#but this stupid disease has completely wiped me out in less than a month

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss. 

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again. 

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new. 

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces. 

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?” 

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises. 

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed. 

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (vi) waitress au

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

summary: inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

a/n: we’ll get a peek of Bucky’s pov here. Hope you guys are still reading this, and sorry for taking so long to update.

chapter 6: a soft place to land

doctor bucky pov

-

I think I’m falling for her. The moment she walked into my office, holding that pie almost three months ago, I wanted to get to know her. I know I must’ve annoyed the hell out of her in that first encounter, I know I can be intense, but I couldn’t just refer her to a different person. I feel like we were connected, destined to meet. I’m a big romantic and I love how the universe works. I believe in my soul that we were not a product of coincidence or happenstance; maybe we’re not destined to be together but I’d surely love to just be her friend.

 Everytime she comes for an appointment I hope I’m cherishing her company as much as I should, or praising her talents because she deserves to know how amazing she is. And everytime I’m not in her presence I’m waiting  for the day I’ll get to see her again. Or hoping I’ll casually run into her at the market or in the street. Cause I’m stupid like that. Hoping some married woman, who’s also my patient by the way, will actually want anything to do with me. 

She’s sound asleep right now, and if things were different and she wasn’t in such a scary situation I might wish she’d wake up so I could tell her how beautiful she is to me and how much I want her to feel the same way I feel about her. But even if she’s had issues with that awful man, she’s still with him, so… I know it’s not going to happen and I’d just make a fool out of myself.

And where is that bastard anyway? His wife and kid are in such a vulnerable state and he’s nowhere to be seen! I swear if he comes here drunk, like she’s told me it’s his usual state, I’ll kick his pathetic ass. She deserves better than this. 

She listed a woman named Natasha as her emergency contact. A strange, scary woman indeed. She waltzed in here bossing everyone around, threatening to kill anybody who wouldn’t let her near her best friend. If I wasn’t scared for Y/N’s own life at the moment I might’ve laughed at all the interns she threw daggers at. The scary redhead went out to make some phone calls and get coffee, so it’s only me and Y/N, and the little nugget.

She looks so peaceful right now, so soft. I feel an incessant need to be near her and make sure she’s safe. Both of them really. It’s been a bad year for the both of us, that’s for sure. But all I care about right now is this woman, sleeping with an IV and a monitor by her side, and that tiny baby inside of her. I know they’re gonna make it just fine. I may be a little awkward and dumb when it comes to girls, but I’m damn good at my job, so for now, they’re both stable.

I’m falling for her hard. She baked me a pie and I couldn’t stop smiling once I was alone, just staring at it. The first pie she gave me wasn’t really for me, it was for Doctor Perkins. But the second one she made specially for me. I felt so proud that day, like I had discovered the cure to some major disease. She’s got me wrapped around her pretty little magical pie baking fingers.

-

y/n pov

-

I try to open my eyes and it’s taking an excessive amount of effort to do so. Everything’s too bright and I’m disoriented but I finally assess my surroundings and I realize I’m in a hospital bed. Oh god, my baby…

“My baby. Is it okay? I-” I whimper and try to call for somebody but there’s no one. How did I even get here?

“Y/N! You’re awake! Thank god!” Natasha and Wanda enter the room, and run to my side when they take in my panicked state.

“Nat, my baby? How is it? I don’t know how- I was- Please tell me it’s okay. I didn’t even get to give them a name yet. I-”

“Sweetie, it’s okay, shhh. You and the baby are okay. You’ve been here for two days, and we were so worried but Bucky said the worst part is over. Oh! That reminds me, Bucky said it’s a she! And she’s quite healthy, but you need to relax because whatever sent both of you here took a toll on your health and you need that to grow a baby, you know? You gotta take care of yourself, hon”.

I sigh in relief and try to relax back into the stiff hospital pillows. My baby is okay and it’s a girl. I feel like my heart stopped for a minute there but now there’s a sense of calm flooding me.

“Wait, you met Bucky?”

“Why yes, actually he wouldn’t leave your side but since Wanda and me are here, he figured you’d be more comfortable with a less crowded room”.

“Oh. That’s- um, that’s nice of him I guess”.

“Y/N? Would you like us to go fetch him?”

“YES! ...I mean, if you girls don’t mind”.

“Oh not at all. I’ll go, Wands you stay here to see if she needs anything”. Nat left the room and I suddenly feel so grateful to have such good friends in my life. I’d feel very pathetic if I was in the hospital by myself. No parents, no husband. No one else to worry about me and my baby girl.

“Okay, missy. I know you mentioned Doctor McDreamy was cute. But you never said he was THAT cute!”

“He is, isn’t he?” I feel my face heat up at her comment but it doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve met him and well, no one could hide that man’s handsome face.

“Too bad all of us are taken”. Wanda says while she cleans the chair by my bed with a wipe and sits.

Man, I gotta tell them what happened with Quentin, I feel like they’re gonna throw me a party or something. They really hate his ass.

“Yeah, about that…”

“Y/N, I’m glad you’re awake, how are you feeling?” Bucky enters the room and even though he has dark circles around his eyes and his face is scruffier than when I last saw him, he looks gorgeous.

“I’m good. Thirsty”. That’s all I manage to utter in front of the prying ears of my best friends, but I glare at them and Nat gets it.

“Oh would you look at the time, Wanda we should go back to the diner. Y/N, honey? We’ll visit after our shift’s over tonight, is that okay? You’re in good hands here, isn’t she, Bucky?”

“Indeed she is”. He says without taking his eyes off me, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, he looks… concerned.

“Kay, see ya!” Nat takes Wanda by the arm and they almost jog outta here.

All of a sudden I feel extreme guilt. Bucky told me stress was bad for the baby and here I am. I feel like a child at the principal’s office. My eyes are welling up and I can’t even look at him.

“Hey, is something wrong? Are you in pain?” Bucky walks over to my side and takes a look at the monitor. I look up at him and he slowly reaches over to grab my chin. My heart does a little flutter and I hope the monitor doesn’t rat me out.

“I- I feel fine. But I’m so stupid. You told me stress was bad and- and I didn’t listen”, I can barely speak coherently in between sobs and jagged breaths, “I’m sorry- I had a huge argument with Quentin, he wasted all my baby savings and he’s having an affair, which I should’ve seen it coming, but I’m so, so stupid!”

Tears flow down my cheeks and I hide my face in my palms, then I feel the bed dip next to me and Bucky’s arms around me. He holds my back with one arm and the back of my head with another, whispering sweet words into my ear. I cling to his arms and let all my sadness and frustration be washed away by his embrace. We stay there for a little while and I try to mimic the rhythm of his breathing to calm myself down.

He’s the first one to let go and I hate to be parted from his arms, but he reaches over to wipe some stray tear and that tiny touch is enough to make me feel better.

“I just want you to know- you’re not stupid. Whatever reaction that you had and that led you here, it was completely normal. Y/N, if I may be so bold to say this- Quentin’s a lowlife. He doesn’t deserve you. I know you tried to work things out and gave him chance after chance because you choose to see the good in people, but you’ve had enough and you deserve more. You’re pretty amazing and the fact that you’ve been handling this pregnancy on your own since day one, makes you the strongest person I know”, he lowers his hand to my stomach and looks deep into my eyes, “you and that little princess you got there are alright now. It was just a scare. A very serious one, but you both are going to get through this in no time, I’m going to make sure of that”.

I smile up to him and he leans in to give my forehead a barely there kiss. Perhaps he’s right and things will be okay, maybe even more than just okay. There is hope in his eyes and in my heart, I can feel it.

“You should rest, I’ll be here, I promise”. 

Bucky takes my hand to his lips and sits in the chair next to me, still holding my hand and kissing it every so often until I fall asleep.

-

chapter 7: never ever getting rid of me

[lukneetoonz]

Ghost of You Part II

——————————————————————————-

Summary: You were the greatest thing in Katsuki’s life…. now you’re gone.

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, angst, violence, and just very sad.

Word Count: 2,518

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for this, tbh didn’t mean for another cliffhanger but it was too good! Thank you anon for the inspiration for this one. Def will have a part three and I’m hoping that will be the end.

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

——————————————————————

Running. That’s all you remember doing and that’s all you were doing currently. Panting, you focused on the world in front of you as tears poured down your cheeks. Out of all places he could be, Bakugou Katsuki was where you went so you could forget about him. Not to mention he was looking like you were the one who broke his heart, not the other way around. You wanted forever, he wanted a fling. He took your heart and tossed it in the trash, yet the first thing you wanted to do was hug him and tell him everything was gonna be okay.

“Y/N!! Please!” Katsuki’s raspy voice called out and you could hear his footsteps get closer to you, making you only run faster as you tried to make as much distance between the two of you that you could, if you got near him you knew you wouldn’t have much self control… no matter how much hurt he caused. Even if he stomped on your heart, he still had it. He still had your love, and that’s why you were still in pain.

“Princess! Please! Give me just 5 minutes! That’s all I need to explain!” Explain? That one word made you stop as you went tense and turned around, body shaking as you stared the blonde down. “Explain? How could you possibly ‘explain’ anything? It’s what it is K- Bakugou!” The fact that you weren’t even saying his name hurt, it was like a knife driven through his heart as he finally slowed down to be in front of you, only to have you back away like he had a disease.

“That’s not- please… I fucked up okay? But I love you! Only you! It was a mistake, and- without you I’m nothing.” His voice was weak as he gulped, clenching his fist and looking at you, trying to see how you reacted but couldn’t tell. Your own body shook with heartbreaking sobs as you looked away, lip trembling. “Love me… that word means something! You can’t throw it around when you want because you’re a douchebag! If you love someone, you wouldn’t have cheated on me, with camie out of all people!!”

Your words made him flinch as you cried out, each word hitting at a different level. Katsuki bowed his head in shame, suddenly feeling very aware of where you both were and the circumstances of you meeting again were. Groaning, he looked up at you with pain filled eyes as he tried to reach out to you, but you were quick to rip away from his touch, the touch that used to bring you comfort. “Y/N… please. Please” Dropping to his knees, the man that was supposed to be one of the strongest hero’s latched onto your bottom half like a child clinging to his mother.

His tears soaked through the fabric on your stomach, the whimpers leaving his mouth made you cry harder. “Please give me another chance. I know I don’t deserve you, but please- fuck… I- I can’t live without you. It hurts to even breathe without you.” Every word he said was the truth as he pleaded to you in the middle of a sidewalk in the night, the only thing illuminating you was the street lights. As you clasped your hand over your mouth, you gasped for air. “I-I can’t… it hurt so much… you hurt me so much.” Your broken words made Bakugou tense as he sucked in breath, nuzzling his head into your stomach more.

“Please… please. I love you so much… please. I’ll do anything Y/N. Anything at all. Please just take me back.” As much as you wanted to, as much as his words cut you to the core, you pried his arms off you and backed away. Shaking your head, you whimpered and took in his state, this could be the last time you ever saw him. Just the thought killed you, turning away you walked off and didn’t stop until you reached your place, without anyone to go home to, it felt so empty. As soon as you entered the door you fell down to your knees and completely broke down, tears not stopping until you fell asleep.

*•*

2 weeks. 14 days. Yet, you still couldn’t get the image of the love of your life and your best friend getting down and dirty, out of your head. How could either of them do that to you? Bakugou was supposed to be your forever, Camie knew how much you loved him and yet she still wrapped herself around him like she was the one who had been with him for so long. If you knew she liked him, you would never have dated him! You would have stepped away and let her have him, saved your heart this pain. Why did she wait to do this to you? You couldn’t remember even doing something bad to her so she’d want to get revenge.

“Y/N! Let’s go apartment hunting today okay? You deserve to go out and get fresh air…” Uraraka came and rubbed your back as you sniffled, you turned to face her and your lip trembled. “Why did they do it? I thought he loved me..” Uraraka frowned sadly, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t know… you don’t deserve this pain Y/N… I think apartment hunting can help take your mind off of this, and then we can go out to eat.” You nodded and got up, hugging Uraraka back before getting changed. Looking into the mirror, you saw how puffy your eyes were, cheeks and nose red. Shivering, you frowned at your appearance and groaned, “Let’s go before I regret going out”

Uraraka nodded and quickly pulled you out, and you guys started walking to the apartments you saw for rent. The weather was beautiful, the sun shining down on you as the breeze was gentle. It was like a reminder that there are still beautiful things out in the world, and you started to believe it. After the third apartment, you and Uraraka decided to go get some food since your stomachs begged for it. Walking down the golden lot sidewalk, you laughed at Uraraka dancing weirdly before a hand was placed on your shoulder timidly, making you turn around.

“Y/N… can we please talk?” Emotions crashed through you as you stared at Camie, she looked just as bad as you. Her eyes met the ground as she started to cry again, hands playing with each other as she sniffled, “I know I don’t deserve it, and I don’t have an excuse or explanation, but I just- please can we talk?” It was something about how she said she didn’t have an excuse or explanation, that’s what caught your attention. Nodding silently, you gave Uraraka a reassuring look before leading Camie to a bench and sitting down.

“Go ahead Camie… talk.” Quickly she nodded and sat by you, but not too close as she gulped, “I’m a bitch okay? I don’t deserve your friendship and- I just… l was alone, and it didn’t help that I liked him when we were younger… I know I never told you, but I fell head over heels for him- so one night at the office, we were working late and I don’t even know who thought of the idea to open up some alcohol and then, I came onto him-” you interrupted her rambling as you stared ahead blankly, “How long?”

The simple question sent shivers down the girls spine as she looked away, even parler than before, “2 months…” Did it hurt more knowing? Or less? You couldn’t tell, but all you knew was the tears were building up and you could barely do anything to stop them. “For 2 months You fucked my boyfriend and pretended that everything was okay? You listened to me say how I thought he was pulling away, you listened to my relationship troubles. Yet you still spread your legs for him like the whore you are!” By the time you ended, you stood up screaming.

Red in the face, with hot, angry tears running down your face you stared at the ashamed girl. “Was It worth it Camie? Getting dick, but you ruin a relationship and your own damn friendship?! Was it worth destroying me?!” Your voice strained in frustration as she cried and shook her head, “No! Y/N! I was stupid! And selfish! I wasn’t thinking and- god I thought If it kept going it would've been better than a meaningless one night stand-” once again you had fury in your eyes “DID YOU FALL FOR HIM AGAIN?”

Camie looked away embarrassed as she clenched her jaw, “I- I want to say no… I want to say I didn't so badly… but I can’t.” You nodded and looked away, wiping your eyes, at least appreciating her honesty. “Did he- return the feelings?” Automatically her eyes widened in horror and she shook her head, “No! God no… I- it was always me texting and calling first… the day you- well you know, I saw an engagement ring in his desk drawer, that’s why I was in there.” It’s like your heart stopped working altogether as you tried gathering your breath, eyeing the girl down.

“Y-you tried stopping it?” Camie nodded with a sigh as she rubbed her face, “I’m sorry Y/N…. I really am.” Sniffling you started walking back to Uraraka, “Yeah… I am too. But hey, you got what you wanted right? He’s all yours”

*•*

You didn’t think seeing Katsuki would hurt so much, it’s like breaking up all over again. Of course it didn’t help that he tried contacting you through your mutual friends, but that only resulted in multiple people being threatened with a block. When you moved into your new apartment, you gathered everyone and made it very clear that Katsuki and Camie should never know where you live, no matter what. You weren’t going to chance one of them showing up at your apartment one day to try and say one of their half assed apologies… not again.

