#those satisfying ear cleaning videos would be next level though

[chrysocomae]

Please share this essay from a healthcare worker from r/CoronavirusUS

What to expect when you get critically ill from COVID-19. A healthcare worker’s perspective.

"I am a healthcare worker who has volunteered to be a part of the COVID ICU “proning team” at the hospital where I work. I am writing this because my colleagues and I had a long discussion today about how disconnected the public is when it comes to the harsh reality of this virus and what it does to people. I will describe in as much detail as possible what you should expect to “experience” when you get critically ill from COVID-19.

By the time I meet you in the hospital, you’re already intubated in the ICU. This means that you likely started feeling terrible enough to get yourself to a hospital and then got admitted into said hospital. Your condition worsened to the point that the medical team determined that your best chance of survival would be to place you in a medically-induced coma and hook you up to a ventilator that literally breathes for you. The process that leads up to this point is traumatic, terrifying, and lonely. You are allowed zero visitors and your only interactions are with strangers that come into your room unannounced, wearing what look to you like hazmat suits. The hospital you’re staying in isn’t equipped with enough “negative-pressure” rooms to contain the virus and keep it from spreading to the hallway so there will be a giant window unit that pumps all the air from your room out the window vs allowing it back into the hospital. This window unit is LOUD (similar to a generator) and it will drive you absolutely insane because it MUST be running 24/7. So, you’re just going to have to accept that. As terrible as all this external hell feels, it’s nothing compared to what’s going on internally. Your body is deteriorating. Every breath is a gasp. Turning over to face the door when you hear a knock is impossible because you are literally THAT exhausted. Your oxygen levels continue to drop, even though you are being pumped MASSIVE amounts of pure oxygen through your nose (which is now bleeding constantly because it is completely dried out). The oxygen levels drop so low that the only course of action is to make you comatose, give you a paralyzing agent so you don’t thrash, and place you on a ventilator. Ok, so NOW let’s get to the bad part.

You’re laying on a bed, on your back. Unconscious, naked, Foley catheter in your urethra, and maybe (if your nurse is lucky) a FlexiSeal in your anus to collect all your diarrhea (look it up if you have questions). A ventilator is placed down your throat, somewhere between 20-28centimeters down. It will probably move around if it’s not tethered, which is a no-no, so it will be taped to your head/face. We’ll come back to this later, because that tape will eventually mess up your face, maybe permanently. A feeding tube goes down your nose because comatose people can’t eat, obviously. So your diet is now a nutrient-packed yellow mushy soup. Yum! Ok this is the basic setup.

Even with all this medically-engineered hoopla, you continue to deteriorate. The ventilator is running 100% oxygen down your throat, into your lungs but still not enough is getting into your blood. This is where organ failure starts to happen. Kidney failure, brain damage, etc. And this is where me and my “proning team” show up at your door.

Prone = laying on your stomach.

Supine = laying on your back.

Proning = turning you from your stomach onto your back.

Why do we do this? Well, to simplify it, the back of your lungs are bigger and better at oxygenating your blood. But when you’re laying on your back, all the fluid (LOTS of fluid) in your lungs accumulates and fills the back of your lungs - thus drowning them and making them much less effective. Flipping you onto your stomach causes that fluid to move to the front of your lungs (because gravity), freeing up the back of your lungs to do their better job. Honestly, it’s pretty amazing to see how quickly you will go from 79% oxygen (SpO2) to 93% as soon as we turn you onto your stomach. It’s very satisfying for us. Makes us feel proud. We’ll pat you on the back, literally, and give you kudos for this oxygen accomplishment.

We will plan to leave you in this prone position for somewhere between 12 to 18 hours. Your head is turned to the side, otherwise the ventilator tube would be rammed through the back of your mouth. Don’t worry, we will position this for you, you’re paralyzed, remember?

Once those 12 - 18 hours are up, the prone team comes back in to flip you back over to supine. This is where things can get ugly. Being paralyzed and on your stomach leads to A LOT of swelling/edema. Especially in your face. Your tongue has swelled up to ~5x it’s normal size and it doesn’t fit in your mouth anymore. Lips swell x5 times, too. Your eyelids have been taped shut but they’re swollen too. It looks like you have golf balls under your eyelids. Now, remember that tape that holds the ventilator tube in place? Well, it’s still holding tight. And with all the face/mouth swelling, I should emphasize the word TIGHT. You’ll be in this condition for a while. Maybe a week, maybe two, maybe three. That tape will get replaced daily but it will do some damage to your skin, especially your lips and ears. And since your blood isn’t getting proper oxygen, your body isn’t great at healing wounds. So, expect your face to look a little different for a LONG time, if you make it out alive. I now can say that I have seen a living person’s cheekbones. Not the form of the cheekbones, but the ACTUAL bones, because their wounds on their cheeks got so bad that the flesh necrotized and sloughed off during the friction involved with a head turn.

Where were we? Oh yes, we just flipped you back to supine. The 5 of us will be doing some routine care on you: wiping you down with Chlorhexidine Gluconate (CHG) wipes, putting Venelex cream and Mepilex patches your bed sores (think bony prominences - knees, clavicles, sternum, shoulders, nipples, shins, cheeks, etc.), using a suction device to suck up all the secretions from your mouth and nose, cleaning up your diarrhea from EVERYWHERE and changing that pesky face tape. Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle.

Now, it’s been maybe 10-15 minutes on your back. We stand back and assess how you’re doing. If you’re a champ, your oxygen levels stay in the low/mid 90s and we can leave you like this for 1 to 8 hours before you start deteriorating again, at which point it’s back onto your stomach.

The idea is that each time we put you back in supine, you’ll be able to maintain longer and longer periods of time before your oxygen drops to the 80s or 70s (or 60s, 50s, 40s, you get it).

The longer you’re in this ICU situation, the worse it gets. Eventually, we have to start doing all the routine care from the side-lying position, because putting you on your back could literally kill you. The supine position becomes intolerable - your blood pressure starts to plummet, your heart skips beats or shoots up to the 200s (or just stops) and your oxygen level drops immediately. So, unfortunately, you go back onto your stomach. More swelling, yay! Repeat this process daily and hope for better results each time. The more often we have to repeat, the less likely you are to survive, because it’s an indicator of how poorly your lungs are recovering.

Now, this is the point where someone might ask, “why are you keeping this person alive? Isn’t it inhumane to prolong this person’s suffering? What quality of life will they have when/if they survive?” Unfortunately, that’s not our choice. Even more unfortunately, it’s likely not even YOUR choice. Who’s choice is it? Your Medical Power of Attorney (MPOA), which 9 times out of 10, is a family member. Now, remember, there are zero visitors allowed for COVID-19 patients. That means that your family is getting ALL the information about your condition from a phone call or texts messages from someone on the healthcare team. Your family can’t see you and they can’t talk to you. Thus, they simply cannot appreciate just how much you are suffering. How could they? It’s not their fault. They love you. They’re praying for you. They’re wondering if they are making the right choice but they are doing so without all the information, because a phone call from a doctor or case manager can only go so far.

Above all, they are holding on to hope. Hope that you’ll come back from this. That you’ll be that patient in that next news video that gets the standing ovation as they’re wheeled out of the hospital because YOU MADE IT. And I hope you do, too. We all do. We care about you. If you make it out of that ICU, you’ve got months of rehab ahead of you. Your fight for life has JUST started. The success story is that, against all odds, you didn’t die.

Or, maybe you did. As I write this, 170,000 people have died from COVID-19 in the US alone. Each one of those people had a story, a life, a family, dreams, goals and a future. So many of them suffered tremendously through their last days, with strangers. Now they’re gone, forever. And that ICU bed is ready for the next one. I hope it’s not you. I hope it’s not your mom, dad, grandpa, aunt, sister, child or neighbor. But if it is, you can count on me and my coworkers to be gentle with you and treat you with dignity and respect. We will do everything in our power to get you home. This virus doesn’t care about your political affiliations, your plans, your freedoms. It doesn’t care about you at all. So we will.

Now, if I may.....please wear your damn mask.

Edit: The title says “when you get critically ill.” Emphasis on the “critically ill.” This is NOT what the average person should expect when they test positive. Most people DONT get critically ill. The VAST majority of people will never even see a regular hospital room, much less the ICU - I tested positive and I recovered at home with no medical intervention. Most will have mild symptoms and then recover. That being said, this post reflects a real possibility and a current reality for many people. I want people to understand the harsh reality of COVID-19. It affects everyone differently and taking small, practical precautions can keep you from ever having to wonder “is this going to happen to me?” or “did I get grandma sick because I didn’t take this seriously?” I apologize that this came off as fear mongering. The post reflects my experience as a healthcare worker and I feel that the public hasn’t had enough of that experience other than “we are overworked and tired.”

[meganshinsou-tm]

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter seventeen: the void

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: mentions of suicide/self harm, depression, anxiety, comfort

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

The loud and obnoxious sound of the alarm on your phone woke you from a deep slumber. You groaned and reached behind your head to the arm of the couch and grabbed the device, picking it up and touching the 'off' button. Your fingers went to clutch the phone but it slipped from your hold and landed straight on your forehead.

"Oh for the love of fucking christ why!"

Groaning and moaning in pain, you rolled over and fell straight off of the couch with a yelp. 

"I'm just going to lay here and die," you thought to yourself as your face stayed buried into the rug. 

The phone started to ring only a few seconds later, startling you from the serene quietness of the house. With a sigh you sat up on your elbows and grabbed the phone, seeing that it was Hitoshi calling, more than likely to make sure you were awake from your nap.

"Ayeeee," you answered with a tired and un-enthused tone.

"I swear you're something else woman, are you awake? Like awake awake?"

"Yeah I'm awake, trust me," you replied rubbing your forehead.

"Okay, just making sure sweetness. The kid has dance this afternoon right?"

You confirmed Hitoshi's question as you rose from the floor with a groan. The two of you continued to converse as you put on your hoodie and coat, shoes and grabbed your car keys. It had been exactly three weeks since you moved in with your now boyfriend to help him with the care of Eri. It was an exhausting and busy three weeks but so wonderful at the same time. You liked the hustle and bustle of bringing Eri to and from school and her different lessons. More than anything you loved being part of Hitoshi and Eri's life, sharing a home with them both and having your own life full of love and happiness, all because of them.

"How about I meet you two after her lesson and we'll go out for dinner since it's Friday?"

You quirked a brow and counted back your days, realizing that Hitoshi was right but also causing another important detail to pop into your brain as you saw a sparkly pink duffel bag by the front door.

"Uh – I think it'll be just me and you actually. Eri is supposed to go to some little slumber party tonight after dance. I just remembered!"

"That's fine then, you know what, since you'll be back at home before me I'll just pick up some take-out on my way home and we'll have a night in together. It's been a while since we've had one of those, kid free. Maybe even have a copious amount of sex squeezed in between some movies and video games?"

You laughed as you were already out the door and getting into your vehicle, knowing good and well that your lover was at his work desk surrounded by his colleagues and not giving a single fuck about if they could overhear him or not.

