y/n find comfort in each other in this fucked up world. (y/n doesn't know he's dead yet. violet doesn't exist, obv). this story is based loosely on the song 'what difference does it make?' by the smiths. felt fitting.

warnings: tate langdon x fem!reader, heavy angst, mentions of sh, murder, and harm.

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Tate's POV

The devil will find work for idle hands to do.

'I'm sorry I can't be who you need me to be. All I can do is be here,' I cried. Screwing my eyes shut and balling my fists, I began to sob.

I couldn't take it anymore. The women of this house. The things they required of me. I didn't want to be evil. I didn't want to do what I was doing. I was so confused. So lost.

I would be overcome by this feeling. This white-hot sensation would sear through my brain, stealing my vision and making my knees weak. The next thing I knew, I would be back where I started. Minutes, sometimes hours later. Tears in my eyes.

I stole and I lied, and why? Because you asked me to!

I would hear of the awful things I'd done through the voices around me. The other people that were trapped here would sing my praises for killing, murdering, stealing, whatever. Sometimes I would wake up from the fits in the middle of my horrible acts. Looking down and seeing pools of red and faces in agony. I didn't do this. I would think. But now I know it was me. It was all my fault.

Why me? Why do I have to ruin the lives of the people around me? I just want to be a good person. I'm only 17. A kid.

For we have been through hell and high tide / I can surely rely on you

She moved into the house. She was the only salvation I had. Her love for me proved to me that I wasn't a monster. I was more than just some pawn in this house's game. I wasn't on this Earth to simply cause harm.

I pretended to "accidentally" throw a ball through her window one day when her parents weren't home. She rushed over to the window and looked out at me, a look of shock and fright on her face. I looked up apologetically. My best puppy-dog-eyed performance.

'I'm sorry ma'am!' I quipped. My hand was resting above my eyes to shield the sun.

'Ma'am...?' she scoffed. 'Do I really look that old?' She rolled her eyes.

'Uh- no? You're just- I- I'm sorry. I'm Tate,' I replied looking down at my shoes. Bashful. Nice.

'Y/N.' she replied, crossing her arms sarcastically. 'You fucking broke my window.'

'I know...I-'

'This is a new house, my parents will kill me.'

'Oh my god, I had no idea,' I played dumb.

'Do you want your ball back at least?' she smirked, holding the perpetrator up demonstratively.

'Yes, please,' I said, thinking I blew it. That was the wrong 'in' I guessed. The wrong way to get her to love me.

'Then you'll have to come get it,' she smirked and walked away from the window.

Well, I'm still fond of you

From then on I was a regular fixture in her room. I helped her dad fix the window, just to show how nice of a guy I am.

She lived with her dad and stepmom. Her mother had died just a little less than a year ago, and the fat bastard was already remarried. Sick freak. I needed to protect her from him.

It was a car accident that took her. She tried merging off of the highway at the same time as another driver was trying to merge onto the highway. She side-swiped them and her car flipped. The driver's side was crushed.

'I could have been in the car with her that day,' Y/N later explained. 'She asked me to go get groceries with her and I said no, and then she died.'

My heart breaks for her, it really does.

She hurts herself, too. I watched her do it one time. She didn't know I was here. I cried as I watched her etch lines into her thighs, one at a time. She didn't wince, or cry. She just sat there, expressionless.

I tried to protect her from the people of the house. Its victims. She didn't deserve to be scared or feel the pain that they did. I kept them away from her.

Oh, my sacred one

It was three days after Y/N found her dad cheating on her stepmom. She was distant. I didn't feel like she'd want to see me. She made no attempts to contact me.

I was a sitting duck, unable to help her. In the days prior I watched her. Alone. Rotting in her room. Skipping school. Hurting herself. It was too much to bear.

On this particular day, though, I decided she needed me. As much as she was pushing me away she still needed me. And I needed her.

She didn't understand.

My conversation with Nora hadn't gone well. She was asking too much of me. Too much. And shortly after the feeling came again. I had another fit. I was overcome and powerless. The white-hot pain lit my brain on fire. And then I was standing alone in the basement again with blood on my hands. I began to sob. I needed Y/N.

I worshipped her. The softness of her cheeks. The way her hair cascaded and framed her face. The way she would cover her mouth when she smiled because she hated how it looked. The things she would wear. Her knit sweaters and black lace-up boots.

Everything she did was pure magic to me.

Her sense of humor. Her compassion. The way she feels things. So deeply. She feels with every ounce of her being. I wish I felt that, rather than utter fucking apathy all the time.

I gathered my courage and found myself in her room. She was asleep.

I made my way over to her bedside slowly, taking care not to wake her. I lowered myself onto the seat next to her and watched as the hair that covered her face moved with each breath she took. Her still form filled my stomach with butterflies and made my chest feel funny. She was so peaceful. For once, I didn't see pain on her face.

Tears sprang to my eyes yet again. How could a person be so perfect?

She must've sensed it because she stirred. Turning onto her back and stretching her arms out. Her eyes fluttered open, aimed at the ceiling. I could see it better, then. Her eyes. They were puffy and red. She'd been crying.

She turned her head slowly as she stretched again, inadvertently making herself face me. Her eyes widened, but she didn't jump. It was almost like she couldn't believe I was there.

'Tate?' she croaked.

'Hey, beautiful,' I replied, relieved that she wasn't immediately angry with my being there.

She cracked a small smile.

'I was worried about you so I came over. I hope I'm not bothering you...' I continued.

'No- no Tate not at all,' Y/N stammered, propping herself up slightly. 'I actually hoped you'd come. I didn't realize that after all this time I just...never got your number. I've been needing you but had no way to contact you. You've always just been...here, I don't know. I never thought to ask.' She laughed, sadly.

Shit. I thought. I need to figure that out somehow. Or come clean. Fuck.

'It's okay now, though. You're here. I haven't been able to cope at all,' she trailed off, looking out the window behind her headboard. 'What time is it even? I've been sleeping so much...'

'It doesn't matter,' I said, 'if you need rest, you should rest.'

'I'm so tired...'

'Me too, Y/N...me too,' I sighed. I didn't even realize I had started crying until Y/N shot up in her bed and crawled over to the edge to take my face in her hands. She wiped the tears from under my eyes with the pads of her thumbs. Then, she kissed my cheeks, kissing the rest of the tears away.

'Rough day, huh?' she asked.

'It's a goddamn filthy, fucked up world we live in, Y/N,' I managed. 'I've missed you.'

She motioned with her head for me to join her on the bed. She even turned up the covers slightly so I could crawl under, but I didn't. That would take too much time. I needed to be in her embrace immediately.

I laid on my side as she wrapped her arms around my chest. She laid her head atop mine softly and sighed.

'I'm so tired,' I uttered.

She simply stroked my hair.

'I love you, Tate,' she muttered after a while. Electricity shot through my body. I was for one, all-encompassing moment, alive again. She loved me. And I loved her.

Oh, I'm too tired / I'm so sick and tired / And I'm feeling very sick and ill today

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Okay, that's all, I guess. My brain won't allow me to write more for some reason. Let me know what you'd like more of and I'll do it. This has been fun so far.

[frost-the-ice-dragon]

Hi have a stupid animatic that I finished in one day because it wouldn’t let me sleep last night

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 3,736 Sam x Reader Summary: Dean stays behind while Sam and Y/N head to the local bar. Suprisingly, sparks fly and what starts seemingly as a drunken hook up could be more. Warnings: sexual content A/N: A little flirtatious banter, a little bit (maybe a lot) steamy, a little humor, a lot of cute and fluff... Trust me. You want to read this fic. Also, that second gif... *fans self*

Your name: submit What is this?

You looked over at Sam across the pool table, leaning a little on his cue, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. “Are you gonna go or just stare at the table all night?” you prompted, drawing what was clearly only a half-serious annoyed look.

“Will you just give me a minute?” he laughed. “I’m figuring out the angles! It’s a little hard to do mental geometry with you over there scoffing every 5 seconds!”

“Scoffing, huh?” You shook your head at him. “You know what?” You lined up a shot and knocked in two of your balls.

Sam’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Are you kidding me? It wasn’t your turn!” But he was laughing through his amazement at your gall.

You raised your eyebrows at him and leaned heavily on your cue, shrugging carelessly. “You were taking too long. And if I’m not mistaken, I just sunk two, so it’s my turn again!”

Sam shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “You’re a cheat,” he said. You grinned back at him.

“Alright, cheater. I’m gonna go get us some more drinks while you finish out your ill-gotten turn,” he said, giving you a last scolding look. You only returned a satisfied smile and began lining up your next shot. You didn’t see Sam pause on his way over to the bar to take another look at you over his shoulder. There was warmth on his face as he laughed to himself and signaled to the bartender. He returned in a couple minutes with two drinks and immediately let out a laugh when he saw the table was cleared except for his balls and the cue ball.

“Looks like you lost, Sam,” you said accepting a glass from him and wiggling your eyebrows.

“It looks that way, but did I actually lose if my opponent cheated me out of the game?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t shoot based on pure instinct like me,” you retorted, grinning at him and taking a deep drink of the whiskey in your glass. “If I had waited for you to take that shot, you’d probably still be standing there ‘doing geometry’,” you teased him.

Sam laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“Good,” you said, putting your pool cue away in the rack on the wall. “Because I usually like to finish a game faster than if I were playing my dead grandmother.”

Sam gave you another look and shook his head, but he too stashed his cue away on the wall rack. You grabbed a nearby stool at a high-top table and he came over to join you, sipping his drink. “This is good,” you said with a content sigh and a small smile still on your face. “I needed to blow off some steam after today.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes wandering over your face freely while you glanced around the bar. “Yeah. Same here. But I hope Dean isn’t too upset we went out without him…”

You laughed. “Who cares? We invited him. He’s the one who decided to stay at the hotel and pout.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s true,” he said, sipping his drink. “I just hope he doesn’t purposely try to be unpleasant when we get back…”

You snorted with laughter into your drink. “He can be unpleasant enough without trying,” you laughed also drawing laughter from Sam.

“Yeah… imagine growing up with him. Add some father issues and teenage hormones into the mix… Yikes.”

You smirked at Sam. “You mean to say that you don’t have father issues?” you teased him, your skepticism lifting one eyebrow.

Sam let out a loud laugh that lit up his whole face. “No, I don’t mean to imply that at all. I have father issues. I have hella father issues,” he laughed and you joined him, giving him a somewhat sympathetic look. “No point in trying to lie to you, Y/N, we all know it.”

You nodded and stared down into your drink. “Well, hey, um—same,” you laughed. You downed the rest of your drink and continued your evening with Sam full of laughter and also quite full of drinks. The time passed easily, swapping hunting stories and goofing around. And by the time the two of you left the bar to walk back to the motel only a few blocks away you were a little unsteady on your feet. In fact, you missed the small step coming outside and Sam put an arm out to catch you as you stumbled.

You pressed a hand to your face, which was red, and laughed at yourself. “Woops. I seem to be a little bit drunker than I expected,” you laughed.

“Shocking with the way you’re always bragging about how you can hold your liquor,” Sam teased you. His arm was still around you and there was a beat where you looked up into his hazel eyes and your lips parted slightly to speak, but you suddenly couldn’t get the words out. Sam’s eyes were just… wow. Both of you seemed to perceive the sudden tension in the air between you and Sam felt a tightness in his throat and slipped his arm from around you. You cleared your throat a little nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

What the hell was that? you wondered, your heart still racing in your chest. You’d never felt that before with Sam… Had you? You walked the short distance back to the hotel, managing to fall back into conversation easily but the mood seemed to changed again as you neared your room, which was only a few doors down from the one Sam and Dean were sharing. Sam hovered nearby to make sure you got in okay. You slipped the key into the lock and turned it, the clank of the deadbolt unlatching sounding loud in the quiet of the parking lot. You turned around to look at Sam and gave him a small smile. “Tonight was fun,” you said. His hands were crammed into his pockets, and you didn’t know it, but it was because he was suddenly inexplicably nervous. And he couldn’t stop looking at the color of your eyes, richer and deeper in the shadows of the inky night around you.