You transferred jobs, banks, everything. You practically started a new life, because the scar of your past one was too big. The news that was filled with the pictures of the beautiful ash blonde made you believe he had moved on, made you think he was okay. But you were wrong, and oh how you wish you didn’t assume things so silly. Katsuki was fighting crime like he was born to do, and from the news he was doing better than he has ever before.

But oh how little did you know. Katsuki was only working so hard because he wanted to get you out of his head, maybe if he worked hard enough you’ll even see he’s changed. That he’s better. Sadly for him he couldn’t get you out of his head, but luckily he’s only had to deal with easy villains so nothing he’s had to do than blink an eye. Until today. Katsuki had barely gotten any sleep since he last saw you, but he still worked, hell he worked double the amount of hours even if his body was screaming for rest. It took such a toll on him, even his friends started to notice.

“Bakugou… are you sure you should be working? You look like- well you look like shit bro.” Kirishima scratched the back of his neck only to sigh when he saw the glare directed at him, “It’s not your problem shitty hair. So what if I’m taking extra hours? I just want to group up my vacation days together.” Katsuki grunted out a lie that not even Kirishima believed, but the redhead knew he had to go along with it so he nodded. “Okay… but I'm here for you, that’s what friends are for.”

Katsuki couldn’t even reply before there was a loud explosion and screaming that followed, the heroes running onto the scene. Kirishima paled before activating his quirk when he noticed this was your new place of work. A group of villains spread out, two had taken hostages inside the building that was in flames, one of the villains seemed to have a quirk where his tattoos came to life, another looked like a feral child, one seemed to be breathing green like poison that was covering the streets and making civilians pass out, one of the ones in the building could make anything out of any non living object he wanted, like it was Plato so he had weapons, and the female had a the mutation quirk to make her look somewhat of a spider.

Fuck fuck fuck, they were outnumbered and these quirks- they were pretty fucking good. Katsuki snarled and started fighting, trying to keep them busy as they waited for backup. Kirishima fought alongside Katsuki, knowing you were here but he didn’t know what to say, how could he say something!? If he did, surely his best friend would do something stupid and reckless… that’s the last thing he wanted, because if Katsuki got hurt then you’d probably get hurt too.

Inside you stayed calm as the female crawled around you and your colleagues, her sadistic smile stayed as she wrapped another person In her webbing, “Awh c'mon my little babies, don’t be sad! I’ll be nice if you tell me where the hard drive is. The heroes trust you, so we know you have their personal information, if you give us their hard drive, then it will be fine.” You tensed at their words before standing up with shaky legs, “I can do you one better- I’m the girlfriend Of ground zero. A-and I’m best friends with all of his friends like red riot, pinky, uravity, chargebolt, you name it… but If you take me then you’ll get the heroes.”

Your words made the girl look at the man almost like they were sharing thoughts, before the girl smirked and in seconds she was by your side, biting your shoulder and you could feel poison being released into your shoulder. Crying out in pain, you fell to your knees as they mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear as you fell to the ground, whimpering at the pain in your shoulder that spread through your entire body. The last thing you remember before your world faded into total darkness was your name being called and a familiar silhouette running towards you.

*****************************************************

Taglist; @katsukiswhore @leeeah-loooser @do-not-talk-to-me-i-am-awkward @desia2 @katsukiwonu

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - Dodge and Parry (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley discovers that he is rather enamored of his angel's bruises ... especially the ones that go farther than skin deep. (2006 words)

Notes: I wrote this for Kinktober 2020, the prompt 'bruises'. So I was going to write a piece about bruise worship, which this sort of is, but it went much deeper. I will try to come up with something kinkier and more fun another time XD

Read on AO3.

“How does that feel, angel?” Crowley asks, soaking his washcloth completely, then wringing it out over Aziraphale’s scalp. “Too hot? Too cold?”

“Neither.” Aziraphale hums happily with eyes shut. “It’s perfect. Sublime, I should say. Like soaking in a nice, warm cup of tea.”

“We’ve added enough dried flowers and wot not that you could just be,” Crowley comments, swiping a hand through the water, swatting at a cluster of rose petals, lavender, sweet jasmine, and chamomile.

“Hmm. Then you could drink me,” Aziraphale says, sinking deeper into the steaming water.

“Ngk … I … I could …” Crowley stumbles, but he recovers, a triumph since that remark from his angel almost had him choking on his tongue. “But let’s save the sweet stuff for later, eh? We’ve gotta get you fixed up.”

“Yes … let’s. Then … I can do you …” Aziraphale mumbles, drifting off, his cheeks rosy from the warmth and the company. Crowley soaps up his cloth and runs it over Aziraphale’s arm, sliding past a mark that has blossomed considerably since he last saw it. He runs the cloth over it again and it seems to darken, the cream-colored suds rinsing into cloudy water and revealing a plethora of purples swirled together, related to one another by hues, tiny freckles sprouting along the fringe like shy violets.

A galaxy of them really.

Crowley isn’t normally fond of scars and bruises, especially on his angel. Aziraphale bears many types of blacks and blues, with varied stories behind them. Older scars on Aziraphale’s corporation - ones following mortal paths and having faded to silver - come by way of other angels who delight in his suffering. Crowley has seen every one of those, categorized their existence, set their placements to memory. A touch of his fingertips tells him when they were created … and by whom.

Crowley has gathered a list of enemies on his angel’s behalf, and that list is long.

Very long.

Not all of angel’s bruises are visible to the naked, mortal eye, but they’ve dimmed his aura considerably.

Crowley never thought the humans’ quarantine would get to Aziraphale. Being locked inside, forbidden to go out and socialize, leaving him heaps of time to read his books, seemed like a dream come true. With no one coming into his shop to browse, there was nothing keeping him from doing his crossword puzzles till his heart’s content. And it seemed that way for the first few months.

But it didn’t stay that way.

More and more, Crowley would catch his angel sitting in a chair by the window, staring up at the sky, sighing deeply as if for a long lost love, which seemed utterly preposterous to Crowley since every book Aziraphale could ever want lay in a stack beside him. Aside from that, he had his music. And cake! Why, they’d been baking cake every single day! So much cake, in fact, that any poor soul who so much as poked their head out of their door received a cardboard baker’s box packed to bursting with confections, passed along at a socially safe distance courtesy of a long, wooden shepherd’s crook.

And thanks to a wonderful service with a mildly vulgar name, whenever Aziraphale so desired, a delivery person dropped by with a box of his favorite sushi, which Crowley generously tipped for.

But Aziraphale still wasn’t happy. And he was becoming less happy by the day.

Something had changed.

He mentioned several times to Crowley that he felt hemmed in; that lately, being locked inside made it difficult for him to breathe. He longed to walk through the park, soak in the sunshine (when it made itself available), and feed the ducks again.

Crowley didn’t understand it. Aziraphale despised exercise to such a degree that if he sat at Crowley’s kitchen table, preparing to sup, and discovered that he’d left the butter in the fridge, he’d rather do without then to get up and fetch it.

It wasn’t until days later, when Crowley found a stack of newspaper clippings hiding underneath Aziraphale’s ledger, that he began to catch on:

Covid cases increase rapidly as next steps planned

'Tier Three' Covid restrictions in announcement on Monday

More than 80% of positive UK cases in study had no core symptoms

It wasn’t the toll quarantine was taking on Aziraphale. It was the toll this disease that caused the need for a quarantine was taking on the humans he was so fond of. That time spent staring at the sky, Aziraphale spent praying, wondering why the Almighty would let this continue, let so many of Her beloveds die and for what?

From the expression on his angel’s face after, Crowley assumed he got no answers.

It was like the Ark all over again, only without the refreshing rain, and with no rainbow in sight.

Determined to take his mind off of it, Crowley arranged a private movie marathon for his angel at his flat. They sat on his sofa with homemade snacks and watched some old Errol Flynn movies. And it worked! After a while, Crowley started watching Aziraphale more than the film, his angel that much more entertaining. Aziraphale had started the way he watched every movie - sitting primly upright, hands folded in his lap, eyes glued to the screen. But over time, he’d started to inch forward, lean in, muscles twitching to recreate the fight scenes - the swipes of a sword, the parries, his feet shuffling enthusiastically in place to mimic the steps of the actors’ retreats like they were performing a gavotte.

Encouraged that this was a way to break through Aziraphale’s melancholy, Crowley recommended they dig out the old fencing foils and have at it, sans protective gear in honor of old Errol. Besides, they didn’t need it.

“Oh! No, no, no!” Aziraphale argued at first, even with a smile on his lips. “I couldn’t! It’s been so long!”

“Nonsense!” Crowley retorted, heading for his closet. “You were an expert swordsman centuries ago. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully now. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“And how’s that, dear?”

“Once you fall off, you get right back on.” Crowley tossed Aziraphale a foil, which he caught without looking, and Crowley smirked knowingly.

Crowley didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to back out, didn’t salute him like at the beginning of an official duel. Crowley came at him like a buccaneer, crowing and catching Aziraphale off-guard. But Aziraphale fought back. He wasn’t upset by Crowley’s abrupt start. On the contrary. He laughed at Crowley’s antics, especially when he tried to evade by climbing over the sofa, and then onto an end table. His joy was infectious. It rang through Crowley’s flat, made the plants (which had initially recoiled at the sound of clashing metal) stand straighter, wave their leaves and cheer. It rose up inside Crowley as if the joy were his own, making him laugh, too.

Laugh till he snorted, which he hadn’t done in a long time.

But it didn’t last as long as Crowley had hoped.

Aziraphale got lost somewhere in the fight, lost in thinking, his mind drifting in all directions while he dodged and parried by rote. His face grew tense, his expression morphing from concentration to anger … to vengeance. He went after Crowley with clouded eyes, as if everything pent up inside him - the sadness and the anxiety - had found a weak spot in Aziraphale’s armor.

And now, it was starting to break through.

Crowley didn’t know who Aziraphale saw when he looked at him. Those world leaders who didn’t take this pandemic seriously, who didn’t act quick enough, who were greedy.

Beelzebub and the Dukes of Hell, whom Aziraphale credited for the speed in which this disease took hold, and the blind, stubborn stupidity of those who refused to do their part to stop it.

Gabriel, who has long since laughed off any correspondence Aziraphale has sent him regarding the matter, rejecting the last dozen with a very snarky ‘Return to sender!’ emblazoned in gold across the envelope.

Or the Almighty, who has the power to stop this but who has refused, and doesn’t have the decency to tell him why.

Or maybe he simply saw Crowley, who treated the whole thing like a joke, not only taking a nap for the first few months but then extending it, leaving Aziraphale alone when he might have needed him most.

Aziraphale attacked, closing in on Crowley fast, fighting with more fist than blade, and Crowley defended.

They struck one another at the same time - Aziraphale bringing his wrist down on the bridge of Crowley’s nose, Crowley’s guard-covered fist coming up to block and accidentally clocking Aziraphale on the jaw.

Both stumbled back, seeing stars.

Had they been human, Crowley’s nose would have broken, and Aziraphale’s jaw would have shattered. As was, Crowley’s nose ended up a bit crooked till a minute ago when Aziraphale snapped his fingers and set it straight. Aziraphale’s jaw still sported an indigo bruise reminiscent of a mum.

“Oh … oh my dear boy! I am so sorry!” Aziraphale apologized profusely when he saw Crowley’s nose, blood pooling underneath.

“Wot?” Crowley sniffed, wiping his Cupid’s bow with the back of his hand, examining the stain left behind with swimming eyes. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Barely a scratch. Think nothing of it.”

“But … but …” Aziraphale stuttered, on the verge of tears. He dropped his sword, almost dropped to his knees, too, but Crowley hurried forward and gathered him up, wrapped him in his arms and held him.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, hugging Aziraphale tight. “It’s going to be all right, angel.”

“Do you … do you really think so?”

“Yes,” Crowley said with a sigh. Whether he did or not didn’t actually matter. But no one, angel or human, was going to get through today and on to the next if they didn’t believe it was at least possible. Crowley had to hold Aziraphale together, even if he did it with lies. He had to keep the one angel left on earth who still cared going. “I do.”

That’s when Aziraphale’s tears began to fall.

Crowley held him.

An hour went by, and Crowley held him.

Crowley declared Aziraphale the winner, and as a reward, offered to give him a bath and miracle him healed.

But when he got his angel naked and saw the bruises glowing on his skin, he hesitated. He shouldn’t be attracted to them. He shouldn’t find them appealing. On top of being physical damage to Aziraphale’s skin, some of them were bred out of despair. They should have repulsed Crowley, but they were actually glorious, like a small corner of impressionist art brought to life and tattooed on his skin.

Because not all of these new bruises, exploding with vibrant color and depth, were bad. They happened when Aziraphale was still smiling, still laughing. When his leg banged the corner of a table during a particularly rowdy retreat. When he tried to follow Crowley vaulting over the back of the sofa, misstepped, and landed on his knee. When their foils tangled together and Crowley accidentally kicked Aziraphale in the thigh in his effort to separate them. Aziraphale had watched Crowley fly backward, land on his heel, and spin three times like a ballerina, stopping in a perfect arabesque, just to then trip over air and land in a chair. Aziraphale threw his head back and laughed so hard, he walked right into Crowley’s (blunted) sword, the flat tip leaving its circular shadow behind.

Those bruises …

Those are bruises of pleasure.

They run deeper than skin.

And Crowley is quite satisfied by that.

Crowley almost regrets his promise to rid Aziraphale of them.

But being the one who gets to heal Aziraphale is an honor all its own.

However, he realizes with a grin, there is a way to get them back.

He’ll memorize these, too. Their exact locations.

And freshen them up later with his mouth.

[starberrywrites-ships]

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Hubert x Bernadetta 

Two oblivious students fall in love with each other. Traumatized by the thought it was one-sided. One must suffer a disease that is destined to bring the way she sees the world to an end . . . literally.

Read on AO3: HERE

Star Tear Disease.

A result of unrequited love by the person you love.

While the pain of one-sided love fills the victim. Their tears turn into colourful stars that release a twinkling sound. With each star that falls, the victim's eyesight worsens. And with unreturned feelings, they go completely blind. The only cure is love . . . It’s hard to look for a cure when you don’t know what’s wrong.

And not knowing what was wrong, made Bernadetta cry more.

It was late at night. She had just woken up from a nightmare. In the dream, Bernadetta was back at home. Once again under her father's control. It frightened her, resulting in the girl's sudden awakening, eyes full of tears. If you can even call them tears.

Stars. For the past three days any time Bernadetta’s eyes started to water, they were stars. When one dropped, it twinkled like a shooting star in the sky. At first, she thought it was still a dream. No one can cry stars after all. But it wasn’t a dream.

It was a curse.

A cruel, twisted joke from the goddess.

Bernadetta realized whatever was going on, was dangerous. The world she saw every day went from colourful to black and white. And with no colour left, the world was becoming blurry. Her eyesight was being taken away. And soon, it would be gone completely.

She had to custom to her new . . . situation.

Bernadetta walked to class slower. Took longer to write notes. Constantly keeping her eyes on the ground, arms slightly out in case she fell. She stopped painting. Doing embroidery. Her archery practice was becoming sloppy. Of course, none of this went unnoticed.

Hubert keeps tabs on all of the Black Eagles. So noticing these small changes in Bernadetta’s daily life wasn’t a shocker. But that didn’t stop him from being curious about what was happening. His classmate was reacting less to the odd stares she receives from other students. Almost as if she couldn’t tell.

As much as it shouldn’t have, it bothered him. Hubert wanted to know, and he won’t stop until he does.

---

“Bernadetta.”

She flinched. Accidentally letting go of the arrow. Hubert watches as it flies past the target, way off course. Bernadetta lets out a sigh, staying her spot as she drops her head staring at the floor. While she would normally turn her body to face the person she was speaking to, how could she? If he’s too far away she won’t know where he is.

