#it’s actually not that bad of you unfocus your eyes and just focus on the plot and the world building and not the literary equivalent of

[muscari-melpomene]

I’m new to expressing this, but I feel like talking about my experience might be helpful for anyone who’s going through the same thing, so give me grace while I try to word it.

I’m experiencing something that, after talking to Several people who are well versed in it & doing some of my own research, I’m going to go ahead and call depression.

Here’s why it took me so long to identify - I’m not upset. I’m not sad. I’m not angry or despairing. I’m kind of nothing.

I still have emotions (which autocorrected to emails, just thought you should know, I mean, I found it funny), but the way I described it the other day is that everything I feel on a day when I’m experiencing depression is under a weighted blanket.

I can identify if I would normally feel happy in the current situation, or angry, anxious, sad, excited, even bored. But it’s all weighed down by soft, blank grey. It’s like having my glasses off - everything that’s not right there in front of me is out of focus, and I can’t make it clear no matter how hard I try. Even things close enough to me sometimes go out of focus. Often, actually.

(I’ve actually found lately that when I’m feeling depressed my eyes will just. Unfocus. It’s not involuntary, sometimes I just stop having the capacity to care enough to look, and it takes effort to tune back in.)

I still experience good and bad events. Because good and bad events happen regardless of how I feel. But I’m used to measuring my mood by what’s happening around me, so it took for fucking ever for me to sit down and realize that even on a good day, I don’t usually feel happy. Bad days don’t usually make me sad. I’m just tired. “Tired” has been my go-to word for how I’m feeling for quite a while, honestly.

There are breaks in the pattern. Yesterday the weighted blanket lifted and I got some shit done, did some creative things, put effort into the food I made. Today it’s back, and the time is slipping by me, but it’s important that yesterday happened.

If you’re reading this, and you relate to the feelings (or lack thereof) I’ve described, even if it only happens to you once in a while, it truly is worth talking to someone about, be it a therapist, a loved one, a text line, anyone you feel safe opening up to.

Be safe, be well, I love you all 💛

P.S:

To anyone reading this who feels distressed on my behalf: don’t be. I have a support system, and mental health resources I am making ample use of. I promise, I’ll be okay. Please spend your emotional energy on caring for yourself.

[sensei-venus]

Cobra Kai 7 Minutes In Heaven: Hawk/Eli

(Unedited) (Bumping & Grinding, Slight Edging, Size Difference, Slight Body Imagine Issues) (Intro Link along with Other Characters)

The tip of the bottle pointed out at…..

The boy with a short mohawk style.

Eli Moskowitz or better known as Hawk around school and too his friend. Reader only knew his name from all the rumors of his past, the way he was a picked on bullied kid that later got into karate as a stress outlet and then became a bully himself. She even remembered hearing that he broke one of his best friends arms once for retaliation against one of the dojos. She only knew his face and full name because he was in her gym class.

The images of seeing him run around the soccer field during class entered her mind.

He wasn't that bad looking now that she was seeing him up close. He was actually pretty attractive. His piercing blue eyes seemed to stare into her own as they looked at each other. He watches her from his own spot on the floor and it made her squirm under his intense gaze.

What was probably one of his friends slapped him on the back pretty hard making him jerk forward and lose his focus on her. She watched as he looked back at his friend and smirked, hard. Full teeth and lips.

Reader felt her belly flutter as her friend shook her shoulder and helped her stand. Her face was so warm.

“There you go! Off to the closet you go! Have some fun in there!”

Her friend said as Reader slowly walked down the short hallway and into the open closet. She knew people were staring at her and Hawk. He followed close behind her as they walked. She quickly slipped into the small storage closet and tried to smash herself into the back corner of one side of the closet. Hawk didn’t seem to mind when he moved into the small space of the room.

The door shut behind them with a small click making Reader mentally question what she was doing. She was now stuck in a closet with attractive redeemed bully. One that definitely wouldn’t be into a girl like her.

He didn’t really seem like the type to be into a girl as big as her, yeah her curves where fun but most guys wouldn’t care for the rest of the full package.

Her eyes where wide as she looked over at the boy, the light from the cracks of the door being the only thing lighting the small space. It shines just right and catches those bright blue eyes. They are locked onto her and don’t seem to want to leave her. The heat in her belly along with a small flutter returnees.

“Iv seen you around school, where in the same gym class right?”

She blinks a few times at his words, his voice is rough with an underline of gentleness to it. It sounds like puberty hit him with a bus. It was kids got.

“Uh yeah, we do. I just don't play on the field or anything you know? Not my thing...”

“Why? You look pretty strong, I bet you could sweep anyone's leg with no issue. Plus you look hot in that gym outfit. You're like the only girl I have seen actually pull that ugly shit off and not look like a wet blanket is being tossed over them.”

Yep and she was hot all over again. She hopes that the boy truly can't see her because she knows she probably flushed somewhere on her open skin. She wants to look away from him but she can't.

“You think so?”

“What they strong part or the hot part?”

“Both I guess...”

She scratches at the back of her hand as things get more tense. It feels like the dark cramped room is getting smaller and smaller by the moment the longer they both stand together. Her eyes unfocus for just a split second but it’s enough for her to not notice the way the boy in front of her takes the chance to fill the small space between them.

Her eyes widen as she feels his hot breath on her face. He’s a bit taller then her but they for perfectly together.

“I meant what I said, about both thing. Your strong and hot. Shit your hot as hell, I wish you would actually get on the field because maybe I could see your ass and tits move more on those tight ass shorts and shirt. But I guess seeing you all dressed up in this little dress is enough, for now.” His voice was low as he almost whispered the words out to her. There was no hesitation behind his statement.

A second later he swooped down and captured her lips in a hard kiss.

It was lonh and strong and she could swear he was sucking the literal air out of her lungs. She couldn’t breath but she couldn’t pull herself away from him. The sweetnesses of his lips was amazing, he tasted like beer and sugar, like he had snacked on a whole bowl of hard candy. It made her moan as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

It was hot and wet and made her brain fuzzy. He was a good kisser and he seems to know it as he worked his magic on her. His hands moved into the perfect positions. One held the back of her neck just right while the other one held her waist and hip. She could feel him grin against her thick thigh, her dress riding up just enough to let him grid himself against the fat of her thigh. He grunted into her mouth as he humped into her lightly.

It was almost like he was just trying to edge himself.

His thumb rubbed across her cheek almost trying to coax her into taking a breath for him. To let air back into her lungs instead of holding it in. She felt like if she parted ways from him, she would wake up from his hot and heavy dream.

Air filled her lungs as she pulled away from him finally. Her eyes which she didn’t even know she closed slowly opened. Her eyelashes felt so heavy as they lifted and fluttered open full. She could only look up at Hawk from under her eyelashes. He panted before lifting a hand to wipe at his mouth. Spit covered his soft lips . He slowly reached back down to if his thumb over her bottom lip.

A thick glob of spit hung on the tip of his thumb before he wiped it on his hoodie.

He pulled her into his chest making her fall into him. Her hands caught on the thick material of his hoodie. Her face was pressed hard against the front of his hoodie, she could feel his herd muscle’s underneath.

The door cracked open and light filled the room making both of them blink and hiss at the bright light outside the closet.