"Mmm, food, movies, video games and sex. Should I wear my 'holey' pants, I just know how turned on you get when I strut around in them!"

A sharp inhale was heard on the other end of the call, making you laugh again from imagining Hitoshi grinning through his gritted teeth as he thought of your pair of pajama pants with pink pineapples all over them and a good number of frayed holes. You never cared to throw them away because they were the most comfortable pair of pj's you owned.

"Oh now you're talking, maybe even wear a matching trash bag top. Mmm, that'd be so fucking hot!"

More laughter erupted from your mouth, making Hitoshi laugh as well. You sank back into the seat of the vehicle after starting the engine and turning the heater on full blast. "I love you weirdo."

"I love you more sweetheart. Be careful on the road please, and text me when you get there."

"You got it captain!"

After picking up Eri from school, the two of you had a small amount of time to drive-thru and grab a quick snack. Eri sat in her booster seat, eating her fries and drinking her juice happily as you did the same. You turned down the music on the radio and glanced at the little girl in your rear-view mirror.

"So cutie, what do you want to be for Halloween? We're gonna have to start looking for a costume because you got that party coming up, plus we're all going to the festival at UA."

As Eri chewed on a mouthful of salty fries she thought with a finger to her cheek. After a few seconds, her ruby eyes lit up and she looked at you.

"I want to be Alice!"

"Ooh, that sounds easy enough! You'd make a very cute and fitting Alice! You know I think we should make Toshi be the Cheshire Cat!"

"Yeah! He's purple already!" Eri pointed out.

You laughed and agreed with her. You couldn't wait to tell Hitoshi the decision you and his sister made in regards to his Halloween outfit. Eri followed with asking what you would be, which actually stumped you. You weren't much of a fan of the classic tale but you had a general knowledge of it. The Mad Hater or Queen of Hearts just didn't really float your boat. 

"Hmm, who else is there?" 

A light flickered in your head as you thought about making you and Hitoshi match at least in the animal department.

"What about the White Rabbit?"

"Yeah! Then we would all match!"

The rest of the drive you and Eri planned out the pieces of your costumes. Once at dance you walked in with her, hand in hand and helped to get her dressed in her dance outfit and put her long silver locks up into a nice and neat bun. You stowed her stuff away and walked to the dance room, crouching to her level before she went inside.

"Alright, you're going home with Mai and her mommy today for her slumber party. All your things are in your bag, and if you need absolutely anything you let her mom know and she will call me or Toshi."

"Okay Unnie, you and Sou-Sou will come get me tomorrow?"

"Absolutely, whenever you're ready to come home, we'll be on our way!"

Eri smiled and nodded before hugging your neck tightly. You placed a kiss to her head before standing and coaxed her into the dance room. She smiled and waved goodbye to you and ran to join her little group of friends. You waved back and proceeded to give the other girls mother yours and Hitoshi's numbers and made your way back home, more than ready to have a lazy night with your equally exhausted boyfriend.

Hitoshi struggled to open the door of his home, after many failed attempts of calling your cell or kicking at the barrier since his hands were full, he had to manage by himself knowing that you wouldn't be coming to help him. Once inside he heard it was quiet for the most part, which had him worried until he walked more into the kitchen and could hear a vacuum cleaner running down the hall. His heart was put at ease, realizing that's why you didn't answer him.

The hero placed all the bags of food on the counter, he went all out and got everything the both of you enjoy from your favorite take-out place. You had been working so hard the past few weeks caring for Eri, cleaning the house and cooking in your free time, even if it was already spotless. 

Of course Hitoshi wasn't the type to just sit back and let you do these things, either you'd have them all done before he could get home or when he'd offer his help you'd decline it and suggest he spend time with Eri helping with her homework or just playing games with her. Tonight he wanted to make sure you were satisfied in more ways than one, a belly full of good food, a nice bath to relax your tired body, nice soft and comfy clothes and a whole bunch of doing nothing.

After Hitoshi's arms were empty he slid his shoes off and made his way towards the whirring sound of the cleaning appliance. It led him to Eri's bedroom and he poked his head around the corner of her door frame. The sight his eyes fell upon was very welcomed, making him chuckle and smile. 

Your ear buds were snug in your ears, your phone on the toddlers dresser. As you vacuumed you danced along with the music flowing into your canals, singing to it as well. Your hips swayed in a hypnotic way and you had great footwork as you stepped along with the beat. Your entire body was moving - shoulders, waist, head. (H/c) locks swayed along and your free hand was raised up dancing along too.

"Y se emociona, ya no razona. Y me empieza a cantar, me canta así, así. Bidi bidi bom bom. Bidi bidi bom bom."

Hitoshi's eyes lit up as he heard your voice speaking the Spanish language so flawlessly. He knew you liked many different types of music and knew countless songs word by word, the language barrier being no problem. 

This wasn't the first time the male had caught you like this either, there were multiple times he'd walk in on you dancing and singing in the shower, while baking or cleaning. Each time he'd scare the piss out of you by not making his presence known and you'd stop immediately. It wasn't like you couldn't dance or sing, because you could and so well. The sheer embarrassment of it all though is what would make you end the show. 

This time though, he didn't want that to happen. With the help of his own sounds being muted by your ear buds and vacuum, he was able to sneak inside the room and place himself a close distance behind you. His violet eyes watched your foot work and learned it quickly, they'd also gaze to your ass as you'd roll your hips and stick the plump flesh out.

He panted, seeing you in black leggings and a plain long-sleeve shirt. You didn't have to wear fancy or revealing getup's to get his blood pumping and his tongue hanging from his mouth. 

Hitoshi held his hands up and lined them with your hips as he got ready to step in with you. You sang the song so well and perfectly it's like he could hear the beat of it and easily became in-tune with your movements. Hitoshi took a deep breath and waited for just the right moment and took it. 

One arm wrapped around the front of your waist, pulling your gyrating hips into his, the other grabbed hold of your hand that swayed up in the air. Chuckling, his lips brushed against the skin of your neck, making a shocked gasp escape from your mouth. You hadn't fully registered what was happening as Hitoshi danced with you, moving his hips along with yours and pressing his hard chest to your back.

You stopped vacuuming, letting go of the machine and Hitoshi took the chance to twirl you around and face him. He took a bud from your ear and placed it in his so he could hear the music you listened to. It was lively and fun, his hands took hold of yours, fingers intertwining and holding them in the air as he danced along with you quite well.

"Toshi-ah! What the – you never told me you could even remotely dance!"

Hitoshi twirled you, making you giggle and tugged you towards him and kissed your cheek, "You never asked."

"That's my line you turd!"

Smiling, Hitoshi pulled you into his chest and dipped you, timing it perfectly with the end of the song. He was so pleased with himself and placed sweet kisses up your neck to your cheek before standing you straight up again. His arms wrapped around you and hugged you close, you hummed and hugged back burying your face into him. Hitoshi pulled away and removed the bud from yours and his ear, grabbed your phone and shut off your music.

"Come on sweetness, let's get that thing put back up and get our night started!"

After eating all the food you could until you were miserable, Hitoshi ran a bath and you both bathed and relaxed until you were prunes. Now you laid on the couch together watching a movie. Hitoshi played with your (h/c) hair as you laid on his chest until you lost interest in the film and moved to sit up and straddle his lap. He smiled and touched your warm cheek, drinking in the site of you wearing one of his shirts and looking adorable.

"I didn't ask yet, but how was your last full week at the agency?"

Hitoshi explained his week and you listened closely, your hands playing with his.

The time had come finally for him to start his teaching job at UA that following Monday, you were excited and nervous for him, he was more excited than anything. All week after he'd get off work, he'd stop by the school to set up his classroom and get everything in place and ready. 

You and Eri stopped by one day to bring him dinner and you weren't exactly surprised to see just how much he put into the room. It looked chaotic with all the sketches, posters and prints that hung from the walls but it was somehow like an organized chaotic. Everything flowed together well, it was cozy and very inviting. As he stated before, there was a big print of your picture from Disneyland on one of the walls, along with an equally sized picture of Eri. Hitoshi said he was going to make the classroom his own and make it his own he did.

"You excited for your first day of teaching?" You asked, moving your hands up Hitoshi's chest to wrap around his neck and play with his hair.

"Definitely, it'll be a nice change and new journey. I can't wait to meet my students and see how creative they are."

You smiled at your lover's excitement and leaned forward to kiss his lips softly. Hitoshi hummed as his hands rested on and squeezed your hips. He grinned after you broke away, asking what the kiss was for.

"Just because. I'm really proud of you Hitoshi, you set your sights on something and you go after it."

"Well thank you sweetheart. I'm so lucky to have you," he replied and pulled your lips to his again, giving you a kiss to express his gratitude.

You smiled and leaned down, hugging his chest and pressing your cheek to it. Hitoshi wrapped his own arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

"It's definitely the other way around Toshi."

Shinsou smirked as he rubbed your back and you went back to watching the movie on the tv but suddenly it's like your words brought a past memory up, from that night in the bathtub a few weeks ago. 

"I don't know how much longer I would've lasted in this world." 

Somehow he had forgotten to ask you about that night, about your life and emotional health before moving in with him. Looking down at you, Hitoshi figured now was a good enough time to ask you, you were awake and aware and already in a somewhat mushy and open mood. You never had been the type to really hide anything from him, even before your relationship became official. Hitoshi picked up on clues to your moods and he'd ask you about them, sometimes you'd be hesitant or annoyed with his line of questioning but you always answered him. In the end you'd feel better having him to vent to.

"Hey baby," Hitoshi started off as his hand on your back squeezed, "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

You remained in your place, your hand holding onto Hitoshi's bicep and your thumb brushing his skin under the sleeve of his shirt. "What is it Toshi?"

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you and Eri made that cake, me and you took a bath that night and you were dozing off? You said something to me, something about how if I hadn't come along with my job offer then you didn't know 'how much longer you would've lasted in this world'. Does any of that ring a bell?"

Your brows knitted, trying to recall that nights events. The memories were blurry, you were in a dazed state after all. You remembered Hitoshi bathing you, holding you close and letting you melt into him. When you're extremely tired and trying to fight it off, you tend to blabber a lot about your hearts innermost feelings. More than likely that was the case that night, no denying it.

"I don't remember it exactly, but it sounds like something I would've said."

"What exactly did you mean by that? You weren't planning on hurting yourself ... were you?"

There was a pause before you replied, letting out a long and ragged breath as you thought how to form the words that wanted to fall from your lips. 

You had thoughts before, of how much easier life would be if you didn't have a life at all. You wouldn't have to worry about meeting due dates for bills, wouldn't have to be bothered with your families problems and above all, wouldn't have to see that monster you worked for ever again. Each day going back and forth to that café seemed to just break a piece of your soul off more and more. The looks, whistles and words that you'd hear. 

Your only saving grace being Hitoshi when he'd stop by and grace you with his company. For those few moments or hours, you'd feel that everything was good in the world, that maybe you could make it one more day if it meant seeing that tuft of purple hair and those glistening amethyst eyes one more time.