“Yeah, it really was. I should let you cheat at pool more often,” he joked, his heart leaping a little when you laughed.

“Or maybe we should piss Dean off more often?”

“I don’t think he needs any help with that,” Sam laughed again. “Well…”

“Well.” You didn’t know you were doing it, but you subconsciously were biting your bottom lip, and there was a wave of warmth slowly expanding in your chest, rising up like the tide.

Goddammit, Sam thought, and he just went for it. The tension between the two of you was unbearable and he couldn’t just let it fade again. Maybe it was just the booze… Probably it was just the booze, right? But he wrapped an arm around your lower back and his other hand slid into your hair, and he was suddenly pulling you in against him and kissing you with a heat and insistence that was overwhelming, and you were stunned but instantly kissing him back with the same fervor.

Suddenly he pulled back, out of breath, his eyes wide, searching your face, which was locked in an expression of stunned surprise, but with a disbelieving smile thrown in. “Wh—what was that?” you asked, your voice breathy.

Sam shook his head, his eyes still wide. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said, still holding you. “Oh God—” he said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re drunk,” he said guiltily. “I don’t want—I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry!” He started to release his hold on you and back away but you interrupted him.

“Shut up,” you said forcefully. “And kiss me again. And I swear to God, Sam, I am giving you permission to take advantage of me.” Sam gulped at your words. “I want you to take full advantage of me and if you don’t I will 100% take advantage of you,” you said, a smile growing on your face with each word.

Sam stared down at you still in his arms for another moment with wide eyes, disbelieving. “…Are you sure?”

You nodded. “God, yes.”

And that was it. Sam was kissing you feverishly again and you were sinking into him. He pressed against you and you backed up into your hotel room, Sam carelessly kicking the door hard to shut behind you. You suddenly felt his hands on your ass and laughed into the kiss as he picked you up so you were straddling him, your arms around his neck. You sighed as his lips moved from yours to your neck, one of his hands now splayed out on your back and wandering up to tangle his fingers in your hair. His lips found yours again and you gently bit his bottom one. Sam immediately deepened the kiss and the next moment you let out a gasp as you tumbled down onto the bed with Sam over you. You broke apart for a moment, both wearing matching grins, out of breath, hearts racing, searching the others eyes and seeing the same fiery desire. Sam bit his bottom lip and shook his head vaguely, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, which only widened your smile.

You pulled him in again to crash his lips into yours again, feeling his hands wandering over your curves and edges hungrily, and yours doing the same. You slipped one hand underneath his shirt and scratched your nails lightly down his back. The feeling of the powerful, tense muscles under his skin making your head feel suddenly fuzzy. Sam let out a sigh and his hand squeezed your hip. What happened next was a sizzling whirlwind. Suddenly you were both just skin on skin, gasps and moans of pleasure, your nails digging into his back, his shoulder. Sam planting kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot on your neck, hair rising with goose bumps and electricity. His fingers fitting between yours, palms squeezed together, hips moving in unison. Sam’s fingers tangling in your hair, tugging it just enough to turn your head so he could kiss your neck, drag his teeth lightly over your earlobe, the feeling of the rough stubble on his face exhilarating. You laughed and squealed as Sam pulled you on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips, his face overwhelmed with the feel of you, the sight of you. Another few minutes and he had you pinned below him again, his eyes locked with yours for a long moment before your lips met again in a passionate kiss. The waves of pleasure were building toward the top of the crescendo and you were overcome with sensations. Sam’s fingers interlaced with yours and he broke the kiss to look down at your expression as you reached the height of pleasure, gasping out his name and squeezing his hand tight in yours, completely overcome. Sam did the same, capturing you in another kiss as the waves white-capped and started to recede, his kiss growing softer, and soon you were both just heaving gasping breaths through unsure smiles.

He fell into bed beside you and let out a disbelieving laugh, looking over at you, his eyes flitting between yours. You could feel that your face and chest were flushed and you shyly smiled at him, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Sam’s fingers lightly brushed the strands of hair away from your eyes, studying your expression. You giggled and bit your bottom lip again, rolling over on your back to stare up at the ceiling. Sam watched your eyelashes flicker as your blinked.

“That was, umm… a little unexpected,” you said, turning to catch his eyes again.

His mouth fell slightly open and he mouthed wordlessly for a moment, which only brought another wide smile to your lips and a hot blush in your cheeks. “I didn’t—did that really just happen?” he laughed.

You nodded. “I’m pretty sure…”

Sam propped himself up on one elbow so he could study your face again and then clasped it gently and kissed you. It was soft but somehow still intense and you felt starry-eyed when he drew away. You could see every fleck of multifaceted color in his eyes and you were grateful to be laying down because it felt like everything suddenly shifted at that moment. You were dizzy from Sam.

“Can I just say… it’s weird how natural that felt?” he said. “I mean—nothing was awkward or… I don’t know.” A surprised smile was on his face and your heart skipped a beat.

“I was kind of thinking the same thing,” you said. Sam reached over and slipped his arm underneath you before pulling you close against him. You rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his strong chest. You could feel his heart still pounding like yours.

“I mean, honestly,” he said, “I’ve been dating people where our first time was waaaay more awkward.”

You laughed and pressed a hand over your face as you blushed again. “Same,” you agreed.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be hiding those blushes! I earned those!” Sam said, gently taking your hand and pulling it away from your face. He laced his fingers with yours again and his expression softened. “What are you thinking right now?” he asked you.

You chewed your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Mmm… I’m thinking ‘Thank God Dean didn’t come out tonight.’” You grinned up at him and he returned it.

“Me too.”

Not long after, both of you sunk in to one another, and after Sam captured you again in another soft kiss, you drifted off to sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Dean woke up fairly early, having gone to bed much before his usual time in frustration with the research he was attempting. He was surprised he didn’t wake up when Sam came back in but a glance over at Sam’s bed explained why. It was undisturbed. And the next moment Dean was on his feet in alarm, his mind immediately rushing to worst case scenarios. He checked his phone to see if Sam had left a message or sent a text with an explanation. Nothing. Dean quickly threw on some clothes and stepped out into the early morning light, pistol at his hip, making a beeline straight for your room to see if you knew where Sam was.

He faltered as he approached. Your room key was still in the lock, dangling down. Dean gulped. Something was seriously not right here… Adrenaline started to flow into Dean’s veins and he gulped at the tightness in his throat. He withdrew his pistol and carefully grasped the doorknob, testing it ever so slightly to see if it was unlocked. It was loose. He heaved a steadying breath, gritted his teeth, and burst in through the door.

The crash startled you and Sam awake and you let out a scream and instinctively reached for your knife on the bedside table. Sam had his gun up and aimed at the figure in the doorway, who was silhouetted by the morning light and thus difficult to make out clearly until his eyes adjusted. Sam was protectively shielding you behind him. When you saw who had just burst in you let out a string of expletives and in your attempts to duck beneath the sheet accidentally fell out of the bed.

Dean’s face contorted into shocked perplexity and he lowered his gun. “…Sam?”

“Uhh…” Sam’s eyes went round as he stared at his brother, now also lowering his gun. He turned his attention to you where you were on the floor by the far side of the bed, thankfully still wrapped in the sheet. “Are you alright?” Sam asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, looking up at him, feeling your face burn. You stayed put on the floor, hiding just below the edge of the bed.

Dean was watching the scene before him with his mouth hanging open in confusion and disbelief. “This is—this is Y/N’s room,” he said. He turned to look at the number on the door as if to confirm he hadn’t gotten the room wrong and burst into a random one that simply happened to have Sam in it.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked back at his brother. “Uhh… yep…”

Dean’s brow lowered heavily over his eyes. “Did you—“ he cleared his throat and asked in a near-whisper, “—did you bring a girl back to Y/N’s room???”

Sam’s lips tightened into a thin line. Dean was really not putting this together. Apparently in his mind you and Sam hooking up was not even the shadow of a possibility. Sam avoided his eyes and pulled the blanket up. “Dean—would you mind getting the hell out of here?”

“Oh—right. Yeah, but… umm… where’s Y/N? Did she hook up too?” he asked in surprise. Down on the floor your pressed an exasperated hand to your face.”

Sam nodded, his eyebrows lifting. “Mhm. You know, I think she did. So. If you don’t mind…”

Dean seemed to come back to his senses. “Heh—right. Sorry. I don’t normally burst into hotel rooms but your bed wasn’t slept in and I thought something bad had happened and—” he pulled the key out of the door and tossed it on the spare bed, “—then I saw the key in the door—Y’know, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m going,” he said, his face finally cracking into a boyish smirk. “Way to go, Sammy,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out and shut the door.

Sam let out an exasperated noise and fell back onto the pillow, one hand in his hair. He glanced over in your direction, but you were still apparently hiding on the floor. “Hey—Y/N?”

Your voice drifted up over the edge. “Yeah…”

Sam laughed a little to himself. “Are you okay?”

“…yeah.”

“Well, Dean’s gone. You can come back up here,” Sam said, a question in his voice.

“Umm… I know…”

Sam heard some uncertainty in your voice and he rolled over across your side of the bed to peer down at you. “What’s the matter?”

You chewed your bottom lip and shrugged. “I mean, that wake up call wasn’t great…”

Sam laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah… Listen, I had something much better in mind, so can we start over?”

Your eyes flitted up to his but still looked a little unsure.

“Please? I need you back up here though…”

You took in the pleading expression on his face and the soft, warm light in his eyes and you couldn’t resist. You slid back into bed beside him and Sam’s face immediately broke into a warm smile.

“Alright, now come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close just the way you had been before Dean burst in. Your heart was beating fast with nerves. “Now, close your eyes,” Sam said. You did as he asked and for a long moment he just studied your face and waited for you to sink in against him. Sam gently turned toward you and you felt his hand caress your cheek so lightly it was like a breeze, and then his lips met yours with a soft, sweet kiss. “Good morning,” he said. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest and your eyes shot open to look right into Sam’s. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face to match his. “Better?” he asked.

“So much better.” You had hardly finished answering when Sam captured you in another kiss, and this one you returned with fervor.

Sam’s eyes were flitting between yours when you broke apart and he relished the sight of the blush on your face. “Listen, if you don’t feel this way that’s okay but I want to put this out there. On my end,” Sam started, licking his lips because he was feeling suddenly nervous, “this did not feel at all like a ‘hook up’ regardless of how it may have started.”

You laughed through a wide smile. “You mean, you taking ‘full advantage of me’?”

Sam laughed. “You remember that, huh? Not gonna lie… that was super hot.” This only drew more laughter from you and increased the heat in your face and chest. “But really, I think I always wanted this, but I didn’t admit it to myself until it was already happening.” He rubbed a hand anxiously across the back of his neck. “If that makes any sense.”

You felt wildly happy in that moment and you grabbed him and pulled him into a passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around you immediately, his fingers lightly tracing over the bare skin on your back. “It makes perfect sense,” you said. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Sam’s face lit up with a huge smile.

“One thing,” you asked. “How exactly are we going to explain this to Dean?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. I really don’t care.” He leaned back down onto his pillow. “The only thing I can think about right now is carrying you into a hot shower and taking advantage of you again.” Sam’s eyes darted over to your face.

You were wearing a stunned expression, your eyes a little wide at his boldness. It made Sam laugh. But the next moment you were giving him a warm look that suggested you were entirely on board with that plan, and a moment later he was showering you with kisses.