Reader felt her heart crack a little at the idea that it was over. Hawk was probably going to shove her off at any moment and laugh at her, go back to his friends and make a joke about being stuck in the closet with the “fat girl” or something. She waited for it to happen.

But it never did.

She felt him keep a arm wrapped around her as he lead her out of the room. He made sure to help pull her dress back down over her thigh, thankfully no one saw that. He pressed her hard to his side as they walked back out to the room that was still filled with other teens.

She felt her lips turn up in a small grin as people whistled at them as they returned to the room. Her hands dug into the back of his hoodie. They both moved to sit in the back of the circle how and away from most of the action of the game that was still going on.

Reader blinked as she felt herself being moved between his legs and gently sat on his lap. His long arms wrapped around her soft middle. Pulling her back he chuckled saying.

“Don't worry Princess, your not getting ride of my that easy. Your stuck with the Hawk babe.”

[letihasideas]

-Tired of making a post every time I have a thought so... I’ll just make a list with all of em lmao

- Boy got blood, boy got real blood!!!!! Yassssss!!!!

- Also, Hope, warn a dude before you make him bite himself lmao

- Effing Roanoke??? I have a bad feeling about this...

- Omg look at their handsssss... hers looks so tinyyyy

- Cleo... the mud might not be moving because that puddle’s so effing big a part of it is already on the spot it should be, try with a smaller amount of icky goo?

- Ok Lizzie, honey, the way things are right now you have three options for your ‘Hope’s rebound’ plan: You, your sister, and Clarke. Just saying.

- Ethan, you son of a bitch with impaccable timing...  😂

- Hope, let the poor boy be happy about getting what he has always wanted, at least for like 30 seconds? You can do a countdown, you like those!

- Hun, don’t be dramatic... you threw it to the lake and it pretty much opened itself  😂

- Wait a damn minute... now that he has litteral blood instead of mud, his blood probably leads to Landon instead of Malivore, right? His brother who’s now just as human as he is!

- Pls gime he Holarke at least as a banter-based-friendship-and-partners-in-crime kinda thing?

- What’s wrong with cats?? I’d date the heck out of a guy who has cats??

- PSA for both Kaleb and Hope: EYES ON THE ROAD, PLS!!

- Lizzie, I love you... but you ain’t slick, ok? 

- Ain’t nothing like being told to focus to make you unfocus, or is that just me?

- Landon and Cleo in the middle of a sating contest... ok

- Why is Landon’s vision just... him and Hope making out with occasional bits of his brother here and there? Am I missing something, or is his brain lowkey shipping Holarke? 😂

- Okay... for once in the history of humankind, if they said “This isn¡t what it looks like”, they’d actually be telling the truth, I guess.

- Also, Hope kicking down doors is still my favorite thing ever

- Awwww... she looks mad, and a little sad, and now I’m sad too :(

- Ok, Clarke’s my spirit animal, it has been confirmed  😂

- Why... does it look like Ethan’s trying to flirth with/indulge Lizzie while actually thinking she’s the one who has a crush on Hope?

- Don’t you what’s-her-face you mom, young man 😂

- ... Confussion...

- Lizzie, hun... I think he wants to ask you out, not Hope?

- WTF...

- LANDON THREW CLEO INTO THE PIT, ABSOLUTE SON OF A BEACH, HOW DARE HE??

- Unless Landon has actually been Malivore hitching a ride in his body this whole time...

- EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

- I AM DISGUSTED, I AM REVOLTED, I DEDICATE MY LIFE TO OUT LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?????

- Son of a gun be looking like the love child of Pennywhise and a Demogorgon, omg

- omg I adore this man-child, “What I hope will be a sexy scar”  😂

- “Frienemies at best”? Girl, accept it, you’re friends now lmao

- Lizzie... how can you be ‘ pretty sure’???

- Cleo no... if anyone is there, I very much doubt you want them to hear you

- Well, my grandma always does say “Better the devil you know than the devil you don't“, so I wouldn’t be so sure...

- That heroic entrance though... I love

- Is it bad that I’m just incredibly happy that Malivore cared more bout making everyone think he was still Landon that going out and... you know... making babies like it was always implied he wanted to?

[bitchiha]

May I request a scenario where after shukaku gets extracted from Gaara it is his first time sleeping and he gets nightmare so the s/o comforts him?

A/N: so I took this idea and got carried away 😣

Word count: 2.4k?

Pairing: Gaara x reader

✎ Sleep Deprived

Gaara watched y/n’s sleeping form as the soft light of the moon danced along her face. Minutes earlier she had insisted she wouldn’t fall asleep until he did, but her body betrayed her and there she was now; snoring with her back against the headboard of the bed. Her legs were curled into her body as she snored softly. He thought about moving her into a laying position, thinking it would be more comfortable for her — but he didn’t want to wake her up.

She looked peaceful now, for the first time all day.. he thought to himself noticing the worry completely washed from her face as she was successfully pulled into the dream world. He found himself being comforted by her chests gentle rises and falls, allowing his thoughts to pull him back to earlier in the day...

Y/n opened the door to their shared apartment, keys jangling in the lock, before carefully helping her boyfriend inside. It was the first time he had been there since the whole Akatsuki ordeal had happened a few days ago.

As he entered, the familiar smell of it wafted up his nose, causing him to breathe it in deeply. The scent was a blend of y/n’s lilac shampoo and leaves — which the houseplants Gaara scattered around every corner of your shared space we’re responsible for. He took another deep breath and was hit with the realization that he actually missed this smell. He wanted to comment on that sudden revelation, but now just didn’t seem the appropriate time and the words fizzled out on his tongue.

The room was dark as they stood in the entryway. The hospital had discharged him at around nine thirty at night — wanting to run their tests again and double check that everything was clear before sending their beloved kazekage home. Y/n fumbled to flick on the lights. After managing to locate the switch and turn it on, she bent down to take Gaaras shoes off. She knew he was too sore to do it himself. His own helplessness made him embarrassed, but he knew it couldn’t be helped after what he had been through.

He returned his attention to the now brightly lit apartment. He had never thought he would be this relieved to see this familiar place again. Looking around the apartment he managed a little smile as y/n to lead him into the kitchen. He looked around the apartment as she led him through the place as if he was seeing it for the first time. He was spotting things he had overlooked before, like the pictures of them with Temari and Kankuro scattered around in tacky picture frames, or the mini puppets kankuro made them that were placed on the highest shelf in the apartment — y/n was terrified of them, but didn’t have he heart to store them away somewhere.

She pulled one of the chairs out from the kitchen table, pulling his thoughts away with it. Ensuring he was okay as she sat him down, she turned away and began rummaging through the fridge, attempting to feed him something. The thought of eating right now made Gaaras stomach turn, the recent events depriving him of any desire to eat. All he wanted was to be alone with y/n and relax for the first time since he got back to the village.

However, as she scanned the fridge, he could see that y/n’s movements were far from relaxed. Her arms moved tiredly yet stiff at the same time. He caught a yawn escape her lips, he was sure that she hadn’t slept a single night since he was gone. Thoughts of her laying awake at night afraid and worried all because of him violated his brain, making his chest tighten in guilt.

His girlfriend had always loved to sleep, she never gave up an opportunity to do so. She was always going to bed early, napping on the couch in the Kazekage’s office, or falling asleep in his arms when they cuddled. It always made him smile seeing how she could do it so simply, unlike himself. He didn’t want to be the person who took that away from her.