“Uh . . . Hi. Was there something you needed?”

She’s not running. Nor is she trembling under his glare. Bernadetta’s calmness and lack of reaction frightened Hubert more than anything else could. ‘What has happened to you . . .’ He thought, shaking his head. Hubert had a mission. He couldn’t let these odd emotions he’s been experiencing get in the way. He takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

“After that missed shot, It’s safe to assume something is on your mind. It’s been on your mind for a while. I’ve noticed your declining aim in bow, the lack of activity in your regular hobbies, you no longer face those speaking to you and are constantly burning holes into the ground with your eyes as if you’re looking out for something. This type of behaviour is odd coming from you. Is something the matter?”

Bernadetta began to shake. Confrontation was never something she was good at dealing with. Her habit of self-loathing wasn’t doing her any favours either. The thoughts in her head are loud. ‘You’re a burden. You can’t do anything right. You’ve dragged others into your problems. You’re stupid, unlovable, unmarriageable stupid Bernie-’

“Bernadetta answer me.” Huberts voice was stern, yet full of concern. As much as he could never admit it. She was worrying him. The idea of something so effective happening it’s changing her life completely made him feel uneasy. Hubert wanted to help. But he can’t do much with the information he had. He was brought back to reality when the sound of twinkling echoed the empty training area.

Hubert’s eyes widened, watching as purple, blue, green stars fell from Bernadetta’s eyes. While she was doing everything in her power to keep quiet, holding back the cries, the stars betrayed her making it loud and clear she was crying. “Bernadetta?”

“I don’t know . . .” She says in between cries. Trying to keep a steady breath. “I don’t know what's wrong. And I’m scared . . .” Unable to hold back her scream, Bernadetta falls to her knees, gripping the hem of her skirt tightly. “There’s no more colour! And it’s hard to see! Hubert, I’m going blind and I don’t know why!” She lifts a hand to wipe away the stars from her face. “I'm so scared! Please make it stop!”

Hubert takes a step back. He’s shocked. Confused. And his heart ached. But why was it aching? Was it the fact he’s watching as Bernadetta cries, pleading for help? While he has absolutely no idea what to do? His hands were shaking. There’s nothing he can do. And the thought of being helpless broke him.

“ . . . I don’t know how.”

---

It was late. And the amount of coffee Hubert had consumed should have killed him. After the interaction he had with Bernadetta, he refused to give up. Searching every single book in the library to find an answer. But with Seteth’s strict acceptance of what books are put in the library, it was hard to find even a spell the church hasn’t approved of.

Which is why he turned to Abyss.

Despite the idea of Abyss being a rumour, he took all chances and somehow ended up in their library. Still finding nothing. Hubert isn’t someone who holds onto hope. He’s a realist. But when he closes his eyes he can hear the twinkling stars, the sound of Bernadetta’s cries for help. Taking another gulp of the caffeinated beverage, refusing to let sleep consume him.

“Come on . . . I’m trying here! Please, give me the answer . . .” Who Hubert was talking to was unknown even to himself. Just someone who will listen to his pleas and grant him what he wants. Grabbing the final book, he began scanning it.

Until he found it. ---

“I found it.”

Bernadetta didn’t bother lifting her head. By now she learned how to identify people by voices. She held a blank expression staring into space as she drew lines back and forth on her paper. “Oh, hi Hubert.” Her cheerful voice was no longer there. Hubert pulls out the book he found last night, grabbing Bernadetta’s hand and placing it in her possession. “Star tears. They make the victim go blind over time. The only way to cure it is for the feelings to be returned.”

“Feelings to be returned?”

“The star tears only appear in the situation of unrequited love by the person you love.” The sentence was so hard to get out. While Hubert did his all to find the answer, this wasn’t exactly the one he wanted. Bernadetta was in love with someone. And it made him feel . . . conflicted. “Bernadetta please,” He says softly, trying to get the words out. “You must tell this person about your feelings before it’s too late. I wish you luck . . .” And with that, he left her alone with the book.

This made it no better for Bernadetta. She was in love? But with who?! Thoughts of the past months here at the academy flood her mind. Who could it be who could it be who could it be who-

Who is constantly checking up on her? Making sure she’s comfortable with a situation to ensure her best results? Someone who she can trust her life with despite her fear of people? The one person who was kind enough that she gave her heart to . . .

“I’M IN LOVE WITH HUBERT?!”

---

Finding Hubert was hard enough, to begin with. She had to wait until she was sure he was in his dorm. That’s the one place Bernadetta can guarantee his presence in. So she waited. Standing in front of the door, completely ignoring the hour it was and the fact she was fighting sleep.

“Bernadetta? It’s late what are you-”

“Hubert, I have something to tell you . . .” Her voice was shaky. If she cried once more she would be completely blind. There was nothing left for her except this.

“Something to tell me?” Hubert said, his full attention on her now. Why was she here? “Did you tell the person about your love? Has your eyesight returned?!” While he was happy at her going back to normal, that also meant the other person loved her back. Completely taking her away from him.

Yeah, Hubert had finally realized why it hurt so much. He was in love with Bernadetta and could never take action on his feelings.

She shakes her head. “No, I-”

“No?! Did that complete fool not understand the situation you are in?! How could they not return your feelings?! Bernadetta, do tell their name I shall discuss-”

“Hubert it’s you! I’m in love with you dammit!” Bernadetta screamed. Not caring who heard at this point. ‘Please . . . Hubert, save me . . .’

He froze. Did he hear her correctly? Bernadetta von Varley . . was in love with him?

The twinkles.

Hubert snaps out of it at the sound of them. He had to do something and fast. Without a second thought, Hubert grabs a hold of Bernadetta. A hand gently placed around her waist and the other cupped her chin, bringing her lips to connect with his. The two continued to kiss, both leaning into it more.

After some time, Hubert pulled back to let them breathe. To his own surprise, a small tear had escaped from his eye. Bernadetta blushed, staring at Hubert, and suddenly gasped.

“I missed that shade of green . . .”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #191

“i got a baseball bat beside my bed to fight off what’s inside my head.”

Museum date or aquarium date? I suppose aquarium. Have you ever been a part of a protest or a march? No. Do you play any video games? Yes. Did you ever have an emo or scene phase? Yes. Name a subject you know a lot about. Meerkats. How would you describe your style? Too-Poor-To-Dress-Goth-So-Wears-Band-Merch-And-Graphic-Tees-Instead. What’s something most people love that you hate? Coffee. Who knows the most about you? Sara. Applesauce or pudding? Pudding. If you could create ANY mix-up or mythical animal and have it be brought to life, what would it be? I think I've mentioned a meerkat with butterfly wings before? Or bird wings? Describe a moment that is a prominent memory, but didn’t have a strong impact on your life. Uhhhh there's a lot. One random one would be learning to ride my bike. If there was one problem/issue you could wipe off the face of the earth, what would it be? Ohhhhhhhhhh god, there's so much. Maybe poverty? Do you think everyone in our lives serves a purpose, or are some people just there? In the story of your own life, no, not everyone. How do you feel about getting your picture taken? I hate it. Most embarrassing poster you’ve ever owned? Never owned one I was embarrassed by. When was the last time you were in a public setting and a stranger annoyed you? I'm not sure. Strangest pet peeve? Probably how much I hate people going in/out the wrong door. If you could make a guest appearance in ANY show, which one would you choose? Uhhhh Supernatural, maybe? Who do you think is the most underrated comedian? I don't know enough comedians for this, nevermind less successful ones. Do you always make eye contact with people when you’re speaking to them? No; this is something I'm super awkward about. I don't know how long "normal" eye contact is, so I think it's very easy to notice how, when talking to you, my eyes will suddenly wander. Could you see yourself having a child with the last person you kissed? We physically can't. We both don't want kids, anyway. Who is your favorite person to have random conversations with? SARA. When you were small, did you ever ask where babies came from? If you did, do you remember what your parents told you? I think I did, but I don't remember. What’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? That I was/am "absolutely beautiful" and deserve "everything in the world." Who did you have your first kiss with? How did you meet that person? Jason. We "met" via Facebook because I accepted his friend request because I thought he was a different Jason lmao. Apparently he saw me in the hall and knew he had to talk to me so somehow found out my name. Which. I still want to know how. I've come to find how creepy our origin story is lol. Have you felt butterflies in your stomach today? No. Did anyone/anything get on your nerves today? No. Think of the person you fell the hardest for. What first attracted you? I don't know which I fell hardest for, honestly... because one was to an unhealthy degree, but my bond with Sara is healthy. I know I'm closer with her than I was Jason, but I guess by definition I still "fell hardest" for him? In that case, I thought he was really unique, even odd, which I appreciated. Has anyone recently found out something you didn’t want them to know? I got to where I told my therapist about the RP hobby, per Mom's and Sara's recommendations. I'm trying to work towards not being so secretive and embarrassed by what I love, so I very slowly got it out to her as practice and as a trust exercise. Is there something you currently want, that you can’t have? HA, there's a lot. A drawing tablet, for one. Who was the last person to make you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable? LAAAAAAAAAAAAAWL. Probably the last person I had a social interaction with that wasn't my mother. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favorite character in it? Buddy (Elf). What color is your couch? Tan. What are you known for? Probably as the unsuccessful, antisocial, lazy 23-year-old that still depends on her mother. Has anyone ever threatened you? Yes. Have you ever been scammed? I don't think so? Are you making sure you’re using your full potential? Boy, I try, but I know I don't. If you have a partner, have you ever had to sleep in separate beds? If you don’t, how would you feel if a future partner wanted separate beds? We're long-distance so like. It'd be a bummer, but that's it; I understand wanting comfort, and even I know sleeping on your own is comfier. I'm just a cuddler and would sacrifice comfiness for the sake of physical closeness. What is something you are skeptical about? People’s intentions. <<<<<< This. Is there a murder case you find absolutely fascinating? I'm sure there's some I've forgotten. What is an unusual item somebody you know owns? Ummmm. OH HA Sara keeps the complete/"good" sheds of the snakes in her room. What’s the oldest TV-show you like? When was it made? I Love Lucy, 1951. If you have a job, do you prefer morning shifts or evening shifts? N/A, but I know I'd prefer morning. Do you have a mug with your name/initials on it? No. Have you ever designed your own mug? No. Is there a game that you excel in? A number. Have you ever been in a row boat? No. What are you most confident about? Most insecure about? Ummm... probably photography, I guess? I'm most insecure about "odd" interests and hobbies. When are you most likely to say something you don’t mean? When I'm angry. When was the last time that you saw fire? I'm not sure. Probably while lighting a match to burn some incense. Do you like wearing sunglasses? Why or why not? No. I don't like my vision being dimmed. What do you think in general of girls with short hair? Rock it. How about guys with long hair? Usually attractive to me. Have you ever seen somebody get shot? No. Would you ever try one of those DNA kits? Totally. With films in languages you do not speak, do you prefer a dub or subtitles? It depends if the voiceovers are convincing or not. Generally, I like those because subtitles distract me. Which cuisine do you like the least? That I've tried, Japanese. Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? YEAH. LOOOOOTS. Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? Yes, except Bentley. Who are your favorite songwriters? Otep Shamaya probs tops the list. What are your favorite one-hit wonders? YO "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit is a BOP. Have you ever seen anybody naked by accident? Maybe? Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about a celebrity? ... lol yes. Have you ever changed your clothes in the car? Yeah. About how quickly does your hair grow? UGH, fast. Because I have it short now, it's overgrown in like, two months. It looks awful where it is now, but I should be getting it cut this month. Do you have to/choose to shave anything unusual? Fuck "have to." No one has to shave anything if they don't want to. But anyway, I suppose you can consider above my lip "unusual." Much to my annoyance, I have dark body hair so develop the dreaded "ladystache" if I leave it alone for too long. Do you groom (wax, pluck, or thread) your eyebrows? No. If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? N/A Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? Yes, but for a bit of change. Fucking stupid. Did you have to take showers after gym before going to your next class? No. Were you in any extracurricular activities or clubs in high school? I was in the art and honors club, but we didn't do after-school activities. Have you ever picked up and kept a rock because it caught your eye? I think. Have you ever laughed at a scene (TV/film) that wasn’t meant to be funny? Ha, I'm sure. Have you seen any Hannibal movies other than The Silence of the Lambs? I haven't even seen that, but I want to. I know it's a classic and have heard great about it from horror fans. Have you read any of the Hannibal novels? No. Do you like any indie movies? Probably. What part of a man’s body do you find most attractive? I'm suuuuch a sucker for prominent shoulder blades/moderately muscular backs. What part of a woman’s body do you find most attractive? I'm weak for hips. Do you think guys look good in makeup? YO most I see doing it fucking rock that shit. I deeply respect guys who embrace their more feminine traits. Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? No. Do you like bread crust on pizza or do you prefer it cut off? Mmmmm love it. Have you ever driven while drunk/intoxicated? No, absolutely never would. What’s the worst/hardest drug you’ve taken? N/A What is the worst/hardest drug you’ve been offered, but declined to partake in? Nothing. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for trying it? I was just curious about how it tasted and knew a bit wouldn't hurt me. Do you think you could ever have an abortion if you expectantly turned pregnant? The only way that could currently happen is if I was raped, and I don't know what I'd do. I lean towards carrying it would probably be legit traumatizing to me so yes, but I suppose I'd have to be in that situation (knock the fuck on wood) to truly know. What is the weirdest ailment a pet of yours/your family’s has sustained? Ummm. The weirdest... probably the intestine thing that killed Cato. I can't remember precisely, but I believe it was some type of infection that completely clogged him. Maybe even a disease. If you were far from home and needed to sleep for the night, would you choose to rent a crappy hotel room for $60 or sleep in your car for free? In the car. Is there a situation you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? Maybe? Have you ever been in a relationship that was going great, and then suddenly something weird happened and you just KNEW it was going to be over soon? That happened with Jason. I had this odd feeling something was off for a little while. He was quieter and seemed somewhat depressed, which was totally unlike him. I even asked him quite a bit if something was wrong, but he always reassured me he was fine. Which of the guys you’ve been interested in hurt you the most? lul we knooooow. Do you know anyone who is engaged? Yes. Do you know anybody who is pregnant? Yes. I'm going to one's baby shower next month! What is your relationship status on Facebook? Taken. Would you be able to name everyone you’ve kissed? Yeah. Last person you watched a movie with? Sara, her dad, and I think her mom and one brother was with us? Who has the power to break you? I honestly hope no one anymore, at least not entirely. But Sara comes the closest. Favorite “little kid” movie? TLK. What are you listening to? WoW's Grizzly Hills music. :') Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? Sara. Or Mom. It depends on the subject. Do you find smoking unattractive? Very. I think it says something about how much you care for your health. Have you ever just laid down outside and stared at the stars? Yup. Has anyone ever asked you if you were bipolar? I don't believe so. What was the last thing you looked up on Google? Types of rat cancer for that pet ailment question. We don't know with certainty, but that's likely what killed Tezzeret, brain or eye cancer or something like that. Do you lose interest in someone quickly? If you do something stupid, ha, bye. I can lose interest very fast but also slowly. Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone? Yes. Does your password have to do with a boy/girl? No. Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry? Yes. Think back to last year. Who did you like? Sara. How did you meet the last male you called? He's my dad so like- Ever been kissed on the leg? Maybe? What was the last thing you ate? Ham, cheese, and mustard on wheat bread. If you HAD to kiss someone right now, who would it be? Sara. Who was the last person you rode in the car with? Mom. Name some things you love about winter? NOT HOT AS FUCK, snow, frost, gingerbread, chocolate-covered peanuts, I can walk outside without worrying about ticks, my birthday, hot chocolate, looking at Christmas lights/decorations, nice tree designs, Christmas itself... I just love winter. Last person to hear you cry? Probably Mom. How do you feel about your relationship status? I love it. Only thing that could make me happier is if we weren't long-distance. Is it possible to be JUST friends with someone you wanna be with? I dunno. Have you ever been given roses? Yes. Would you ever sky dive? I don't think so. Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your own bed? Sara's bed. If you dated someone that someone else liked, would you rub it in their face? Uh no, I'm an adult. Have you received a text message that made you cry? Yes. What do you think of your country’s education system? If you could change it, what would you do? WOULD YOU LIKE AN ESSAY????????????? I'd change a fucking load of things. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? No. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I'm not in a place to really answer this; I'm not knowledgeable of almost any celebs' lives. Think back to the last time you got really angry. Do you think your anger was justified, or did you act in an over the top way? It was fucking justified. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Probably one for the environment as far as volunteer work. We're absolutely annihilating our one and only home, and if we don't collectively get our shit together as a species, we're gone. I think both are equally important. Do you have any allergies? If not, what do you think the worst thing to be allergic to would be? Pollen. I think the worst of the ones I know would be any deathly-allergic food, especially those that there are traces of in many foods. What do you think of the term plus-sized in modeling? It is it empowering or demeaning? It's demeaning in its name. Just use "modeling" as the term. "Plus size" just makes it sound as if you're not a "perfect" model. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? Mmm, depends on my mood, honestly. Do you think you are ready to be on your own (have your own home, job, etc.)? No. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Totally. Do you sleep in a bra? I feel very sorry for anyone who does. Has your ex ever gone out with someone close to you? No. Can you suggest someone funny on YouTube? Personally find Game Grumps or Shane Dawson the funniest people on there. Sprite or Mtn. Dew? I hate Sprite, so. Has anyone close to you ever been suicidal? Yes. What is the 10th picture in your phone/camera of? A picture of Roman as a kitten. :') Are you friends with someone who’s autistic? My niece is, if she counts. Has anyone ever walked in on you having sex? No. Have you ever had a Bic Mac? No. I don't like lettuce on burgers. What’s your favorite part about the holidays? Seeing how excited my niece and nephew are. How old is your television? Idk exact years, but we had it before the divorce, so it's been a while. Would you ever dye your hair an unnatural color? BITCH I always want my hair an unnatural color. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yes. If you’re reading a book, what page are you currently on? N/A How many online accounts do you have? Or have you lost count? I've definitely lost count. Have you ever been to a convention? (comic, YouTube, etc.) A reptile one. Have you ever done a first aid course? No. Has anyone ever compared you to someone you don’t like? No, I don't think so. Do elevators freak you out? Yes. How do you find new music to listen to when you want it? YouTube recommendations or Spotify. What is the biggest difference between you and your best friend? OUR FEELINGS TOWARDS MEDICATION. YOU NEED IT SOMETIMES BABE. What is something most people are turned on by but you’re not? Penises in general. I'm still bi, but seeing a dick is just. Ugh they're just hideous to me okay. Is there anything you wish you had done with a current/previous significant other? No. Well, I'm curious how actually deep sex would feel, so I guess I kinda wish Jason and I went that far, especially now that I'll probably never have actual intercourse again, but. Oh well. What are the top three qualities that draw you to a new person? Charismatic, caring, and respectful. What job would you be terrible at and what job would you be good at? Anything dealing with customers; exposing animals to healthy human contact. Do you think that forgiveness is mandatory to move on from something? I think so, to fully move on. Name three things you would buy if you had the money to buy them? A PS4, drawing tablet, totally new and better camera. If you could have a video of one event in your life, what would the video be? Sara's reaction to seeing me in her room on her birthday. Her face was the most priceless thing ever. What did you think was cool when you were younger? Light-up shoes lmao. Who do you wish you could back into contact with and why did you stop in the first place? Megan. She lied about just about everything in her life for pity. When I finally called her out, she was so upset with herself that she like, fell off the face of the earth. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? No, but rather Dad trying to stab me. What’s the most bizarre Horror movie you’ve ever seen? Idk off the top of my head. Would you ever take a Lie Detector test for your significant other? No, but only because I find them as bullshit. Especially as someone with anxiety, I'd be so scared of something showing as a "lie" to remain calm. Plus, a question may just prompt a memory or thought in you that shows up on the test or whatever but isn't related to lying, stuff like that. Ever had a forbidden love or lover? No. Do you like canopy beds? YES. I WANT ONE. If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why? Ummm maybe a bear? They're tanks and super dangerous with their claws, teeth, and muscles.