[crimes-inc]

Whumptober Day 1

CW: blood, injury, death threats

2130 words (I really don’t know how it ended up this long, it’s 1:45 am on day 2 oh god)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming prompts or need certain things tw tagged!

All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go

Barbed Wire | Bound            

The sign on the self-storage entrance stated they closed at 10. Yet here he was at the exit at 9:47 rattling the padlock uselessly against the surrounding metal of the gate.      

Chase stubbornly, and perhaps desperately, gave it one last shake before turning away with a grimace. There’s no way they closed-up shop early with him still inside, right? He only had a few boxes to store away between moves and hadn’t been here that long, maybe half an hour. Hell, he signed a check-in sheet, wouldn’t they be responsible for making sure everyone had signed to check out as well?

The smart thing to do would be to give the owners a call, but Chase had decided to just leave his phone in his car to avoid losing track of it while he moved a few boxes back and forth between the unit and the parking lot. The “smart thing” wasn’t an option.

“Not exactly well-known for ‘smart things’ anyway.” he muttered to himself.

God, he could kick himself. If he ended up stuck here all night, then the morning wasn’t going to be too bright once his phone is blown up with missed messages. Stacy would be as pissed off as ever and just use the incident as another nail in his parental rights coffin, regardless of whether the kids were involved or not. Explaining his humiliating plight to Jackie or Schneep would just lead to two different well-meaning lectures on shit he already knew but can’t seem to get right. Maybe Marvin would laugh the whole thing off but the magician’s attitude towards danger and plain dumbass-ery seemed to change with the tide so there was no telling what he’d say.

Damn it, Chase, think! That’s later, focus on NOW. he chided himself.

He straightened his snapback hat and strode away from the padlock. Someone had to still be floating around, or maybe there was another exit he could use that would automatically lock behind him. After all, he figured the gate, fence, and locks were mostly there to keep people from getting in, not out.

He stole a glance at the high fence surrounding the lot, razor wire lining the bottom and three strings of wire leaning outwards towards the top. Yeah, definitely meant to keep people out. Still, that looked like a wickedly dangerous climb. He’d rather risk the sleepless night inside than getting torn to shreds to get out if he didn’t have to.

He straightened up and walked around the main office, also locked of course, but there was a security camera attached to the awning. Maybe if he…?

Chase jumped up and down waving up at the little white device. It was a long shot but maybe somebody was watching or could send someone his way at the very least. If not, well… if someone ever looked back at the tape, they’d get a little entertainment from the idiot hopping around on-screen. Not so different than his youtube channel if he was honest.

Chase checked his watch again: a crappy digital thing his daughter dug out of a box of Cheerios after he accidentally drowned his Apple Watch in the kitchen sink. “It’s glow-in-the-dark!” She’d declared to him with a proud grin. Chase gave a sad smile back at the face of Shrek strapped on his wrist. He hadn’t seen her face in weeks now.

He swiped at his eyes, recomposing himself. Hell of a time to get swept up in his broken family situation. It was nearly ten now, if there were any remaining workers around, he needed to find them quick.

“Hello?” he shouted, “Anyone still here? Kinda locked in…”

Chase made his way further into the maze of units, keeping his eyes peeled for an employee, caught between hope and hopelessness with each step he took.

Eventually, as he started closing in on the opposite end of the lot, he heard footsteps. He perked up and walked toward the sound.

“Hey, is someone there?” he called out. “Gate’s locked up front and I—”

The sound of the footsteps quickened its pace, and, wait, that sounds like a second pair but it was coming from…

Chase pivoted around in place just in time to see a man bring a pipe down on his head.

He came to in a daze, eyes fluttering open and closed, only vaguely aware of someone dragging his limp body along the pavement. He didn’t even remember falling, and his head was pounding heavily against his skull.

“—thought you said the place was cleared out!”

“Look,” the man gripping Chase said, “I saw closing shift take off, how was I supposed to know some idiot would still be wandering around?”

“Maybe the fucking remaining car in the parking lot would have tipped you off, Shane!”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? I only saw what the cameras were showing before shutting them off completely.”

A third voice joined in, “Shut up, that asshole was making too much noise as it is—let’s just hope he’s the only one around, we’ve pulled too many strings to turn back now.”

Chase felt himself get propped none-too-gently against the outer wall of a unit. He didn’t dare open his eyes. Whatever situation he’d stumbled into, he wasn’t in safe hands and any struggle he put up in his disoriented state would be a losing battle from the get-go. By the sound of things, these people had managed to break into a unit and were rummaging for goods.

The man knelt next to him again and held Chase’s arms together. The loud, sticky sound of duct tape rang out before Chase felt it be looped around his wrists a couple times. Once secure, he stood and turned away.

“Okay then,” the man—Shane—said in a more hushed tone, “the job’s not blown. But what do we do with him, Joseph? I don’t think he got a good look at me before I took him down. We might be able to set him loose once we clear out.”

“That’s a mighty big assumption.”

Chase tensed as the man named Joseph stepped closer to him. A hand was placed on his shoulder as he was shifted forward. He felt his wallet and car keys be slipped out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hm. No phone. Eh, we’ll check his car later. See if anyone knows he’s here.” The man mumbled to himself. No one spoke as the contents were searched through.

Chase’s mind was becoming frantic. This seemed beyond just petty theft. While he was glad he hadn’t let on that he was conscious for fear of immediate and violent action, he didn’t know how he’d get out of this without a clear look at his surroundings and his arms taped up.

“Chase Brody. Ugh. Family type, good god, there’s more fucking kid photos in here than cash.”

Joseph paused another moment, most likely pocketing whatever cash Chase had had on him before. Chase was doing his best not to so much as swallow.

“No cops, no witnesses.” He announced, “I’m not blowing this job because some motherfucking dumbass was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ll drive him out a few miles and get rid of him. Edith, drive his car over and we can just dump him there. See if the client will throw in a bonus for the trouble.”

As his car keys were tossed to the woman named Edith, Chase snapped his eyes open and kicked Joseph’s legs out from beneath him, causing him to stumble to the ground. Chase shot up as quickly as he could and sprinted away from the thieves. Blood was pounding in his ears. Shit, he didn’t know where to even go. The main gate was still locked, those assholes had probably managed to cut their way through the fence. That probably wasn’t an option for him since he didn’t know where it was or if there were more of them…

He heard cursing somewhere behind him, prompting him to go faster and take a turn down another row. He wasn’t getting out of here, he wasn’t getting out of here. It would only be a matter of time before they caught up to him and they might just kill him on the spot now that he’s proven himself a runner.

At least I managed to get a decent shin-kick in before I die. Chase thought.

He shook the grim thought away, no, he wasn’t dying here tonight and he wasn’t going to uselessly beg to be let go. He was getting out.

Chase began chewing at the frayed edge of the duct tape on his wrists, shimmying his hands the best he could. It was only a little bit of give, but he pumped his wrists sharply against his chest. It took a few tries but finally on the third try, the twisted duct tape broke free.

He peeled the grey adhesive away from his skin and made a sharp turn directly for the tall, barbed fence. He leapt up as high as he could, his right hand just barely missing a barb, and started maneuvering his way up.

“THERE!” a shout came from behind him. Too frightened to look back, he started climbing faster. While trying to be careful about his hands, the soles of his shoes seemed to keep getting snagged on the jagged metal forcing him to stop and kick himself free every few inches higher he seemed to get.

“I’m gonna cut him off on the other side—”

“Don’t bother, Shane, the fence will tear him to shreds before he reaches the top. He’s got nowhere to go.” Joseph said, “Grab his leg. Once he falls, hold onto him, and I’ll tear him into finer pieces.”

Chase kicked his foot free and started grabbing blindly higher. It was just blood, just a few punctures and cuts, he was going back home alive tonight. Scars, be damned. He could feel someone’s hand flail at the cuff of his jeans below him, urging him to climb faster, not daring to look down.

He reached the top. His hand reached the top of the bar to keep his balance, and he hoisted his legs up to stand on it precariously. The way the fence curved the three lines of razor wire outward was going to be tricky but he could—

The fence shuddered beneath him, as the man Joseph threw his weight against the chainlink below, Chase’s foot fell forward and he fell against the three wires bodily, barbs, piercing his shoulder and chest through his shirt. He let out a short scream, trying to free himself from it. The fence shook again as Chase picked himself slowly off the wires, flinging his left leg over to the other side, not quite reaching a foothold below him. His other leg grazed against the wire again, blood slowly cascading down his calf.

His left foot finally managed to find a resting point and he gripped the wire with his hand as he started to work his whole body over and down—the fence shook a third time. Both feet slid out from underneath Chase as his shoulder and hands caught all his weight against the wire, making a slick, sharp red line from the crook of his elbow to his shoulder, and his hands spilling blood through his grip. He released the wire and reached for a lower hold when his other hand let off too soon sending Chase to the ground below.

He landed hard on the ground, just outside the self-storage, one leg partially caught in the coil of barbed wire waiting at the bottom. His body screamed in agony, though Chase himself was breathless, the wind knocked out of him from the fall. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline and desperation taking over and ran. Whatever profanities and threats were being shouted behind him being drown out in the wind and the turmoil of fear echoing in Chase’s mind as he bled and ran away, away from his captors, his would-be murderers.

Eventually, the injuries began catching up to him, though it seemed the thieves had not. Shit, he was going to need a fuck-ton of stitches. What had started as minor abrasions had become horrible, open and freely-bleeding gashes. Hopefully the hit he’d taken to the head earlier would become nothing more than a goose egg.

The humiliating phone call to his friends about being locked in a self-storage was seeming like a great idea about now. Fortunately for Chase, an upcoming 24-hour convenience store was waiting for him just ahead, and inside, a man with a red hoodie and a slurpee was working the counter tonight.

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP TWO  - THE SOUNDBOOTH. FAILURE.

PLAYERS:

THE THESPIAN - Dominic Logan. THE SLACKER - Jamie Dyer. THE FALLEN ANGEL - Alice Alder.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

- JAMIE FELL 50 FEET FROM THE SOUNDBOOTH’S EMERGENCY EXIT AND BROKE HIS LEG.  - ALICE DIDN’T ELECTROCUTE HERSELF DESTROYING THE SOUNDBOARD. - THE GANG USED ALL THREE TRIES IN THEIR PUZZLE AND FAILED. THEY DID NOT FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEIR FRIEND.  - THEY WERE BLAMED FOR THE CANDY GIRL’S SHOW. THIS WILL COME BACK TO BITE IN-GAME.

Setting up for shows had never exactly been smooth-sailing, but with Mac missing for the last ten minutes things were slowing to a halt. Everyone seems frustrated - nobody seems to know where he’s gone… Except for a forgettable boardwalk worker who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. He says he watched Mac go up to the sound booth across from the Main Stage. Typical musician. Jamie better go drag him back before their set is supposed to start. @indyerneed​

 Plans between the twins shouldn’t have even really been called plans; plans had the unfortunate chance of falling through. No, when they said they were going to do something, it was set in stone - so when Libby isn’t anywhere to be found before the ribbon cutting ceremony…? Well, it’s certainly grounds to be worried, isn’t it? People are crowding into the area around the stage, but it’s only a moment before one of the Boardwalk workers taps Dominic on the shoulder. Apparently Libs found a better place to watch: from the sound booth across from the main stage. Damn her connections to the Hargroves, right? Oh well. Dominic better go find her before the show starts. @dominiclogan​

Alice, Alice, Alice. The Candy Girl’s fascination with the Fallen Angel of the group had rhyme and reason, but somehow it was still a mystery of it’s own. Did she really favor the girl, or did she just have plans for her? Did she want to avenge Alice, or torment her - just like Lux did before she died? Who knows. Either way, when the message came in, ‘I want to meet.’ How could anyone refuse? They picked a time and a place - 7:30pm in the sound booth across from the stage. Her special instructions? “Bring no one.” I guess she didn’t want anyone crashing the little party she had planned. @alicealder​

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your senior year of high school, and pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, in the Sound Booth that towered above the boardwalk, might not be so pleasant. It was only a week ago, after all, that they were all huddled into Harvey’s basement, playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it?