He was once again pulled from those thoughts at the sound of containers colliding in the fridge. A result of a tried y/n’s unfocus. “Y/n,” he said gently, “I’m not hungry. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

She paused her rummaging as he spoke and for a second he thought she wasn’t going to listen, but her body retracted from the appliance and shut it gently. There was a pause in her movements as she just stared at the metal door, looking at her dishevelled face in the blurry metal before turning to face her boyfriend. While doing so she attempted to brush her hair with her fingers and wipe at her face in an effort to look more pleasing, however; that was a difficult thing to accomplish when you hadn’t slept in a few days.

“I guess it was a feeble attempt anyway,” she sighed, “all the food’s gone bad.”

He shook his head, the food didn’t matter right now. “You need to rest, y/n.” He replied, getting up from the chair himself. She immediately rushed over to try and help her boyfriend from the chair, but he stuck his hand out as a sign of objection, “I’ll be okay, please, don’t worry.”

Though his extended arm blocked her from coming closer, he could still see that the bags under her eyes were dark. She stared at him with eyes full of exactly what he told her not to — worry. He could see the tiredness behind them.

“You need rest yourself.” She replied, another tired yawn slipping from her lips at the thought of sleep, she covered her mouth to try and hide it.

She was right, the only problem was that Gaara always had trouble sleeping. Nightmares constantly plagued his dreams, y/n had witnessed them on countless nights. Now more than ever he could only imagine the dreams that would assault him once lulled away into that foreign world. If it was up to him he would stay awake for ever, but he knew that was impossible.

They remained in silence as he managed to stand shakily, making his way to their bedroom. Her silence was full of anxiety and worry, his was full of contemplation as he weakly managed to walk into their shared bedroom. Y/n wanted to wrap her arms around him and help him into bed herself. Instead she had to settle for watching him anxiously as he finally managed to make it inside. He sat on his designated side of the bed with a groan and began an attempt to take his shirt off and change; the fabric reeking with odour of the hospital. It was a failed attempt and he groaned painfully at the stinging soreness in his back that followed his movements. Y/n, whos attention was on picking a fresh white t-shirt from his dresser for him, rushed over quickly.

“Gaara,” she said, her voice soft and pleading, “stop it, I’m here to help you,” her fingers gripped the bottom of his shirt. “You don’t need to do everything alone all the time.”

She lifted the hem of the shirt and began to pull it off him slowly. He tried to lift his arms to help her but her mouth did a little “tsk,” causing him to stop. The sound was y/n’s way of reprimanding him for something. He let his arms fall back to his sides indignantly as she carefully she guided the neckline of his shirt over his head along with the rest of the fabric, finally guiding the shirt down his arms. In another movement, she turned around and tossed the shirt into the laundry basket, returning to her previous task of retrieving a shirt for him.

Gaara found himself looking down at the floor as he waited for her to to get the shirt she had abandoned on the dresser.

They hadn’t talked much. He didn’t want to talk about what happened anymore. Not now at least.

If he told her what he went through... the feeling of his life draining away... Then he knew she for sure she wouldn’t sleep tonight and he didn’t want to make her suffer anymore. So instead he let her carefully slip a new shirt onto him. Moving his body slightly to help her change his pants too.

He held his hand out to in objection like earlier as stopped her from helping him into bed, “I told you not to worry. Get changed, I’ll be fine.” There was no irritation in his voice, it was more a tone attempting to encourage her to focus on her own needs. She nodded at his words, biting back her frustration. Maybe she was babying him a little, he is the Kazekage after all. He can manage somethings on his own right now.

She let out a little hesitant sound of agreement as she moved to change her own clothes. Hers were also stained with the smell of the hospital and he they were also horribly disheveled. Settling into a loose fitted shirt and pyjama shorts, y/n climbed into bed beside him.

The two laid there in silence for about ten minutes. Both of them swallowed by their own thoughts, watching the clouds shifting in the sky though the half shut curtains. A few moments later, y/n turned to see if her boyfriend had fallen asleep yet.

He hadn’t.

She sighed and sat up. Gaara watched her questioningly as she tossed her pillow to her feet, taking its place against the headboard, “I won’t fall asleep. Not until you do.” The girl declared officially, pulling her knees to her chest as she leaned back against the frame.

“Y/n-“

“No, it’s not up for debate,” She said shaking her head, her mind made up already, “I can see that you’re tired too, but you’re refusing to let yourself close your eyes.” You’re scared to sleep, she thought to herself, that’s why I’ll watch over you.

“But-“

“Tsk.”

He shifted in the bed at her scolding, retiring his attempt to get her to lay back down. Instead he settled for waiting it out. Afterall she did love sleep and needed it desperately, so now it was just a battle between her mind and body.

It looked like her body had won was she snores softly. After recalling the day, he grew even more aware of just how tired he was himself. He knew it was inevitable that he was going to need to sleep, but he was surprised how much y/n’s sleeping form coaxed him into closing his own eyes.

Maybe I’ll be as peaceful as she is, he thought to himself letting his heavy lidded eyes shut. He felt the tiredness of his body cover him like a blanket swiftly slipping him off to that dreamworld he had come to dread so much.

Gaaras body was still and unmoving as he lay on the ground, feeling the familiar texture of hot sand below him. He tried to move his head to look at his surroundings, but he couldn’t; his body was protesting his every move.

“Gaara..” a voice sobbed, he instantly identified that crying voice as y/n’s. He tried to call out, try and move his eyes — but it was just as pointless as the last attempt. “Don’t leave me, Gaara, please...”

He felt his body being pulled at and it felt as though something had reached inside, but the culprit was invisible. The uncomfortable feeling persisted until it latched onto something. He began to sweat. The other worldly creature yanked, it felt as if his soul had been pulled from his body and he felt himself being dragged upwards. As he was dragged away, he watched y/n below, clutching his limp body to her chest. He let out a surprised breath at seeing his body on the floor, realizing what was happening. So this was his soul drifting away... He was going to die.

He woke up.

Y/n was gently shaking him and as his eyes flew open he choked on words. He must have been screaming in his sleep. Sitting up he stared at y/n, worry slowly dying on his face as he realized it was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

He sighed in relief before breaking the silence, “Sorry, did I wake you?” The girl shook her head before sitting cross legged, facing him as she responded, “Doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine... bad dream.” It didn’t need to be explained, but he felt like he had to say it anyways. Y/n watched him for a moment, just to make sure he really was okay — or as okay as he could be right now.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Y/n watching the night sky from her seat on the bed and Gaara watching her soft features as she did so. It’s nice, having quiet moments like these together, Gaara thought as he watched her wandering eyes roam the expanse the window had to offer.

Her hand was holding his, playing his fingers as she stared out the window. She knew he wasn’t comfortable with big gestures of affection, so whenever he had a nightmare she always settled for comforting him in a small way. Like playing with his hands, tangling her fingers in his hair or laying a hand on his arm.

She’s always there for me. He felt his heart swelling with an un familiar emotion at the thought, he liked it though — it was a sensation he only felt around her. Though he couldn’t quite place what emotion it was, he knew it was something good. Maybe it was love.

“Thank you, y/n.” He said it without even really thinking, but he meant it. She looked him curiously before responding, “Thank you for what?” Shrugging a little unable to really explain what exactly he was thankful for, he shifted his gaze to the window before he settled on a response.