[averyonelovesjack]

comments ~ jack avery

requested: no

summary: jack finds you upset because you have been reading hate comments

warning(s): cursing, depressing thoughts, triggering comments

word count: 1344

My numb and poorly painted fingers tapped the screen of my phone lightly as they scrolled further and further down the comment section of my recent post. A picture of my sister and me at a concert in LA last week. As the comments continued down the page, my heart grew weaker and weaker and less in pain at the numbing sensation that scavenged through my body, leaving me weightless and worthless. There were nasty words showered all over the comments. Statements claiming me to be fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, attention-seeking. Calling me a whore and a hoe. A useless slut who didn’t deserve a sweet, funny, adorable guy like I got. A cheating skank who shouldn’t even be able to meet Jack, let alone date him. 

I didn’t want the tears to start falling, but it seemed inevitable as a ring of nerves rushed through to my eyes, my face losing all feeling other than the transmitting neurons that gathered towards my eyes and let out a single tear. The tear dripped from my eye to my cheek and bumped over my chin and onto my chest as I quickly wiped away the remaining tears that fell from my eyes. 

There was no good reason for me to be crying. Other than the fact that these fangirls who didn’t know me, knew jack better than he or i did. That they knew inside and out of them that I am not worthy of jack. 

I am a simple girl. Blonde hair, green eyes, and an extreme amount of light colored freckles covering my pale face. A short figure with small hands and feet. My job was a small one, working in a popular cafe down the street that had introduced me to my boyfriend of six months, publicly one. The majority of my time was spent studying or completing school work that needed to be done in order to get my doctorate degree in medicine. Something that had been my only dream since i was twelve years old. That was, of course, until six months ago when I met Jack. My dream that didn’t seem to come quick enough and didn’t seem to leave quick enough. The dream that was forever there and would keep me on my toes. 

Jack treated me like a princess, no matter how clingy, bitchy, or depressing I was acting. It was something that he had learned from growing up around all females, and i truly loved that he could treat someone as terrible as me like i was everything in the world. He’d keep me happy at all times, doing whatever i felt was necessary and making me laugh when i was down. Jack never seemed to get upset with me, and i could see that it was difficult for him to do that sometimes. Like when he’d get jealous and it’d be a little bit clear to everyone he crossed. But he kept his cool with me and always trusted me when I explained things to him. It was just this beautiful relationship we’d developed and it made me sad to think by just one look at my comments, it could be over.

Surely enough, Jack was going to trust a million fans over one sad, little girlfriend that he had. These fans were legit and loved him more than anyone ever could. I’ve been a fangirl before and these girls would die for him. Jump in front of a bus, take a bullet for, kill a bitch and go to jail. They’d do anything for this boy who made them happier than anyone else could. There was no way that he’d believe me over them.

And maybe they were right. Maybe I am a whore and a slut and a hoe and an attention seeker. Maybe I am fat and ugly and stupid and worthless. Wouldn’t be the first time someone told me that and maybe it’s not that far from the truth. 

I couldn’t help but let the tears fall even further down my face, more and more rushing out of my filling sockets before a knock came at the door and the wooden pine opened, revealing the curly haired love of my life.

There was a simple look on his face until he saw mine, to which his switched to concern. His feet were audibly loud as he walked towards me, sliding next to me on my spot on the bed. I put my phone down next to me, opposite side of my body that he was on as he wrapped his long arms around my body, pulling me close to his and holding me for dear life.

In his arms, I felt as if I was the most precious thing in the entire world. Like I was a diamond and he was holding onto me for dear life so that I didn’t fall onto the ground and shatter. He made me feel as if in that moment there were only two of us in the world. 

I didn’t count how long we were squished together, but eventually when my tears had dried, he let us separate and he looked into my eyes, “hey, hey what happened?”

My eyes traveled down to my hands which were entangled with his as I sniffled and shook my head, “nothing. really. i’m fine”

i heard jack sigh and watched him frown, “it’s jack, babe. you don’t need to tell me a bullshit excuse because you don’t want to drag attention to yourself. i’m here and i wanna help. what happened?” 

“you’re going to leave me” i tell him and jack’s face turned concerned and confused, “when you see what they call me” 

jack realized what was going on, “please don’t listen to the comments, (y/n/n). the fans are jealous that you and i have a perfect relationship and they don’t. it has nothing to do with who you are, baby. they don’t know you like i do” 

i shook my head at his kind response to the hate, “you won’t like me afterwards. you’ll see who i am”

“i see you everyday, (y/n). i spend everyday with you and i know that you aren’t any of the disgusting things they could call you in the comments. i know you inside and out and you are perfect, baby. there is nothing they could tell me that i’d trust over your word” 

my eyes brimmed with tears, “i’m a slut jack. i’m a whore”

he looked taken aback by my dreadful comments but kept his hands interlocked with mine, squeezing them tightly, “not once have i paid you for sex. a whore is a prostitute and you are anything but. you aren’t a slut and you never will be. they are jealous fans, i promise you. i trust your word over theirs any day of the week and you have shown me that you aren’t a slut or a whore. you aren’t anything that they say, baby. you’re beautiful and you’re kind and you’re the smartest person i know, i swear. who else is going to tell me different diseases that i could possibly have when i’m overreacting about a small reaction to something? who else is going to explain to me different reasons for why i feel tired all the time and why sleep is so important? who else is going to force me to smile in pictures and drive me crazy with their obsession with hockey? who else is going to take me on crazy dates that are all over the place? who else is going to go tell me the truth about something? you are it for me. there is no one else out there as perfect for me as you. don’t listen to what the fans say because i promise you with my entire heart that you are not any of the nasty things they say in the comments”

I let another tear slip down my face as I wrapped my arms around his body, sitting up from where i was sitting and tackling him with a hug. He chuckled as we fell backwards on the bed so that i was sitting over him. I leaned down and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, smiling into it as he wrapped his arms around me and made me feel yet again like i was the only thing in the world.

[kieras-ocs]

OC headcanon #1

in which: gael and ryukjin go ice skating together- however, ryukjin isn’t very good and gael has to help him

read on ao3 here :)

**lowercase intended**

“why did i even agree to this anyway? you’re constantly cold why are we going somewhere colder? we should go to a cafe or something and reelllaaaxxxx,” ryukjin complained to practically no one. gael was already way further ahead struggling to contain his own excitement for their monthly date. this month it was his choice, so of course he chose the thing he loved most- ice skating. the only problem with this is the fact that ryukjin is really shit at ice skating. he’s just too tall and lanky with poor coordination- its a mix from hell. it was a good thing that ryukjin loved his boyfriend as he would never be caught dead in an ice skating rink, but here he was!

gael is a regular to the rink- he even has private access. the difference in their abilities is way more than noticeable. gael doesn’t get asked for his shoe size or anything anymore, he doesn’t actually have to pay either but he does anyway (”giving back to the community” and all that jazz). ryukjin looks very lost, pays way more than he should and spends too long debating on what size skates he needs.

“i don’t need you to help me put them on, you know?” ryukjin says softly, he totally was NOT struggling at all. “i swear i would’ve got it eventually” gael let out a small laugh that sent warmth spreading all over ryukjin’s chest. he would never say it out loud but it maybe his favourite sound in the world. “yeah yeah whatever you say- do you need help standing up or do you have that under control too?” gael asked slightly mockingly whilst springing up from his place on the floor. it was like he didn’t even have skates on- or he was born with them on his feet (you choose) ryukjin shot him an empty glare whilst pushing himself off the bench with his hands. he flails them about a bit, sending gael into a small fit of giggles- which makes ryukjin slightly die inside. to top it all off he plonks back down onto the bench with a loud thud. a red flush spreads across his face whilst he apologises to the family behind him and gael begins regaining some sort of composure.

“i hate you so much” ryukjin states obviously embarrassed. “is that why you’re here out of your natural emo cave holding my hand and blushing like a small school girl?” gael replies without a lot of hesitation. his eyes just seem to naturally sparkle when he looks to ryukjin who’s a little bit taller than he is. ryukjin can’t tell if that sparkle is mischief or just admiration- either way he’s head over heels for it. ryukjin wishes the eye contact lasts longer as he swears he could melt into gael’s eyes. “can we go to the nice now? i really want this over with as quick and painless as possible” he replies instead of acknowledging anything gael just said. in a matter of seconds he’s being yanked up from the bench and towards the ice rink entrance (still very unsteadily, ryukjin must have bruised gael’s hand from the amount he was clinging to it)

admittedly when you first get on the ice is always the worst. gael made it look so easy and graceful. his thin legs just look made for skating, the way his sweatshirt falls past his hips delicately distracts ryukjin from the fact he’s actually going to have to go onto the ice. gael turns around and stretches out both arms for ryukjin to hold. he flashes him a sweet smile that ryukjin thinks could cure diseases and softly encourages ryukjin to join him.

gael loves ryukjin. he love’s him more than skating- so combining the two is perfect. gael loves the fact that ryukjin will try anything for him, even this. ryukjin is definitely not the kind of person to be ice skating whatsoever. everything he wobbles or looks slightly uncertain gael is always right by his side holding his shoulder, turning a slight pink colour at the close contact. the way ryukjin relaxes next to his side is worth so much more than gael can give.

“is it okay if we come away from the edge? i think you’re more steady now! if you want longer that’s okay i don’t want to rush you or anything” gael asks, sounding slightly nervous about the suggestion. “as long as you promise to not leave me in the middle whilst you do some fancy spins away or some shit” ryukjin replies, obviously easing the tension and making them both laugh slightly.

as gael more or less rags ryukjin further from the side, ryukjin starts to slip slightly. he does NOT want to be cold, so he panics slightly as falling isn’t really on his agenda. gael notices this and quickly grabs both of ryukjin’s forearms, and blocks his skates from slipping ”ryukjin?” gael asks, capturing all of ryukjin’s attention, “do you trust me?” he stares intently into the taller’s eyes. he knows the answer, he always has. the soft lingering of gael’s fingers in ryukjin’s hands makes him feel whole, the comforting material of gael’s sweatshirt slightly brushing his wrists makes him relax even more- its stupid but this moment feels so special to the both of them. gael swears he sees galaxies in ryukjin’s soft eyes, he wanted to do nothing more than to place a kiss on his cheek and tell him how precious he was to him. ”of course i do” the reply was less than a second later, but that moment felt like a lifetime. ”then hold on, and relax”

ryukjin does as instructed. he keeps his feet in the same position for a little, he holds onto gael’s hand as he starts to skate. eventually ryukjin gets into the rhythm of leaning when gael turns so they don’t wobble. he starts to skate himself, now joining gael instead of lagging slightly behind. gael swears he has never smiled this hard before, he couldn’t ask for anything more perfect.

now ryukjin’s more confident, gael decides to show off. he breaks a little away from ryukjin and decides to try doing some spins, just to make ryukjin that liiittttllllleeeee bit jealous. ryukjin is impressed, but he is NOT being one upped.

he skates to gael and grabs his hand once he’s fully standing up. he skates around a little bit at first, and decides he’ll lift gael up. gael is light, he can do it fine. gael seems to get the idea too, as he braces himself and tenses his muscles so he can help with the weight distribution. they have completely forgot about the other people on the ice- so when ryukjin is j u s t about to life gael up, they collide slightly with another skater. this causes ryukjin to slip, gael falling too.

this is exactly what ryukjin wanted to avoid

“oh god. am i hurt? more importantly, is gale hurt?” ryukjin thinks

after a few seconds he hears gael laughing into his chest, tears welling up in his eyes and his whole face turning slightly red. they stay like that for a moment, assuring the other skater involved that they’re fine. ryukjin laughs the hardest he’s ever laughed before. he cups gael’s face, wipes the tears from his eyelashes and plants a soft kiss on his forehead. (yes- they’re in public, no- he doesn’t care anymore)

and at that moment gael and ryukjin learnt that they could be anywhere, but as long as they’re together- they’ll find some way to laugh with each other.

the ice maybe cold but the warmth from each other is enough. .