Still, the three of them made their polite, albeit stilted conversation. Jamie laments about being late for his set, and Dominic insists he has to go find Libby… Alice may or may not be wondering what the hell is going on! But the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking in the door behind them should be enough to stop all conversation. Jinkies, kiddos! Wonder what’s in store for you this time.

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEBODY RESPOND.

DOM: If it had seemed like they’d stumbled into a bad horror movie before, things were apparently only going downhill from here. As if having to make painfully stilted small talk with the two people in this god damn town that he did not want to be stuck anywhere with wasn’t bad enough already, the sound of the lock clicking behind them made his head whip around. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dominic muttered under his breath, heading straight to the door to try the handle -- because maybe, he was just finally going insane and hallucinating the worst case scenario.

THE NARRATOR: A clock in the corner of the room strikes 7:30pm just as Dominic tries the handle - truly, and surely locked - but it’s only the beginning of the panic. It’s time for the festivities to begin - whether they’re all there or not. 

Dean Hargrove steps  onto the Boardwalk’s stage that’s laid out below them; Lux’s parents entered only a moment after. It really would be a lovely place to watch the show… If the Candy Girl hadn’t had other plans for the gang that day. Hargrove hardly says Lux’s name - hardly gets into his plan to honor the girl with the ‘Lux Lewis Memorial Carousel’ before  he’s cut off by a voice they don’t quite recognize. A voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL:  “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?” THE NARRATOR:  At that moment, a sheet unfurls behind Dean Hargrove, and a projector that’s been crudely wired into the soundboard flips on. The image it casts is a shocking sight to the crowd - you might even be able to see a couple of them wince if you squinted hard enough - but to our little ragtag slice of the gang, the Cherry Bomb logo was all too recognizable. It was a blown up version of her latest issue, and - surprise, surprise! - Lux is once again the star.

What they weren’t expecting, though? The crime scene photos that the projector begins flipping through, one by one.

CANDY GIRL: “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. IT’S FULL OF FUN, NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN IMAGES OF LITTLE LUXIE’S DEMISE, AND A SPECIAL SURPRISE JUST FOR YOU: SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!” THE NARRATOR: It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb slides beneath the door, skidding to  a stop, right at their feet.

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Those same crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

 And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for the gang, of course!

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

YOU MUST STOP MY SHOW, AND YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK!  BUT LET TIME RUN OUT, AND THEY STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

DO YOU LIKE IT, FREAKS, DO YOU LIKE MY NOTE? I HOPE YOU DO, BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T! ALL OF CHERRY WILL FIND YOU UP THERE… 

AND ALL OF THE BLAME WILL BE YOURS TO SHARE.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, stop the show, and get out before someone can blame all of you for the horrific slideshow!

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT FIRST YOU MUST FIND THE KEY. YOU MUST ALSO STOP THE CANDY GIRL’S SHOW… THAT IS, UNLESS YOU THINK THE THREE OF YOU CAN GET OUT BEFORE SOMEBODY FINDS YOU UP HERE.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO STOP THE SLIDESHOW? OR DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GET OUT IN TIME?

THE NARRATOR: Is stopping the slideshow selfish, or noble? It’s not exactly up to me to decide - yet - but either way, with the hell that Cherry has been through lately - and Lux’s parents at that - the town probably deserves this one. 

The soundboard had clearly been tampered with long before they found the gang found their way in the soundbooth. There’s wires that have been ripped out and duct taped into new places - there’s a soldering iron off to the side that was still warm to the touch. Whoever did this must have worked quickly… and gotten out right before they arrived. Fucking creepy. It looks like there’s a few ways you can stop the show, though.

There’s always the route of champions - pulling wires until something goes dark. You could look for a power source - it all has to be plugged in somewhere, right? Or… you could just destroy the board.

MAKE A CHOICE:YOU MUST STOP THE SHOW. DO YOU START PULLING WIRES [LUCK], LOOK FOR A POWER SOURCE [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR DESTROY THE BOARD [FIGHTER]?

ALICE: It seemed like the most obvious solution, right? Pulling the wires could, like, electrocute them… right? Then it wouldn't matter if they were caught, because they'd be bacon! Searching for a power source? ...Too long. And they had to stop it some way! “Alright, that’s enough.” And with that… Alice went Wreck-It Ralph on the projector.

THE NARRATOR: It was a crude solution - that much is true - but hey! If it works, it works… And what else could you really expect from Alice? It takes a few minutes, but before long the board is sparking and the projector is stuttering to a halt. They can’t exactly figure out how to stop the music, but, somehow that seems like a lesser priority. 

Congratulations! You’ve stopped the show… but you've taken away an option that might have helped you out later. Woops.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? THERE HAS TO BE A KEY SOMEWHERE, SO HOW DO YOU FIND IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING THE ROOM APART? [LUCK]

JAMIE: Jamie gave Alice’s destruction a disparaging look before glancing at the other two. The question of ‘really?’ was dry and all in his eyebrows. He shook his head and started surveying the obvious surface before methodically moving to concealed space, looking for clues that might lead them to the key out of there. “No point in making any more of a mess here if we have to find a needle in a damn haystack.”

THE NARRATOR: Good thinking, Jamie. While he stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two raid the room for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers.

Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. GET THE BRIEFCASE OPEN TO FIND THE KEY.

DOM: This was absolutely ridiculous. Dominic was here to see his sister, not play god damn games. Speaking of which -- all that talk about someone being in a box and his sister decidedly not being here continued to ramp up his heart beat with every passing moment. “God damn it -- here,” he paused to lean over Jamie, fingers working quickly to put in the code: 2, 1, 3, 4.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

ALICE: You know, there were a lot of red flags popping up right now. The threat of a friend (yes?) dying (drowning, she took it? So much aquatic language!) was really just… overdoing it. “Let me try,” she sighed, pushing Dominic away from the briefcase and entering ‘3214.’

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

DOM: They were running out of time and stable nerves. They had to get out of here, they had to find that god damn key and figure out what the fuck was going on here. So, with a last effort, Dominic reached forward again, this time entering 3421.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. YOU'VE LOST ALL CHANCES OF SAVING YOUR FRIEND.

THE NARRATOR: The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the tiny room is almost ominous as it continues on in it’s effort; keeping a steady beat to their struggle. They’ve lost all hope of saving their friend, but they still have to get out, or they might be framed for the Candy Girl’s little show at the Ribbon Cutting ceremony.

At least they have a few options. They could always try to break down the door - it would take some might, but it’s possible. Maybe. Someone could always climb out of the window, and take the emergency ladder down - it would be easy to let their friends out from the outside! Just watch out. It’s a long fall down if you miss a step. 

Or, if they’re really desperate… They could always try to call for help.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM. DO YOU BREAK DOWN THE DOOR [STRENGTH], TAKE THE EMERGENCY EXIT [BRAVERY], OR CALL FOR HELP? [SURVIVOR]

JAMIE: Jamie stared at the stubborn suitcase only for a single beat, deciding that they were wasting a lot of time. “Yeah, okay. Plan B, I guess,” he said without fanfare, moving to the window and shucking it open. Really, it was the thought of Mac that compelled him sling his leg over the barrier. He wasn’t thinking about how much he wouldn’t have minded a long fall down or how the other two were were probably worth more noble deaths. “I’m gonna try and get around. Wouldn’t recommend looking out here if you don't hear from me in a bit.”

THE NARRATOR: Don’t look down. Don’t look down. It’s nearly fifty feet off of the ground - a single slip might mean a broken leg, but somehow they manage to keep their footing… That is, until they don’t anymore. It’s a split second of hesitation, but they slip, and down, down, down they go! They’re not dead - they know they’re not dead once they hit the ground. Their leg, on the other hand…? That's probably broken. Definitely broken.

-

Bruised, broken, and thoroughly played by the Candy Girl’s games, maybe this little ragtag slice of the gang wasn’t expecting a rescue… And a rescue didn’t exactly come either. They waited for nearly half an hour - Jamie outside, fifty feet down and trying to scream for help over the music. They were all convinced they would spend the night here - but when the door swings open, it isn’t anybody looking for them out of concern… It’s Dean Hargrove. And he wants to know what the hell is going on here. 

Maybe if they had been a little more cunning - maybe if they had made better choices - they might be able to talk him out of his accusations. They might be able to convince him that they weren’t responsible for the cruel show… But it’s no use. The Candy Girl set up the trap, and now they were going to be paying the price. So much for saving your friend.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU FAILED YOUR EVENT. YOUR FRIEND MAY MEET THEIR DEMISE.

[naturepointstheway]

Frozen - Domestic Assassin (Crack AU) Masterpost

This is a Masterpost of all the fanfiction I’d written (all on Tumblr) based in @ultranos’ Domestic Assassin crack AU which was hilarious for a fairly good-sized group of us! And from what I”ve seen in my notifications, people are still enjoying and finding fics of mine in this AU even to this day, which is great! 

I’ve basically dug into my previous fanfiction pages and pulled them out year by year, so because it’ll be way too much work to try and arrange everything by title, I just went by year. At least Tumblr keeps the links when I copy and paste. 

Since there are so many, you’ll find them under the cut. Enjoy! 

Pre-2016

Air Mattress Prompt  

An exhausted Anna returns home from a hot night with Kristoff only to accidentally make her sister fly off the air mattress when she flops down on it for a sleep.

“Am I supposed to be alarmed by the moon tonight?” prompt 

Elsa is so exhausted she gets confused between the sun and moon apparently.

“Can we please stop fighting and talk about the koala in your room?” 

Elsa adopted a koala, much to Anna’s exasperation.

“Can you pull this fake cobweb across the door?” Halloween prompt 

Anna wants to play a prank on Elsa...

Cell Block Sniper (M - violence and strong language)

Yes. Yes. It’s a crossover. A crossover between “Cell Block Tango” song from Chicago and this AU.

“Do you realise what this means?” “That you’re a really bad shot?” 

Elsa is NOT having the best of time trying to instruct a new trainee.

Domestic Assassin AU prompt: Hans’ POV (pre-reveal) 

Hans has a visit from Elsa when he dumps Anna. 

“Don’t touch that!” (Healthcare writing prompt, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa was bound to fall out of a tree at some point and end up in hospital. Anna takes care of her. 

Elsa and Weselton prompt 

Elsa refuses to let Weselton in the door.

Eyes That Glisten 

Anna knows how to persuade Elsa to do whatever she wants. 

“God you’re such a grumpy bags in the morning aren’t you?” 

Elsa is not a happy camper after a long night where everything just goes wrong. “Holy shit. Most realistic Dementor costume ever.” Halloween prompt 

Turns out, Elsa just looks like that most of the time.

“I can’t help being a geek about my vital signs!” prompt (Elsarik) 

A crossover between another AU (Shardsverse) 

“I don’t think I should tell you what we’re dressed as.” (Halloween Prompt) 

Somebody think of the children! 

“I dropped my cookie :’(” 

Elsa cries when she drops her cookie. 

“I feel like a T-Rex” 

Anna is too lazy to just grab the goddamn stepladder and get the jam herself.

“I wish I could drive you out of my life with a sword!” (Hans and Anna, prompt) 

Anna is NOT a fan of Hans...

“Maybe you should go as an assassin. Oh wait, you already are one.” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is a sarcastic little sister to Elsa.