“For everything.”

[featherypromises]

RP transcription part 6: Ephemeral as a soap bubble

Jungkook leaned forward and rinsed himself in the cool water, he then scrubbed his front and finished by ducking his face towards the water and washing his face. He was starting to get accustomed to the temperature and although it wasn't comfortable, it was effective. He sniffled as water dripped into his eyes from his hair. "Hh-hyung...  I... Ek'tiiishhoo! Egghhsshoo!" He sneezed a tickly double into cupped hands.

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

Taehyung sniffled, his own nose twitching in sympathy. "Yeah, Kook? Everything okay?"

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

Jungkook rubbed at his nose and asked a bit congestedly, "Could you helpb be with my back dnow?" He was starting to feel another tickle form as a single water droplet ran down the long bridge of his nose.

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

Taehyung smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah, sure." He got up and started to soap down Jungkook's back, still sniffling. The smell of the soap was making his already irritated nose quiver and twitch.

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

Jungkook heard Taehyung's sniffles and wanted to ask if his hyung was alright but his nose chose that moment to object to everything around it. He felt his eyes unfocus, then close in anticipation, he sniffled lightly in an attempt to bring the teasing sensation to a full sneeze. His breath hitched softly,

"Hh... hhheh..." and just as quickly the feeling faded to nothing. Jungkook sniffled and shrugged.

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

Taehyung rubbed his nose with his shoulder furiously, unable to use his hands since they were covered in soap. 

He smiled softly at Jungkook's struggle. "Smell the soap, it might help you sneeze."

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

Jungkook turned slightly, seeing his hyung's hands and understanding. He inhaled deeply, his congestion shifting, he felt something tingling in his sinuses. He reached out with a clean hand and rubbed the tip of Taehyung's nose to help his hyung's own predicament.

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

Taehyung's breath instantly started to hitch. He whimpered, not knowing where to guide the sneeze. His eyes fluttered shut and, in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable, he held his breath and rubbed his nose against his shoulder again.

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

Jungkook pressed the crook of his pointer into the space just below Taehyung's nostrils, trying to halt the sneeze(s) progress as it was clear that Taehyung was fighting not to sneeze for some reason. His own tickle buzzed behind his eyes, going nowhere in a hurry.

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

Taehyung's breath continued to hitch, but Jungkook's touch helped keep the sneeze at bay. His eyes were bleary with sneezy tears, and they kept twitching along with his nose. It was obvious how desperately he needed to sneeze.

With a hard sniff, he continued to wash Jungkook's back.

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

Jungkook smiled at Taehyung who was fighting the growing need to sneeze and he could feel every twitch of that beautiful man's strong straight nose. The small hitching breaths that the older man took, blew gently around his hand. Jungkook blushed, this was crazy... even Taehyung needing to sneeze was cute to him. He fought the urge to kiss the parted lips that took in each staccato breath.

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

Taehyung couldn't focus from the tickly feeling that was growing in his nose and touching all his sensitive spots. He whimpered, knowing that if he didn't act fast, he'd be sent into a fit of unforgiving sneezes. 

He pulled back and pressed his forearm against his nose. "I-I'm.. hh... g-gonna go w-hh- wash my f-face..." He managed before rushing to the sink.

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

Jungkook watched, unable to help his hyung. He finished rinsing off, glancing at Taehyung's desperately sneezy face reflected in the sink's mirror. He had to buy unscented soap for himself in the future, if he didn't want to have Taehyung sneezy and sniffly when they spent more time together.

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

Taehyung splashed water on his face and rubbed it furiously, staying at his nose especially.

He sighed and went back to Jungkook. He still needed to sneeze, but the urge wasn't as strong as before.

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

"I guess I should think about getting an unscented soap, so I can make sure I won't make you sneeze so much." Jungkook smiled at Taehyung as he spoke and thought to himself, 'and definitely no flowers on the first date'.

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

Taehyung let out a breathy laugh. "Should I wash your hair, too?" He offered, already getting more soap on his hands (much to the dismay of his nose (or pleasure, the organ was a teasing, mischievous thing)).

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

" It's okay, Hyung, I can manage. I don't want you to be uncomfortable if I can help it." He sniffled, feeling the buzzing sensation behind the bridge of his own nose flare into a tickle that made him scrunch his nose and his nostrils twitch.

'Here we go again...' he thought with some irritation, as his breath began to hitch erratically.

"Hhhh... Hh-Hih... hhh... ughh." The feeling dragged on, leaving him with parted lips, a blank expression and cheeks that were covered in a pink flush of embarrassment. He was sure he looked ridiculous, and he looked that way in front of the one person that he wanted to look his best for. 

He almost laughed out loud at the irony of that feeling. He was feverish, only partly washed, germy, and sitting in a bathtub in drenched boxers. What a casanova he was at the moment. He rubbed at his frustrating nose with the side of a loosely held fist.

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

Taehyung giggled softly and rinsed his hands in the bath water before gently running his forefinger down Jungkook's nose and pressing the end. He sat back and waited for something to happen while simultaneously rubbing his own nose aggressively, turning it an angry shade of red.

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

Jungkook looked at Taehyung in surprise, as the older man touched his nose gently, before his eyes slammed shut. He grabbed the hand that the older man had used to trigger his nose in his own hand and turned slightly away as he hitched, and sneezed violently at the wall of the tub.

"Hhh-Hh-Hh'DTSSHHOOO! ITTSSHOO!" He shook his head trying to clear it and used his free hand to cover the liquid flowing from his nose.

"Hyung, could I have a tissue please? ugh... This is embarrassing."

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

Taehyung smiled fondly and nodded. "Yeah." He gave Jungkook a few tissues and sighed. "Those sneezes didn't sound too good..." He mumbled, cocking his head worriedly.

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

Jungkook dried one hand on a nearby towel before taking the paper tissues. He wiped his nose, sniffling. His nose was starting to feel a little sore from all the rubbing and sneezing. He smiled, still feeling a little awkward. 

"I'll be okay, hyug, I'b just a little congesdted. It probably souded worse thadn it actually was."

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

Taehyung sighed. "Yeah, I can tell." He carded his hand through Jungkook's hair and cringed. "Your hair's all sweaty. I should wash it." He got soap on his hands again, ready to lather Jungkook's hair even if the younger protested.

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

Jungkook blushed. He felt worse about Taehyung doing so much for him, than he did from his actual cold. He submitted to Taehyung's ministrations meekly, looking down at the soap-clouded water.

At least he didn't feel as chilled now, so he hoped that was a good sign. He sniffled and waited patiently until his hyung finished.

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

Admittedly, Taehyung's nose was giving him hell for all he was doing. It burned and tickled, and it got to a point where every other breath he took became a desperate hitch.

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

Jungkook flushed, he felt and heard his Hyung's hitching breaths and reaching back, he touched Taehyung's arm gently,

"I can finish rinsing it out. The soap is driving your poor nose crazy, hyung. I can do this much."

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

Taehyung shook his head. "I-It's.. hh- fine, K-hh-Kookie. I'll just rinse o-out your.. hh..h-hair and go blow my n-nose.." He managed before giving a hard sniff. It just aggravated his nose further, causing his nostrils to flare. He whimpered and rubbed the already red organ on his shoulder furiously.

