#everyone says the itchy phase is annoying because of the itching

[kirstielol]

as a skin picker, i gotta say, seeing the big flakes of skin peeling up on my tattoo is temping me to pick at it more than the itchy feeling is tempting me to itch it 🥲

day 6 healing pictures under the cut, we entering the peeling phase now

it looks so fucked today lmao

top picture is after i washed & moisturized, bottom picture is from when i first woke up and it was a lot drier

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Tips For Portraying Allergies In Writing

There are all sorts of posts out there on how to portray things in writing. Emotions, action, dancing, being drunk, competitive ping pong, etc. And enough people have allergies that you'd think this doesn't need one...but I realized today that it kind of does. First off, there are different kinds of allergies. I can't speak to a lot of them - such as food allergies* - because I don't have that problem. Feel free to reblog this and expand. Second off, there are a lot of different symptoms for different allergies and they crop up differently in different people. For instance Mum and my cousin are both allergic to cottonwoods, but while they both have eye problems, Mum's itch and are accompanied by a scratchy throat while my cousin's just water like crazy.

So today at work as I was struggling to eat my last break snack in between breaths, I decided I'd make a post with some details of allergy suffering that are a bit more interesting than the usual 'the person with hay fever sneezed and looked through watery eyes'.

Here we go. Feel free to use any of this, to add to it, to provide medical reasoning, to commiserate, whatever.

You can develop allergies. I feel like most people know this, but it bears repeating because it can be an interesting detail. When I was younger, I went through a phase where orange juice made me break out in a rash, but that went away. I was first tested for actual allergies in my 20s and had nothing. I am now allergic to dust mites and grass pollen. I had a former coworker who developed an allergy to chocolate...which she loved. You can have lots of character angst with this! Also people who have known you for a long time frequently display a certain degree of surprise unless they've gone through a similar experience.

Everyone knows how to cure allergies. EVERYONE. The second you say you're suffering, you will be treated to an endless barrage of 'Oh, use this steroid spray! It fixes everything!", "You need X brand of saline nasal spray. It's the only thing that works!", "Have you tried Y brand antihistamine? I swear by it!" Never fails. Now, if you've developed your allergies, it's best to listen to all of this and look into it. I've tried all of the above except the nasal sprays because I am super leery of anything that might mess with my sense of smell. The saline sprays don't work for me, but I've found one brand of antihistamine that...helps. Usually. Depending on the day. Once you've been dealing with them for awhile, though, you've heard most everything and the whole things just gets very annoying.

Meds can stop working. This can be abrupt or gradual, but when there's only one thing that works for you, it sucks big time.

Symptoms are generally not consistent. They will be better or worse depending on the time of day. They will change over the course of the allergy attack. I'm not sure all of the reasons for this. A lot of people have problems in the morning, when allergens have managed to settle in their system overnight (and if your problem is dust mites, bedding is a huge place for them!). I also get them really bad at night, to the point that when I first started having problems a coworker was convinced I needed to dust my bedroom because nothing I said could convince her that 'night' meant 'after sunset regardless of location' and not 'in bed'.

Combining the last two points, the meds that work well on one set of symptoms may not do so well on later ones. Last Wednesday when the pollen level spiked and I woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe, one pill had me back to normal. The next two and a half days were itchy eyes, low grade sinus pressure, and just enough post nasal drip to be uncomfortable and make my throat scratch, but it would have been So Much Worse without the meds! As we've moved past that stage and into the 'well, there's not much actual pressure, but my sinuses are packed with concrete and I sound like it', they've stopped doing anything, which is super annoying. Why? See the next point.

As stated above, it's quite common to have allergy laden characters sneeze every time they're near an open window, but somehow, unless it's a cartoon, they never pull out a handkerchief or grab a facial tissue to deal with the after math. I've four handkerchiefs that need washing from the past three days at work. People really don't address other issues. Having to sleep with your mouth open, which leads to bad tastes, dehydration, poor sleep, etc., for instance. Or, the one I alluded to in the intro - having to choose between breathing comfortably and eating. One of the reasons soup is such a good go to at this point is that you don't have to chew, so the fact you basically have to inhale, intake food, swallow, exhale, inhale again is a bit more doable. Actual chewy foods are terrible and eating neatly with your mouth closed is not happening, sorry. Brushing your teeth is also incredibly unpleasant.