“No one unfollows like Gaston!” 

Anna overhears Gaston boasting about how he unfollowed someone because of a disability. She is not happy.

Ruined Dinner Party

After an hour of waiting for her sister to come to the party, Anna finally spots her with “ketchup” all over her top. 

Part 2 of “Ruined Dinner Party”

Of course it wasn’t ketchup. Duh. Anna is NOT HAPPY.

Sleepyhead (drabble, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa, going to the kitchen for midnight munchies, spots Anna sprawled on a couch, textbooks all around her. 

“So. Many. Triangles. Help me here!” 

Anna, not being a maths-y person, gets frustrated with geometry, and Elsa offers to help. 

“So you’re going as yourself for Halloween.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa is not keen on dressing up as Halloween.

“Tell our parents my Tumblr URL and I swear I will make your death look like an accident” prompt. 

Elsa practically threatens Anna when the latter demands to explain her Tumblr URL (of course she quickly forgives her little sis.) 

“That mask is all kinds of creepy. I like it.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa practically shits herself when Anna scares her while wearing a terrifying mask. 

Things you said at 4am prompt 

Anna gets a call at 4am on her phone from Elsa, who accidentally sniped the wrong guy..

Those Poor Birds 

Elsa mistakes a pair of birds’ mating antics as fighting, much to Anna’s amusement.

“Wait, you’re yelling at a movie?” (Snow Sisters, writing prompt) 

Elsa is very confused to find that Anna’s yelling from the lounge is at a movie. Not at an invader.

“Was it really necessary to shoot my pumpkin carving?” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is NOT happy when Elsa decides to use her pumpkin carving for shooting practice.

“What do you mean it’s a sunset…?” prompt 

Elsa wakes up only to find that it’s already after sunset, not sunrise.

“What the hell? You gave out alcoholic chocolate to trick-or-treating kids?!” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna discovers that her German chocolates had been opened by Elsa, who’d handed them out to kids. 

“Where did you leave the spare copy of that book?” (Elsarik DA!verse, prompt) 

Crossing over with another writer’s AU with her OC, Alarik. Elsa can’t find that one specific book she needs, and she’s sure Alarik has it. 

“You once asked me what I’d do if I had only one day left.” prompt 

Anna will most definitely NOT be spending that final day of her life with Hans.

“You did what?!” prompt (Elsa and Kristoff) 

Elsa does not appreciate Kristoff’s concern over her having WAY too many cats for one house.

“You mean a line segment.” prompt 

Elsa is a huge geometry nerd, even waiting in line for takeaways.

“You should go as an assassin. Oh wait. You already are one.” prompt 

Another one where Anna suggests Elsa goes as an assassin for Halloween, only to be all “oh wait, you are one.” 

2016

Accidental shooting

Elsa accidentally shoots someone she did not mean to shoot in a library’s basement. 

Amuse Me

Elsa’s having one of those blah days and Anna’s there with bad puns all ready to go.

“Bittersweet and Strange” (not based on a prompt)

Elsa explains exactly how she likes her coffee to Anna. Turns out Elsa is also a huge fan of marmite. 

“Can’t I at least take this baby koala home?”

Anna, no, you cannot take a koala home from Australia, no matter how cute it is.

Cat Gallery (not based on a prompt)

Kristoff discovers Elsa’s huge photo album of her cats. 

“Did you lose your main point…”

Anna hears something about money and bills and wait what now.

“Do nurses ever fall asleep on the night shift?”

Anna visits Elsa in hospital and inevitably someone has to wonder this. Elsa’s adorbs when she’s pouty and Anna can’t help but annoy her on this count.

Fight Me

One sister challenges another to a fun boxing game. 

“How did you get these bruises?”

A crossover with another writer’s canon OC, Alarik (”Elsarik”) where he asks how she got some bruises while on the job. 

“How many cats are in bed with you?”

Anna marvels that there are nine cats in bed with Elsa. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have the whole packet at once.”

Do not eat a whole bag of coffee. Do not.

I Have Found My People (not based on a prompt)

Elsa has discovered that certain Scandinavian countries drink the most coffee in the world and wants to migrate there right now.

“I know you don’t want this but it’s for your own good…”

Kristoff is rightly concerned when he finds that Elsa had thirty cups of coffee in 48 hours. Do not do this at home.

“I, uh, kinda dropped it in the water.”

Elsa calls Anna to tell her there’s an emergency: she dropped her wallet in the sea and all the fish now have her personal information. 

“I want a Venusian day…”

Elsa tries to explain to Anna why she would not want to live on Venus. Anna doesn’t give a fuck. More hours in the day what’s not to love about that?

Of Cat’s Paws and Adopting Stellar Systems (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is enthralled by a photo of the Cat’s Paw Nebula she has found on the laptop. 

Of Monkeying Around and Going Ape (not based on a prompt)

Anna comes home to discover that Elsa has adopted a monkey that had been neglected by its owner. Even Anna is almost (I said, ALMOST) tempted to keep the monkey but her common sense reigns. 

“Oh so you were in my bed this whole time?” (nsfw)

Dontcha hate when you’re in the middle of coitus and your goddamn cat has to interrupt you? (Elsarik, with another Frozen writer’s (@patricia-von-arandel) OC for Elsa)

“Once we start tickling, we can’t stop!” (nsfw)

Another steamy one with an old abandoned OC of mine (Jannike), where they find themselves having a quickie while the boss is away. 

Rubbish Day (not based on a prompt)

Anna is horrified to find a rubbish bag gone and trails of what suspiciously looks like blood leading outside. Turns out some meat thrown in there leaked inside.

“The best way to get rid of your ex…”

Anna didn’t think that Hans Westerguard would ever end up on Elsa’s targets to “take care of”. Until he does.

The One Time Elsa Caught Anna “Studying” (not based on a prompt)

Anna uses the mirror in the bathroom to practice distinguishing teeth for a medical exam. Elsa suggests alternatives. 

“What is this owl doing in our bathroom?”

Of course Elsa would adopt an owl and want to keep it in the bathroom. Of course.

“Who dances in the rain anyway?”

Elsa comes home to discover Anna dancing in the rain. 

“Why is there an otter in our kitchen?”

Anna comes home to find that Elsa has “adopted” an otter from a “client”. As you do.

“Why would you wish to be at a backpackers?”

Elsa and Alarik (Shards AU, Elsarik) decide to stay at a backpackers together for some private time. 

“Yes, yes the cold doesn’t bother you…”

Anna is not impressed with Elsa standing in the snow when she has a major cold.

2017

The Blood of White Men (not based on a prompt)

As Elsa’s favourite song goes, he had it comin’ all along. 

Is the Earth Broken? (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is confused about why the day she thought it was today...actually isn’t. She convinces herself the Earth has somehow broked. 

“It won’t be high tide you said…”

Elsa needs to learn that reading yesterday’s newspaper’s high tide times is not helpful. 

Kittens on Saturn (not based on a prompt)

Elsa hopes there’s actual giant kittens on Saturn after seeing a graphic manipulation on an astronomy news site.

Of Singing Humpback Whales and Rock Trolls

Kristoff visits Elsa in hospital while Anna’s busy with other things. It...does not go as expected. Poor Kristoff. 

“Proboscis Monkeys look ridiculous…”

Anna’s exasperation at Elsa rescuing a Proboscis monkey is still not so great that she can’t help but wonder what would happen if you honked their nose. Anna NO. 

“She’s going to kill you.”

Kristoff knows his days are numbered when he spills carrot juice all over Elsa’s brand new rifle. Uh oh.

“There’s a perfectly good reason for all these kittens.”

Turns out Elsa decided to adopt some kittens left on the side of the road when they’re already over-run with cats.

“This is extreme, even for you.”

Elsa is so addicted to her coffee she’s begun pouring them into wine bottles, as you do.

2018

Elsa brings home a parrot 

Anna discovers that Elsa has “rescued” a very large, very loud parrot from one of her, ahem, “clients”.

Elsa’s Back Up Cat, Mushu 

Anna discovers one of the cats apparently reading a book, and much to her consternation, Elsa explains he’s for back up.

“Oh what a circus!” photo prompt 

Anna takes her still-bewildered-after-five-coffees sister to the circus. This may or may not turn out to be a great idea.

[peachyteabuck]

loving him was red

summary: you’ve never had sex on your period, but when you find yourself heated during aunt flow’s visit while at an event with steve, the perfect opportunity arises for you to try it out.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

words:  2381

trigger warnings: menstruation mention, some graphic descriptions of blood, smut (oral, fingering, vaginal sex), lots of swearing, the lords name in vain a few times

notes/other: HI PLS READ THIS ESP IF YOU NORMALLY DO NOT i based this p heavily on my own experiences with menstruation + other accounts i’ve heard. it is very important to remember that there is never one singular way to experience a period NOR is there a WRONG way!! all ppl who have periods are individuals with intersecting health/economic/work statuses. this has been ur daily menstrual health psa from lukis peachyteabuck.tumblr.com

ask box / masterlist / faq / ko-fi

Pro: you currently look fine as fuck, and are on a date to some Very Important Thing with Captain freaking America.

Con: He’s horny (because you look so hot) and won’t leave you alone about it.

Pro: He’s horny (because you look so hot), and you’re horny (because he looks so hot).

Con: You’re currently on your period. Not only that, but the heaviest day of it is today, meaning your current tampon is acting as a floodgate to the Red Sea. Aunt Flow. Blood Moon. Red Scare. Hellstorm. Bitch in Red. Crimson Tide. Shark Week.

You get the picture.

When he thinks no one’s looking, Steve slides his hands down to your ass. You tense and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Babe, stop,” you hiss through your teeth, but you don’t sound very convincing. A waiter comes by with glasses of champagne and you grab two. You’re gonna need them to get through the next few hours, both because the...whatever you’re at is boring as hell and because all you want to do is jump your boyfriend’s bones.

“Why?” Steve says lowly into your ear. You take another sip of champagne, trying to quell the desire in your stomach. “You look so hot, your tits and ass look so good. Can’t wait to get home and give you all the bruises you want. Can’t wait to make you cum under me. Just wanna fuck you until you can’t remember you own name, until you’re begging me to stop.”

You grab the table in front of you and moan, other patrons be damned.

“Babe,” you whimper. “Stop, seriously.”

He laughs a little. “What? Can’t take the heat, should’ve expected this. In that dress? You know, I can’t tell what’s hotter, you in or you wi-”

You take a large drink from one of the glasses and turn to face him. You use your babysitting voice, the one you use with Peter when he pulls some dumb shit and no one has the courage to shame him. Damn Tony, doesn’t want to grow a spine and discipline Peter for fear of making him hate the man. “Steven Grant Rogers, I am on my period, and unless you want to beat your meat on the couch tonight, I’d recommend you cut it out.”

He’s stunned, a little. You snapping at him is extremely uncommon, you’re normally a total sweetheart with him (Who wouldn’t be?). Steve’s mouth hangs open a little as you turn back to face the crowd.

You engage with the rest of the Avengers who came - Sam, Tony, Pepper, and a few other people who you’d been wanting to talk to. A designer, some singers, a movie producer. You have lively conversations and Steve’s hand stays safely above your waist the whole time.

This time, it feels awkward. Not...sexual, like usual.

Now it’s just supportive, a way to tell you know he’s there. That’s it.

You feel bad, so bad. He was just telling you how attracted he was to you and you literally snapped at him like he was a petulant child! God, what’s wrong with you? Why were you so angry out of nowhere!

Oh, you’re in your period.

Right.

Once you’re too tired to stand in your heels, Steve moves you into the limo that’ll take you back to Stark tower. He holds your hand the entire way back, even carries your heels for you once you make it through the entrance.

He’s so amazing. And sweet. And kind. You want him to rearrange your guts.