"Uh – not exactly, I guess? I don't know. I think back then I honestly had just given up on caring about my life Hitoshi. I was in the mindset that if something 'bad' did happen to me then I'd be okay with it. Truthfully, I'm too much of a little bitch to ever off myself, I wanted it to be done for me. I'd go as far as seeking out dangerous situations sometimes."

Hitoshi clenched his jaw, letting your words hit him hard, his hold on you grew tighter. You kissed the inside of his elbow that your face rested in and continued.

"I – I'd purposefully walk through the rough and bad areas of the city on my way home some nights. Hoping someone would think I was good enough to mess with and even hurt. Other times I wouldn't pay attention to my surroundings as I walked crosswalks during heavy traffic. I feel disgusted with myself that I even thought of giving into that man I worked for, then trying to back out of it, hoping he'd get mad enough to lose his control and just ... end me. I almost got what I wished for huh? Except that night, my entire view had changed, I didn't want that situation anymore but still it ended up happening, like some sick joke."

Hitoshi could feel his chest tightening, his heart aching and squeezing. The thought of seeing a story on the news about a girl with your description found behind a dumpster in the slums of Japan had his stomach in knots and made him nauseous. The fact that you sought that out, made it even worse. 

If you truly had gotten everything you wished for back then, Hitoshi would've been guilt ridden for sure. It was his fucking job to read people, how did he not see that dead and hopeless look in your eyes? 

Was it because when he was around, even if you acted annoyed, that you were at your happiest? Just the act of him stopping by and requesting you, was that what kept you going? What about your own family, there's no way they didn't play a part in your life and no way they wouldn't have helped you, had you asked for it.

"(Y/N), what about your family?"

Your shoulders shrugged and you hummed. 

"Well, I distanced myself from them. My parents especially, I just wanted to escape all the – the idiocy. My brother and his wife, their kids, they were another reason I kept going. My mother and father though, nothing happy every comes out of those relationships. Just being let down time and time again, picked over for something better."

You had no family really, except for your sibling and his small family. Those two kids of theirs were your entire world. Then Hitoshi and Eri came along and your world grew. You and brother would go a few weeks without talking to each other, it was normal. They would get busy with the kids and work, and you would be busy with whatever was going on in your life. Always though, you'd check up on each other after too long and pick up from where you left off.

Hitoshi was silent as you explained your sad and chaotic life to him, taking it all in. He never knew any of this went on, had he known, he would've done more, made his move earlier! You finally pulled yourself from his chest, going back to straddling his hips and looking at him. The man looked to be on the verge of tears. 

You pouted and cupped Hitoshi's face, leaning forward and resting your forehead to his.

"I'm sorry Hitoshi. I'm sorry I didn't value you my life like I should've. Sorry for not being strong enough and being a coward, for being stupid and endangering myself. I just, I had enough of it all, I was tired," a shaky breath left your lips, " - so tired. I wasn't going anywhere fast enough for my liking, I had these dreams that seemed so unrealistic and I got discouraged. You saved me though and each day I'm so thankful you walked into that café almost every goddamn day and showed me that smile and kindness. It got to where I lived for it, now wholeheartedly I live all because of you."

Tears flowed from your eyes and from Hitoshi's as well. When he felt a tear drop onto his shirt the hero captured you in his arms holding you as close as humanly possible. Your cries rippled through him as he held your head to him and pet your hair. You apologized over and over, for the smallest and most unnecessary reasons. Hitoshi quietly cried with you, comforting and shushing your un-needed words.

"You have nothing to be sorry for towards me (Y/N). I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner or did something about it. The thought of you suffering alone, not being this person I've been so blessed to see these past few weeks, it fucking kills me. As long as there's a breath in me, I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you're happy. I'll support and back all your dreams like you do for me, I'll always be here for you to vent to and let your frustrations out on, I'll be absolutely any and everything you could ever need. You have to promise me though that if you ever feel yourself slipping, even just the smallest bit, back into that void, you'll let me know."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping your nose and eyes with the backs of your hands and arms. "I promise Hitoshi. Thank you so much, for everything. I love you so much."

Hitoshi closed his eyes and squeezed you tight, placing a kiss to your temple and wiped your eyes. "I love you so much more."

The next few minutes were spent with Hitoshi holding you close, both of you calming down and getting back to normal. Your boyfriend instructed you wrapped around and hold him tight as he got up from the couch, carrying you to the kitchen and sitting you on the counter. He grabbed a clean rag and wet it with warm water, wrung it out then placed himself between your knees. As you sniffled, Hitoshi used the rag to wipe and clean your eyes and face. The warmth of the cloth made you relax and you gave the man an appreciative smile.

"Sorry I kind of ruined the whole vibe tonight Toshi."

"Baby, you didn't ruin anything. As painful as it was, I'm glad we had this talk. How about we play a friendly game of Mario Kart to get the mood back up?"

You chuckled as Hitoshi took your face in his hands, pulling you to look up at him towering over you and placing a kiss to your lips. Your hands hung from his as you kissed back eagerly. His warm and soft lips were helping to bring the warmth back to yours. The taste of spicy curry was still on his tongue that was welcomed into your mouth and lapped at your own muscle, you enjoyed it honestly. Tongues retreated back to their own caves and your lips enveloped each other one last and long time before breaking away.

"You're on Hitoshi, get ready to get your ass kicked!"

A cocky grinned grew on Hitoshi's face and he quickly tossed you over his shoulder, placing a firm smack to your ass as he carried you back into the living room. It stung more than usual being you weren't wearing pants to protect your skin. You playfully bit at the back of his shoulder, making him only bite your thigh in retaliation.

"Ow you fucker! I'd be nice if I were you, I do get to put together your Halloween costume in fact, and I could be evil about it!"

"What costume? I haven't told you what I wanted to be yet."

You smiled as Hitoshi flung you onto the massive couch from over his shoulder. His arms trapped your head and he looked down on you and leaned on the couch.

"You don't get a say in the matter, Eri chose for you and it's great! You see, you'll be going as the Cheshire Cat, ears and all! For once I'll be the one drooling over you in a kitty cat getup!"

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at you and grit his teeth. Your finger reached up and glided under his chin then to bop the tip of his nose as you giggled.

"Cat got your tongue Toshi?"

"Bite me," he snapped back.

Propping up on your elbow, your hand cupped his neck and tugged him down roughly and closer to you, the tip of your tongue licked up the side of his throat and stopped at his jaw where you nipped lightly. "Don't mind if I do!"

[danfanciesphil]

Bodyguard au rn miss 💋💋

hey anyone that wanted me to write the bodyguard au inspired by this picture of phil, here’s what i got for u xoxo

On Thursdays, their busiest nights, the club offers two for one drinks for anyone who gets there before twelve, meaning the line outside the door often snakes all the way down to the pier. It’s gotten warmer over the last month, so Phil no longer has to feel as guilty about the hoards of people shivering in their skimpy outfits for hours in the freezing seaside air, but it’s still not fun being the guy who has to make them all wait. Strict club rules though - no more than fifteen people to be let in at once, staggered in five minute intervals.

A few people are trying to engage Phil in chatter, but he remains stoic and silent, arms folded just below the stitching on his tight black t-shirt that reads ‘Try It Mate’. The people at the front of the queue, a girl in tattered tights and a birthday sash flanked by two equally bimbo-ish friends, are finding this t-shirt hilarious, and keep yelling this at him, as if they actually think he can’t hear them standing two feet away. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring drunken screeching though, so he just stares at the roiling sea in the distance, fast-forwarding his brain a few hours, to when he can relax in his bed, eat leftover pizza and play some video game he could complete blindfolded.

Billy, the other bouncer working tonight, taps Phil discreetly on the arm - the signal that enough time has passed to let some more people in. With a quiet sigh, Phil turns and unhooks the rope separating him from the drunk girls, and inclines his head to let them through. As they stumble inside the door, flashing their passports and driver’s licences, Billy makes a disapproving face. Phil knows that some bouncers would label the girls as ‘TDTD’ (too drunk to dance), and not let them inside, but Phil can’t be bothered to go through that whole charade with them. They look the sort that would kick off, and hold up the queue even more. They’re straight, probably, out on a girls night for the sash-girl’s birthday, and fancy trying out a gay club just to be daring. It pisses Phil off, and if he were more like Billy, weathered by years of the job and willing to take no nonsense, he might be more inclined to refuse them entry.

But it’s too late now, they’re already inside, likely ordering prosecco at a bar that serves mostly jagerbombs and cheap imitation cosmos, then clambering up on the podiums with the professional dancers and drag queens to show off for their Instagram feed. Billy nudges him in the side, and Phil realises he’s still watching the entrance where the girls disappeared, and not focusing on the queue. He turns quickly to the next person - tall, skinny, dressed in a crop top that looks like it’s made for a doll, a thin, satin, pink and white bomber jacket, and a pair of denim shorts so tiny that they barely begin to cover the person’s ass. The highlight of the ensemble is the lilac wig that cascades in loose curls down to waist-level, complete with a thick fringe that hangs down over whoever’s eyes are hiding behind it.

Phil takes one look at this joker and has half a mind to turn them away without even speaking to them, but a skinny arm reaches up to offer an ID, so Phil sighs and takes it even though every one of his spidey-senses is tingling. It’s a green driver’s permit, not even a full license; the date printed would make the owner twenty-one. Phil gives the lanky figure in front of him another brief once-over - no way are they a day over eighteen, and that’s pushing it. His eyes flick to the name: Daniel James Howell. There’s a photo too of course, of an attractive, far more masculine-presenting, clean-cut young adult with a slight side-fringe. The lilac-haired beauty in front of Phil does not, in his opinion, match this general look. Still, he supposes it’s his job to make sure.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, starting off easy so he doesn’t humiliate the kid.

“I guess you could call me Dan, most of the time,” lilac-hair says in an unexpectedly sure, confident voice; Phil can’t be sure whether the tremor he can hear is in from cold or from their nerves about being caught.  

“Don’t sound very sure about that.”

They get a lot of this kind of thing. Young, nervous gay guys - it’s mostly guys - sneaking out to come for their first gay club experience, usually dressed up in their mum or sister’s clothes, disguised but still scared shitless that someone will clock them and they’ll be forced prematurely out of the closet. This kid is likely still in school, desperate to find a place he can be himself - unfortunately, the law is the law, and he’ll just have to come back when he’s old enough to have a real ID.

“Think I don’t know my own name?” the kid asks. “Listen, from nine to five, my name’s Dan Howell. But I’m not going by Dan tonight, get me?”

The irritation in this person’s voice makes Phil pause. Normally, a bad attitude like this would be enough of a deterrent that they’d risk getting turned away, but if anything, on lilac-hair the attitude is just confusing. What does he have to be irritated about? He’s got no gaggle of friends with him, nor does he appear to be in a hurry. Phil’s just trying to do his job - if this person is underage, they must’ve known this might happen.