Year round allergies can still have 'seasons'. Dust mites, for instance, see upswings in autumn, when everyone turns on their heating units and leaves are falling everywhere, etc., and spring...which I believe is mating season. I know my doctor told me why that one, but I can't quite remember. Pretty sure it was mating season.

While having people give you 'must use' remedies is annoying, there is still a certain comfort in other allergy sufferers, especially ones who show the same symptoms in much the same manner. One of my coworkers who also has grass allergy asked me a question today in a not-quite-so-nasally-but-still-congested voice and immediately responded with recognition and sympathy to the tone of my reply. We spent a good several minutes comparing notes and yup, same symptoms start to finish. Misery does indeed love company.

And that's all I'm being able to scrape out of my sinuses brain right now. I may add more later, as things progress, or other people say things that remind me of other things or...you know. Whatever. In the meantime, I hope someone finds this useful.

*it's worth noting that while I'm not actually allergic to food, I have a weird and annoyingly inconsistent sensitivity to tomato products. Pizza sauce has never bothered me, but tomato based spaghetti sauces run the gamut from 'fine' to 'my lips tingle' to 'I have a mouth full of fire ants that have flayed the skin off of my tongue'. The same product will give different results on different days, although fortunately the last one only happened twice when well meaning friends served me 'nice organic tomato sauce'. Best guess is it's something to do with the acidity.

[5csbin]

HAUNTED HOUSE !

HALLOWEEN TXT EDITION!

txt x neutral reader !

WARNING !: cursing! knifes! haunted house! JYP AND 6IX9INE!

a very crack and dumb one shot i made.

“MANE IF YALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP!” taehyun shouted as they were walking up to the line since everyone began to nag.

"this is why i wanted to go trick or treating instead." beomgyu pouted and folded his arms as he and the rest of the group waited in line to go inside of the haunted house.

well it was more like a haunted barn, where they would all get on a hayride and be driven throughout the barn and be spooked supposedly. "trick or treating?? how old are you again?" kai mocked him,

"no offense but i'm starting to think you were right when you said beomgyu was still mentally 9 years old because.. this is starting to get worrying. what 19 year old is trying go trick or treating?" yeonjun added in agreement, while taehyun shot him a dirty look for throwing shade at his best friend.

beomgyu’s first instinct was to scoot closer to (y/n), but he then fired off a clapback of his own. "the only thing that's worrying is that wig you're wearing, who the fuck are you even supposed to be? lord farquad on crack?" gyu fired back at yeonjun, who was now touching the short black bob on top of his head.

soobin couldn't help but laugh, even though it was his own boyfr- bestfriend getting flamed and soon, everybody else in the group let out laughter at gyu’s clapback. even taehyun, who couldn't stand beomgyu, was practically crying laughing at what was said.

"actually, i'm supposed to be dora," yeonjun replied, gesturing to his pink t shirt and bright orange jeans. "and soobin is.. well diego." he pulled soobin closer to him after saying that and kissed his forehead, before ruffling his blueberry curls a little.

"wait.. ain't dora and diego supposed to be cousins?" taehyun asked, his mouth curling in disgust, "i don't think that's positive..." kai added.

“cousin lovers.” (y/n) said making yeonjun smack their arm.

it was a wonder how they didn't annoy the others waiting in line for their ride, since they would fight every second. meanwhile as the group turn drew closer and closer, beomgyu found himself regretting agreeing to come here.

it was weird.. he loved horror movies, but he despised haunted houses because even though both were fake events, being in a haunted house was just so up close and personal you know?

if it wasn't for it being (y/n)'s birthday (lets just pretend ur birthday was on halloween.) beomgyu wouldn't have came, and he would have probably just stayed at home and took pictures of his costume for instagram before going over to hyunjin’s to watch scary movies.

(y/n) noticed that beomgyu looked uncomfortable amongst all of the roasts and jokes flying amongst the group and they decided to ask what was wrong.

"gyu, why do you look so sad? being sad is my job," (y/n) asked as the group continued to move up in the line. "i'm not sad," beomgyu answered. "i'm just nervous, i don't like haunted houses.. i had a really bad panic attack the last time i went to one, and i don't wanna have one and ruin your birthday or anything.. i probably should have just stayed my ass home."