You’ve been together long enough that he knows the minute you get into your shared apartment you want your dress unzipped so you can hunch over a take a deep breath. He guesses (correctly) that you need it undone even more so now that you’re bloated. When comes behind you to grab at it, you sigh.

“I’m so sorry for losing my self control earlier this evening...it’s just…”

You turn around, facing him. He looks so sad and you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. Or stepped on a flower. Or thrown a fire blanket over the sun. Or slammed a baby’s hand in a car door.

In short, you’re a horrible person and all you want to do right now is cry dramatically surrounded by roses and candles. Or maybe while you stress eat banana bread.

“I’m so fucking horny when I’m on my period, and I’ve always just...I know guys find it so gross and frankly, I guess I unders-”

Steve tilts your chin up with his knuckles. It’s a sweet gesture, grounding. You stop talking, enchanted by his beautiful eyes. “I don’t find it gross at all.”

You gulp, remaining silent as he spoke. What?

“Let me fuck you, please. I find you so beautiful, and a natural and healthy body function isn’t going to change that.” The dress slips down your body and he first kisses down your chest, then your stomach, then lands on his knees right in front of your pussy. The dress, with its deep, wide neckline didn’t allow for a bra, so he skips right down to your panties. Menstruating had made your lips extra sensitive, so you told your stylist specifically to give you a simply black cotton panty.

Steve, someone who has seen you in much fancier, much more expensive, and/or much sexier lingerie, doesn’t seem to mind. He still pulls them down with his teeth, and massages your inner thighs. You want to look away so badly, so worried about what he’ll say when he finds the string of your tampon, or if he sees your more pronounced belly due to bloating.

When the panties hit the floor, you want to scream. Why is he doing this? Why does he find you sexy?

“Okay,” you finally get out. You immediately regret your response. Okay!? What was he asking you, what he was getting for dinner? You could at least say please!

You try to breathe, to calm down. But you can’t. You absolutely cannot calm the fuck down.

“Open your legs a little for me, babe,” he whispers. It’s low, calm. The kind of voice you’d use if you’re trying to pet a stray cat on the street. He’s trying to get your heart to stop racing, for your palms stop sweating.

You follow his orders, opening your knees a little bit, attempting to relax your muscles in the process. He coaxes the tampon string down from where you tucked it in, pulling it out slowly.

When he pulls it away, it’s a deep, ugly brown. Not earthy, or some deep coffee-like brown, or a beautiful oak in a desk at Ikea.

It’s gross. Just plain gross.

You wince a little at the sight, and he tosses it into the trash can under your desk.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” he inches his strong hands back up your legs, digging a little into the sore muscles.

Right before they can ghost your clit, you sigh.

“Wait,” you say. Steve hands stop and you close your eyes.

You can’t look at him, you’re so embarrassed.

But you want to do this, and you want to feel good while it happens. “Lean me against a wall, it feels better on my lower back if I have something to lean against...also I’m really sensitive right now, so going slow would be appreciated.”

Steve nods, standing up and pressing you into the closest wall. “Anything else, darling?”

He’s eye-level with you now, and fuck you love him so much.

You shake your head. “No...just, thank you...for this.”

He descends again and smiles. “Anything for you, my love.”

First he circles a thumb around your clit, inserting some of his middle finger into you. It feels so good, especially since you haven’t gotten off at all this week.

You blame it on being too busy, but you know why.

It’s never something you could understand, why you were always so ashamed of being on your period. Maybe it was societal influence, maybe it was because once a kid pulled a tampon out of your purse in high school and called you a she-demon, maybe it was because once your period started while having sex with your most recent ex-boyfriend and he called you a nasty bitch and then broke up with you...while you were both still naked.

Whatever it was, you knew three things:

One, you have the best boyfriend in the world.

Nope, scratch that, the universe.

Two, your boyfriend cares for you a lot and wants you to be happy.

Three, whatever he’s doing is incredibly erotic and you love it.

It’s absolute ecstasy, the way he pumps his fingers in and out of you in rhythm with circles around your clit. You knead your breasts and moan lewdly, and it only drives Steve to work harder.

When you cum, you cum hard. He fucks you through it with his fingers, smiling at the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “That was so good.”

He chuckles. “Glad I could be of service.”

You laugh a little, running your hands through his hair. It’s thick, golden, warm. He’s like the sun.

You bite your lip, preparing to speak.

But he does so before you can. “Want to go to the bed?”

It’s sounds like such an innocent question, but you know better.

You nod, letting out a deep exhale. “Just be warned, changing my center of gravity is gonna...it’s gonna be weird...”

Steve laughs a little again. “Babe, I know what I’m getting into.”

He then picks you up and carries you to the bed. The second he lays you down, you start to feel that familiar feeling you can only describe as a stomach ache, but if it was also a waterfall.

The second you start to look how you feel, Steve becomes concerned.

“You okay?” he asks, eyeing you up and down to look for injury.

You squeeze your eyes together. “Yeah...just feeling weird.”

Steve laughs a little. His hands were stained with your blood, and since he had picked you up, smudged handprints riddled your body. You thought you might be disgusted, or he might be disgusted.

But it was beautiful, art. A painting made with you, by Steve, on you.

A masterpiece.

Steve seems to have the same thought. “Should draw this and sell it to that damned museum we were just at...hang it up for all the world to see just how beautiful you are…”

You think Steve is about to just fuck you, and you’re totally okay with that.

Not expecting to get fucked and then getting fucked is a wonderful surprise, one you welcome.

But then he kisses down your navel again, and lightly licks and nips at your clit.

The minitrations illicit loud and broken moans out of you. Your fingers fly to the back of his head, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His blood-stained hands hold you hips up, keeping them from bucking. It’s good, it’s so good.

He removes one, and begins to fuck his fingers in and out you. It’s good, your clit in his mouth, his fingers in your cunt.

You cum with a cry. If the first time made you see stars, this time you’re able to identify the Big Dipper. Before the orgasm was surprising, almost juvenile. It reminded you of getting fingered on the bleachers, or in a bathroom.

This one makes you feel like an adult. An actual, real life adult woman with actual, real life adult woman desires.

“Fuck,” is all you can muster.

Steve crawls up to you, resting part of his body on your chest, which is still heaving. He places a hand on your hip, his thumb rubbing supportively.

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he says, smiling. God, you want to hit him.

Not in a sexual way, though. Not right now, at least.

You groan a little at his gloating. He looks like a cheshire cat. “Shut up and fuck me, you insolent bastard.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says before positioning himself at your entrance.

Despite his sarcastic nature, he watches you for any sign of discomfort while he slowly enters you. It’s sweet, and sickeningly slow.

You moan, wrapping your legs around his waist to give him a better angle. This is exactly what you needed to make you feel less shitty, some good ole fuckin’ with your exceptionally attractive boyfriend.

By the end, you two are a moaning mess. You finish again, your hand on your clit and Steve kissing your neck. This time, the crystal clear pleasure is gone, and you feel like a giant fuzzy cloud of “holy fucking Jesus H Christ that was amazing.”

While your pussy pulses around him, Steve cums inside you. When he pulls out and collapses next to you, you’re finally clear-headed enough to take in the scene around you.

It looks like you should section off the bed with caution tape. Steve’s dick, hands, and face are absolutely covered in blood, as is the bed.

That’s when it hits you. White sheets. Deep red and brown clumps of your uterine lining. An absolutely perfect but sometimes forgetful boyfriend.

“Steve, babe?” you question, attempting to pry him away from the edge of sleep.

“Mmmrf,” is all he says, face down, head resting between your breasts.

“Did you forget to pull a towel down before we fucked?”

He lifts his head, smile sated. “Maybe.”

You sigh, and let his head fall back down. Finding a way to non-suspiciously change your blood sheets is a problem for tomorrow-you. Right-now-you just wants to run your fingers through Steve’s hair, his light snores filling your room and giving you something to fall asleep to.

“You know I’m gonna make you do this next time, too, right?” You ask, suddenly just as tired as Steve looks.

He nods a little, then turns his head so you can hear him. He kisses your breast before he speaks. “Of course, baby. Would do anything for you, especially when it comes you makin’ love to ya.”

You smile. “Good. Because after that, there’s no way I’m ever letting you go.”

Steve chuckles. “Ditto, babe.”

[goodnightbuckybarnes]

Tenebris: Chapter Two

Back at it again with the fic that nobody asked for. The saga continues, ladies and dudes, and a familiar face appears.

Trigger Warnings: Bullying, mention of injury, mental health (kind of)

Tag List: 

@shuris-sneakers

Want to be added? Let me know!

When I look back on the two years that followed the attacks, I cannot deny how good life seemed, in spite of everything. New York City was in ruins, my skin was torn to ribbon like broken glass, and the world seemed irrefutably vulnerable. And yet… I had made a friend, though my feelings for Charlotte Osbourne quickly grew into more than just friendship. And when we started high school, at a selective place called Midtown School of Science and Technology, we made another friend. A shy, bookish kid named Peter Parker, who seemed to have the knowledge of the universe behind his eyes. He too knew his hardships, his parents had been killed in a plane crash. But he was always happy, and the three of us became inseparable, completely, and utterly. We faced the world and what it threw at us, and together we stayed. Even as the tides shifted around us and the world started to fall apart once more.

                                                               ~

“You need to stop sticking up for me.” Peter’s voice was weary as he spoke, annoyed more than anything as he leaned in closer to inspect my face. I was bleeding, though that that wasn't important. The red rivulets trickling down my face didn't bother me so much as the cold of the frigid water with which Peter tried to clean the wound with.

“I’d be damned if I didn’t. You’re too nice, Peter. Someone had to stick up for you if you don’t yourself..” I replied, face wrinkling slightly as water trickled into my eye. “Flash Thompson's an ass, I can’t just let him say stuff like that.”

“You got hurt.”

“It's nothing.” I grimaced, although the small gash above my left eye stung like hell.

“It’s not nothing, it’ll probably scar. I can take a few insults if it means you don’t get hurt.” Peter muttered.

I only sighed.

It had been the end of the day at school and I, as was routine, had met Charlotte and Peter at Peter’s locker. Then came Flash Thompson, a kid who was more jealous of Peter than anything. Not too much can be said about him, only that his god complex was stellar, and the pedestal everyone put him on didn't help, either. Looking back, perhaps I had been a bit impulsive. It wasn't like Flash had singled Peter out, he was an asshole to everyone, but today, the stars had aligned, and when Flash Thompson shouldered through my friend like he wasn't even there, I was ready for a brawl. I called him a name. He turned to look at me. Peter said it was no big deal. I said otherwise. I walked up to him, belligerent and very, very pissed off. I shoved him, lightly. He saw red. He shoved me back. Harder. I stumbled back, tripping  over something. I fell against an open locker, the sharp metal edge of the door cutting above my eyebrow as I grasped for something to hold on to. We had scattered before any adult authority could discipline us, but I already dreaded going to school tomorrow. Word travels fast around Midtown Tech.

“It's not nothing.” Peter sighed.

“Yeah, you know,” I mumbled. “Maybe I'll get detention. Or suspension. But it's worth it.”           

“At least a call to the principal’s office.”

“You think that scares me? The principal hates Flash, he’ll probably let me off with a warning. He thinks I’m a good kid because I hang around with you.”  

“You've at least made an enemy of the top tiers of the social pyramid.”

I laughed. “You think I give a shit?”

“Do you ever?”

“Not externally, at least. Look, worst case scenario, I get a soda dumped on me at lunch. But like I always say, it’s just-”

I felt a slight tapping on my hand, and I turned to see Charlotte Osbourne standing next to me, hardly squeezing in with Peter and I in his small apartment bathroom.