[kidabee]

Hidden Under Amaryllis (1/ 2)

summary: No one knew when it began. It was a disease a couple generations old. Their butterflies either rise up and escape as kisses, or... (Aka, "The Hanahaki Disease Flower Shop AU No One Asked For.") Twoshot.

pairings: killugon, leopika

notes: the flower meanings are listed where the fic is posted on ao3 and ffnet

story tag

The bell above the doorframe chimed, marking the three o'clock rush of one customer. 

Kurta Flowers and Creations was far from a popular location and patrons were a selected few. It was a small corner store that only residents who lived here their entire lives could remember existed, tucked away in the shadows of the town. 

It was overstocked with every flower available. There were flowers one wouldn't believe existed. Anything a florist could get their hands on, The Kurta had it. It was rare to hear they didn't carry what you were looking for. It was damn near impossible to stump them when it came to types of flowers. They were fairly popular for their Amaryllis, yet they rarely sold these days. The current owner claimed that he didn't stock them due to lack of interest.

There was a bulk floral shop set up down the street that sold flowers at a third of the cost and everyone knew that it was at least ¼ of Kurta quality. 'A flower is a flower', they'd always say. Long-lasting quality and beauty wasn't really necessary when you just needed them for the brief wow factor to get into your date's pants. Kurta was for the relationships that knew no bounds while Phantom Favors was for a quick steal of your partner's time.

The customer that came at three o'clock in the afternoon, like clockwork, was always dressed to impress. He donned a blue pinstriped suit carrying an oddball suitcase. His glasses dared to tilt on the edge of his face yet never made it far enough to fall. Names of flowers rolled like water off his tongue. He knew about every flower The Kurta had to offer. The transaction was always fairly quick which gave the well-dressed man less reason to stick around.

"And how fresh are your daisies?" His voice was rushed as usual. The hand that wasn't grasping his case was ghosting over different varieties of wildflowers in a frantic spree to find the perfect gift for whomever he ran off to on a daily. "I think she likes daisies."

Kurapika looked up from his book as if he didn't notice the tall man walk in until he spoke. He didn't need to know that the blond knew he'd be by like clockwork. The daisies were located in the favorites section near the back wall—not that anything was labeled.

"And what color are you looking for today," Kurapika hopped down from his stool and straightened out his apron. It was worn, tattered and clearly a hand me down. The tall man blinked at him in confusion which only caused a worn sigh to match, "in your daisy."

"There's more than just white?" His answer confirmed his search and Kurapika plucked half a dozen white daisies to bring to the counter. When the flowers were pulled from their basin, they dripped, so by habit, Kurapika gave them a gentle shake. He knew he probably shouldn't but there wasn't anyone to correct this bad habit so it continued on.

"So, white." He laid them gently in a piece of red cellophane and tied the end with gold ribbon. "They're doing just as great as they ever do." And with that, the flowers were handed off and money was exchanged. The suited man waved his thanks and rushed out like he had every day for the past two months. Who was the person he rushed off to after he passed the door frame? Kurapika sighed. He'd love to know. He'd smile at them in the smallest way to let them know they have everything. He'd smile in the biggest way to let them know he wished that wasn't true.

A tickle in the back of Kurapika's throat resurfaced, for the umpteenth time this month, which he elected to ignore. He wiped off the droplets from the counter and floor and went back to futzing with every flower in the store. He only read right after 2:30p until Leorio's daily walk into his life. He got his name from his credit card a few weeks back but he tried to not use it, even in his thoughts, until it was formally given. The book was interesting, sure, but he had a lot of work to do since he was the only one left to man The Kurta Flowers and Creations.

The Kurta rarely had regular customers but they did have people who came by. After school let out, kids from the school would drop wildflowers they found on their way home in a barrel left outside the storefront. It began after Kurapika's family disappeared and adults began leaving flowers at the door step with their condolences. The door stopped being able to open. Cans of food and messages of concern, in hopes to reach the troubled teen, got in the way. Kurapika gave in and rolled an empty barrel for them to fill. It has been 10 years since it began and it just kept going on with the new generation mimicking their elders.

He had to make sure that he was completely cleaned up in time for the two strangest boys he ever met to pass by. They were in their last years of high school and have been a constant in Kurapika's days since elementary school. He stood and judged whatever insignificant contest they had going on at the time. A popular contest was 'who made the better flower crown' using the excess of wildflowers the elementary kids brought by.

Kurapika didn't pretend he wasn't waiting for the boys. On the other side of the door was a tiny table and a long wooden bench. It spanned from the door to the corner of the tiny store front. He placed two waters on the table and watched the two boys come barreling down the road. At first it looked like a chase, with Killua in the lead and Gon a few steps behind. Killua ran with his hands in his pockets and a smug smile on his face. Kurapika knew from many years of experience that it was not a chase. This was confirmed when Gon hopped over Killua like a frog and took off in the lead. Why they were so competitive, Kurapika would never know.

It was Gon who won despite Killua being the faster of the two. They both skid to a stop. The water waiting for them was sloshed over their mouths. Half making their mark and the rest splashing down the fronts of their uniforms. Once the bottles were emptied, the two let out a happy sigh. The water acted as their one true saving had been coming here for the past five years and have shown no sign of stopping. When the weather allowed it, they braided wild flowers supplied by the elementary kids. When winter was grabbing at their coats, Kurapika let them use the wilting selection of flowers.

"Did the kids not stop by today?" Gon snapped Kurapika out of his flow of memories with a 17 year old sticking his head down the giant barrel. Coming up empty, he looked down the road confused. There were a few mumbled words out of the clerk's lips as he escaped back into the store. He had completely forgot that there was a field trip until late in the evening. All the kids would be picked up by their respectable parents and thus—no flowers. He robotically plucked a few flowers from basins that needed to be cleared out.

"Alstroemeria and carnations okay?" When he showed back up outside, the two boys were laughing but Killua had a slight redness to him. Whatever the joke was—he surely missed out on it. "Killua, are you feeling okay?" He knew the white haired boy was perfectly fine. He basically raised these boys and who would he be if he didn't mess with them occasionally? Gon looked back to his friend and hit him with a million and one questions to make sure that they were okay to compete today. Killua gave a sidelong death glare at Kurapika, 100% deserved.

"I'm fine, Gon, listen, I'm fine. I can make a stupid flower crown." Kurapika met him half way with a handful of alstroemeria and in the same motion, deposited the carnations on Gon's lap. It was some kind of a spectacle to watch teenage boys fumble with the long stems attempting to make the better crown. The bench was long but they sat in close proximity to each other with words of competition on their tongues.

Kurapika continued reading his book while sitting on the other end of the bench. The buzz of competition was the backdrop to his evening. It was definitely missed on the quiet weekends. Kurapika kept the doors closed on Sundays and there was no school on Saturdays. He held his time with Killua and Gon gently in his hands. A treasure he wouldn't give up for anything.

After a good hour of sabotage and crafting, the boys were done. Gon's purple carnation wreath fell apart the moment it was lifted. Laughter from Killua and Kurapika drowned out the groan Gon let out. Even though Gon's wreaths failed more often than not, his surprise was genuine each time. Kurapika wiped at his eyes in time to watch Killua's laughter halt when a single flower was woven behind his ear. Gon smiled, removed his hand, and gave out a bout of his own laughter. Unlike Killua, his didn't stop when Killua put the alstroemeria crown on top of his black spiky hair. If Gon noticed the change in color on Killua's face, he said nothing of it.

Killua was poking at the petals that were piled in the middle of the floor with his foot. He came in early Saturday morning and hung in the silence of the store. Kurapika was close to closing the store with sweeping being the only thing left needed to do. Since Kurapika was closing early on Saturdays, Killua had only been there for four hours tops. Kurapika didn't prod or ask why he wouldn't speak up. He figured he'd do it on his own. If he didn't? Well, Kurapika wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

Purple petals were peeking out of the mouth of Killua's shorts and Kurapika would be foolish to not recognize it as the purple carnation that Gon put in his hair the day before. He chose to not mention it. It was odd, sure, that Killua showed up without Gon. But it stood out more that he went out of his way to be there. The Zoldycks' residence was a long ways away on the outskirts of town and there was nothing on this side of town that Killua would otherwise be interested in. No, he came here on purpose.

"You won't tell him?" Killua's voice was more of a demand than a question. It didn't waver but Kurapika has spent more than his fair share around the alabaster brat to know that he was drowning in anxiety. His tone was slick as ice but his cheeks were hot and pink.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Killua." The petals were swept up and thrown away. Killua had hopped up onto the counter before Kurapika could stop him. No amount of discontented looks could get the teen to change his mind on where to sit. He eyed the clerk for a good minute before seemingly getting his answer. A moment of silence passed. 'Do you need me to take you to a doc-?"

"No." Killua stared at the ground with resolution. "No, I can handle this on my own."

No one knew when it began. It was a disease a couple of generations old. The explanation they give to kids in their sexual education class was something out of a fairy tale. A romanticized story to make the victims feel better for having it. Kurapika could remember it very clearly the day his teacher explained it to his classroom. It started as butterflies in your stomach. A light and airy feeling that was dangerously addictive. You'd seek out the person who made you feel that way.

More than half of the victims of who feel the first step rarely make it onto the second. Their butterflies either rise up and escape as kisses or dissipate with the lack of interest. Those who feel so strongly end up having a garden grow in the pit of their stomach. Depending on the person, hanahaki could rip them to shreds in a matter of days or torture them over a span of a few years. The school goes with the average number of 4 or 5 months.

"How long have you-" Killua's words were interrupted so that he didn't have to struggle to find the words he felt most comfortable saying. There was silent gratitude hanging in the air.

"Saying I grew up with you two wouldn't be far from the truth." Kurapika wanted to smile at Killua to relax him a bit but he knew it wasn't the best time to try and help the younger cope with this deadly illness. "A couple years now." Silence. A question sat heavily in the room staring them both down with the intense gravity of severity.

The disease doesn't thrive on facts as it does your mindset. Jealousy, fear, agony, heart break, pining, and any other negative feeling relating to the one you feel so strongly for is its fodder. The teachers say that the best way to heal yourself of hanahaki is to tell your target of affection while it is in its early stages. That way you can either be freed of hanahaki or lose interest in the one that's tearing you apart. They make it sound so easy.

Kurapika spoke up in hopes to get that dread away from him. "How far-"

"7 month mark." There were no signs of dry heaving, at least in Kurapika's presence. There was no way to protect Killua. That weight bore the heaviest on Kurapika's shoulders. He practically raised the boy and there was no way he could help. "Lucky me! It's going to go slow."

What they don't tell you is what the second stage feels like. The feeling of those butterflies dying and sinking in your stomach to grow into flowers. The weight of it all is overbearing. It hurts. The fear of dry heaving in the third stage or the amount of bloodshed in the fourth. Some people have bigger flowers than others. Kurapika winced upon remembering the slide they showed of someone with a sunflower in their hand. There was no blood in the image but the person looked so ill and pale. You knew that there was a lot of effort to dislodge a flower that big from their throat.

The flowers begin to swallow you. Your breathing is hindered and it takes you in the most beautiful way possible. Their ending slide for the presentation was a quote. It was unsettling and romantic in one fell swoop. "May flowers grow in the saddest parts of you-Zainab Aamir". They tell you that the disease rarely takes any victims because the universe sends you what you are ready for in that exact moment of time.

Bullshit.

The universe was sick. It sometimes gave you someone that you could swear was built just for you. You breathe their name and it's just so right. Then they don't love you in return. They have wives. They have families. You are young and don't understand. You could be suicidal and thank the world for giving you something that could take you away. The universe was dark. The universe didn't care if you were ready or not.

There was one way to save a patient. Removing one's flower. It was a disgusting process that was done in a frantic attempt to save a person's life. It takes up to eight hours in intense surgery. They have to remove part of your stomach and detach vines from your esophagus. In rare cases, it wheedles its way into your lungs and sometimes a lung can't be saved.

You could come out it, sure. Some say, after the surgery, they stop really caring about anything at all. Others say they never trust anyone enough to love them to begin with. No matter what the truth was, the result sounded the same. You never loved again.

Kurapika would rather suffocate.

And, in a sick turn of events, so would Killua.

"I think he's here to walk you home." Killua looked up and sure enough, Gon was peeking through the glass on the door. Kurapika locked them about twenty minutes ago and the lights were off. Looking past the rows of flowers was hard when there was light. In the darkness it was near impossible. Killua gave a soft chuckle and a mumbled 'idiot' as he approached the door.

"You're actually pretty wise in your own weird way." Kurapika took it as a compliment. It was as close as he was going to get. Killua unlocked the door and stepped out. Through the glass, Kurapika could see Gon hand Killua the skateboard he apparently left at home. The words were muffled but he could hear the chipper voice of the oblivious center of Killua's affection.

"You weren't at home or at the skate park so I thought you might be here! Let's go to the lake. I brought your swimsuit." It sounded like Gon had spent a good time looking for Killua. Just like Killua, Gon lived on the outskirts of the town. His house was a good three miles away from both locations. The skate park was in the middle of town.

Kurapika knew that Killua had nothing to agonize over.

When the dry heaving began it was one of the dry days. Killua brushed it off as the air getting to him since everyone was mowing lawns and spores were everywhere. Stage four was never far away from three and it terrified Kurapika.

Since Killua brought up his illness to Kurapika, Kurapika seemed to forget about everything around him. He worked robotically and began to forget the three o'clock visitor he looked forward to every day. It was only when he saw Leorio on his way out that he regretted not paying more attention.

Kurapika coughed a few times before going back to his computer to scan through medications that would soothe the side effects. There were rubs to put on your chest that opened your airways. Medicines that relaxed the muscles that helped the petals along without much bloodshed. Before he knew it, he had wandered to the local pharmacy to peruse the aisles for the products.

It was a Friday afternoon in May, three weeks after Killua's self-diagnosis. Gon had gone home as per Kurapika's instructions. It had to be subtle. He made it sound like a favor. Gon would be back to walk Killua home, he was sure of it. Killua was leaning against the counter with his back to the door, twirling a perfect flower between his fingers. It wasn't drenched in blood as the petals before it so he was able to see the flower that was killing him for the first time.

"First full one this morning." Behind the specks of blood were white petals with lilac splotches splashed down the center. A few of the petals had an array of spots from yellow, brown, to deep plum. It was terrifyingly beautiful. Kurapika handed him a bag from the local pharmacy and Killua hid it in his book bag. It kept it secret from his family and from Gon. It was safest this way. There were no accidental sightings and no worried best friend.

The bell chimed when the door swung open. Kurapika had disappeared into the small backroom to fetch some literature he had purchased on coping with hanahaki. If they could get through a few pages before Gon returned, they would consider it a win. Killua tilted his head back to welcome the customer to the store. People would sometimes mistake Killua as a second hand. Most of the time though, he just greeted them and walked away.