"nah, you not going to ruin my birthday, you're my friend and i care about you... it won't be that scary, it's literally a haunted barn. you know what barns have? cows and chickens. now who's scared of cows and chickens? nobody. except blades of grass."

the little pep talk made gyu feel slightly calmer. "thanks," he replied, fumbling with the thick leather choker around his neck. "your costume is really cute by the way. i like the face paint."

"thanks, it was kai’s idea actually," they responded with a chipper edge to their voice. (y/n)' costume consisted of a sweatshirt and sweatpants with a skeleton printed on the front, and his face was made up to look like a skull.

after beomgyu was calm, he found himself overhearing a conversation between hueningkai, taehyun, and his knives.

"no tae, you can't bring your knives in here with you," hyuka shook his head as taehyun kept asking if he could run back to the car real quick and grab his knives "cmon kai, just in case a demon wanna try some shit"

"well.. can i get my ouija board?" tyun asked, his lips twisting into a devious smile. "i just wanna talk to the demons, it's halloween, and if it's any day i should be allowed to do this, it's today."

"ain't there no demons.. this is a barn. you wanna talk to demonic horses and shit?" yeonjun pokes in the conversation and raised an eyebrow.

"yes? of course i do, the fuck do you think i am?" taehyun whined, pointing to the devil horns on top of his head as the group finally made it to the front of the line and were waiting for the tractor to come back so that they could get on the hayride.

finally, after they all stood around and handed in their tickets to the clerk in front of the line, their tractor was ready, pulling along the hay covered cart as it came to a stop in front of the barn entrance, waiting for the group to board it.

"wait, hay? y'all ain't say there was going to be hay..." soobin complained, his skin already itching just by looking at all that hay. "y'all do know i'm allergic to hay right?"

"bitchhh, we been said it was a hayride involved," hueningkai snapped, "what you done caught the (y/n) disease where you forget everything every minutes or what?"

"aye i don't forget everything, i just be high," (y/n) cut in as they handed in their tickets to the clerk. "and i'm allergic to hay!" soobin cried out, scratching his forearm.

soobin actually is allergic to hay, but it wasn't something severe, he just got irritated by it and it caused his skin to rash up, not like his skin didn't already look as if it was full of rashes.

(that not true btw)

"oh well," hueningkai replied in a deadpan tone, shrugging. "guess you'll just die then."

after they've all handed in their tickets, everyone began to board the hay filled cart, with everyone obviously choosing to be closest to their besties.

when they got onto the cart. soobin was snuggled up to yeonjun, playing with his diego the explore backpack trying to ignore the itchy feeling the hay gave him.taehyun was resting his head on (y/n)’s shoulder, whining about his knifes, beomgyu was clinging onto kai for dear life, because he was still scared after all.

"i better not hear none of y'all screaming like no pussies after we get in here," yeonjun started after the tractor began to start up and drive them into the dark, cool barn. "how y'all gon be scared of demons when i'm taehyun a whole demon. y'all scared of him now?"

"actually, yes, i'm scared of him just a little bit," beomgyu answered, his tone groggy.

"considering he tried to kill me on multiple occasions and almost succeeded, yes yeonjun, i'm scared of taehyun and he make me fear for my life." soobin added on, slightly flinching at just saying the word taehyun.

"that was before i became positive," taehyun suddenly flashed soobin and beomgyu a toothy smile, "just like i'm positive that none of these demons or zombies or whatever the fuck is in this barn is gon' do shit to us."

"tae if you don't shut your ass up, there’s no demons in here, nor is there any zombies, they are paid actors. you wish you was in a horror movie so bad," hueningkai cut in, once again ruining tyun’s fun.

as of right now, nothing scary was going on. just the typical music playing throughout the barn, random screams, and plastic skeletons appearing out of nowhere. shit that made little kids be scared of, but anyone else wouldn't be phased. not even beomgyu was phased by what was going on, and he was the main one who was scared to come along.

but then.. things started to get more spooky. the people who were sitting on the edge would start to get grabbed and poked without warning, and people would come up on side of the cart out of nowhere and scream or otherwise bring attention to themselves, which would catch them off guard obviously, but shit like that was to be expected at a haunted house.. or in this case a haunted barn.

but soon though, things began to get downright creepy.

as they were sitting in the cart, slightly startled and caught off guard by the jumpscares, but not too shaken up, not even beomgyu was that scared, as he made sure to sit in the middle of the cart to avoid being randomly grabbed or touched by these strangers in costume, and it was just amusing to people like taehyun or (y/n), they weren't prepared for what started to happen next.

soon the music that sounded as if it was from a demonic nursery cut out mid note, and it was replaced by an old, gravely sounding voice that began to sing happy birthday very terribly and off key.

and they thought this was creepy, considering it was gus' birthday, but they considered it was a coincidence. "damn (n/n), they singing happy birthday to you, that's wild," yeonjun noticed, laughing at the 'coincidence'.