He studies the ID again, noting that for a fake it’s very convincing. He turns to flash the small green card at Billy, who frowns at it, then shrugs in a ‘looks real to me’ way. Phil’s gaze drifts back to lilac-hair and asks, “what’s your star sign?”

A tiny smile spreads over thin, glossed pink lips. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

Absurdly, Phil feels himself grow warm with embarrassment. It makes no sense - he’s been flirted with hundreds of times working here and it’s never so much as rattled him before. He shrugs it off, trying to appear unamused. “I’m not flirting with you, I’m trying to see if you’re fucking about with me. Might wanna play along, sunshine.”

The pink lips part to let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m a gemini. Wanna know my bra size too?”

The dates on the ID work; Phil long ago learned the correct dates for the star signs for this exact reason. He ignores the snarky follow up question, which is good of him. “Can you lift your wig, please?”

Lilac-hair hesitates, then flicks the long locks falling by their ears back over each shoulder, revealing a lot of pale skin and sharp, jutting collarbones. Phil averts his eyes quickly - if this person is underage, he can’t be staring inappropriately. Not that he should be doing that with any customers that are legal either.

“Not like that,” Phil says, brusquely, “I can’t see your eyes.”

Lilac-hair lifts their head, chin jutting out, and behind the unbrushed lilac strands, Phil can almost make out two dark, almond-shaped eyes staring back at him. Phil can’t help an amused smile forcing its way out, born from the kid’s stubborn defiance. This person is not about to let Phil off easily, if they are lying about their age.

So, mostly to speed things along, Phil reaches out a hand - very much without thinking - and pushes the purple fringe back. The kid’s eyes are round and startled, which is fair enough, as Phil hadn’t even known he was going to make such a bold move until he’d already done it. This is far from protocol, probably, touching the customers unless they’re being belligerent and require forcible removal. But he’s too far in now, holding the handful of acrylic hair out of this person’s face. And yep, it’s at once completely obvious that he is, in fact, the same person as the man in the ID photo - no question about it.

The ID is, apparently, real. Lilac hair is twenty-one years of age, and Phil’s just got to accept it. Not a kid at all. He releases the fringe, and lilac-hair blinks as it falls back into their eyes.

“Satisfied?” Lilac hair huffs, straightening the fringe with their fingers.

“In you go,” is all Phil replies, a little gruffly because he knows he’d been wrong to prematurely assume this person was trying to break the law from appearance alone. He hates that his own prejudice can sometimes leak through when assessing people in this job, though he tries his hardest to be totally impartial. He hands ‘Dan’ their ID back and lets them through the rope. Lilac-hair takes their time about going through, pulling the wig back around his shoulders, then swaying their hips as they swan by. Despite knowing he shouldn’t, Phil’s eyes fall to the curve of  lilac’s ass, peeking through the hotpants as they head to the door. Phil never wears wigs, but he sees a lot of people in them working here, and long ago learned the difference between a cheap ‘party city’ wig, and an expensive one. The one lilac is wearing is definitely on the cheaper end of the scale, but it’s gorgeous in its tackiness, like the person inside it knows that the pastel colour is exactly their shade. The plastic hair falls in a great tumble down a tapered back, bouncing just above the waistband of those tiny shorts. The sight is unforgettable, Phil can already feel it burning into his retinas, to be replayed in the dark, when he’s alone.

Billy clears his throat then, breaking Phil out of his trance. He rips his eyes away, sheepishly, turning to Billy. “Not a good idea to put your hands on ‘em,” Billy reminds him in his low, rough voice. “Some of ‘em get shirty about it.”

Phil nods, glad of the darkness hiding his flush, and turns to the next set of people in the queue.

*

At around half one, Phil signals to Billy that he needs to take a piss. The queue is long gone by now, and they’ve moved into the second half of their shift, which is watching the smoking area for people trying to do drugs, and kicking people to the kerb if they get too drunk. There haven’t been too many of either instances this evening, so Phil feels pretty safe about leaving Billy alone for five minutes. He heads inside, scooting behind the bar to get across to the toilets so that he doesn’t have to barge through the crowds on the dancefloor. The bartenders all nod at him as he passes, some exchanging harried looks with him because it’s rammed in here, and they all spent the first few hours of the night making two of every drinks order.

In the unisex bathroom, Phil pees quickly then washes his hands; he notices a few people scarpering from cubicles at the sight of him, but doesn’t bother try and catch them. They’re either doing drugs or having sex, and either one is moronic to do in a bathroom stall if you ask him. He does do a quick scout of the cubicles before he leaves, knocking on doors and saying stern things in the hopes of scaring them into sense for a bit.

It’ll only work for a while - once they know he’s out of sight they’ll be back at it again, but there’s not much he can do about it. They check likely suspects for pills and powders on the way in, and confiscate a fair amount, but Phil’s not dumb and knows there’s a hundred ways they could be hiding it.

It’s as he gets to the bar again that Phil notices the swirling lights washing over a familiar waterfall of lilac, in front of the bar waiting to be served. There’s a guy next to lilac hair, obnoxiously crowding them in a way that Phil is all too familiar with. The guy has a wifebeater on with the word ‘woof’ scrawled across the chest. He’s also wearing a snapback indoors. Both of these are major red flags for Phil, who has seen and kicked out a lot of classic douchebags in his time.

He pauses, waiting to see the scene unfold. The bartenders are swamped with orders from the hoard of people crammed up against the bar - lilac has been pushed right to the edge with woof-man. Unless he’s willing to give up his place in the makeshift queue, he won’t be able to escape unwanted advances. Phil waits, certain that woof is seconds away from making his pig-headed move. He doesn’t have to wait long.

Woof-man leans in and whispers something into the folds of the lilac wig. Whatever is said makes lilac recoil in disgust. To stop him moving away, woof-man reaches out and grabs lilac-hair by the outer hip, his meaty hand cupping the whole of his right ass-cheek, then tugs him in sharply. Already Phil is moving towards them at the sight of this, and that’s when woof-man squeezes his fistful of flesh, apparently quite hard, because in the next second, lilac is calmly reaching between two people to grab a leftover beer on the bar, and promptly upending it over woof’s head. The guy roars, half-drowned by the loud music, but audible enough that the near vicinity of people turn to see. Woof pulls off his snapback and shakes it out, furious; lilac flinches as the droplets of beer spray at him, but doesn’t try to run away. Phil reaches them then, alarm pumping through him to the beat of a Tove Lo song, and promptly inserts himself between the two, his back to lilac, one hand on woof’s chest.

“Oi, that’s enough,” Phil barks in his usual ‘bouncer voice’.

“It’s him not me!” Woof insists, as Phil knew he would. “That little fucker chucked a beer on me!”

“Out of nowhere, was it?” Phil’s already done with this dickhead. “I saw you grab ‘em, so don’t even try it. Far as I’m concerned, you deserve the beer bath.”

Woof’s face flushes red in fury. “Oh, get lost, you wanker. Look at ‘im. Boys don’t dress like that to be treated like Royalty, mate. He fuckin’ wants it.”

A white hot, blinding rage pierces Phil right through the chest. Something primal awakens in him, picturing lilac’s sweet, pretty features as he lifted the fringe from their eyes. “Right,” Phil growls through clenched teeth, “out.”

“What?!” Woof is practically frothing at the mouth. “You can’t do that!”

“I bloody well can mate,” Phil says; he’s hoping that woof will listen to him, as he’s seconds away from throwing a punch, “I’m the bouncer. Out. We don’t want your sort in here.”

The guy scoffs, squaring up, but he’s wobbly, obviously tipsy, and Phil just has to take one sombre, utterly unfazed step towards him, shoulders drawn up to elevate their height difference, and the guy sinks backwards. Phil loves watching the recalculating whirr of their slowly ticking, moronic brains.

“Whatever,” the guy spits, sending a dirty look over Phil’s shoulder, “this place is shite anyway.”

Thankfully, he turns, stalking away, and Phil watches long enough to make sure he heads for the door. Once he’s out of sight, Phil turns, somewhat unsurely, back to lilac, who is staring at Phil, the fringe parted into two curtains that split in curves across a smooth forehead. It’s nice to see those eyes again; they shouldn’t be hidden, Phil thinks..

“Thanks,” lilac says. “But I could’ve handled it.”

“No trouble,” Phil replies, chuckling at lilac’s continued defiance, “‘s what I’m here for. You ok?”

Lilac nods contemplatively, those brown eyes flicking over Phil’s face, head tilted. He’s wearing makeup, Phil notices. Something sparkly wiped across his eyelids and cheeks. Pink lipgloss. Maybe mascara too. Phil feels a curl of something he hasn’t felt for a long time, twisting and writhing like a worm in his gut. He squashes it down, embarrassed by his attraction to such an obvious display of faux-feminine allure. Such a cliche, lusting after the pretty boys, or not-boys perhaps, considering what ‘Dan’ had said outside.

“Bet you get that problem a lot,” Phil says, not thinking. He only realises how much like a come-on it sounds when it’s too late.

Lilac’s eyebrow quirks, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a surprised smile. “You sure you’re not flirting with me?”

The blush whips into Phil’s cheeks so fast it nearly unstables him. He’s suddenly very aware of the intense effect this person seems to be having on him, just due to their proximity. Sure, beneath the overpowering performance of that wig lies an extraordinarily pretty human, but Phil daily encounters lots of beautiful people in this job. Gay club patrons tend to go ham on the glitz and glamour.

It’s just something about lilac, in their skimpy clothes that look like they were stitched out of a teenage girl’s bedroom curtains, and the cheap synthetic that somehow transforms the outfit into something bewitching. The makeup is done imperfectly, the sparkly blue varnish on their nails is  half bitten off. But there’s no denying the effect lilac has, and seems to know they have, judging by the flirtatious smile being aimed his way.

“Of course not,” Phil says anyway, bristling. He averts his eyes; lilac’s stare is lasering right through him. “I work here.”

“Me too,” lilac replies, one bony shoulder shrugging up. Fingers come up to tuck a strand of wig behind an ear, revealing a glinting diamond stud, big and gaudy, in one lobe. “As of about ten minutes ago.”

Phil’s half sure he’s misheard, perhaps due to dizzying effect this person seems to be having on him, as if lilac’s fingers are plucking at every thread stitching him together, unravelling him bit by bit.

“What?”

“They’ve taken me on. Probationary only for now, but I’ll convince them soon enough,” lilac says, then finally catches the eye of Melissa, their head bartender. Lilac mouths ‘sambucca’ at her, then holds up two fingers; she nods, glancing at Phil as if to say ‘did you really let this child in through the front door?’.  “I do drag,” lilac says, teeth and tongue teasing out the word. “Or a kind of drag, I guess.”

“Oh,” Phil says, dumbed. He’s not sure what a ‘kind of’ drag could mean, but there’s no doubt that it’s an intriguing thought. “Right.”