“Are… are we still on for homework tonight? Because… because I need to be home by six.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Lately, Charlotte had been a shell. Charlotte Osbourne, my Charlotte Osbourne, who used to be sharp-witted and funny, who used to never be afraid to ask you what your greatest dreams and most fantastic hopes were. Something had happened over the last couple months. Peter and I couldn’t get a word out of her, and she insisted she was fine, but now, her eyes were duller. Words sparser. Posture more hunched. I didn't have any idea of what was wrong, she always used to tell me everything. I had a vague suspicions that this had something to do with her father- I wouldn't put it past Norman Osbourne to be the cause of something like this. He was a shit father and Charlotte often made that known to Peter and I. My macabre hypothesis had been given much more substance upon the installment Charlotte’s sudden curfew, and the revocation of Peter and I’s ability to go to Osbourne’s home, a penthouse above his business in Oscorp Tower. It broke my heart, to see her this way, and I could tell it hurt Peter just as much, but her adamancy towards revealing her troubles forced us to pretend like nothing was wrong, as best as we could, anyway, but pity and sadness  still tinted our words and glances towards her.

“‘Course.” I said softly. Peter and I exchanged a glance, a few seconds of eye contact that conveyed much. The cold of the bathroom tile seeped through my mismatched socks as I slid off the counter, walking out of the bathroom.

“I mean, it's four right now, so we should probably get started.” I agreed. At some point, Charlotte’s hand brushed against mine. I shivered; her hands were freezing, as if her blood was unmoving in her veins. She used to smell like summer aid and light after rain. Now she smelled like rubbing alcohol and something more sinister. I tried to not let my concern show.

“So, mister four-point-oh GPA,” I asked, throwing my backpack onto his bed, laying across it and looking over to where he sat at his desk, which was choked with bits and pieces of machinery. “Care to explain algebraic proofs to me?”

“What, did you fall asleep in math again?” Peter teased as he pulled out his laptop.

“Parker, that was one time.” My cheeks pinked slightly as I laughed. “Besides, you know I suck at math.”

“Yeah, you do.” He agreed with a grin. I threw my pen at him. He stood and sat next to me, the bed groaning under our combined weight. The banter like that continued, though it was only between Peter and I punctuated often by a slightly hollow laughter. Time seemed to fly away.

At about a quarter till six, Charlotte slowly picked up her bag and rose from her spot on the floor.

“I… I should probably get going.” She murmured to us, face muted, although her voice was slightly nervous. She always seemed on edge when she went home.

“Okay.” I tried to make my tone as gentle as I could, rising with her. “Do you want us to walk you home?”

She shook her head.

“Are you su-”

“No, thank you. I'll be fine on my own.” She cut me off firmly, turning away from the both of us

I hugged her goodbye before she left, holding her close as I shivered slightly in the winter air that seemed to leak through the building’s thin walls. Through a window at the end of the hall, the sun set over the buildings, and the city glowed.

“You know, you can tell me anything.” I whispered in her ear.

“I know.” She whispered back, resting her chin on my shoulder. I held her until she let go. I noticed that it was a while, and that her arms were wrapped unusually tightly around my neck. I leaned in the doorframe, after she had gone, looking at Peter.

“Christ, Pete. I'm just so worried about her.” I sighed, my fingertips pressed lightly into my face as I took a moment to try to collect myself.

“Me too.” He murmured, arms crossed over his chest.

“And I feel like a horrible person for not doing anything about it. God damn, have you seen her? Something's so wrong, and when she can't even confide in us, I… I…” I shook my head. “And you know how I feel about her, and that makes it hurt even more.” I trailed back, tilting my head up, as if the peeled paint of the top of the door frame held the secrets to our problems.

         “Astor, hey, just slow down for a second. I know how you feel, and I feel the same way. And maybe… maybe it's time we do go to someone. Maybe we can get someone to help her in ways we can't. And then, she can get back to how she used to be, yeah? And you can ask her out on that date.” He smiled bittersweetly. “But it's going to be fine. I promise.”

I rolled his words around slowly in my head, letting them sink in, letting them comfort me.

I sighed, meeting his eyes. “Damn. You're always right. What've you got third period? I've got heath. No, wait, you have art. Meet me at the counselor’s office then. We can talk about Charlotte with her.”

“Done deal.” He ran a hand through his hair. I nodded slightly, closing the door behind me, retreating back to the inside of the apartment. I wondered if Charlotte was still out on the streets. Alone, in the cold. It hurt my head to think thoughts like that, and I forced myself to stop. And yet, that image still stuck with me, a carmel-haired girl all alone in the big city, walking towards the place she called home but that, in reality, was sucking the life out of her. Charlotte lingered in the very corners of my thoughts, on the backs of my eyelids, haunting me.

                                                        ~

That night, after hours more of homework and a takeout pizza dinner, when I was back in my own apartment, I lay awake as I usually did. I was just thinking, and the sounds of the city, sirens and traffic and voices, acted as a kind of anti-lullaby. I’d never quite gotten used to the sound of the city at night.  Peter had said that everything was going to be fine, and I wanted to believe him, but there was a voice in the back of my head that said otherwise. And something told me, something goddamn told me, that the voice that whispered of disasters to come was telling the prophetic truth.

[anxious-band-pan]

A list of random crackheadery from high school cause I low key miss it

“I’m gonna yeet myself into the afterlife”

“I’m gonna rotisserie cook your future children and eat them”

“KARMA’S A B*TCH!” Yelled while playing a game of uno in homeroom very loudly

a kid walked around our lunchroom with a fake blue bird pinned in his hair which was life size and honestly the weirdest part of lunch

“What should i put on my shirt for (x club)? It’s between uwu, Space Boi uwu, and rawr XD. My goal is to be as cringey as possible.”

*crying* “Well you just threw off my groove and i-“

(To the tune of G-6) “I’m a dumb bish, I’m a dumb bish”

“(X name)! How far would you have been if i didn’t stop you to tell you you’re a thot”. “Probably yeeted off a bridge by now”

“He just looks like a sad pigeon with a boss hat”

(To the tune of celebrate good times) “end my suffering, come on!”

“My hands are white!” “YOU’RE WHITE!”

“I’m a firm believer in don’t judge something unless you try it, unless it’s illegal or drugs; don’t do drugs kids”

“.....but not all dogs can fit on skateboards!”

“Can we just cut my legs off and sell them”

“Invade my body, daddy bacteria”

“That’s what I imagine it would sound like if a spider ran in tap shoes”

“My church had an average attendance of 421 this year, we were so freaking close”

“Did you know that Waluigi has the same number of syllables as hallelujah, so if you think of any song with hallelujah in it you can replace it with Waluigi and it’ll fit”

“Anyone wanna feel my swollen gland”

“Your gay is like your mother’s tendency to sleep with men: plentiful”

“If being gay is a sin is satan the gay fairy”

“Vines are like actual vines: you get stuck and you never get out” “vines can choke you though” “Yes choke me daddy vine”

“You are each gonna have a burger component on your back” “I wanna be the meat ;)”

“Grab me however you want daddy hamburger”

*showing a paper with a picture of a bottom bun* “I guess you could say I’m a.... bottom”

“STOP EATING THE DUCT TAPE!”

“Shut up, don’t talk about my potatoes like that”

“Can you snort tide pods”

*whisper screaming and hitting a chair* “WHY IS COTTON EYED JOE BACK”

“But if two furries screw, is god cool with that?”

“PHD- pretty high dolphins”

“Do crocs have memory foam? i think not”

“I’ve run out of creative ways to whip”

“This is why we shouldn’t legalize weed, because we’re having this conversation sober”

“Don’t you just get sad every time a chair dies”

“Praise our lord and savior, Magic Mike”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can guess what’s in my thermos.” “Coffee.” “No. It’s chicken noodle soup”

“I’m gonna eat your fingernails” “did you say EAT” “yeah, I’m gonna chew his fingernails off”

“I already went back to Mexico”

“You’re the BFG” “How so” “Big Frickin Gay”

“But since you’re gay, would you date me if i was” “the only way I’d date you is if you were an online catfish”

“We have a speaker with fake arms today” “he cant bring those in the school those are weapons” “how is he gonna throw them?” “With his feet”

“did you say the THOT police?” “no you idiot the THOUGHT police”

“I’m not scared of Russia. Like honestly i can beat them”

“I share a brian with satan and it smells shirty” (not a typo. Those exact words. I think it was making fun of a typo)

“I look like I’m about to go repaint all my mugs with lead paint”

“And today on the game show of sentences i never thought I’d have to say: it’s not a necklace if you buy it in the pet aisle of walmart”

“You look like the kind of person who would cut spaghetti with dull scissors”

“Hey, hey, hey, not in my f***ing Christian Minecraft server”

“We’re all going to hell” “Not me” “listen we’re in a school we’re already there” “True”

*to the tune of “what is love? Baby don’t hurt me”* “POKÉMON! BABY DON’T HURT ME, DON’T HURT ME, NO MORE”

“YO! PITBULL JUST CAME IN AND OFFERED DONUTS!”

“I’m gonna suck your eyeballs”

“Are we not allowed to have our nails painted since we’re guys” -a definite female, to another definite female

“Ok, so here’s the deal: straight people are uncooked spaghetti. Gay people are cooked rotini. I’m kinda like a cooked spaghetti. I’m not straight, I’m in between.” “The Italian is now interested I’m here what’s up with pasta”

“This song reminds me of Mexican food” “How does this remind you of Mexican food it’s jazz?”

“You’re not allowed to switch schools, I need my twin cop”

“You guys are the reason I wanna die” “you guys are the reason I drink”

*taking a huge drink of peanut butter hot chocolate* “I’m allergic to peanut butter” “THEN WHY DID YOU DRINK IT????” “Because i wanna die”

“so there’s two kinds of country hicks: the yee haws and the haw yees. Now the yee haws are the ones in country songs, they’re vaguely normal and drink and do horse riding stuff. The haw yees are the ones who fish with their hands and then f*** their cousins afterwards”

“Pop is just spicy water”

“I’m sorry, it’s not pizza Steve anymore” “Who is it” “the fresh prince of bel air”

A kid took his phone out of the microwave like that was a normal thing that humans do

“BUT IS HE DATING THE DEER?!”

“Chinese people eat cats, why not lesbians?” *teacher looks up* “saying Chinese people eat cats is too far”

“A gryffindor and a ravenclaw ooh this is good”

Two girls at the exact same time: *Gasp* TEA!

*girl leans back and cracks her head on a counter kind of thing* a friend:”that’s the third f***ing time!”

“SUCK MY WEENIS!”

“If you ever need a professional con artist I’m here” *teacher looks up* “you didn’t hear that” teacher:”hear what”

“Guys I’m stupid. You know when there’s a big number and then a lil number what’s the lil one called” “exponent?” “Yeah!”

*impersonating yoda screaming*

*chugging coffee* “well, I’m still just as tired, but now my atoms are just jazzed.”

“Not to quote Frozen, but you can’t marry a man you just met!”

“Not knowing what kind of exorcise people are talking about is always interesting, because I don’t know if we’re talking about working out or satan”

“If we actually die in the scene where they kill themselves, do we get bonus?” Teacher: *sighs* “sure.”

“Physically you have hair but spiritually you’re bald.”

*Singing boyfriend by BTR for about an hour straight*

“Stop saying teehee you sound like off brand Michael Jackson”

“He smells dead mice for a living!”

*kicking someone’s foot off a ledge* “long live the king!”

*holding a banana like a weapon* “give me all your debt!”

“I want my fingers to be four inches long”

“Let me read your head for a second”

“Oh no you’re white out now”

“This is what happens when your insides are cold”

“Did you just call me a dumb banana?”

“So Kelvin is Fahrenheit...”