"see, i told y'all they’re really a skeleton, how else would they know that we're here for their birthday, hmm?" beomgyu added matter of factly causing the others to let out laughter.

so even though it was somewhat unsettling, it didn't become horrifying until the voice replaced "happy birthday to you," with "happy birthday (y/n)."

the place then became a chorus of "did yall hear that shit?" and "yeo what the fuck?!" after they noticed that, with (y/n) in particular being especially shook that there seemed to be a demon singing specifically to them, and their eyes went wide as the voice continued to serenade them, albeit poorly.

"see, this ain't it no more." soobin announced and hueningkai nodded in agreement. "h-how do they know it's (n/n)' birthday? much less who (y/n) is?" beomgyu asked as he held onto (y/n) even tighter than he was before. "i'm scared now."

"that's what we all want to know," yeonjun answered before reaching up to adjust his wig, before feeling nothing but his real hair tied back. he knew his wig didn't fall off or get snatched off, he had it secured with bobby pins, because it was one of his mother's wigs and he didn't want to lose it, but it had just completely disappeared.

"uh...my wig is gone," yeonjun announced and soobin just nodded. "same."

"no i mean it's for real gone... my dora or lord farquaad or whatever the fuck wig i was wearing earlier just.. disappeared into thin air." yeonjun continued to explain as he continued to search the surrounding area for it, just in case it fell out of his head but it was actually gone.

"see, i told y'all asses there were demons in here, but y'all didn’t wanna listen now y'all getting your shit taken, and demons are singing happy birthday to (y/n) and shit, and now y'all shocked," taehyun added with a huff.

"tyun, ain't no demons in here. if there were demons in here, they would do a lot worse than steal hats and wigs and sing happy birthday, believe that. they'd be torturing us psychologically, and- wait, where the fuck is my sheep hat?" hueningkai touched the top of his head, where his costume top was missing from, and now he was heated.

"yeah, we gotta get outta here."

more shit like that continued to happen with the voice continuing to reference them by name, and reference stuff that only people that know them would know, like soobin almost running someone over once, or yeonjun’s furry suit,and then, near the end of the ride, it all came together in the worst possible way.

a single echoing voice with a thick new york accent screaming "SCUUUUM GANGGGG!" followed by a laugh in the distance that sounded a lot like jyp’s laugh.

and in that moment, all of them literally hopped off of the cart and ran towards the exit.

[honestsycrets]

Seeking Sunlight | [ Hvitserk x Reader

❛ pairing | drug dealer!hvitserk x druggie!reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk came to sell his brother’s shitty boyfriend some drugs. he stays when someone catches his eye-- for all the wrong reasons.

❛  tags | drug use, drug dealing, serious dub!con (nothing graphic here), choking (slight), parties, lotta referenced sex, somewhat implied prostitution, slight abuse, lgbtqia+ characters: oleg, torvi, gunnhild, and ivar, minor violence, minor sexual content, party reference, dark fic to be, 18+, slight sadism?, offensive language, hvitserk is an asshole.

❛  sy notes | read the warnings.

He slid through clustered groups of people under the dismal light of the normal uppity and cheery backlights. Everyone he looks like another stranger in the grand scheme of it all, grinding ass against dick, or pussy against pussy, or maybe dick to dick. Hvitserk rubbed his eyes under the dark frames, dragging down the stairs from which a girl rushes past, straight to a group of bitches that look half-past toasted.

He breaches the bottom and heads past the sliding door where he hears his name shrilled out from behind a plastic neon cup. He looks up, realizing its Ivar sitting by his newest man, someone who had more problems than Ivar’s legs could ever have.

“Hey,” Hvitserk jogs toward the two. Oleg tilts up his hips, fisting out a roll of cash with one hand and with the other fondles his brother in places he never really needed to see. Ivar sucks down a cup of pink mystery punch.