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

Jungkook bit his lip. He impulsively slipped out of Taehyung's reach and bent his legs so he could lie down in the water and rinsed his head quickly. His hyung had been through enough. His stubbornness was famous but Jungkook was learning slowly that sometimes he would have to follow his gut instinct rather than what Taehyung said regarding his health.

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

Taehyung sighed at Jungkook's actions and sniffled thickly. He patiently waited for the younger to come back up and mindlessly rubbed his nose with his knuckles. Bad move. Extremely bad move. He felt the soap on his nose and, for a brief moment, wished there was a way to turn back time. 

Then, all hell broke loose. 

The soap burned and tickled his sensitive nose. He buried his face into his shoulder, let out a few desperate hitches, and exploded with a few rapid-fire sneezes. "Heh'GHHTSHuh! Ek'KITSSHHuh! Ikkshhuh! ISHHUH!"

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

Jungkook resurfaced and pushed his wet wavy hair back. His quickly dried his hands on the towel before grabbing an unused washcloth, wetting it with fresh water from the faucet. He waited until the initial sneezes were over and gently wiped his hyung's face, to remove any soap and to try to ease some of the older man's obvious discomfort.

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

Even Jungkook's gentle actions were enough to set Taehyung off again. Without anything else to sneeze into, he grabbed the towel Jungkook used to wipe down his face and held it in front of his mouth and nose. 

"Hhh-Hihh-Nnghhh... EhH'DTSHHUH! ITSSHHUH!"

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

"Poor hyung," Jungkook cooed softly, reached out and gently rubbed small circles into Taehyung's back. He pulled the plug from the drain letting the soapy water escape down the drain.

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

Taehyung sighed. "Ugh, now mby ndose is all blocked..." He mumbled, pouting slightly. He turned to Jungkook and managed a small smile. "Did you brig pyjambas?" He asked, pressing the underside of his wrist to his running, still quivering nose.

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

Jungkook nodded, pointing the the pile of clothes on the sink with the old photograph of the two of them hugging and making V's signature v-sign. He reached out to take the towel and began to carefully get up from his seated position.

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

Taehyung noticed the photo and got up, going to it with a smile on his face. Nostalgia filled him up, making him warm and fuzzy. "How old is this?" He asked, sniffling thickly.

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

"That was the year we debuted... look at the eyeliner..." Jungkook laughed, remembering how hard they had tried to look "cool" in that first year.

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

Taehyung laughed as well. "God, we were so crigy... And so skinndy too! But look at how cute you were~" He cooed, pointing.

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

Jungkook grinned, his bunny-like smile was still the same even after all this time. He had hated it then, but he had learned to accept it with time. Taehyung didn't know it, but Jungkook had always envied him with his beautiful boxy smile and his intense dreamy eyes. The older man had always been beautiful to him, Jungkook realized with a start, he just hadn't seen his feelings clearly until yesterday. What a dunce he was. It took him so long to reach such an obvious conclusion.

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

Taehyung's eyes were glued to little fetus Jungkook in the photo, his eyes glazing over as a fond smile graced his lips. He'd always found Jungkook pretty, and, sure, it had started off as brotherly love. But.. his feelings had grown as he did, and the older Jungkook got, the prettier he became. And, with time, he'd realized that brotherly love had.. changed. Into something a lot more.

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

Jungkook steadied himself with the wall and  stepped onto the bath mat, wrapping himself in the towel and coming up behind his hyung. He looked at the photo and then at Taehyung, who looked happy but pensive. He wondered what memory was replaying itself through Taehyung's mental theatre. 

He rubbed at his nose with his towel covered hand. Maybe someday they could be just as happy in another kind of photo. The mental image of Taehyung at the beach wearing a white suit and holding out a hand to him was such a vivid daydream that he blushed and turned away, lest Taehyung would see his expression.

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

Taehyung turned around when Jungkook reached him after a few more moments of being lost in his thoughts. He wrapped a steadying arm around the younger's waist and smiled. "Do you ndeed help chandgig? Should I go get you sombe ndew boxers?" He offered.

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

Jungkook frowned, had he forgotten boxers? He had. 

Crud. 

He rubbed his neck embarrassed, "I'll be fine to change on my own, but if you wouldn't mind getting me a new pair, Hyung, that would be nice..." Jungkook sat down on the toilet seat and began drying off.

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

Taehyung nodded and left the room to get the boxers. 

On the way to Jungkook's room, he was overcome with a strong wave of dizziness. He gasped and fell with a thud, landing in a somewhat safe position. 

Once the world wasn't spinning on it's axis at an abnormally fast rate, Taehyung assessed himself and got up. Nothing hurt apart from his knees, and even they weren't even bruised. 

He sighed in relief, got the boxers, and went back to Jungkook.

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

Jungkook thanked his hyung, taking the small bundle of cloth, and paused. Was Taehyung more pale now? It was hard to tell with the fair skinned man sometimes. 

"Are you okay, you seem... a little pale?" Jungkook studied the other man's face and then rapidly looked the rest of him over, worry overriding his self control.

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

Taehyung sighed. "I-I'm fine..." He mumbled, swaying slightly. He leaned against the wall for support and took a deep breath. It probably wasn't normal that the world was spinning again.

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

Jungkook swore colorfully and helped Taehyung away from the wall, he felt the man's unsteadiness as he swayed easily towards him.

 Deciding a room of porcelain and sharp corners was not the best place for Taehyung right now, Jungkook slipped an arm around Taehyung's back and the other breath his knees, lifting him easily. The towel dropped to the floor unheeded. 

Jungkook brought the unwell man back to the bedroom they were sharing for the time being. He pushed the covers away, laying Taehyung down carefully onto his back. He hands freed, the younger man placed a trembling hand on Taehyung's cheek. He swallowed back the rising panic in his chest.

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

Taehyung shivered at Jungkook's touch as sweat trickled down his face. He whimpered and screwed his eyes shut. "E-Everything's spinning..." He slurred.

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

Jungkook swore again, feeling the fire under the older man's skin. God, this fever just would not let Tae go. Clad only in his still wet boxers, Jungkook reached out and clutched at the thermometer. 

"Taehyung?!? Sweetie? Keep this under your tongue for a second... Bunny is going to help, okay?"

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

Taehyung hummed and let the thermometer go into his mouth. It beeped after a few seconds and he took it out. 38.8°C.

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

Jungkook raced from the room, skidding around the corner, he grabbed a bowl of water, washcloth and fever reducers. He hurried back and covered the feverish man with the comforter up to his chest, leaving his head, neck and arms exposed. He wet the cloth and wrung it out,  pressing it against Taehyung's neck and holding the other's hand with his free one, he gave it a comforting squeeze. 

"Oh, Tae, I'm so sorry, sweetie."

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

Taehyung whimpered and coughed miserably. "Iss' cold... M'all dizzy..."

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

"I know, Tae, I know. I'm sorry. Can you take this medicine? Here's water,..." Jungkook lifted Taehyung up and put the tablets in his mouth and tipping a bit of water from his own glass into Taehyung's mouth.

"Swallow them, love, that's it."

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

Taehyung swallowed the pills with some difficulty and started to cough again. Despite this, he managed to rasp out, "T-Text Namjoon-hyung... H-He can h-help..." He suggested, rubbing his eyes.