Under normal circumstances, Phil would find it more than suspicious that anyone in a cheap wig and very basic outfit, someone barely manage to squeeze past the bouncers in here tonight due to their youthful appearance, could have somehow secured a highly coveted spot amongst some of the best drag acts in Brighton. This club is known for its regular, popular drag performances, happening on Fridays and Saturdays. Phil hadn’t even known the manager was looking for new talent - usually they hold auditions and have a long selection process, so the idea that someone would be able to walk in off the street and find work is almost unfathomable.

But these circumstances aren’t normal. Lilac is not just another drag act, Phil can sense it. If they’re able to hypnotise Phil, snatch him up body and soul with just a flutter of lashes and a few coy smiles, it’s almost terrifying to think what lilac could do to a whole room of people.

“I’m very good,” lilac says then around a knowing smile, so confident that Phil just nods in total acceptance.

Melissa pushes two shot glasses across the bar towards them, then shouts that it’ll be six pounds. Lilac starts digging into some non-existent pocket in those shorts; to stop himself staring, Phil cups a hand around his mouth and shouts to Melissa, “put it on my tab.”

Lilac’s eyes flick up to him through a haze of pastel. “Thanks,” is the response, before they pick up the shots and down both of them one after the other. Phil blinks, chastened. Of course he wasn’t certain that this jewel of a person was attempting to by him a drink, especially as they know Phil is working, but even so… it had sort of looked that way for a minute. Lilac flicks their lashes about, bored, then lands a chocolate gaze back on Phil. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Lilac pushes off the bar, already headed into the midst of the throng. The sight of the lilac covered back retreating is almost unbearable. Phil’s arm shoots out before he can stop it, catching lilac’s arm. Lilac snatches it away quickly, probably way too used to being grabbed at, and Phil feels slimy, holds his hands up in a show of surrender. Lilac has turned on the spot, is staring at him expectantly, warily.

There’s no in point in asking Phil why he’d felt the urge to halt this person’s exit, because he has no idea. He just needed one last, proper, good look at those beautiful, beguiling features before he had to bid farewell for an indefinite amount of time.

“Well?” lilac asks, though because of the music, Phil can only tell what they’d said by how those pink lips shaped the word.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, for lack of anything better. Anything to prolong the inevitable parting of ways. “Your drag name,” Phil clarifies, hoping it’s the right question.

It seems to make lilac smile, if only slightly. They shift their weight onto one foot, hip jutting out to the side. A gauze of blue passes diagonally over their face, highlighting the gleam in their eyes.

“O-livia Truth,” he says slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I start on Friday. Blow me a kiss from the crowd.” Then, with a spin on a pink stiletto, they’re gone.

[magmasliveblogs]

1.02

it is the third day of this, and the third chapter of this lets read has arrived! 

to recap, in the previous chapter the first floor of the inn erin found was cleaned by erin and she leveled up and gained skills, which have not been explained yet. 

It was nighttime.

However, despite the late hour one figure moved restlessly around the room. A young woman. Her progress left a trail in the dust as she walked around the room. She paced from wall to wall, muttering to herself. Then she tripped over a chair.

“Ow.”

Erin brushed dust off her pants and t-shirt in disgust. Well, her clothes were officially dirty now. Parts of her t-shirt were burned black, and her jeans had been cut by the Goblin’s knives. But that wasn’t important at the moment.

“Did I just level up?”

yes i think it is pretty safe to say you did level up, also as i have said before, she is in one sorry state 

“Right, right. Let’s recap. I’m in another world which is actually a video game. And there are monsters in this world and I can level up by doing stuff. I even get skills and when I do, a voice in my head—no, more like a thought appears that tells me I’ve accomplished a task.”

She nodded to herself.

“Yep. Makes complete sense.”

…

“Like hell it does!”

Erin screamed and kicked a chair hard enough to send it flying into the air. The chair landed with a tremendous crash which was satisfying to hear. Less satisfying though was Erin’s foot, which had hit the chair hard enough to jam every toe.

yeah i dont think kicking a chair was the best course of action. fun fact though, when Aragon kicks the helmet in the twin towers movie, his scream is because he broke his toe! 

After screaming in pain and hopping around a bit, Erin sat at one of the tables and cried for a while. It wasn’t that she liked crying or did it a lot. It just helped at the moment.

After about ten minutes of crying, Erin finally started sniffing and choking back tears. She felt better, but quickly hit upon another problem when she went to wipe away her tears and snot and remembered there wasn’t any tissue paper nearby. So she used the rag.

The wet, disgusting rag. But it was better than her shirt. And after that, Erin sat, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded her.

“I’m tired.”

That was the last thing Erin said before she fell asleep.

an exhausting first day in the life of our protag, erin. lets hope tomorrow brings if not joy and happiness, at least a chance to use the bathroom, 

The next day hit Erin in the face. She groaned and sat up, head aching. Her neck felt twisted, and she was sore from lying on the floor. She still would have slept in longer if it weren’t for the sun and her stomach.

Hobbling around, Erin looked at the bright daylight streaming through one window.

“This is why drapes were invented, you know.”

Windows. These ones had no glass or curtains. They were square holes in the wall, but they did have shutters. Too bad Erin had chosen one of the open windows to nap underneath. 

ok yeah her stomach really needs some food 

“I’ll die here if I don’t find something to eat.”

So she opened the door. It wasn’t courage that made her do it; just the will to survive.

The day was so bright that Erin was blinded for a moment. She walked outside, shading her eyes. And then she stopped. Because a thought had struck her suddenly. Something she had realized but not taken to heart before.

“This—really is another world, isn’t it?”

not going to clog my post, but suffice it to say the realization hits her like a truck 

The plains stretched on and on without pause—

Or did they? Erin stopped as she started to pick out small details on the horizon. Far, far in the distance between the mountain range and the rising sun she saw what looked vaguely like buildings. Was there a town out there? Or a village? A…city?

It was impossible to tell from where she was standing, but the sight of that gave Erin hope that she wasn’t alone in this world. However, just the thought of travelling that far on her empty stomach was impossible so she kept looking.

yes lets fix the issues of hunger and bathroom breaks before taking a hike 

“Are those…trees?”

Erin squinted. There was a small collection of trees in the distance, nestled in one of the valleys. They were trees, weren’t they? Erin felt they looked off—until she realized she was looking down at them from her vantage point.

It was surreal to feel herself looking down on a forest, but that was the only answer she could think of. It looked like there was a small – well, relatively speaking – valley to the east filled with trees. It didn’t look too far away, and if Erin looked closely she could see small specks of yellow and blue on the trees. Fruits?

food located! now to get there 

That was the plan. It was the plan right up until Erin found herself walking by a huge rock.

There was nothing too important about the rock, except that it was more like a boulder, a gigantic mound of stone rounded at the top and like a small hill. It was twice as tall as a normal person and just as long across. In short, it was a big rock.

Erin ignored it at first, except to look at it and wonder if climbing on top of it would give her a better view. But she was hungry, so she walked right past the rock. It was that which saved her.

ominous

As she put the large boulder behind her, Erin felt the whoosh of air and a terrifying loud crack right next to her ear. She jumped, turned around and screamed. Just as quickly she ran as the second pincer nearly took her head clean off.

The thing that had been hiding underneath the rock lifted it up off the ground and scurried after Erin as she ran screaming. She spared only one glance over her shoulder, but that was enough. She ran even faster.

Two large, long pincers made out of a dark brown chitin were poking out from beneath the rock as the crab-monster scuttled towards her. It had lifted the gigantic, hollow shell enough so that Erin could see countless crab legs tearing up the earth as it propelled itself along the ground.

Oh, nonononononononono—

lets hope she can get away from this crab without injury 

“What…the holy…crab?”

Erin could only gasp and clutch at her side. She felt like her legs were about to fall off, and her lungs were about to burst. She was also lightheaded, but she really didn’t want to sit down.

Instead she forced herself to keep walking. It hurt. Everything hurt. But she was still alive, crabs or no crabs.

and she does! nothing like a good run in the morning to get one awake 

Erin tried to smile. Her legs ached, but eventually she got her breathing back under control. And even better, she was at her destination.

“Is—is that a tree?”

Erin gaped up at the strange plants before her. They were probably trees. They had bark, leaves, and fruit. But in each aspect they were slightly—off.

The tree in front of her was thin and squat. Well, squat for a tree. It was still about ten feet tall, but its trunk looked far too narrow to support its weight. And not only that, but its leaves were huge.

“It’s like a palm tree, but with branches. And blue fruit.”

fun fact: palm trees irl are technically a type of grass! also lets hope these fruits arent overly deadly 

Erin’s shouts of frustration echoed in the small valley. She tried to grab the branch again, but she couldn’t even pull herself up anymore. She screamed in frustration, grabbed at her dirty hair, and then kicked the tree.

The entire tree shook slightly with the force of Erin’s kick. The leaves trembled, and the blue fruits moved—

And one fell to the ground.

her battle with the tree was fruitless until this moment, where it bore fruit! lets hope its edible 

“Um, shouldn’t there be some kind of announcement?”

No response. Erin kicked the tree again and picked up another fruit.

“[Mysterious Blue Fruit acquired!] Dun dun dun dun!”

…

After a little bit, Erin put her head in her hands to cover her blushing face.

“…I hate this world.”

this isnt your grandpapies text based rpg

Slowly, Erin stood up and brushed the seed vomit off her clothes. That did nothing to get rid of the smell, though. Then she picked up the pieces of the seed’s core and hurled them as hard as she could against one of the trees.

“I hate this world!”

sadly it looks like the seed core isnt edible 

After a while her stomach began to growl again as the smell from the seed pod dissipated in the morning air. Hesitantly, Erin grabbed the second blue fruit and brought it to her lips. This time she bit into the outer skin and chewed. The texture was unpleasantly rubbery and tough to chew, but thankfully it was edible. And what was more—

“Wow. This tastes really good!”

That was the remark Erin made after she’d consumed eight more of the blue fruits, all in rapid succession. The seed pods she left untouched on the ground, but she happily devoured the outer rinds, stripping an entire tree clean before she was finally full.

but it looks like the rest is! i bet the core is dangerous to consume though 

Groaning with satisfaction she sat back against the tree. She felt good. Sticky, smelly, true, but good. The day was fair and warm, and with her stomach full and the soft grass beneath her there was only one thought on her mind.

Bathroom.

and the initial issue is brought back! no one around so this should be easy 

A few seconds later Erin felt refreshed and happy. Her stomach was full, other parts were empty and best yet she was alive.

“Now, how am I going to get back past that crab rock-monster?”

Erin’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought and her heart began to pound in her chest. But an idea struck her as she looked at the countless seed pods on the ground.

i see erin had similar thoughts as i did,

Erin caught the rock-crab crawling towards her stealthily. In just a few seconds it had covered nearly twenty feet. She stared in horror as it reared upwards.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick—

The rock-crab began its high-speed shuffle towards her. Two enormous claws and a pair of dark antennas—or were they eyes? – curled up from underneath the rock.

Erin stepped back, half-turned to run, and remembered what was in her other hand. She took swift aim and threw the seed pod she had been holding.

and the dice shall roll, will this half bakes plan work?! 