“Hvitserrrrkkkk,” Oleg has this natural sing-song to his voice because he has everything and anything in control, that included Ivar. Something he thought he could never say before the man walked into the picture. “You have a little something there. Enjoyed Margrethe?”

He suppresses the sneer that’s snatched across his face, wiping his mouth of a little hot pink lipstick across his lip. “Enjoyed would be a stretch.” He snatches the money from Oleg, feeding it into his clip and stuffing it into his white hoodie pocket. Later, when he’d find somewhere, he’d put it one of his black steel-toed boots that wasn’t packing heat.

“She’s losing it, isn’t she?” Ivar says. He wishes he wouldn’t.

Hvitserk grunts, nodding his head like it’s with the wave of the obnoxious music beating in the distance, a few decades too early to be the old sugar daddy’s music. It’s not Ivar’s jazz, either. Hvitserk looks around, catching the sight outside, everyone that he’s known or should know.

“What you got for me, baby boy?”

Fuck-- he sneers at the name, rolls his lip into his mouth, then back out. “Your shit,” he quips quickly, fisting Oleg’s favourite out of the side pocket of his black slim jeans. Oleg takes it from him with the kind of broad smile that itches you.

“That’s my boy.”

He ignores that, too.

“I’ma go get a drink if it don’t bother you.”

Oleg slides open the ziploc, nodding his head toward the finely cut drug and flicking his hand out. He has what he wants. Ivar peers over at the bag as Hvitserk starts for the table where a topless woman is grinding her worries away. She looks happy now. Probably would sob later. “All good, Hvitserk.”

Hvitserk rolls on his heel, cocking a grin. “Why wouldn’ it be?”

He’s not even that thirsty-- but Oleg is a fuckin’ creep. He rather spend his time watching his ex-sister-in-law grind against his other ex-sister-in-law as it is when he jogs a little closer to Torvi and Gunnhild. Where’s Ubbe? He fists his hand into his pocket for his blunt.

Don’t know. Can’t care.

With a flick of a lighter he picked up two parties ago, he’s intent on working away all thought of him. When he turns around with his drink-- looking for a nice, safe, tree without jizz, he catches sight of eyes upon him.

Which, uh, why wouldn’t there be? But at the same time-- what did you want? Hvitserk takes a long sweep of his joint, maintaining eye contact the whole while. You’re pretty. Sad eyes, even from that distance, even if the warmth of a glittery smokey eye was trying its best to prove otherwise. He could only tell because you sat perched on one of Oleg’s questionably clean sofas a few leaps away, illuminated by the large floodlights. A skirt, cherry red, tight.

Good taste-- but talking to one of Oleg’s lackeys, pressing your hand to dangly earrings, pushing your breasts up for a nice look at what was under that draping blacktop. The ankle boots are cute, he decides. But you’re clearly working it up to Thing Two.

He huffs out smoke and looks at his cup.

“Hi,” he glances up.

Oh, hi. Your boots have sunk in the moist grass a little bit, but because he’s a fuckin’ gentleman, Hvitserk switches his just delights into one hand, and holds out the other to help you balance. “Not exactly the kinda space for boots, babe.”

“He’s a gentleman,” you laugh at first, then continue. “Most people don’t come to parties to hide in Oleg’s grass.”

Hvitserk snorts. From this angle, he can smell the drink on your lips. You’d been here a lot longer than he had, and that’s saying something. Maybe you’d been here as long as the couple fucking behind Oleg’s pristine hedges. Call it fertilizer, he’d say.

“Maybe not,” Hvitserk flicks his hand, motions for you to take it, and you do. He watches you press those silky lips, cherry red and chili hot, to it. The smoke plumes out between your lips, blowing in his face, but it doesn’t phase him.

“You want somethin’, don’t cha?”

You flick a loose curl behind your ear, looking at him behind expertly placed fake lashes, and he knows its not real. It’s another fucking hoax on top of the hundreds that were stomping around at this party.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, she fuckin’ says.” Like he’s that stupid-- or he doesn’t know-- you probably watched him with his tweaker brother and the creepy sugar daddy too. You let his hand loose to offer him back the blunt. He takes it, puts it out with ease, and stands up straight. “Talk short.”