Leorio approached the counter where Killua just full on stared at him. He broke eye contact to look around for the blond but when his first attempt failed he stubbornly glared at his watch. "I thought Kurapika was the only worker here. Did I miss him for the day?"

The clock blared the time: 4:37pm. It was close to closing. Killua twirled the flower between his two fingers and didn't respond for a moment. His eyes mapped the stranger in a way a predator would study their prey. Killua knew most of the customers' names by heart. If he didn't know their names-he's at least seen them. Leorio was a new face. Leorio knew Kurapika's name despite the lack of nametag.

"Is there anything you're looking for?" Killua ignored the initial question and enunciated the second half of 'anything' to make it clear he wasn't going to answer his question. Though Killua's eyes were probing for answers, the rest of his face was lit with a smile. If he was rude to a customer, Kurapika wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

"Oh. Uh...something for...a boy." Leorio scratched his chin and looked around at the selection. For the first time he seemed to be at a loss for names. Killua hesitated to break contact but ended up walking over and picking up the first blue flower. He grabbed a few and wrapped them unceremoniously before handing them off. "These are nice." His voice was stilted as he accepted the flowers. He looked over the flowers at Killua. "What are they?"

"Flowers."

"What's their name? Do they have any sort of meaning?" Leorio dragged on the conversation even though it was clear Killua was done.

"Hate to break it to you, old man." Leorio flinched. Irritation spread across his face but he said nothing. "Florists don't know flower language. They just sell flowers."

It was then that Kurapika rounded the corner. "Hydrangea." Leorio looked at Kurapika while Killua seemed to not even acknowledge his arrival. "They're Hydrangea, and yes, they are doing well." Kurapika held his hands out in front of the flowers in a silent request. It took a moment for Leorio to catch on but when the realization dawned on him, he laid the hydrangea in his hands.

Kurapika went back to the counter and pulled a new sheet of cellophane from under the counter and re-wrapped the stems. This time, he tied a blue bow to match the petals of the flowers. Killua was still behind the counter and stood in the way of the register so Kurapika just handed them right back to Leorio.

When Leorio reached back to accept the flowers, his hands accidentally grazed Kurapika's. This did not go unnoticed by Kurapika in any way. He kept a smile as fresh as his flowers on his face with words as smooth as hunny. "On the house. I hope he likes them."

With that, Kurapika retreated from where he came. Killua waved at Leorio who was just standing in the middle of the room. He faked a chipper tone. "Have a swell day, sir."

How long had Kurapika stayed back? Long enough to know that the flowers were for a boy. Kurapika grabbed onto the wall and started heaving. He had to stop seeing Leorio. During those weeks where he was blind to everything around him was easier.

So much easier.

Killua found Kurapika around the corner after Leorio had left. Kurapika was staring at something in his hand. With closer inspection, Killua saw something he wished he never had to see from his longtime friend.

"Kurapika...are those?" Kurapika closed his hand around what he was holding and wiped at his mouth. A tinge of blood smeared from the corner to his cheek. A flurry of hands wiping at his face until the blood was gone with mumbled affirmations that it wasn't anything important.

Killua looked back to the door where Leorio had walked out of less than a minute before. A stranger wasn't someone to die over. "He knew my name."

"You probably introduced yourself at some point."

"No...I don't remember ever doing so."

"Kurapika, do you have anyone you like?" Gon's voice was loud and prodding. Kurapika gave a sideways look at Killua who feigned innocence. It was clear that Killua decided to meddle in the situation and brought Gon into it. Gon, being considerate, didn't want to out either parties on the possibility that he may or may not have been tipped off to the problem.

"Do you?" Kurapika went back to the project in his lap. The two teens had wrestled their argument that today was the day that Kurapika joined in the competition. His defense was there would be no judge. They came to the consensus that there was never a judge because, 9 out of 10 times, Gon's wreaths failed. The abundance in dandelions that the elementary kids brought by were stunning. Did they just fill their backpacks full of them?

"I like Killua." Gon was frank and to the point. He beamed with that iconic smile that drowned out the sun. "He's my best friend." Kurapika blinked in surprise and looked over at Killua. Killua had a bottle of water to his lips when he started coughing. Gon laughed and thumped Killua's back. Gon didn't see the blood that Killua wiped away. He sloshed a bit of water in his mouth and swallowed before going back and took a giant swig of his water and held it in his mouth. Killua turned to Gon and sprayed him like a fountain.

"Don't say embarrassing things." Killua scolded with a shove to Gon's shoulder.

"Huh? Embarrassing?" Gon's chipper tone faded into confusion. He took a moment to wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt before staring back at Kurapika-obviously waiting for an answer.

"I like Killua and Gon." A simple answer. A safe answer. If Gon was willing to use his best friend as an example, he was going to use his only friends as his. The two teens seemed not to take to the simple diversion. Their backdrop of bickering clouded the area around Kurapika. It took him a minute to figure out the heartfelt laughter dancing between the arguments was coming from himself. His lungs began to ache in a way they hadn't in years. Around the flowers in his stomach was the sudden feeling of light. It wrapped tightly around the stems and tugged a few branches loose.

There was room to breathe.

Killua and Gon had long gone by the time Kurapika came back to himself. Dandelions strewn in every bit of his gold hair. Where the flowers stopped and his hair started was a gray answer. The light faded when the teens waved from a distance. The space the light brought about lingered. It was long past the time the shop should have been locked and forgotten for the night but Kurapika stood in the bright lights in the center of the store.

Kurapika grazed his fingers against the two wreaths on top his head and the multitude of loose ones. Again, Gon's wreath didn't make it past a few minutes and had found rest in the blond hair. A chime sang, startling Kurapika. When Kurapika saw who stepped through the door, the space that was cleared from his evening with the boys immediately filled with petals. His stomach became heavy while flowers. He fought back his reaction to start heaving.

Leorio was standing in the doorway with a look on his face that Kurapika couldn't discern. The man carried his suitcase as usual but in his other hand were bloody flowers. The stems were long and leaves were complete. The white and lilac petals could only be seen in tiny spots past the red.

"Who is it?" Leorio's voice was stern and concerned. The look he had when he walked through the door was different now. It went from some sort of amazement to terror. Kurapika tried to think for a moment to place why he'd be amazed before he glanced at the flowers. Blood was pooled out by the front of the store with petals on the ground and full stems lying in a pile.

Killua.

Kurapika's feet picked up and bolted through the door without vocally acknowledging the man in the doorway. How could he have missed the heaving? How could he not have seen the teen throwing up outside of his door? Under his watch, why wasn't he there to help him through it? The sounds of feet were closely behind him.

Leorio commanded Killua to open his mouth. Killua blankly refused with a turn of his shoulder and a glare. He jolted when Kurapika laid a hand on him. Normally he wouldn't be startled by something so simple. His reactions are always alert so the reaction Kurapika got was the biggest red flag he could have ever received.

Kurapika found him sitting on the ramp at the skatepark. Blood smeared around his lips, he looked paler than usual. His chest moved at a very slow pace. Killua was looking up at the sky. He went to the skatepark when he couldn't be at home. It was the first place anyone who was looking would go. Gon's backpack was next to Killua but Gon wasn't anywhere that Kurapika could see.

Killua pigheadedly opened his mouth and Kurapika could feel his blood run cold. Lining Killua's right side of his inside of his cheek were vines and small leaves. A leaf was stuck between a wisdom tooth and his cheek. A petal could be seen in the back of his throat. Leorio swung his suitcase open and medical supplies clanked from its depths.

"You're a doctor..." Less than a question and more of a statement being brought to light. Kurapika's voice was breathless. On the inside between small vials were polaroids of children holding vases of flowers. One girl with daisies, a boy with hydrangea, and many more of children with flowers Kurapika could remember selling the man. "The flowers were for your patients?"

"Who else would I be buying flowers for?" He said matter-of-factly. The tone made Kurapika flush in embarrassment for having the assumption that the flowers could be for anyone else in the world. "A doctor doesn't really get time to spend with anyone." Leorio filled a syringe with an upside down bottle of unmarked liquid. At closer inspection, all the vials were blank but full.

"This is going to pinch." Leorio's voice was gentle yet authoritative. Killua let Leorio pull out his cheek and slowly insert the needle into the back of his cheek. He wobbled the cheek after removing the needle then patted the outside. "Let me know when you're numb."

Leorio turned around to witness Kurapika looking at him with a look as soft as a sunrise. There was strain under his eyes from worry but his initial gaze brought nothing but warmth. In turn, Kurapika saw Leorio gape at whatever he was basking in. They held a silent conversation with shared glances about Killua's well-being. Questions with immediate answers disguised in silence.

Leorio shook off whatever he had going on with Kurapika and opened another vial. He shook out two pills and handed them to Killua with a bottle of water. There was mumble of instructions to take them before he was completely numb. Killua complied.

When Killua was finally completely drugged up, Leorio pulled a couple of tools from a back pocket: a scalpel, a small pair of scissors, and a decent size of tweezers. He began carefully removing the vines lining his cheek; starting with plucking the leaves from their stems. Kurapika watched Leorio in a way Leorio had felt before, but never from Kurapika Kurta. His gaze felt like blazing red of protective instinct. If Killua showed any sign of pain, Kurapika would put a stop to it. There was no way around it. Leorio would not be allowed near Killua again.

Killua knew this well. Despite the muscle relaxers and numbing agents in his mouth, he had to hide the searing pain. He bottled it up and saved it for himself. Killua focused on watching Kurapika grabbing at the material on his sleeves repeatedly as a distraction. He was sure Kurapika could sense him watching, but Kurapika was preoccupied with delegating the situation.

Killua felt a forceful tug while he wasn't paying attention and winced. Kurapika jolted and Leorio removed his hands from Killua's mouth.

"Are you okay?" Kurapika's hackles raised and ready to separate the two. Atmosphere thick as cement. There was no way anyone could cut through it unless Kurapika calmed down. Leorio could swear he saw Kurapika's eyes glow with rage.

"Exactly…what are you doing?" Killua's voice was garbled but he had a point to get across. Numbing agents was not going to stop him from asking what he needed to ask. "You aren't completely removing it are you?" His questions made Kurapika relax a little bit when Leorio gave a hesitant shake of his head. Killua fixated on the pile of leaves and petals already removed. It was a pretty decent pile. All of this was just inside of his mouth?

"Just stabilizing." Simple words. Safe words. Killua reopened his mouth to let him continue. He did, however, babble on for the rest of the time that he insisted to get it completely removed at a later time. As a doctor, he didn't condone letting the flowers go past the stomach. Catching it early on made it easier. Killua refused every time.

Once Leorio removed his hands from Killua's mouth completely and begin to wipe down his tools, Kurapika stood over Killua. "I'm telling Gon." His words firm. Stubborn, firm, and unmoving.

"You think I don't already know?" The group froze. No one wanted to look at the voice's origin. If they looked, having him there would be real. If they saw the trademark green outfit with spiked back hair, it made it real. No one wanted him to see him with the agonizing expression they all knew he had painted on his face. Slung around him shoulder was Killua's backpack. Bottles of medication slipping from the front pocket. They must have been accidentally switched, causing Gon to return at the worst time possible. "You think I haven't tried?"

Killua looked up first. "Gon." The whisper was just remnants of breath. There was no power in what he said. It sounded weak, helpless and painful. Leorio, out of respect for the other two, tried to cover the bloody pile with his being. Everyone already knew he knew but they pretended they could take it back.

"Like I haven't tried?" He repeated. "Killua is a very dear friend to me. I tell him every day."

"Gon…" Killua warned him from continuing. At this very moment, or even any moment from this point forward, any negative feelings could end him. The whole group caught on instantly and approached Gon with their hands up.

"Gon, now's not the t—"

"When will be the time? Killua is my friend and it is always the time to say that." Gon pushed past to get to Killua. In that moment, Killua's body relaxed; seemingly given into his imminent demise. As long as it's Gon. Killua thought. As long as it's him, it's okay. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love you, Killua?"

"This isn't about friendship, Gon." Kurapika tried explaining from behind them. Without looking over his shoulder, Gon gave off a threatening aura. The thick black cloud around Gon silenced Kurapika and Leorio instantly.

"I know that." He snapped. "And I'm not talking about that either." Gon kneeled down next to Killua and put a hand on his shoulder. Vines started slipping through Killua's lips and growing outwards. It took over half his face and bloomed in a frighteningly beautiful way. His breaths ran ragged yet Killua held back any emotion he was feeling.

"You're an idiot," Killua strained. "You can't—"

Gon grabbed Killua and pulled him close. He peppered kisses along the side of Killua's uncovered face then down to his lips. The flowers didn't stop growing. "Stop this Killua. No one can tell me otherwise. I love you, Killua."

"Sto—"Killua's words were silenced by another kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Killua." He only got louder.

"G—"Another.

"I love you, Killua." Gon practically shouted. The flowers blew in the wind but didn't grow further. Lilac peeked through his hair and made a mess below. Gon brushed a finger at the stray flowers. Petals fell at the touch. Killua's eyes never left Gon. He mapped Gon's face like it was the first time he had ever seen it and that he would never see it again. What was once a strong bond of an unstoppable disease to Killua's skin felt brittle under Gon's touch.

Killua's eyes were bright.

Gon's smile was brighter.

"When did you find the time to come and buy flowers?" Leorio's suitcase clacked closed. Gon had left with Killua moments before; Killua being dragged by the hand to an undisclosed location. Kurapika cleaned up the flowers while not making eye contact. "Isn't being a doctor busy work?"

"A man's gotta eat." He laughed. When Kurapika made a noise of disbelief Leorio clarified. "My office is down the road."

"Unbelievable." He never missed a day to swing by. The flowers weren't cheap. There couldn't be that many patients that each one could get their own vase of flowers. Each probably got at least five each at this point. It was slightly endearing.

Kurapika felt something ignite in his stomach; like a fuse burning its way to his lung. It splits and goes up his throat as well. It burned its way through him and landed on his cheeks.

It was Monday and the store opened like usual and closed late. No sign of the boys or Leorio. There were no customers that day either. Flowers were rearranged. The doctor could just be late. He didn't want to look like he couldn't be patient. Kurapika closed two hours late just in case one of the boys came by.

Tuesday came and went just like Monday. Leorio missed a second day. The boys haven't even passed on their way back from school. Children discarded their wild flowers as usual. An old lady came by and bought a bouquet of sunflowers. They reminded her of the flowers that another woman had coughed up for her. The woman had passed without saving. The old lady regretted every day that went by that she physically couldn't return the flower's victim's feelings.

Kurapika's heart went out to the woman. Both the one who has passed and the one who had to live with the guilt. She had to watch her friend wither away while throwing up flowers bigger than anyone could really handle. "Once they bloomed," she had reminisced, "she went quickly."

Kurapika could only be glad that Gon got through to Killua at last. He missed them over the weekend and couldn't wait to see them again on Monday. He didn't think much of it until they missed Wednesday as well. The doctor was still absent. He had plenty of customers for it being a Wednesday but they all molded together and he can't remember for the life of him what kind of flowers was bought that day. The fuse lit in Kurapika burned slowly. It wasn't easily ignored.

Thursday brought quiet. There was no outside wind. Not a soul came through the doors. Kurapika could have missed it but he could swear he never saw anyone even pass by the store. The street was a ghost town. Although he saw no one, he heard voices play around in his head. More than one voice calling his name. The universe was cruel. All that he had were his thoughts on that Thursday. Now that Killua was out of danger, Kurapika had plenty of time to think about his personal situation. The past quiet days seeded dread and his flowers grew.