Bullseye. The seed core smacked the rock-crab right in the antennae and burst into a shower of pulpy liquid. Even at this range Erin could smell the toxic odors on the breeze.

If she was honest, Erin didn’t know what she expected. Pain, or shock from the rock-crab maybe. She’d nailed it pretty good on the antennae and she was sure that hard to hurt. But still, it wasn’t as if the seed cores were that heavy. She expected the crab to recoil, and maybe get scared off by the scent at best.

What she didn’t expect was for the crab to freak out and start smashing itself with one of its claws. It was panicking, frantically scraping away at the spot she’d struck it with the seed core, ignoring the damage it was doing to its own antennae. At the same time the rock-crab was making distressed sounds.

It sounded like the loudest cricket in the world, only a lot deeper and echoing out from beneath the rocky shell the crab was wearing. That was enough to make Erin back up until she was back among the trees and the crab was barely visible.

Even after she’d gone a ways she could still see the crab doing an unhappy dance as it tried to scrape off the seed pod fragments.

“Huh.”

Erin scratched her head.

“Well, it’s good to know they hate fruit.”

and we have found that this bug rock type is weak to grass! or poison... 

“Gobliiiiiiiiins!”

The green skinned monsters stopped and stared as the young woman screamed and took off running at top speed. But they followed her doggedly despite the insane speed at which she sprinted. These Goblins had learned to hunt other species, and knew that Humans panicked easily and grew tired. They’d catch her as soon as she slowed down.

…Assuming she ever slowed down.

adrenaline is a powerful thing 

It was evening. The sun cast long shadows across the plains. All was silent. Aside from the screaming rock-crab smashing itself in the head and the screaming human, there was no sound in the world.

All was calm.

A single figure sprinted across the grasslands. She was running as fast as she could. Behind her a group of squat creatures followed. It was nearly dinnertime.

Erin Solstice, age 20. A young girl—woman from Michigan with a casual interest in video games and a deep obsession with strategy games. Her hobbies include snowboarding, watching Youtube videos, playing chess, shogi, go, etc. She dreams of one day becoming a professional strategy game commentator.

Currently—

Running for her life.

and we have backstory! a random midwestern girl get transported to an unknown world. at least it wasnt involved with any tornadoes! plus that strategy game stuff might come into play eventually. also hey, commentator, similar to what im doing right now! 

will our protag get back to the inn? will we find out if that truly was a city she found? will erin ever truly find a way to deal with this goblin problem? these are questions that will be answered eventually 

see ya’ll tomorrow, hopefully. i dont post assume i have been captured by rock crabs and forced to cook goblins for them 

[shockwrites]

Tales from the Odyssey

Author’s Note: Shoutout to Riot Games for making fun and interesting sections of lore for their character skins and doing absolutely nothing with them. Really appreciate these wonderful ideas not being used in any sort of side video game or movie or Netflix show whatsoever

Series: League of Legends

Pairing: Yasuo/Alcohol None

Length: 1407 words

Rating: Safe (wow that hasn’t happened in a while)

Pants. Yasuo’s longtime threat.

He really should’ve taken the time to set aside credits for an actual pair that didn’t require an arduous never ending battle just to get one foot inside. A shame that the chore had always been relegated to sober Yasuo who was too busy dealing with interplanetary beasts, being on the run from a galactic empire, and the antics of the other psychopaths on board his ship.

Hangover Yasuo could barely put on his pants without drunkenly stumbling to the floor.

A quiet moment was spent aimed at the ceiling, contemplating the shitty life choices that led to this truly fine point of his life. The quiet sounds of Space Lizard scuttling over to him on the floor briefly took his attention. It eyed its captor-turned-owner curiously. Yasuo returned the gaze with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Man,” the tinge of alcohol still clung to his taste buds, “I sure do look pathetic don’t I?”

Space Lizard chirped in response before blowing a slime bubble from its muzzle. Yasuo loved when it did that. For reasons. Reasons that earned it a nice comfy spot on his shoulder. This life was certainly a low point him but it sure as hell wasn’t rock bottom.

“Alright, back to the pants.”

--

The rec room of the Morning Star was never dull. From the very moment Yasuo stepped through the doors, he already heard the crazed laughter of the ship’s defacto pilot followed by an earful of explosions. A quick side step avoided impact from the remains of their last table. Another chore for sober Yasuo.

“Jinx, what have we talked about bomb testing on board the ship?”

“Uhhh, ‘Jinx is free to do whatever she wants whenever she wants’?”

Within the first day of meeting her, Yasuo had a gut feeling that she wasn’t keen on following orders. Or anything that didn’t involve shooting things. It took quite a bit of time but through weeks of Jinx related accidents, the captain finally managed craft a disciplined means of ensuring Jinx’s cooperation:

The Glare.

Just the right amount of pout combined with a careful raise of the eyebrow and a sharp, disapproving gaze that managed to stop her dead in her tracks.

The psycho redhead huffed in disappointment. “‘Any and all Jinx related shenanigans are to be kept to the specially crafted Jinx Blast Room’.” She recited on command.

“Thatta girl.”

As he strolled out of the rec room, he pretended not to notice the tongue she stuck out at him.

--

Yasuo wheezed from the sheer force of the air being knocked out of his lungs.

He groaned silently, his back now flat across the dirt while he stared at the sky. Gladus IV had a surprisingly beautiful sky despite being a deserted rock floating in this empty star system. The gorgeous stars and distant moons were still seen among its bright blue sky, filling him with an oddly satisfying feeling, as though the constant threat of world-ending emperors and horrors from the stars was on pause.

“HEAD’S UP, BOYS!!”

And then ooze landed on his face.

Space Lizard, now scuttling up to his face, responded with an immediate cleaning of his left cheek. Yasuo had deduced that the subsequent licking his pet gave him was an odd combination of adorable and disgusting. Still, he couldn’t help but appreciate reptile saliva more than alien guts.

Malphite’s stone chiseled mug slowly popped into view. “You okay?”

“Well…” Yasuo casually made a popping sound with his lips. “I’m not dead so that’s something. Jinx didn’t get eaten did she?”

The rock monster shook his head, pointing towards the still cackling Jinx dancing from her current victory with her rocket launcher atop the now dead alien carcass.

“Oh. Lovely.”

--

Lights. Dimmed.

Doors. Locked from the inside.

Space Lizard. Napping on the carpet.

Everything was set.

Yasuo seated himself comfortably on his rug, the one possession he managed to salvage from the day that he was framed for his brother’s death now in his hands.

Possessions rather.

Her heart thrummed in her ribcage as Harriet’s bright blue pools locked with Jett’s striking gaze.

The silent hum of the ship’s engine. Perfect white noise. The window behind him had the flawless view of the stars and passing nebula with just the right amount of light. Yasuo thanked his sober self for remembering to make this particular room of the ship soundproof.

Jett leaned in instinctually, unable to pry himself from Harriet’s magnetic presence.

It was a relatively new hobby of his. One that the rest of the crew respected enough to give their captain his space whenever he indulged himself. What was it about those cheesy lines that kept him so interested?

Her breath locked in her throat, Harriet finally decided she couldn’t keep it a secret from him any longer.

“Jett, I must confess it now! I’m not really human! I’m an android!”

A silent gasp escaped Yasuo’s lips as he clutched the book in his hand.

“I knew it!”

It was official. This was his favorite romance novel yet.

--

“You’re better than I initially assumed.” Kayn mocked.

Another clash of the blades rang in Yasuo’s ear. A meaty swing of Kayn’s scythe narrowly whizzed past Yasuo’s face. He could hear it. An inhuman beat of the alien sickle, humming from the yellow orb of ora energy floating within the weapon. A low shudder ran down his spine as he could’ve sworn he heard a voice. A malicious presence whispering from the scythe the emperor gripped so closely.

“For a captain of such a motley crew of miscreants, I’m quite impressed. Such a shame I have to spill your guts across the wall.” Kayn spat with a psychopathic grin that would’ve made even Jinx blush.

Yasuo clutched Song – his trusty sword that had seen countless skirmishes.

That wasn’t named for any explicit reason.

Or held any emotional attachment to him.

Not even as an heirloom or anything.

He just bought it at the store.

A rending swipe of Kayn’s scythe just barely tore his stomach open. The captain charged, sure that his opponent’s hefty weapon came at the cost of speed. He cleaved down on the emperor’s head with the intent of splitting his skull open.

Instead, he was met with the alien scythe’s blade clashing with his sword, somehow moved with inhuman levels of speed and strength.

Kayn’s mad visage stared Yasuo directly in the face. “Any last words, Captain?!”

“…I’m gonna need a drink after this.”

--

Yasuo plopped on the couch.

Another day of scavenging turned into an impromptu alien scuffle as per usual. Jinx and Malphite clamored over their recent haul of useful scrap and shiny baubles that could possibly return a decent profit. That yielded the captain a nice chance for some peace and quiet.

Everything ached. Yasuo’s body was conditioned. Trained to handle punishment that would break the average human being. Still, that didn’t mean those little bruises didn’t leave lasting impressions. He didn’t bother to move, only letting his eyes shut softly and drift to whatever amount of sleep he could get before something else goes wrong.

“A captain heralds the heaviest burden does he not?”

Aaaaand there it goes.

Yasuo’s eyes popped open. The voice didn’t have a specific point of origin. There was only an echo that resonated within his mind. That meant there was one possible source.

“Sona.”

His eyes scanned the rec room, before discovering the mute templar casually sitting next to him on the couch. The newest member of the Morning Star crew was a stark contrast from…well, the rest of the crew. Her total silence was so disciplined. So unlike Jinx and Malphite to the point where Yasuo would often forget she was even aboard the ship.

“The only ‘heaviest burden’ I have is making sure no one touches the alcohol I have stocked in the fridge.”

Sona’s chuckle sounded off his mind. Telepathy was far from the weirdest sensation he ever experienced but it still left an alien feeling in his brain. Not the literal alien feeling thankfully but alien all the same.

“I can sense that you find your current direction…difficult.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Yasuo sighed, leaning further into his seat. “But a challenge is a challenge.”

Sona smiled. “Good to see that you’re coming to terms with your current path.”

“Mmhm.”

…

“You’re drunk aren’t you?”

“Big time.”

[soulful-ofevans]

Done. - Bucky Barnes

request:  prompt one 25 38 41 buckyyy @aweways

summary: One training session with Bucky turns nasty and soon your ready to hand in your resignation. But does Bucky really want to see you go so soon? 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: angst / fluff / asshole!Bucky / fluffy!bucky /

“I just don’t see the point, Bucky!” Letting out a frustrated growl as the Soldier rolled his eyes again, I tucked my head behind my knees, trying to regain my vision and a healthy heart beat again.

For some reason today, Bucky was not letting me go down without a fight. Maybe it was the fact that I was his first ‘Trainee’ and he felt the need to get it right, or the fact that Steve supervised the training process and if I didn’t get better, he’d be disappointed. No one likes it when the Captain is disappointed, it felt as if you punched a kitten when I caused disappointment to gather in his baby blue eyes.