“I saw you give Oleg some.”

“He paid. I gotta feeling you’re here because you can’t.” Hvitserk knows he’s leering now, shifting around, shifting you too against the tree. “What’re you offerin’?”

Before you can answer, there’s a rustle from the bushes beside you, and a couple slips loose. You flick your head toward them, maybe expecting him to cut you loose. Or maybe because someone’s seen you, you feel more comfortable.

“I got part?”

Hvitserk’s eyes open up, wide like they do, either annoyed or surprised. He traces the line of your jaw to the soft tickle of cheap earrings. “I didn’t pay for part a bag,” Hvitserk leans his fingers up, tracing the muscle in your throat up behind your ear, and gives it a tug.

“Please? I can-- give you something else.”

It’s cruel to derive the sort of pleasure that Hvitserk does at hearing that-- but please, pressed out between your lips, rushes straight through his body. “You seen me wit’ Margrethe.” His amusement manifests in a small rolling chuckle as his hand comes over your throat lazily, and you settle those sad eyes over him, and fuck he could get used to that. “That’s a prior arrangement. Unlike what you sluts might think--”

“I’m not--”

“--I don’t fuck just anyone.”

“Please?” Hvitserk flicks your jaw back to look at him-- not the topless women jumping into the pool -- or Oleg shouting obscenities with Ivar shouting right back.

“Say that again.”

You reach out to grasp the strings of his hoodie, probably because you’re sinking again in the dewy grass and mud, offering a more confident please this time. It doesn’t tickle the same way. “Na, not like that.”

There’s this realization that fills your glassy eyes, maybe because he gives your throat a meaner squeeze, just like he likes it. Now Hvitserk’s not a particularly aggressive guy. He likes to deal for the fun of it-- to be that guy -- the one everyone has a need for. Shit, Oleg needs him too. He just doesn’t know it.

Something about you he can’t place. It’s the soft desperation behind those eyes. Maybe the gentleness you probably have that reminds him a little too much of someone he used to know. But he wants more of that sweet feeling in the worst of ways.

“Pl-ease,” you almost sob out. He loosens his grip a bit, that smile ripped playfully across his face. He pats your cheek with a little bit too much joy and slips away from you, taking a once over of your body, like it must meet his standards. He’s sure he has another condom somewhere.

“C’mon,” Hvitserk pats your ass. It’s gentle, this time. He’s sure you don’t know when his kindness will start or when it’ll end. But he’s not that kinda guy. You’d just have to figure it out. He offers his arm again, “Let’s go inside.”

“But--”

You pause, looking back to the brush like you expected to be another one of those women shoved up between the hot brick and itchy greenery. Hvitserk takes one look at it before decidedly propping up an eyebrow. You take his arm to avoid losing out on this opportunity and walk with him toward the hard concrete.

“You expectin’ me to fuck in a bush?”

“Oleg doesn’t let--”

“He’ll let me,” Hvitserk quips, passing by where the merry happy couple is fucking, and Hvitserk shouts something in a language you don’t recognize. It’s cute, Hvitserk decides; when your eyebrows scrunch up nice and tight. For a moment, you stop, looking back to where Oleg and Ivar were. “But why?”

“That’s easy,” Hvitserk leans in, setting a chaste kiss to your neck, perfumed with a spray you’ve gotten as a sample. Oleg flicks his head and its good enough for him to grasp your waist this time, rushing you past the first floor, bouncing with movement, toward the second and its winding stairs. “They need me.”

The door clicks in its lock. It’s a small noise, normally so harmless, but with the music thumping below, you’re reminded where you are. You’re in Oleg’s castle with a man you’ve only heard the name of. Hvitserk, the dealer.

You know very little about him, only the way he feels when he’s pressed against you when his cock is hardening up against your ass, and all you can feel is him. His cologne is rich, almost overpowering, if not more than the way he comes up behind you, his mouth dancing lines across your neck.

It’s decidedly gentle from earlier. So much so that you don’t even realize it was there, if not for Hvitserk growing in intensity, sliding his large palms under your shirt. You can feel the bruises bubbling up to the surface. “Should’a told me you bruise so easy,” he reprimands. You’re not sure what to say. “More like a princess than a druggie, huh?”

“No one calls me that.”

“Druggie?”

“Princess.”

Now that explained it. Now he knows.

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