He heaved and heaved and heaved. Behind the counter strewn a pile of blood that was far beyond the amount of an 'okay' amount to lose. There were enough flowers laying in midst to make its own bouquet. Kurapika saw them before but refused to acknowledge the flower by name. Now, there was no way around it. They were Amaryllis. They were the flower the Kurta were known for since the beginning of time. Even past the red of blood, the petals were their own shade of brilliant crimson.

He now understood why Killua didn't say anything. Yes, having flowers grow on the lining of your mouth was uncomfortable. Granted, the flowers were a sign of everything but beauty. Of course, he didn't want to show how much pain this beautiful flower brought to him. What the flower represented, hidden under the grotesque feelings, was love—and who would want to rid of that? It was so uncomfortable that it gave a sense of peace. He knew what was happening and he didn't need anyone to tell him he was going to die.

The amaryllis had always been a sign to the Kurta that they would not survive much longer. He heard stories before that there were deranged customers who would press and frame flowers that the Kurta couldn't keep down. Kurta Flowers and Creations never sold amaryllis. The stories were just sad stories. That was that. But, for a reason he couldn't explain, Kurapika crushed the flowers he spat up under his feet. Once they were completely destroyed, he threw them in the waste bin.

His breath ran ragged and there was blood on his shoes and tracking to the trash can. The customers would think so badly of him for this. Kurapika couldn't focus on being upset because of that past a minute. The blood could stay. He was tired. A nap would take care of this fleeting feeling. He wouldn't die now. He was just going to sleep. When he woke up, he'd clean up the blood.

I'm just going to lay down for a moment. Kurapika thought as he stretched his arms before crossing them under his face. When he woke up, Killua and Gon will be smiling and telling him about some crazy adventure they were on for a week. He would stop hearing their disembodied voices and see them again.

Kurapika's breathing slowed to a pattern to a relaxed sleep. And everything was okay.

It was okay.

Leorio would be there apologizing when he woke up. Kurapika would pretend to be angry…and that was okay.

He was just going to close his eyes.

[mingyoozi]

Wonwoo: Blood for Blood, Bloom for Bloom (pt 1)

photo cred ©

[table of contents] I. II. III. IV.

anonymous asked: hello! if its not too much, can i request a wonwoo hanahaki disease au scenario? like i want it very angsty bc i lov to break mi own heart but i dont want anyone to die. thank you, you lovely little bean hehe ^~^💛

Summary: a kind of fictional historical thing based in the tudor era but like u can’t really call it that cuz like did henry VII or queen elizabeth actually ever reign in this fictional world ??? that’s the real question.. also mingyu and wonwoo don’t wear those ugly ass balloon pants that were classic of the tudor era…. I wouldn’t do that to them… nor would I let them do that to themselves….

The sounds of an orchestra playing and feet shuffling in the background fade. Your shoes suddenly feel like nothing, unlike the previous iron weights that they had felt like before. Every blister and bruise becomes completely unknown to you. You lean against the window, the latticework cold against your cheek as fatigue settles into your bones, though only out of the anxiety of having to dance with strangers in the middle of a loud room.

“There you are,” You hear from behind you. You don’t turn toward the voice, knowing exactly who it came from and knowing also that you’d rather not see him right now.

“Here I am.” You state, your voice sounding pathetically weak and getting lost and muffled in the glass panes of the window.

“Your sister is looking for you.” Mingyu says. He reaches out for you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off with a sigh.

“When is she not?” You scoff.

“You shouldn’t be walking around with that kind of attitude. She may be your sister but she’s still the next queen and this is still her wedding party.” He scolds. It’s accompanied by a flick to the back of your head.

You grimace. “I wasn’t the one who gave her the flowers, I don’t see what good my help will do.”

“Your sister’s ineptitude of self control isn’t the problem here,” He hisses, taking you by the forearm and dragging you back through the palace. “It’s the fact that you’re not there to hold her hair back while she expels petals into her chamberpot that is.”

You scoff, but you let him drag you down the corridors and deposit you at the door to her room. You knock on the door, but you don’t wait for her reply. The lantern beside her bed is dwindling, providing only a dim light to only a small portion of the room. You can hear retching coming from the darkest corner.

“Oh, Jieun.” You gasp. You rush to her side almost immediately, letting the door swing shut behind you. The light from the corridor peers in through the cracks.

“I’m alright.” Jieun insists, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

As annoying as the situation is, you still feel bad for her. She is your older sister, after all.

When your parents died and your uncle had shipped the both of you off to a neighbouring kingdom, a betrothal sitting heavy on Jieun’s shoulders, she had taken care of you. She watched over you and made sure that you still received the same love and attention that you would have had at home. And now, rubbing Jieun’s back as you watch the colour return to your face, it dawns on you that it’s your time to return the favour.

She takes deep breaths as she sits on the floor, her hand clutching yours as she feels the familiar pangs of the rose in her torso digging its thrones into her heart and her stomach. She had always loved roses as a child, and you can only think of one person who loves roses more than she does. That’s how you’d figured it out in the first place.

“Stupid Mingyu,” You curse. “I should’ve killed him as soon as the first petal fell from your lips.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She grumbles. She lets you help her up and onto her bed.

You kneel behind her, forgoing your expensive dress and your stiff crinoline. “Give me one good reason why.” You say as you untie the back of her corset.

“Because it’ll only make things worse. I’ll have a disease with no cure.” She says, tilting her head back so that you can brush her hair.

You clench your jaw. “You already have a disease with no cure. Mingyu is devoted to the king, he wouldn’t let himself fall in love with the king’s betrothed, even if he wanted to.” You say.

“Alright, then because he’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.” You argue. She giggles, though it’s interrupted by a cough.

“I’m your best friend by blood,” She says. “Mingyu is your best friend by choice.”

“It wasn’t my choice.” You grumble. She giggles again, and it’s an incredibly sweet sound to your ears.

You had a quiet upbringing, a life and education without music. Jieun was trained in politics and the traditional instruments of your ancestors, where you were trained to hunt and read and write. Royalty had never suited you, and being the youngest of five in line for the throne had always been a relief as it allowed for more leniency towards your whims.

Jieun could have been your parents’ successor and you could’ve stayed at home with her, had it not been for your uncle taking over and promising her to the Jeon dynasty. Your three brothers had been allowed to stay in your kingdom, your uncle favouring a local education influenced by your family’s own beliefs than the education of another culture.

The cultural differences between your kingdom and the Jeon’s had never ceased to amaze you in the few months that you had been living with them. You hadn’t been allowed to go to school, only seeing tutors in the palace who were shocked to see a girl practicing writing. Only certain people were allowed access to the library, so you found yourself quickly lacking an entertaining pastime in the first few weeks, until you met Mingyu.

“You should go.” Jieun suggests as soon as you’ve finished brushing the knots out of her hair. “The queen will want to speak with me about her son.”

You roll your eyes. “He probably thinks the flowers are for him.” You say, getting up and returning to your pile of clothing. You struggle into your crinoline and your silk dress, silently thanking your dressmaker for putting the laces on the front of your bodice instead of the back.

“You’ve never even met him. He’s not that bad, Y/N. He likes reading, like you. And he’s actually quite tolerable.” She says, laying on her side and pulling the sheets over herself.

“Tolerable,” You mutter distastefully under your breath, so low that Jieun doesn’t hear it. “Get some rest, Jieun. You’re looking frail. I’ll call someone to light the fire for you.”

Jieun is right. You don’t have any right to be insulting the king when you’ve never seen him around the palace even once. Though, that is cause for concern, given your curious nature and the fact that you had investigated every corner of the bright-tiled castle within your first week of living here.

Mingyu is still standing outside when you exit Jieun’s room, leaning against the wall and staring down at his boot-clad feet.

“Oh,” You let out. “You’re still here.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I’m still here.” He says.

If it wasn’t for your sister’s infatuation and your general distaste for royalty, you might regard the next king’s best friend in a better light. Mingyu’s cheeks fill out just enough that they aren’t overly or underly pronounced, laying under perfectly sculpted cheekbones and bright, joyful eyes. A good face and a good build make Mingyu the most eligible bachelor in this kingdom and yours.

“Want to accompany me in crashing my sister’s wedding party? Seeing as she won’t actually be able to attend it herself.” You ask.

He grins at you with that perfect smile of his and extends his arm. “I’m not sure if crashing is the right term. It’s not like either of us weren’t invited.” He says.

You take his arm and allow him to lead you back towards the ballroom. He helps you down the wide flight of stairs, his arm sturdy and reliable under yours. You know that he would catch you if you fell, because he has before. You’re not worried about that. You’re worried about the crowd that awaits you at the end.

“You won’t leave my side, right?” You whisper as you near the bottom of the staircase.

Mingyu snorts. “And throw you to the wolves? Would I ever do that to you?” He says.

You shrug. “You’re very unreliable.”

He laughs, the action of laughing consuming him entirely. It throws you off kilter, and you stumble down the last few steps without much grace and without Mingyu to catch you.

You are caught, though, at the very bottom of the stairs, by someone with a slightly less muscular frame than Mingyu’s but just as much height. Mingyu rushes to your side as the stranger pushes you to your feet, his dark hair and dark eyes entrancing you for a mere second, though you miss the crown that sits atop his head.

“Pardon me, my lord.” You mumble, your cheeks blazing as you dip your head in a curtsey.

“Mingyu,” The stranger says, a scolding tone laced through his voice. “Is this how you treat a lady? You laugh at her and then push her down the stairs?”

“She lost her footing, your highness, and the laughter was all in good fun.” Mingyu defends himself.

The words ‘your highness’ ring through your ears, and your face starts to feel hotter than it had before. Mingyu elbows you in the side and you stand up straight, willing your face to cool down.

“Don’t look so flustered, my lady. I’m sure this brute was the one at fault here.” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu scoffs and Wonwoo chuckles.

“Just for that, you can find someone else to teach you sword fighting.” Mingyu threatens. He turns away from you, leaving you and forgoing the promise he had made to stay by your side.

Wonwoo laughs, wholeheartedly and deep in his throat. “Ignore him.” He suggests.

“I’ve been ignoring him for weeks, I don’t think he’s caught on yet.” You joke lightly, still nervous about being in the presence of your sister’s new husband.

“Tell me, what brings you to my wedding party? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” He asks.

“Queen Jieun, your highness. She’s my sister.” You reply.

Wonwoo’s smile falters, but he clears his throat and it’s back in an instant. “My condolences, my lady. The flowers are a terrible illness that I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemies. I will watch over her well. I assure you that she is getting only the best medical attention.” He says.

“Of course,” You say. “I wouldn’t think anything less of the Jeon family. You’ve all been very kind and attentive.”

“Would you happen to have an idea of who caused the flowers?” He asks.

You stare down at your hands, guilt settling in your stomach.

“Does it concern you, your highness?” You ask, evading the question as much as possible.

You know that Wonwoo doesn’t love your sister, he doesn’t even feel anything close to the puppy love that your sister is harbouring for his best friend, but you can’t help but fear that he’ll do something regretful to either or both of them.

You keep your eyes low as he replies.

“Indeed, it does. Jieun is young and full of life, it would be a shame to see her taken so early by something so small as an unrequited love.” He says.

You nod. “I agree. Unfortunately, your highness, I haven’t seemed to come into that information. Jieun and I are close, but there are some secrets that you keep only for yourself.” You say. He sighs.

“That is unfortunate. But, I digress. I’ve heard a lot about you, my lady. Your sister speaks very highly of you and Mingyu seems quite taken with you.” Wonwoo says.

You shake your head, your cheeks turning red again. “My sister is my sister, and Mingyu is a fool.” You say, encouraging a chuckle from Wonwoo.

“Yes, you’re not wrong.” He agrees.

The song changes and he offers his hand to you. It’s a song with a slower tempo than before, and the floor begins to clear in favour of more experienced dancers.

“Er, pardon me, your highness. I don’t dance.” You say.

He shoots you a grin that takes your breath away. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around someone of such high stature. His teeth are perfectly aligned, something that you rarely ever see. It’s possible that he might be even more attractive than Mingyu is, though it’s more in your personal taste than conventionally thought, a statement that you thought you’d never say or think.

His cheekbones rest high on his face and his jaw is strong and sharp. You find yourself wanting to reach out and caress his skin that looks so fair and so perfect. The inevitable heirs that he will have with Jieun are bound to be beautiful. They’ll most likely have his dark hair and dark eyes, and Jieun’s upturned button nose.

The thought sends a sour feeling straight to your core, the idea of Jieun holding his children in her arms. For the first time ever, you can feel something that you’ve never felt before. It twists in your gut in a way that makes you want to scream and laugh at the same time.

“Neither do I. I was wondering if you’d like to continue our conversation somewhere where we can actually hear each other?” He suggests.

“Oh,” You say, your voice doing nothing to contain your shock. “I suppose I’m not needed elsewhere. But what about you, your highness? It is your party.”

“Yes, it is. Is this not mingling?” He teases, his grin widening.

You roll your eyes. “You’re just as much a fool as Mingyu Kim.”

next.

[genderfluidsodapopcurtis]

Basically it’s an unfinished Rumble Fish fanfic please read it

Alright, I’m gonna try something a little different today. As you guys may have noticed, my mental health has been...not in the most stable place for a while now. I’m currently going through the whole process of getting taken off of my current medication to start a new one, which is never fun. And my anxiety and depression are both very persistent in screwing up my basic executive function abilities, so that it’s nearly impossible some days for me to eat or bathe or even sleep, much less write.

I want to say I’ve had writer’s block for the past several months, but I’m not sure that’s true because I have been writing. I just haven’t been able to finish a story. Which of course makes me feel like a complete faliure as a writer and a human being. It’s absolutely awful, and I have had many, many panic attacks over it.

So, I’ve decided to try something new: Publishing an incomplete story. Publishing the very beginnings of a very rough first draft, mistakes and typos and forced dialogue and clumsy descriptions and all. Just to put something out there. Who knows. Maybe it will give me the push I need to keep going.

I did go with something I do like and I am kind of proud of, though. I hope I’ll be able to complete it someday.

Fandom: Rumble Fish

Ship(s): None. Rusty-James/Steve friendship. Slightly slashy undertones though, because I can’t not.

Genre(s): Modern AU, Humor, Hurt/Comfort (ish), sick!fic (ish).

Warning(s): Menstruation, and all the fun stuff that comes with it.

Additional Notes: Transboy!Rusty-James, Transboy!Steve.

The house is too quiet.

It's like one of those scary movies where a disease wipes out the whole world but one person. No sound at all; not even the usual background stuff you never really notice until it’s suddenly gone: footsteps and doors opening and closing and cars passing by down the street--there's nothing. Nothing.

The idea of “quiet” is supposed to mean no sound at all, which is actually bullshit that makes no sense because quiet is actually the loudest thing he’s ever heard. He hates it; it’s seriously freaky--probably because of all the movies and the everybody dying thing--so most of the time when he’s by himself he gets away from it and back to people as soon as possible, before that prickly feeling, the one where it’s like all the liquids are being sucked out of him, starts to set in. That’s why he’s almost never home alone.

But today he doesn’t get a fucking choice.

He can’t even move to turn on the TV or something. Can’t even move from this one spot on the bed, where he’s curled up on his side with his face smushed into the pillow. It feels like somebody is taking a knife and stabbing it into his side and then twisting it around in his guts, and then the same thing in his head, right behind his eyeballs. He feels shitty all over, really: achy and groggy and sticky and gross, gross, gross.

Boys getting periods is such fucking bullshit.

(Boys having boobs and vaginas is fucking bullshit, too, for the record.)

Time’s been dragging by all morning, Rusty-James fading in and out of an empty sleep--until a sound finally comes with a tap on the window, quiet enough that Rusty-James almost thinks he just hallucinated it.

And then another one. Louder and sharper and definitely real.