“Get it, now. I’m not kidding Charlie, now get up and keep going.” Embarrassment at my ass being kicked in our gym filled with all of us Avengers, training for the next deathly task we had to take.

The way he’d been kicking my ass, I was 90% sure my ass had vanished.

I had no ass to be kicked anymore, it had fallen off when he did his last move of literally kicking me in the ass so I’d stumble to the ground. I felt red flames on my cheeks, and the stare’s that were starting made me freeze.

I’d rather be smothered to death with a couch pillow than exerting any more energy in this session. I muttered to Bucky with my face hidden, my head was on my knees in pure shame.

“I can’t…”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly!”

“I said, I can’t anymore…” A crack at the end gave my eyes the feeling to leak with salty drops of ‘weakness’. I didn’t want to become more pathetic than I already was, and crying was as pathetic as this moment could get for me.

“We don’t use ‘I can’t’ here. If you want to be an Avenger, then act like one, dammit!”

“I’m trying!” I cried out, finally looking up at the chocolate hair and glaring blue eyes that stared down at me with such intensity. Maybe I wasn’t good enough, maybe it was for the best if I left…

“What the hell is wrong with you? Dammit. Okay.. well, maybe it’s best if you throw in the damn towel now. Before you get yourself and the rest of us killed out on missions!”

Bucky’s words stung, but what stung more was that no one raised an objection. They just were in some silent agreement with Bucky.

“Wha-”

“If that’s what you think is best, then by all means…” I turned around to see the twin doors open by FRIDAY listening to our conversation. What a cold hearted bitch, that AI was...

The gym was deadly silent now, Sam stopped punching the bag that Steve was effortlessly holding. Tony wasn’t spotting Clint anymore at the weights and so Barton laid there, with his head poking up to watch Bucky and I exchange our heated argument. Breathing in heavily like everyone else was. The gym air felt thick now, to me. It was thick with pity.

I was stumbling to my feet now, holding onto my knees as I got up on my feet. I felt like the wind just got knocked out of my chest, just from these small movements. It was painful enough to have the attention of everyone in the room, but to be this feeble and vulnerable…this felt like a whole new level of humiliation that I’ve unlocked in a very cruel video game.

I prayed for someone to at least look at me and see I needed some help! No one met my eyes that spun while I stood still, even with the room spinning, no movement was heard throughout the gym, nothing but Bucky’s invisible shoving at me to get the hell out of this gym.

I was on my own, just like before. I have always been on my own. Even after I had joined this group of misfits, I was the one looking in from the outside.

I somehow made it to the gym door, and grasped onto it, catching my dying breaths. I felt like I was going to be sick, and I wasn’t going to shame myself further by vomiting on my exit out of this gymnasium hell.

I gathered a steady balance and immediately set myself off to the bathroom down the hall. It was private so I could sob with no interruptions. Getting there was easy. Throwing up was easier. Coming to terms with the fact that I’d just unveiled my weakness in front of the people I called, ‘family’? A family that frowned on weakness, by the way. That was something by mind couldn’t conquer, or convey. How was I ever going to get off of this cold tile and make it to my room? What was going to happen next to me? Would I be kicked off? Or just sent into filing mission reports with the nerds in the basement who all had this weird look of fascination every time they saw me bring them the files that needed to be written up. It creeped me out, and I really didn’t want to leave Stark tower, too.

“FUCK!” I yelled to the audience of the vacant bathroom. I hated this damn world right now, nothing could get worse. I was absolutely sure nothing would be worse than right now.

Today, though, the lord was mad at something I’d done in the past, I believe. Because after splashing my face with cold water, washing out my mouth and smoothing down my unpleasant post-gym hair-frizz, I walked out of the bathroom, ready to bolt to the elevators and get to my room as fast as possible.

However, I was blocked by a 200 lb mass of muscle that had been lingering outside the door, anxiously waiting for the lock to turn and for me to emerge.

I yelped and felt my tired knees buckle but before I smashed my body onto the tiling, I was caught by two strong hands. Two strong, strangely different in texture and temperature, hands.

“Woah, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Opening my eyes I was met with eyes that we're the summer sky’s afternoon colored blue. The midnight’s bewitching sky was the color of straight hair that framed the face that those eyes belonged to.

Bucky.

“S-s-sorry,” I muttered, feeling a weird mix of anger, fear, and embarrassment inside my chest. I stood up as fast as I could and shook myself out of those, surprisingly comfortable, arms. “I came here to just say that what happened in the gym today was complete-”

“Save it. What you said in there was all true. So don’t apologize for shoving my face in a pie of reality…” I tried to push my way past the mass of man but Bucky put an arm up against the doorframe, blocking me once again.

Bucky’s face was drowning in confusion and frustration. He knew why I was so pissed and wanted to run, but he didn’t understand the words I let fall from my lips so freely.

“No! That not what I came to say-”

“What! More insults! Fine, then… bring it on. I’m dead inside already, you’re just trying to kill a corpse now, Barnes.”

Bucky felt devastated, did I really think that low of him? He sure made it easy to make it so I did, but he always believed I held onto a bit of light for him.

Apparently not.

“You think I came to insult you-”

“Why else would you speak to me!”

“Let me fucking finish a goddamn sentence and you’ll find out! Fuck! Why does everything turn into a fight with you!”

“Because you make it one, Bucky! I can never satisfy you in the gym. You never even glance at me anytime we pass each other. I don’t even remember a thank you after I saved you from that sniper you missed!”

“I didn’t miss him! I knew he was there, I was gonna knock his ass out!” I bellowed a fake laugh at Bucky’s attempt to gain himself some sort of manliness just because I let him live…men.

“Were you going to knock him on his ass before or after he released the trigger you wouldn’t even hear, letting a bullet hit you right in the pulmonary artery. I like to call that shot instant death… so when would it be, James!”

“Don’t talk to me like that and use my name as if we’re friends.”

Bucky sneered down at me. I had nothing left to lose. So, why not take a few verbal swings at the man who dashed my dreams of helping the world just one more time?

“What are you gonna do? Kill me? Hit me? Take me to Fury? Go ahead, do all three, I have nothing left, Bucky! In 24 hours I’m going to be homeless and you’ll be here, sleeping in night terrors that we all fuckin’ hear at night. So go ahead and hurt me. Hurt me like you did not even an hour ago in front of my used-to-be family…” I had tears running down my cheeks that were just two ripe tomatoes. I was breathless from my rant, making my chest rising up and down.

“I just wanted to fucking tell you that I’m sorry! I was a dick in there and I’ve been one since I met you. I wanted to clean our slate because you are an amazing fighter. One of the damn best, counting Romanoff and Barton. Look,”

Bucky absentmindedly tucked a tuft of hair that had fallen from my loosened braid, behind my ear. Leave his hand lingering near my cheek, wiping my tears away. This was no Bucky that I’d ever known, this was a new one, one that I thought I was going to meet two years ago, but I was met with passive aggressive Bucky. This… this was James Buchanan Barnes. Not Bucky, Barnes, Winter Soldier… just James B. Barnes.

“Then why tell me to leave? Why kick my ass in front of everyone, telling them I should leave?”

“Because! I- I was trying to save face… but like always, I went too far.”

“Wait, what?”

There was a pregnant pause before I heard a mutter come from Buck, “Punk read my diary…”

I couldn’t help the giggle that released from my tense chest, letting the steam that lingered in there, die down. I had no tears threatening to fall, and I had no shake in my voice. I felt… safe? No… I think I felt comfort, with Bucky right now. That was a first.

Bucky’s shoulders fell with no more tension tightening them. His face brightened, illuminating his usually flat, creamy, pale skin.

”I’m so sorry I hurt you. Verbally and physically… that the last thing I’d ever want to do to you… all I want is to protect you, give you a happy life. I don’t know where my head has been these last two years but seeing you walk out those doors… made me finally accept that I can’t be without you. You're a chatterbox, an amazing midnight sandwich chef, a terrible dancer, a loving, kind person…”

Our bodies we're moving closer to each word Bucky spoke, his metal hand now slithered it’s way to the small of my back, bringing me finally nose to nose with the man who kicked my ass an hour ago. Now confessing his feelings for me…

Bucky Barnes was not one to be subtle, I guess.

“What are you asking me, James?” I was dipping my foot into the pool again, testing my waters with him. This time, though, when I said his real name, a broad smile appeared, and the hold on me just got tighter, and stronger with a sense of desire awaiting in his grasp.

“I’m asking you, to forgive my horrible, facade, and accept me telling you that I’m crazy about you doll…” I let out a breathless laugh, almost astounded to hear such words come from his lips.

“What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do anything, Even if it’s going to China and back for a chocolate bar… what can I give you? Do for you?” A smile on my face brought a laugh, I brought my hand to cup his worried face, stroking it to calm the pounding in his heart. “Just… kiss me where it hurts,” 

Bucky’s tentative eyes almost frantically started looking me up and down, trying to find a spot of pain. “Where does it hurt, doll?” 

“Right here...” I whispered. With a dip of my head and nudge of my nose on his cheek, I kissed him. Feeling no longer like I was being held in his embrace, I was now, just floating in thin air. His arm didn’t weigh me down it lifted me up. His lips didn’t hurt my heart, they made it pump in a thrilling manner. His eyes didn’t frantically search the room around us whenever they made a connection with mine, now they just stayed staring at me. Never leaving my big and bright, loving eyes that looked into his with desire.

I no longer felt lost, like I had no family. Like I was on my own. With Bucky, now, I had a home. And that home traveled with me when I left those blue eyes. My home only felt more secure when I was finally laying in these arms, talking about my day, the things that happened. The good and the bad.

I guess I had been looking for a home for so long I’d forgotten what home felt like…

My home was never a place, but a feeling. One that only your soulmate could ever give you. I’ve realized, now, that your soulmate can be that one person you’d thought hated with a passion.

I guess soulmates have a good way of hiding behind smoke and mirrors until the time is right, though.

a/n: Let me know your thoughts! I hope this one is a bit different then the normal asshole bucky suddenly becomes sweet!Bucky. I always love hearing from you guys! Never be afraid to hit me up!! 