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

Jungkook swallowed hard, blinking back tears, as he watched the man he cared about struggle. He smoothed  the blankets over Taehyung after the coughing fit had past and touched his forehead to Taehyung's gently. 

"Okay," he murmured, "I will." 

Straightening,he grabbed his phone off of the desk and rapidly tapped out a text message and hit send.

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

Namjoon felt his phone buzz in his pocket and had to excuse himself from the meeting he was in. He took out the device from his pocket, thinking Taehyung was asking for help, but was surprised to see that Jungkook had texted him. 

[Joon: kook? whats up, bunny? is everything ok?]

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

Jungkook rubbed his eyes roughly, wiping away the wetness that had made harder to see the screen.

"I'm a little better. The bath Hyung gave me helped. His temperature is back up again and I'm not sure what to do. He got dizzy and it's 38.8. I don't know how to help him, Hyung."

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

Namjoon sucked in a breath. 

[Joon: okay, thats high... is he sweating or is his skin dry?]

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

[JK: He is sweating Hyung, a lot, I gave he fever reducers a minute ago and am trying to cool his neck and face with a wet cloth. I put him in bed]

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

[Joon: okay, just try to get him to drink every now and then so he doesn't get dehydrated from how much water he's losing. you're doing great, kook]

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

Jungkook letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding; it came out stuttering and shaky.

[JK: ok... thank you hyung. sorry for this.]

Going back to the bedside, Jungkook stroked Tae's hand lovingly. 

"I'm going to go get you some juice, okay? We have to keep you hydrated. Can I get you anything at all besides that?"

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

Taehyung shook his head. "No..." He sniffled and shivered. "I'm f-fine..." He sent Jungkook a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, by the way. Y-You don't have to do t-this..."

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

Jungkook looked at the sicker man in surprise. 

"Don't thank me... your fever spiked because you were helping me. I-I'm going to go grab your j-juice." He turned from Taehyung and stifled a small sneeze, "Hek'Hknt!" and said with a small shiver and a blush, "And then I'm going to grab the dry clothes and get dressed really quick. Here's your phone if you change your mind or if you need help before I get back. "

He made sure Tae's phone was close to him just in case and stood up.

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

Taehyung nodded and decided to get some well deserved rest. He got as comfortable as he could under the covers and almost instantly drifted off.

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

Jungkook went and got some juice and put it into a bottle with and pull open top so Taehyung could drink without having to sit up everytime. He quietly returned to the sleeping man's side and put the bottle next to him on the nightstand. 

He shivered slightly from wet skin meeting cool air, and went to change. He brought the clothes into the bedroom, ducking behind the door and slipped the wet boxers off and getting into fresh ones. He hopped into the pants one leg at a time, and pulled on the t-shirt and the soft familiar hoodie. 

Going back over to Taehyung, he wrung out the cloth and trying not to wake the other man he used the cloth to wipe his forehead and neck gently.  He went to Tae's bureau and got him out clean underwear and a warm clean pair of pj's so that he could change if he wanted to later. He put those on the nightstand beside the lamp. 

He then went over to his side of the bed... When had it become "his" side…? He crawled into bed with Tae and curled up under the blankets his arm around the smaller man.

"Please feel better, Hyung...I-I love you." he whispered.

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

Taehyung smiled softly in his sleep, his subconscious somehow understanding. He muttered a small, "Love you too," under his breath, his speech slurred and congested.

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

Jungkook sat up so fast he felt a little lightheaded. Or was that just a side effect of what he had just heard come out of Taehyung's mouth. He pressed one hand to his chest as his heart slammed against his ribcage as though it was trying to break loose. 

He felt like he had been electrocuted. he forced himself to breathe. His throat tickled and his would begin coughing in a minute, he clamped a hand over his mouth and left the room as quietly as he could. He shut himself in the bathroom, turning on the faucet and exhaust fan to cover the noise.

 He coughed and spluttered as his brain tried to wrap itself around the small sentence it had heard. 'Oh geez... okay, Jungkook, breathe... he is feverish and almost delirious. This is just his brain cooking from his temperature.' Yes, that was the logical reason behind this. He sagged against the wall of the bathroom as the coughing dissipated and sank into a crouch. 

He knew better than to take the dreaming man seriously, but he had heard the most beautiful words in Tae's sleep and sickness rough voice. He had wanted to hear those words and had wished for that... but he knew that it was only dream nonsense, or the fever, or both. 

He stood back up and went to the kitchen, he got himself a glass of water and returned to the bedroom. He crawled back into the bed carefully and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep now.

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

Taehyung scooted closer to the maknae and hummed softly. He wrapped his arms around Jungkook's waist and buried his burning head into the younger's neck.

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

Jungkook tensed for a moment then registered that Tae was still asleep. He slipped his arm under the older man and embraced him. He could feel the feverish heat arcing off of Taehyung's face and pulled him protectively closer. He would probably be better able to cope with these emotions if he slept. He wrapped his mind comfortably in the here and now. Tae was in his arms, so something was right with the world. He drifted into a light sleep dreaming of happy possibilities.

[gatorademachinegun]

mermaids, men, and gators

working title: LMAOOOO WHAT IS A CONSTANT TENSE I DONT KNOW HER

notes: i wrote this back in september 2018 when my theme was the green gators blog but i was a chicken about posting it till right this second. so. have this i guess.

dedication: @xxsirensong both this and the entire green gator theme started with you Linda, ily

When you come to visit us down here in swampland, don’t go into the water. Don't go near it.

Stay with the people, on dry land, away from the Fishies.

That's what Old Uncle John will call them. Fishies. You'll know them by a different name, they're probably why you came down to visit if you're being perfectly honest with yourself. You came to see the Mermaids. Sirens. Fishies. They go by many names and if you follow the river down into the swamp you'll find them.

Gossamer and gorgeous, almost out of place in the dirty greens and grays of the swamp, but then again. You can only see half of them. Who knows what the delicate trail of teal green scales leads to other than the water.

Stay out of the water. You're too close already. A quick peak is all She'll allow. Better get out quick before one of your beauties signals for Her.

Old Uncle John has nothing good to say about Her.

"She's mean," he'll say, "She'd be prettier if she smiled but then you'd see the blood she's covered in!" the young ones don’t like stories about Her, but once Old John gets going.....

"Evil, she's pure evil. Nasty ass bitch never shoulda-" he'll stop here and rub at his bad eye, mangled under the too big sunglasses he wears. Someone bought him an eye patch for Christmas one year. He doesn’t use it.

If you probe for answers he’ll only get nastier, accent thickening like good white gravy until even Aunt Myra can’t understand anything other than the occasionally swear word. She’ll tell you to get him drunk and then ask. You make the mistake of taking her advice when you stumble back into town, muddy from the waist down and blabbering about mermaids.

A fifth of whiskey and a question about how to get the mud out of you jeans is all it takes to him talking. Asking you if you went down to that ‘damned swamp’ and following up with ‘you did dincha!’ complete with a swat to the head. Aunt Myra smiles in sympathy from the kitchen but doesn't step in. ‘You wanted this, remember?’ her eyes seem to say. You do.

A few hedged questions about his own jeans and then John’s eyes unfocus, lost in the past.

It starts with a pretty girl, as most of Old Uncle John’s stories do.