“Let me add another fat roll to your arm”

“You wanna see a cute pic of my baby nephew?” “Sure but I might cry”

“Listen I need these pictures to load so I can see if my goats are being little crackheads”

“I keep trying to see if you’re a VSCO girl but you’re holding out on us”

“Pumpkin. Spice. Bleach.”

“I’m already a mother and I don’t like it.”

“This is a vegan cult, Jessica”

“Did you just say you started a religion?” “Yeah, I think I’ll call it the Fedoras”

“Isn’t a fedora just like... a cowboy hat but formal”

“Yes choke me daddy panic”

“I’m your emotional support crackhead deal with it”

“She got possessed by country satan”

“If you think about it toes are just little feet”

“Oh my god imagine if you pronounced Roosevelt like goose”

“Roosevelt got really sad when i broke up with him.”

“I love how I just classified reaper as its own state of being”

“So Santa’s not a cryptid”

“We’re not meat creatures like crabs”

“Do you want to be a famous writing?”

“Self care is becoming a breaded chicken tender on the weekends”

“You are a little yellow boy”

“I gotta look up how to have a stroke”

“At least you still have straight privilege”

“You piece of b*tch”

“Children having skulls is scary”

“You wanna crochet my friend a rat”

“If you kill yourself and you have a life insurance policy that your family then collects, is that insurance fraud?”

“Spaghetti man is talking about pregnancy and I’m scared”

“You’re the cutest trash I’ve ever seen”

“Poetry? Lame. DriversEd? Lame. Dousing myself in butter and becoming a dinner roll? F*ckin’ MINT”

“Finally, an invention to get rid of me” *zooms in on words garbage disposal*

“Is Swiper from Dora a furry or an actual fox?”

“I’m laughing because I just realized the word identity has t*tty in it”

“Oh my god I thought Paris was a country”

“Girl if you are having a baby this month the only thing you are birthing is FLAT Stanley”

“My eyes really said gardening”

“I snorted soapy water this morning”

“Intestines: do you really need them or are they a social construct?”

“I watched the first episode of that show illegally, and it was great”

“How much does a hit man cost in this economy?”

“Is santa wearing stripper heels?”

“No, I didn’t give birth to a baby cow”

“I am a whole grape not a raisin”

“I’ve decided on my career. I’m becoming a hit man for cheap”

“And you fought the tomato”

“You can be gay with the homeless”

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: What to Do When You've Got No Insurance, No Money

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-what-to-do-when-youve-got-no-insurance-no-money/

Ask D'Mine: What to Do When You've Got No Insurance, No Money

Got diabetes and need some help? You've come to the right place.

Every week, we take reader questions and do our very best to be informative and helpful (and make you smile a little) here at our diabetes advice column, Ask D'Mine, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Send us your queries related to life with diabetes — nothing is off-limits here! (except of course specific medical instructions for your own care; that's what doctors are for)

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at AskDMine@diabetesmine.com

It's tough times out there, and for proof, here's a pair of questions from the trenches that'll make you reach for the Kleenex box:

Steve from Minnesota, type 2, writes: I had my diabetes well under control a couple of years ago with an A1C under 6 once, and in the low 6 range typically. Then I lost my insurance and can no longer afford medical care. The critical drug that helped me achieve good numbers was Actos, but it's so expensive I had to stop taking it. Now my blood sugars are screaming high. I finally just quit checking because there's no point in knowing if it's 450 or 500. What to do?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: First and foremost, let's all sit down and have a good cry.

There. Anybody feeling better? No? Yeah... it didn't help me as much as I thought it would either. Next time, we'll all try Primal Scream Therapy.

So you're absolutely right: you can't afford your Actos. I checked with Epocrates and they show the "approximate retail price" ranges from a low of $193.48 per month for the 15mg tabs, up to a high of $239.99 for a month's worth of the 45mg tabs. Not exactly chump change. I'd also bet even though this was your "critical" diabetes drug, it probably wasn't your only one.

So what to do?

Naturally, I have a plan.

First, I want you to go on the Akins Diet. (Hey, I said I have a plan, I didn't say you were going to like it.) Don't worry, this won't be forever. But in your case, an as-close-to-zero-carb-as-possible diet is good medicine. For God's sake, your blood sugars were running in the 500s last time you checked! You're at risk for glucose toxicity at this point. Cutting the carbs to the bone is an emergency measure to try and save your kidneys from extinction until we can get your diabetes medicated into submission again.

Second, go here to find the closest Federally Qualified Health Center (FQHC). These are non-profit clinics that are subsidized by the feds and will see you on a "sliding fee" basis. You don't need health insurance. How much you pay depends on how much you earn. You may be able to see one of their docs for free, or for a very small co-pay. Get the next appointment available.

Third, and here's where it gets really good, most FQHCs are really well plugged into Patient Assistance Programs, called PAP in the biz. This is all you need to know about PAP: you can probably get your Actos for exactly zero dollars and zero cents per month. PAP programs are run by the Pharma companies and are actually pretty generous when it comes to helping out those who are uninsured and sorta broke. For instance, Actos is made by Takeda, which uses an annual income of at or below 300% of Federal Poverty Level (around $32K for a single person) to qualify patients for assistance.

Oh... but there's one other little thing I forgot to mention. There's... umm... ah... a dark cloud of sorts over Actos at the moment. Actos may, or may not, be the smoking gun in an increased risk of bladder cancer. The FDA issued heads-up warning about the drug in June of this year and within 5 hours the water was filled with sharks in suits. There're now dozens of law firms licking their lips and trying to line folks up for class action suits against Takeda. Late night TV is full of call us if you took Actos ads and there are gazillions of websites launched by law firms trolling for clients.

So... I dunno. The jury is still out on Actos—literally and figuratively. You'll need to talk to your new doc at the FQHC about whether the Actos is still the best bet for you at this point or not. But if so, remember that it'll take about six weeks to spool up to maximum effectiveness in your body, so keep on the Akins thing until the med is working again.

Bottom line, you'll need to take something for your diabetes, given how high your blood sugar is, and in your circumstances, the FQHC and PAP is the best way to get from where you are back to an A1C in the sixes. Whether you re-start Actos, or start something entirely new really doesn't matter.

So let's reserve the screaming for Primal Therapy and our politicians, rather than your blood sugar altitude.

Note: a fact often missed in the media is that not having insurance is only one problem facing PWDs in our country. Sometimes you can have insurance and still be in the same I-don't-make-enough-f*ing-money-to-pay-the-bills-and-keep-myself-healthy boat. Consider, for instance:

Janet from California, type 1, writes: I am a single mother of three kids in college. I have diabetes, I have insurance, however I can't afford the test strips, needles, and now 4 diabetic medications along with depression, high cholesterol, high triglycerides, and low vitamin D medications. I need to take care of myself but I cannot afford the co-pays. Do you have any suggestions? My A1C is 10. Now the doctor has added more testing and increased my units on Lantus & Apidra. I am ready to give up and just stop taking all medications. HELP!!!

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: So I looked into it, and the cost of an average funeral in the United States is between $7K and $10K. According the Federal Trade Commission funerals "rank among the most expensive purchase many consumers will ever make." How's that for depressing?

My point?

Oh sorry. I wasn't being clear. I was just letting Janet know that she actually can't afford to "just stop taking all medications." She's a type 1. If she stops her insulin she'll die. And dying is expensive. And her three kids will have to drop out of college and spend the rest of their lives flipping burgers at McDonalds.

Believe it or not, Janet is actually in a worse situation than Steve is. If you have insurance, you can't get PAP. So that route is closed. Being underinsured, or being well-insured with an empty bank account is a special kind of hell.

But not to worry. Again, I have a plan. And again, it's not a great one, but it will do for now. So there are two approaches here, and we can mix and match them. The first is medical triage. Triage is just a way of prioritizing the most urgent needs. Remember in the old M*A*S*H TV show when the helicopters would bring in the wounded soldiers and the docs would dash out and figure out who needed to go into surgery right now and who could wait an hour or two? (Oh crap, now I've got the M*A*S*H theme music stuck in my head where it will haunt me for the next three weeks.)

Well, when times are tough, you can do the same thing with your health care—and I like to say "blood sugar first." Hey, at an A1C of 10 your blood sugar is cytotoxic. You're killing yourself in slow motion and the folks at the dialysis center are getting excited thinking of all the money they'll make off you (at more than $70K per year, that's better than seven funerals!). So in my mind, nothing else really matters if your blood sugar is a train wreck. That means insulin and test strips are the top priority. I wasn't clear if you were on anything other than the two insulins for your diabetes, but in a crunch, you could drop any other diabetes meds because it's more than possible to control your diabetes with the Lantus and Apidra alone. Ya just gotta take enough.

So using triage, you might choose to just take care of your diabetes for a while until you get it on track. Ignore everything else for a time. Will high cholesterol kill you? Yeah. Probably so. But it will take a long time to do it. Eat smart for a while to minimize your risk, but if push comes to shove you could back-burner the cholesterol issue for a year, or until your oldest kid graduates and frees up some cash flow.

Stopping your depression meds cold turkey can be dangerous, so talk to your doc about how to safely get off them if you need to. And so on and so forth. Only treating your most urgent needs during a financial emergency is a valid form of medical treatment called harm reduction. It's not the "standard of care," but desperate times call for desperate measures.

But, wait, maybe you don't need to ignore your other health challenges. Do I hear the thundering hooves of charging horses and the sound of bugles? I do believe the cavalry is coming over the hill to rescue you and it's... it's... Wal-Mart?!

OK, not quite the boys in blue that I was expecting.

Here's the deal. Open your medicine cabinet and look at your cholesterol med. Is it a fancy brand-name drug or an older generic? Rather than stop your cholesterol med altogether, talk to your doc about getting a prescription for a generic that you can get on the $4 formulary at Wal-Mart, or one of the other big-box stores. Meds for your depression and trigs are also available as generics. You can also get vitamin D supplements over-the-counter in bottles that are the size of rain barrels. And even if the generics aren't quite as effective as the fancy-pants name brand ones (and many are much closer than we've been lead to believe), it's still better to have some control over your cholesterol than none at all.

Now, on to diabetes penny pinching: One thing to check is whether your insurance has a preferred insulin brand. On the fast-acting front we have Apidra, Humalog, and Novolog. Frankly, it's the same as Tide, Cheer, and Gain. Hey, they really all work pretty much the same, and if one insulin brand carries a lower co-pay, so much the better for your wallet. Similarly, the basal insulins Lantus and Levemir are more-or-less interchangeable (there's more of a difference between them than there is with the fast-acting juice, but if you can save a bundle of money, then you can adjust).

Next, let's look at delivery devices. We all love pens, but many insurance companies will give you a lower co-pay on vials and syringes. If you're out-and-about a lot, it's hard to beat a pen of fast-acting to cover meals in public, but most of us take our basal in the privacy of our homes anyway, so using a syringe once or twice a day really isn't that big of a deal if it will help you keep the lights on, food on the table, gas in the car, and the kids in college.

And if push really comes to shove, depending on how high your insulin co-pays are, you can buy old fashioned Humulin-R, 70/30 mix, and NPH insulins at Wal-Mart under the ReliOn label for $24.88 per vial. That may be less than your co-pay. Speaking of ReliOn, I've been playing with their Micro meter recently and have found it to be remarkably accurate. The strips run twenty bucks for 50. Again, if this beats your co-pay, switch over. You should also Google your favorite test stip. You might be surprised. I saw Presto strips online at Amazon for only $14. Crazy!

Bottom line: just because you have insurance doesn't mean you always have to use it. Sometimes just getting out your wallet is cheaper than going through your insurance.

So shop smart. Stop (some meds) smart, if you must.

But don't stop all your meds. Oh, and my apologies to the funeral industry. I know times are tough for you guys, too.

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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