Here’s what's up next: Last part to @giftofdreams and I’s collaboration three part: A Hidden Hero: 1 & 2 

my last imagine: Keep Holding On

masterlist

tagged:  @boredoutofmymindstuff  @iamimanim  @hibaabdo@oneshots-imagines-and-that @neonwolf2020 @toc1985 @mculove1@chrisevans-imagines @ptprocrastination @evansscruff@jamesgiuseppe @boston-boy-evans @writingcreatingstorytelling@username-evie@imaginingbucky@boredoutofmymindstuff@shamvictoria11@ateliefloresdaprimavera@raveviolet @i-am-cass-1@tranquilsouls-riotousthoughts@myluvislikewow @nalatheshadequeen @not-your-cup-of-joe  @musiccoffebook @nea90sweetie @jinxx-ed13 @j-jewel-l@ethereal-beaut-y@jemjemiansworld@hiddenavengers@itsteph13@rachael-othman@abigrumple  @jasli123@jamesboobchananbarnes1234@emmucz@happelu970@amandulie@bisexualbuddhist@imaginesofdreams@teacoffeebooks@chrisevans-sexualfrustrations@stylesnbarnes@bsicthought@captainmqmeep@marrish-af@100acresofwood  @missmotherhen@science-of-deduction-sh@sireanscall@crapythings@batmanbreeann@amyyleblanc1999@coldeath@hhedegard@happelu970@hollycornish@justanneforyou@ramiramblings@training-wolves@dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush@oneshots-imagines-and-that@coldplaylover17-blog@amandulie@whatmakesmebeme-tblr@giftofdreams @sfreeborn@winters–doll @purplekitten30

[latestnews2018-blog]

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s Victory Face

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/there-were-zero-things-better-this-week-than-alexandria-ocasio-cortezs-victory-face/

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s Victory Face

Welcome to Good Shit, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet. 

This is obvious, but the best thing I saw this week was NY1’s video of 28-year-old Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez realizing she had beaten out Joe Crowley in the Democratic primary for the 14th Congressional District of New York. The results all but assured that she will soon become the youngest woman ever elected to Congress, and they set off a predictably nauseating period of 24/7 news coverage.

Challenger @Ocasio2018 toppled one of the top Democrats in Congress, @repjoecrowley, Tuesday night in their primary in the 14th District. The victory stunned even her, live on our channel. #NY1Politics https://t.co/fnK1O0bacz pic.twitter.com/RjuqHJpn1p

— Spectrum News NY1 (@NY1) June 27, 2018

But the particulars of that moment were mesmerizing: the way she convulsed just for one second when she saw the results; her widened eyes and covered mouth, first with two hands, then with just one; when she shook her head exactly once and replied “Nope” after an interviewer asked Ocasio-Cortez to put what she was feeling into words; and then when she composed herself and told the world that the victory belonged not just to her but to everyone who was with her. It was something wholly foreign to 21st century American politics: pure, uncorrupted joy, and we were right there with her in the bar to witness it. What a shocking delight. ― Maxwell Strachan 

Gucci Mane In Iceland

If you love yourself, watch this video of Gucci Mane in Iceland. Then you should mention BET, VH1, HGTV and the Travel Channel on Twitter, and petition for him to have his own show in which he travels the world and talks about how it makes him feel. Fuck, I love Gucci so much it hurts. ― Julia Craven

World Cup Tequila Shots

Re: Korea defeating Germany, thus allowing Mexico to progress to the next round–this video of Mexican fans bumrushing the Korean embassy in Mexico City to thank the ambassador personally, and forcing him to down tequila shots is so beautiful and perfect 😂 #KORGER pic.twitter.com/E1GeZCRrlK

— Very Stable Genius (@Rantaramic) June 27, 2018

Mexico got thrashed by Sweden in its final World Cup group stage game on Wednesday, but South Korea’s improbable win over Germany allowed Mexico to advance to the next round anyway. So, after the game, Mexico fans swarmed the South Korean embassy in Mexico City, mobbed the ambassador and other consular officials, and all but forced them to do shots of tequila with them. Then they chanted, “Korean, brother, you’re Mexican now!” The videos brought me genuine joy, even though the week was otherwise mostly awful. Mexico, which has had a pretty fun ride through this World Cup so far, plays Brazil in the first round of the knockout stages on Monday morning. It’ll be worth a watch. ― Travis Waldron

New Books!

Amazon

If you want to deftly thread the needle of unplugging from the horrifying news cycle while still thinking deeply about all the political, social and economic factors that have combined to make it so horrifying, allow me to humbly suggest two electrifying debut novels that were published this month.

Confessions of the Fox by Jordy Rosenberg takes the hoary tale of an 18th century folk hero ― the infamous English pickpocket and jailbreak Jack Sheppard ― and transmogrifies it into a wildly entertaining epic featuring a trans hero and a London underworld as diverse in race and gender identity as the real 18th century London was. 

Set in Oakland, California, There There by Tommy Orange weaves together the stories of urban-dwelling Native people grappling with the consequences of white colonization that has disconnected them from their heritage. All the while, the plot builds inexorably toward a shocking conclusion. ― Claire Fallon

“Salvage Dawgs”

For anyone who wants to escape the madness of the news cycle, turn off the worrisomely relevant “Handmaid’s Tale” and flip to the DIY Network ― where you can peacefully watch Robert, Mike and the rest of their Black Dog Salvage team carefully extract architectural elements from private homes, historical properties and crumbling mills across the eastern U.S. states. I first caught on to “Salvage Dawgs” four years ago (as an HGTV fanatic), and with a new season currently airing on Sundays at 9 p.m., I’ve been thoroughly enjoying it again. ― Leigh Blickley

“Demolition Man” Nacho Fries

Taco Bell

Is it a coincidence that in “Demolition Man” ― a movie depicting a world of peace, love and Wesley Snipes with bleach-blond hair ― every restaurant is a Taco Bell? I think not. Now, in honor of the 25th anniversary of this cinematic masterpiece, in which Sylvester Stallone says “Heads up” before literally kicking Snipes’ head off his body and people clean their butts with seashells, Taco Bell is bringing “Demolition Man” nacho fries to San Diego Comic-Con. And as if this partnership could get any more perfect, the fries are supposedly free.

So even if you’re not into “Demolition Man” (but, really, who even are you?), it’s still enough to make you say, “Aw, bell yeah.” Anything else happening in your life is nacho problem. But just remember: This is still Taco Bell we’re talking about, so keep those seashells ready. ― Bill Bradley

Some Hedonistic Art

Irena Jurek

“Strawberries Wild,” 2018, acrylic, graphite, colored pencil, glitter and collage on paper.

Fuck self-care, “Alive With Pleasure!” ― a new group show at Asya Geisberg Gallery in Manhattan ― seems to suggest. These dire times require unabashed hedonism, stripped of nutrition, intention or good sense. Curated by Irena Jurek, the exhibition takes its name from the playfully seductive Newport cigarette ads from the ’70s and ’80s. The works on view ― by artists including Caroline Chandler Wells, Raúl de Nieves and Melissa Brown ― are united by an excessive energy that oozes from their materials, style, palette and subject matter. Strawberry orgies, sprinting nipples, smoking birthday cakes and rainbow horses with serious BDE populate the gallery space, manifestations of self-indulgence far more strange and satisfying than bubble baths and goat yoga. ― Priscilla Frank

Kieran Culkin In “Succession”

Listen, I do not know how I feel about “Succession” on the whole. It is a longish HBO show filled with rich white men whose business dick swagger is very sad emoji, pretty frightening and a little funny. But I do know how I feel about Kieran Culkin in “Succession,” and that is that Kieran Culkin in “Succession” is very hot. He is the media conglomerate sex idiot I never knew I needed. He is the entitled son of a Rupert Murdoch avatar that I would otherwise hate if he weren’t so good at sick sibling burns and fast talking. He is Igby Slocumb, if Igby had just gone ahead and Jeff Goldblum-ed himself. That scene where Kieran Culkin in “Succession” is wiping his own semen off the window of his high-rise office window is exactly how I imagine Wall Street Men behave, so maybe this is a documentary. I don’t know. Watch it for Kieran. ― Katherine Brooks

Music For Your Ears

It’s always been difficult to get a handle on Deerhoof’s noise pop. It’s both artful and art-damaged, heavy metal and wistfully melodic. On a recent episode of the great podcast “Essential Tremors,” drummer Greg Saunier explains at length how the band’s sound is rooted in an unlikely source: Burt Bacharach’s orchestral pop. Saunier is a captivating storyteller, unwinding his tale much like his band’s twisty songs bouncing from a nostalgic remembrance of his mom’s love of soft rock to dissecting the essential genius of the 1968 hit “Do You Know the Way to San Jose” to karaoke singing. “People have rarely agreed with me on this, but I pretty much think of Deerhoof as being a soft-rock band,” Saunier said. ― Jason Cherkis

Freaky people, clap your hands! You’ll hear that command on “The Now Now,” the latest LP from sprightly synth cartoon band Gorillaz. We could use a freaky handclap or two right now, especially if it’s filtered through baroque bops like “Humility” (a summer jam if there ever was one) and “Magic City.” This album? It’s sunshine in a bag. ― Matthew Jacobs

A Movie About Aliens

This week I’m all over “How to Talk to Girls at Parties.” Don’t be fooled by the “Dude, Where’s My Car?”-esque name, this is an entirely precious, entirely new, entirely weird movie about growing into love in the most outlandish of circumstances. Enn is a punk boy in the ’70s who likes nothing more than scaring old ladies on his beat-up old bike and eating tomatoes that grow in the sewer, but his life gets shaken up when he meets Zan, an alien girl from a clan of introverted extraterrestrials touring Earth. I loved the subversion of expectation, like when he leans in to kiss her and she vomits on him. Somehow this is still cute. Elle Fanning is a great alien, and Nicole Kidman makes an appearance as an aged punk, which is worth it just to see her done up in the requisite 3 inches of eyeliner. The special effects are really campy and kind of jarring, but fun if you just go with it. And Mitski (!) even makes an appearance on the soundtrack to round it all out. Upon watching it, my mother said, “What in God’s name did you just show me?” Great fun. ― Anna Krakowsky

Maeve On “Westworld”

The best thing for me this week was, hands down, the subtle power of Thandie Newtown’s performance as Maeve on the Season 2 finale of “Westworld.” There’s this one, glorious shot of her toward the end of the episode, defiantly using her powers to hold off a horde of crazed hosts in order to protect her daughter. It’s brilliant on many levels, foremost because it’s the instant where the show fully crystalizes something that, all season, it had only been half-committed to acknowledging: Maeve is basically every black woman who has had to save herself (and everyone else) because no one else would. In light of the dumpster fire that has been this week and quite frankly this entire year, there’s something cathartic in seeing that visual metaphor on screen. ― Zeba Blay

The Passionate Experts On “Ologies”

My evergreen podcast recommendation this summer has been “Ologies,” a delightful science series. Each episode features a different expert, or -ologist, who can expound on all the cool shit to do with topics including death, birds, fear, squids, even postcards (!!!). Host Alie Ward is a true delight and basically asks all the weird questions I’d want to ask. It’s educational without feeling too heavy. Listening to people who are passionate about things is kind of the best thing? I’ve yet to come across a dud episode, and there are nearly 40 in the back catalog to work through on your journeys this summer — or simply your journey ~through life~. ― Jillian Capewell

And Finally, This Photo

received a very promising tip today pic.twitter.com/UaAJGwoVWz

— Ashley Feinberg (@ashleyfeinberg) June 28, 2018

This photograph was DMed to me by a stranger with absolutely no words or explanation. It is beautiful and makes me want to die, which is all you can really hope for with art. ― Ashley Feinberg

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