A pretty girl, a reckless boy and the swamp.

He sees her when he’s messing around with his friends in the creek, just a flicker of dark hair and a gentle laugh. Hushed whispers and some jostling gets his buddies to shut up long enough for them all to notice her, chest deep in the mud, smiling like it’s the last day of school.

They’ll ask if she’s stuck. She’ll move backwards in answers, the heavy mud parting like water for her. It’s in her hair. Johnny doesn't care.

He chases her, running, tripping in his haste, and falling with a wet splat while she laughs at him, low and loud. He’ll walk home muddy everyday if she laughs like that again. With a wink she stands and mud clings to a heavy, bare, chest.

Someone whistles behind him and moves closer. She does the same, something a little too sharp to be curious but a little to open to be menacing. Her eyes are as brown as the mud around them.

When she’s close enough Johnny goes cross eyed looking at her the world explodes with movement.

Someone's yelling, another’s got her by the arm, John’s got a handful of something he’s got no business touching according to his ma but his conscious quiets when they all collectively pull

She’s got a tail.

It’s twice as big around as Johnny is, even with the bulk football gave him, and covered in mud, moss, and shimmering green scales so dark they’re almost black.

Then she snarls, claws a good hunk of meat off of John’s face and rips whoever’s got her arm, shoulder right out of its socket.

They’ll find Johnny sobbing into the mud a while later, hands clapped to his face, blood running down his arms, no mermaid in sight.

When he comes back to himself, back to Old Uncle John and away from Young Little Johnny he’ll rip that second fifth outta you’re fingers and down half it in one go.

That’s all you get out of him that night.

Aunt Myra doesn't look sad when you glance up at her, she’s angry.

You wonder if this is the first time she’s heard about how her husband got his scar

When you ask Freddy, who’s across the street and weak in his shoulder, about it he’ll spit between your shoes and say some impressively unprintable things.

“You leave that gator and that witch alone boy you hear!” he’ll jam a finger into your chest until you have a bruise and are nodding frantically.

You lied to him

The gator piece is new. Aunt Myra shakes her head and tells you Fred went mad a long time ago but the little kids giggle and tell you that the gator shoots a gun.

When you point out that gator’s can't shoot guns Chrissy, the oldest of them all at the ripe old age of 6, will laugh and say “Neither can you!” before running off.

She’s got a point.

Also, mermaids are real. Why can’t gun shooting gators be too?

Your best friend laughs when you tell him. “Mermaids and gun slinging gators? The humidity is getting to you man! Better come home before your brain melts entirely!”

You’ll hang up on him, the asshole.

A picture you decide, milking a glass of orange juice Aunt Myra doesn't know you spiked, get a picture of the mermaids avoid whichever one fucked Uncle John’s face, and become famous for it.

You might have had a little too much of that orange juice.

Strapped into borrowed waders that are too big for you, phone in hand, you’ll be hip deep in mud with a half a mind to quit when you’ll see them.

They’re further in than last time, pushed up on a bank of semi dry sand, speaking in a language you don't realize. You’ve got an eye full of bare skin in long lean lines, that fades into delicate scales until their the size of your palm and colored the same as the marsh plants you fought through to get here.

You’ll barely unlock your phone when one of them sees you and flicks her tail up, sending mud flying. It’ll land dead in front of you, splattering up into your face, and slicking your phone.

By the time you get it out of your eyes, a scaled nose is peeking up from the water, dead in front of you.

Everyone knows, everyone is taught what those are. Gator.

It’s been too long since you’ve visited though, and the lessons are dull in your mind. Do you run? Stay put? Scream?

The decision will be taken from you when She arrives.

You know immediately it’s Her. the one who fucked Old Uncle John’s face.

Hand prints brand her bare chest, a shade of sickly green almost the exact size of your own hand on her breast, you’re only a little older than Uncle John was, you realize with a start.

Another is branded around her upper arm, the same shade of green that makes every buried instinct in you scream of sickness and pain and you have the overwhelming urge to vomit.

She’ll stop you, the murky water and mud parting easily for her, and she’ll grip your jaw in one hand, looming over you.

The gator moves to the side, but you’ll feel it’s breath on the side of your exposed neck, the only think you can focus on whole She yells at you in a language you have no hope of ever understanding.

When She’s done, brown eyes narrowed in rage, you’ll notice the gator skin on her shoulders. Stitched into her flesh, with heavy thread, an armor leading down her back. To where you can't see, head still pulled into an unnatural angle, her grip on your jaw ever tightening with your staring.

Finally She’ll let you go, but Her gator stays, breathing on you with it’s too big nostrils, looking almost gleeful when you spare a glance to check its location. Chrissy will be disappointed you didn't see its gun.

If you survive this that is.

When She drops you, and She will, for not even the merfolk can yell forever, you’ll flounder for balance, Her steady weight gone, no longer holding you up. You hadn't realized you’d slumped into her grip.

She’ll catch you, steady you, but it’s with the prong of a pitchfork. The metal is cold against your back and she’s sneering, lips pulled back to reveal pointed teeth and a algae green tongue that darts out to taste the air.

You are in no position to wonder about snake mermaids in the swamps, because she’s got her pitchfork in your face, one tip indenting the flesh of your cheek. The same spot Uncle John has his scar.

She’ll see the fear flash in your face because her next move is a jerk of the tines, making a shallow cut on your face. It burns the way cuts do when you get dirt in them and your eye will water from the sting of it.

“Never. Again.” She’ll say in careful English, then again in Spanish because you actually paid attention in that class and again in another language, changing each time but the same two words.

She punctuates each languages change with a jab to your chest, ripping your borrowed waders and your shirt until you're back into the river proper, gator still swimming idly beside you.

When she pulls back something ripples behind her, heavy and green.

“Gator,” you breath and glance down at your unwanted buddy. No scales are missing from his hide but that is unmistakable gatorskin that flows from her shoulders. The stitching……

She wields a pitchfork, stands tall on her tail, wears a cape of alligator hide and protects the way she was never protected. Hand prints mar her skin, sickly against smooth flesh and she doesn't cover them, her cape is her only kind of clothing and you’re still not sure if her gator companion wields a gun or not.

You know when you’re not wanted enough to leave before you find out

Aunt Myra scolds you for leaving like that and ripping a good pair of waders but won't hear anything about mermaids or alligators.

Your best friend thinks it’s the funniest shit when you call him, crowing about humidity and going crazy. You don't hang up, but you touch the cut on your cheek, and the scraps on your chest. You’re not crazy.

You leave shortly after that, mad that you’re phone is ruined no good pictures at all, a wasted trip. Your mad about Her roughing you up, mad about that damn gator who shoots better than you do.

Old Uncle John has a drink with you before your drive back home, and both of you are muttering about ‘damn Fishies’ before the bottle is even halfway gone.

.

.

.

Across the swamp, across the sea, She sighs and stitches another scale into her cape. Humans will never learn to leave well enough alone. They will never understand Her pain.

The butt of her pitchfork slams against the riverbed rhythmically, calling.

As the water around Her ripples she sets aside her needle and rises, watching Her Sisters rally to her cry

Since they do not learn, they will drown.