Rusty-James flinches, stiffens. If it’s a burglar or a serial killer or something (it has to be; who the hell else would be trying to get in through a fucking window), he won’t be able to fight them off, and he knows his window’s not locked (who the fuck locks a window), so they can get in and kill him easy. Jesus Christ.

Another tap. And then “Rusty-James!”

And then another.

Wait.

Rusty-James pushes himself up and turns over and feels a rush of relief flood his chest when he sees that it’s not an axe murderer at all. Just Steve.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, that makes sense. Why the fuck would a criminal try to break in here during the day, anyway? It’s broad daylight. And it’s not like they have anything worth stealing. And a killer wouldn’t tap on the window ti let you know he was coming in, because that would be fucking stupid, because then the other person would run away, which would make everything harder. An actual killer would try to sneak in real quiet; not let you know he was even there until it was too late--

He suddenly realizes he’s just been staring at Steve the entire time he’s been thinking about this when Steve rolls his eyes and taps once on the glass again, hard and deliberate, snapping him out of his head.

“Can you open the window?” Steve asks. His voice is kind of muffled through the glass, so he’s half-shouting it.

Rusty-James shrugs. “It ain’t locked,” he half-shouts back.

Steve rolls his eyes again and brings his hands up to press them against the glass, and then slides the window upward with a spliitening crack. Rusty-James doesn’t open that window a whole lot.

Cold air that feels like needles on his skin rushes into the room.

“Ah! Fuck, it’s freezing!”

“You’re telling me.” Clumsily, Steve brings one leg up over the edge, and then the other, and then he pulls himself over and inside, scrambling onto Rusty-James’s bed before turning and sliding the window shut. And locking it.

Then he shrugs his backpack off his shoulders. Rusty-James didn’t even notice that he had it, but know that he has he’s wondering what Steve’s doing out of school.

Steve never ditches. Any time Rusty-James ever tries to talk him into coming along when he skips class, Steve always says no for one reason or another. Usually he says it’s because he doesn’t want to “get caught” or “get in trouble” or “I have a test in whatever fucking class today and it’s really important.” (To Rusty-James, this seems like just an even better reason not to go in the first place, but fucking whatever. Steve’s always been weird about all that school shit.)

So, “The fuck you doin’ here?”

Steve looks up at him then, and Rusty-James can’t read the look in his eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses. He almost never can, though. Stephen thinks a lot with his face, and Rusty-James has never been too good with those. 

“It’s your period, right?”

Rusty-James stares at him. “How the fuck did  you know that?”

“Periods generally happen on the same date every month, you know.”

Right. Dates. Another thing he’s not too good at.

Although the fact that his best friend knows his period scheduale better than he does is probably at least a little fucking sad.

Steve goes on. “Anyway, you haven’t been coming to school, and you usually get really bad when you’re on yours, so I just--I just, wanted to see if you were okay.”

He’s not wrong. Rusty-James’s periods are always really, really fucking awful--the time when he was over at Steve’s house and threw up everywhere suddenly jumps into his mind--and the first time, when he didn’t know so he bled through his jeans and onto his mom’s couch. They had to get a new couch after that.

And he’s been in lots of fights, tons even. But nothing has ever hurt worse than those fucking cramps. They’re the kind of pain that looks white around the edges, and they’d be enough to make him cry if he could cry.

The headaches, too. And the all-over aches. And the throwing up. They all really suck, actually.

Once in a while he can suck it up enough to go to school, although it’s almost always a pretty fucking awful idea. That’s what he did last month, and he ended up punching Smokey Bennet in the nose (after he asked Rusty-James “Aww, is it somebody’s time of the month?”) and getting suspended anyway.

“I brought some stuff for you that might help, though,” Steve says as he unzips the backpack and reaches in, pulling out one item at a time before setting in down carefully on the bed. “Midol--it’s like aspirin but for menstural cramps, so it works better--a heating pad, Nutella and a spoon--I don’t think that actually does anything, but I always eat a lot of chocolate when I’m on mine...”

All Rusty-James can really do is stare at the spread, struck dumb. He has no idea how to feel about somebody caring so much much about something this stupid.

Rusty-James isn’t a girl, but he still has to deal with all the girl problems that his father and his brother don’t, and when he started getting his period (after Steve’s mom yelled at him for bleeding on her good couch), all he got was an awkward talk from the old man and a box of too-thin pads that the Motorcycle Boy probably stole crammed under the bathroom sink, and that was it. It’s not something they ever talked about again.

But with Steve it’s different. He get’s it, because he’s the same way and he has to deal with all the same stuff, and they’ve been best friends for so long that Rusty-James can remember when he was still Stephanie--fuck, he can even remember them being friends when he was still.

Well.

They were still both girls, and that was a really fucking long time ago.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

New Year, Same Mistakes

There’s rain coming down and I’m watching the raindrops trickle down my driver’s side window. The left side of my face is pressed against the cold, my tears are falling faster than the rain.  

 “You’re a stupid shit,” I think to myself.  “You keep making the same stupid mistakes.  You will never amount to anything.  You are still nothing and you should have killed yourself a long time ago.”

 Once the downhill of your depression has already been made, it’s like a ski slope you’ve already been down before.  You get faster to the bottom with each practice.  I would have numerous medals based on how quickly I get to the lowest, darkest place in my mind.  

 I get a call from an adoring fan/friend, who is one of a very small group of people who understands me in a way most do not.  I read the transcript of his voicemail and I cry harder.  He saw my self-defeating Twitter post and called to check up on me and reassure me he is there to be a friend.  I just felt shittier.  

 I’m the type of person who crumbles under people’s generosity and kindness when I am in a depressed state of mind.  I have been programmed to believe I do not deserve it.  

 As I approach my 32nd birthday, I criticize myself even more that I still don’t have my shit together.  “You keep trying and you keep failing, why do you still bother?” is what I ask myself at this age.

 I was deceived by a professional con-man.  I am ashamed that I foolishly believed this man, who said he was working for a professional athlete, that was interested in seeing me.  I was offered a large sum of money for two weeks, enough that it would completely wipe out my debt and have plenty left over.  

 I won’t go into all the details, but this guy was good.  I have to give him that.  But I should have listened to my engineer, who warned me this was probably a scam. But I already had to borrow money from him to pay bills, I haven’t been able to pay my student loans, and with the end of the year, comes taxes, and I already owe the government a few thousand from last year.  

 My student loans, plus the loan I took out to help me move to Las Vegas, and let’s add what I owe to IRS for just 2015 alone, since I do plan to pay my taxes unlike our President-Elect, is about 67K.  And I know there are other debts floating out there that also have to be resolved, and I don’t even want to know what the real figure is.  

 So maybe you can understand why, when I think there might be a chance I can earn enough to wipe my debt clean, I don’t think quite as clearly as I should.  The figure weighs heavily upon my mind.  And in December, I only had four calls, so I went into more debt because I didn’t have enough for all my expenses.  

 As I sat in my vehicle, wailing to myself, glad to have finally gotten my windows tinted this past year, but knowing people could probably still see and hear me, I thought about the texts my mother sent me this past summer.  

 In a previous post, when I was discussing my trip to LA and an interaction I had with another provider, I wrote that my mother implied I was a diseased whore and I left New York with telling myself I will never talk to her again.  I’ve mentioned how tumultuous the relationship with my mother has been in the past, and after I was home in July, I thought it best she remains out of my life while I try to learn to love myself.  A lot of my insecurities stem from my mother.  

 In July, I owed three car payments.  I was paying the average minimum of what my actual car payment was supposed to be each month, which is about $400.  But I had gotten into a hole a couple times in the beginning of the year, where I wasn’t able to pay one month, and then it happened again a couple months later.  I was finally up to being able to pay the monthly payment, but not enough to pay the $800 from the missed payments, plus the monthly $400.  

 My parents were getting calls from the loan collector.  I explained to my mother what had happened, but that I was back on track and just needed a little more time to pay back the missed payments.  She decided to make a payment with her credit card.  My parents are in just as much debt as I am, maybe a little less, and they’re both retired.  

 I didn’t ask her to do that for me.  I didn’t want her to do that for me.  I knew my mother too well.  I knew this would backfire on me.  And it did.

 My mother has the tendency to do something nice for me, then shove it in my face later on, making me feel guilty and horrible she did it in the first place.  I felt like she would do something kind just to use it as a weapon to strike me down at a later time.  

 At age 12 or 13, my mother decided to discipline and hate me one day, while I had my best friend over. I didn’t do anything horrible.  I don’t recall what happened previous to the memory I have, but I remember my friend and I sitting on the floor in front of the entertainment center.  There was a swinging door opening to a portion of it, that housed VHS tapes.  I had it open and as my mother walked by with a pile of laundry, she kicked it, so the corner bashed and cut my knee.  

 She told me I didn’t deserve to have glasses.  “If you’re not going to appreciate what you have, you don’t deserve them,” she said towering above my friend and I.  

I’ve needed glasses since I was ten.  My eyesight had significantly deteriorated at that age, that the optometrist asked my parents how I could even see the softball.  

 I needed my glasses to see clearly.  My mother knew that.  I yelled for them back and she refused.  I started crying.  And my girlfriend started crying too.  

 My mom drove my friend back home and there were no words spoken, except when my friend whispered, “Please stop crying.”  

 So maybe now, you can understand a little bit better of my psychosis.  Why I’m this somber/angry/emo girl who has a hard time accepting when people are nice to her because she doesn’t believe she deserves it.  Who will always wonder when that generous person shouts, “Look at what I did for you!”  The way my mother and my New York-ex did.  

  Back to last July:

 My mother paid my missed car payments.  I told her thank you and that she did not have to do that.  

 I’m still that teenage girl in many ways who can only tolerate my mother for a certain amount of time.  ‘What are you eating?  Where did you get that top?  Where are you going?’  I’m extremely anxious around my mother because I can never relax, every action is an interrogation.  

 I tweeted the night before I left, “It was good to be home, but I cannot wait to get away from my mother and her fifty fucking questions.”

 And then came the shit storm.  

 She read my tweet and I admit, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but I gave her the ammunition to ridicule me and my job.  

 “Sorry I ask so many questions, but at least I don’t ask you for money,” she snarled at me the morning I was getting ready to leave.  “At least I’m not a fucking whore.”  

 She called me a “fucking ingrate,” implied I was a diseased whore, and made some remark about sucking cocks.

 The tears welled up in my eyes like it had so many times when I was growing up.  I got in her face and pointed at her, “You have no idea who the fuck I am and I do this because of you.”  

 I was so angry and emotional that my words didn’t make much sense without context.  But I’ve given a lot of thought of why I do what I do, and/or the reason why I place myself in certain situations.  And the honest truth, is that I don’t really care about myself.  My mother nurtured all of those insecurities that I had about myself.  When you’ve been brought up to think you are nothing, you believe your worth is nothing.  Who cares if you sell yourself?  At least I have a value now.  

 “Don’t you want to say goodbye to your daughter?” my father asked as we stood with my luggage gathered by the front door.

 “No,” she said authoritatively.  

 “Goodbye, Mom,” I said. I fought back more tears.  ‘She doesn’t get to win this time,’ I told myself. And I also knew these would be the last words I would be saying to her, either until her death, or for a very long time.

 I had a layover in Charlotte, NC.  I switched my phone off airplane mode and I received a text from her, ‘FYI:  I am sick of the F’ing calls from your bill collectors and the 50 F’ing questions they bombard me with.  With that said, the next call I will give out your porn name, talent agencies, special phone number, and all info that is readily on the public web.’

 Me: ‘All I can ask is please do not.  If my real name is attached to my alias, more people will be able to find me and threaten to hurt me, rape me, and kill me.  If you want that, then fine.  But please do not.  

 My mother: ‘Should have thought about that before choosing your career.  I will feel no guilt.  Too bad, so sad.  

 Pay your F’ing bills, give your animals to respectable families, and live within your means.  All you want is quick cash and entitlement.  Shove that down your deep throat and gag. Shove your blaming attitude up your banana as whole.’

 (I refer to myself as a banana for being Korean, but really, I’m white because I’m completely Americanized.)

 So there I was sobbing inside the Charlotte terminal, strangers looking at me, like what the fuck is wrong with this woman?  

 My friend from Brooklyn College called me after I posted a screenshot of the conversation with my mother. I didn’t want to answer.  Her kindness made me weep more as she attempted to convince me that I’m not a horrible person.  

 I cried talking to her. I cried on the plane to Los Angeles. I cried on the FlyAway bus from LAX to Van Nuys.  I didn’t cry the whole time, but I only had the company of myself and I drifted to those dark places because I knew I was alone again.  

 My mother’s text about giving away my animals is near the top of the most hurtful things one can say to me.  I know I have a lot of pets.  I like to think I’m making up for my entire childhood and adolescence without having one, and that’s why I have so many now.  But I told my friend from college this (she’s an animal lover/artist too), “The more lives I have to take care of, the less likely I’ll be able to kill myself.”  

 Always half logical and half emotional with my thoughts, it is true.  My whole pack would have to be separated and I would never want any of them to wind up in a bad situation or in a shelter.  They are my everything.  My littlest dog, DeSoto, sits in my lap as I type this.  My special dog, Atticus, is underneath my chair.  

 I just get along better with animals.  People have been and continue to be cruel to me.  Animals have not.  I’ve discovered I’m a horrible communicator when it comes to relationships.  I believe it is a combination of needing time to express my thoughts and feelings (hence, writing), along with a fear of my words being misinterpreted, and growing up as an only child and not having anyone to talk to when I was sad.  

 I used to drape my Pound Puppy’s ears across my eyes and cry myself to sleep at night.  I didn’t have to say anything to my stuffed animal Brodie, who I got when I was a year old, and named after my neighbor’s dog.  I would just wrap my little arms around him, put his long ear over my eyes, and hope my sadness would be less when I woke up.

 Now I finally have my own menagerie.  I get to hug and cry into my squishy Pit Bull who is usually taking up most of the space in my king size bed.  I talk to my one cat as he head-butts to greet me.  My other cat kneads my stomach, reminding me maybe I should have done more cardio.  I laugh at my special dog because he is just that.  I squeeze my little Min Pin, wondering if he was just given away just because he is all black.  I smirk when I hear my turtle swimming to nowhere as she kicks up the rocks in her tank. And I marvel at the beauty of my German Shepherd and ask myself, how am I so lucky to be the owner of such a handsome animal?  

 But when I’m struggling to pay my bills, especially last month and I thought this month would be better, but it’s looking like I will be in the same position with only a call a week, my mother’s words echo in my mind.  Maybe I don’t deserve them.  

 I will be 32 next week and my career as a whore is barely keeping me afloat.  My porn career is non-existent since my agency has zero interest in promoting me, apparently.  I have no children.  Thank goodness in many ways, but I’m in a very small pool now of those who are not mothers.  So I’m nearly 32, and I still am struggling.  And the day after my birthday, we inaugurate a mean, petulant child to the highest position of our country.  

 I keep trying to fight back the tears of my failure.  I try to convince myself that I am more than nothing.  I try to have hope.  But as one potential client cancels on me, another tries to bargain me down to 300, another 400, and others who lose interest just because I won’t fuck them raw, I don’t have much hope.  And with the world will becoming a much scarier place on January 20th.  I don’t have much hope at all.  

[cleargentlemenllama-blog]

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One is perverse, two are male, three are public, four are the general public, men, women and children, directors, accountants, migrant workers, temporary workers and non discriminatory workers. They pray for themselves in their hearts.Eleven o clock this afternoon, the small celery received a call in the warehouse, is to show her elder sister to go out to the street, saying that a black car waiting for her to remind her pay attention to the car license plate. 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