And the Waters will be all the better for it

[ecotone99]

[SP] Coruscant (the Psychic Wars)

I got hit by a psychic, hard, the next day. They must be able to track Dove, Lord knows he's not quiet. He was on the phone out on my couch, his feet tucked under him, blanket over, even though it was quite warm. I was combat trained, my third eye opened faster than most witches could focus the second I sensed something incoming. It's why no one ever caught me asleep, not if they were out to kill.

Whatever it was blasted through my shields. Fuck. That meant they had a ground nearby, someone wired through their cellular or actually trained, and I'd have to locate them to pry them out if they were hooked in like that. I didn't really smoke anymore, but after I patched my shields I'd have to go have a clove and root the bugger out. It didn't do to look like a madwoman, and heading out one too many times set people off. Dove's aura was pulsing madly, a nasty shade of green and red. The magic was beautiful. He punched mute on his phone.

"What the fuck was that?" He hissed, glancing around. He might not be able to see as well as I could, but he Life Neshed, so he'd just interpret the energy fields and run them. It bent reality, but it helped you survive. Pissed off everyone around you, and Life Neshers didn't care. Pros did.

"Fuck if I know, Dove, it blasted through my wards, enemy psychic it's... coruscant..." I slid a bit further into the other and stared. Shimmering Ice. It was beautiful. You wanted to stare until you fell asleep...

"That's not what I'm seeing," Danno spat, seeing my eyes unfocus, "What's CorScant?"

"It shimmers, like ice breaking light into a thousand rainbows, sliding instead of refracting..." I was fascinated.

"Fucking Russians," Danno said, "I'm tagged, I'll be able to get a psychic on the line and find out what's going on, hang tight."

"Uh huh," I nodded, sounding far stupider than I was. He still hadn't figured out my camo. Stupid and pretty, beautiful and dumb. I went into shock so I could tread water in Alpha. My circulation slowed down, breathing, everything. It was actually pretty close to real Neshing, the kind they were developing with machines. But I'd fought this sort of thing my whole life.

"Yeah, it's about to be sunset Here," Domhnal said, running a hand through crimson hair, unruly waves never tangling somehow. I wondered what kind of shampoo he used when he wasn't flopping at a mate's pad. He thumbed mute again and glared at me.

"Anne!" He hissed, "Could you find your way out of 'pretty color' land," I frowned. It was rare that I took the approach, mathematically, that 0 was actually equal to -1. It only works in symbolic logic and is the fastest way to interpret any sort of Quantum Life Neshing. Apparently I was supposed to just ditch second sight and sit there and calculate the hard way for dear sweet little Domhnal. All the work and none of the perks. Interpret data I Couldn't see, and translate it to someone who Didn't accept that 0 equals -1 by their accounting. All the while remembering that 0 technically equals 1 in the world of commerce and international interaction. (Money, friends, no matter what the rubric, dictates that 0 functionally equals 1).

He was probably right, I admitted reluctantly, it was probably a Russian Psychic. They sat around all damn day arguing whether you could add 1 to infinity. Their work would be coruscant.

"Mhmm," He hit mute again, "Anne! Quick, I've got a Canadian line, tell me something personal!"

"M...m...my aunt was a bearded lady," He was too savvy to think before he hit unmute and started hooting the way the English do when they're laughing way to fucking hard.

"You... fuck all...bollocks. Or your Auntie wasn't a bearded lady, Anne?" That one was coming out of his ass. That would cost a pretty penny and I had a funny joke called rape if he ever tried it again. I could have taken the Russians. It would take me forty seven hookers, three arms deals, four deals with the church, two additional trainees and a partridge in a pear fucking tree to scrub that one out of society.

"She just... fuck... said... or my..." He stopped laughing, "Well Bob's your fucking Uncle. You really had an aunt that's a bearded lady."

I cringed. There would be calls, real actual phone calls. He started rocking ever so slightly, and rape suddenly became an actually funny joke. I had no idea why the English reacted like that to laughter, but you sure couldn't rape the willing.

"Your Aunt." He stopped and started giggling, "I'll call you back."

Click. Mobiles should still make the clicking noise that rotaries used to. Bob WAS unfortunately, also my Uncle, so apparently enough Canucks swarmed that bit of fairie bread that whoever was after my stink lost the scent. He learned fast. Fools Gold. Don't know how he got that out of my story, he must count American better than I thought. I'd just keep calling it fairie bread and hopefully he would figure out what I'd thought for a split second, that that was...actually...

"Honey and tea?" Honey and iced tea if I'd have spoken my mind. His phone shattered, then fell to the floor. I'd like to say he dropped it first, he didn't. As I watched the colors spin I spat out...

"Принеси дракона домой Отдохни его под морем Восход грозовых облаков Вечер падает Освободи четвертое дыхание"

"You're fucking singing?" He shrieked. He still hadn't gotten the hang of Life Neshing, I didn't know if he ever would. He'd just loaded a line and the negative energy shot back at him.

"What did you make a fucking wish?" I hissed at him. He had. Fuck. No one was teaching these people, not out loud.

"You speak fucking RUSSIAN?" His eyes were sharp and angry.

Whoops.

I'd neglect to share that one. Let alone that I sang in it. I found out the hard way that I'd memorized the wrong things in Russian. I knew how to scream in every pitch of upper class girl. It was what I did when I got caught out and I wasn't looking like a boy. I just told them I was Russian. When I was older, they'd found out the second part, not the first. I still could disguise myself.

But a very nice Russian man, whose face I never saw told me that if he ever caught me screaming in Russian again he'd mark my face. And he meant it. So I taught myself to sing when I was scared. I needed to know the language to understand their space shit anyways, so during the war, being an industrious Pole (America had left her mark on those peoples, we worked like mad because we complained constantly- ask any Pole, worktime is the complaining Olympics), I learned.

"Um, Space Programme," I teased him lightly. He bared his teeth, losing control of his emotions, and picked up his phone. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks. We were hard on phones. They had a bad habit of expressing the reality of the other side, physically. The plasma was too good of a conductor, and switching to diodes hadn't helped, it only stopped the bleeding.

"Come on," I took his hand and pulled him over to the corner of the living room where the cabinets that sometimes served as a cat playhouse and also as a storage unit for things I didn't want Normies to look at were stored. I had a surprising amount of jars and bottles, bits of curio. My Godmother had been a witch, and my mother's whole family was openly psychic. I was a Unitarian Priest, I'd memorized all of the old ways, nonewithstanding. We served a larger purpose, rather than a higher one. The mission received a mixed reception.

I walked Danno through setting the wards again, and cleansing. He wasn't happy, too used to the rush of being chased by psychics, and acting it out. And getting censured by society. We kept religion and all of it's trappings in our houses, or in marked areas in America. Everything else was contemplation or meditation, or commerce. Commerce can be included, it was a good neutral grounds.

"And when they come back, we'll just do this again?" He asked me, crossly. I smiled sadly. The answer was yes. It was more important than vaccuuming, or the useless habit we had of laundering our clothes every day instead airing them, when they weren't actually dirty. But almost no Westerners thought the way I did, despite the fact that they were playing and dying in the In Between. I just shrugged. I'd lost everyone I loved to that one stupid belief, that fitting in was more important than protecting your home. It wasn't. And I was still alive, and so was my son.

And so I'd just keep teaching it, until the world caught up with itself. Even if it was to a suddenly grouchy whore, who was the closest thing I had to a friend after my last mission.

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Previously in the Psychic Wars...

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