#which then became itchy which made me scratch which made it worse which made me scratch etc etc

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : 1-8 on Archive of Our Own

Story Content : 18+, Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Dom/Sub, Sadism/Masochism, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 9: Can you help the hopeless?

Chapter title is lyrics from "Can You Feel My Heart”

We're back to Oli's perspective for this one.

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She shouldn’t trust me.

I don’t even trust myself.

We were all in the taxi driving back to the hotel. I made sure she sat next to me, but all she’d done the past 20 minutes was stare out the window. 

Will she spend the night with me, or did she get everything she wanted from me already?

The street lights filtered through the car, highlighting how tired everyone was as they passed over them. Matt was asleep on the other side of me, and kept slumping onto my shoulder, which would have been fine if he wasn’t a drooler. I saw his mouth fall open again – my queue to push him off of me before my shoulder got wet.

I wanted her to spend the night with me and not run away this time; as if that somehow would prove she wasn’t using me. 

Would that really be enough? 

I wanted to say yes, but I wasn’t sure at this point. In fact I don’t know what it would take.

The lights kept hitting her eyes. She looked drunk, but happy. Satisfied even.

Satisfied because of me – the twisted things I did to her?

But I was torn. That gnawing, itchy spot deep inside me – that craved her as much as she seemed to crave me – no longer needed to be scratched. Which was an absolutely incredible feeling, not really comparable to anything else.

Yet I also felt filthy. Like I had betrayed some integral part of me. 

This isn’t how I wanted this to play out.

The problem is, the things I want from her I have no right to expect. I wish we weren’t on tour. I want to get to know her, help her get to know herself. Show her all the different sides of me; I wanted her to not run away in fear when she sees how fucking messed up I am.

The pain I felt when she ran away the first time – leaving me in the arena storage closet – flickered in my chest. Mingling with her words from last night, that had been playing on loop in my mind all day; ‘I’m terrified of having something worth losing.’ 

I had never related to a sentiment more, yet the way we handled this fear was completely polar opposite; and I honestly didn’t know whose approach was worse.

Am I being delusional? Would this ever work? Is this all we’ll ever be? 

…When the tour ends, do I just never see her again?

Tonight was the last night at this hotel, then it was back to the tour bus with no privacy except a few fleeting moments. If only she didn’t want to keep things private, at least that way it would make sense for us to want alone time. But I knew that wasn’t what she wanted.

Every time the street lights washed over her face my heart would tug.

Is it just a crush? Do I just need to wait it out?

I don’t like who I became tonight because of her. The type of person who talks to someone he can’t stand for hours, just to make their crush jealous. What fucking twat does that?

Oh yeah – me, apparently.

But I don’t know how to stop. The more I try to play it cool, the fucking crazier I seem to get. The more I try to not think about her, the more I do. It’s exhausting. 

Is it even a crush, or an obsession? 

I don’t know how to tell them apart at this point.

I hate how my feelings always have to be so large. Life would be so much easier if I could feel things in normal amounts, like normal people do. Others can kill spiders just fine without drowning in guilt. Meanwhile this world has too many sharp edges for someone like me, as if I’m a completely different breed of human that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere without going fucking mad. 

Without turning to drugs.

I feel like a loser. Imposter syndrome no matter how successful the band has gotten.

Her hands were in her lap. If I was just a bit more drunk, I’d take one of them into mine right now, pull her closer to me. 

But I knew better than that. I had pushed my luck so far tonight I wasn’t sure there was any coming back.

Am I just self sabotaging?

When we went back downstairs to join the others at the party, she had spent the rest of our time there desperately hiding the marks I left on her. Making sure her hair was covering them, or she’d keep her hand there. Somehow that hurt me, as if I didn’t already know she wanted to keep things private. Just like it hurt me when she didn’t react sooner to me chatting with that bird. 

Or when I woke up this morning, and the space next to me was cold and vacant.

I watched her drink more and more as the hours went on, her speech getting more slurred, her eyes looking further into the distance. I couldn’t tell if she was drinking to have fun, or to run away from everything I was putting her through. She was sitting with Mat and Lee, all three of them in hysterics over something I hadn’t quite overheard, when Liam had tapped on my shoulder.

“Can we have a quick chat?”

I looked at him suspiciously, “Sure, mate.” 

We got off the sofa and he led me outside to sit on a bench looking out over the city view, “This seems quite serious, should I be nervous?” I said with a laugh.

He was drunk but clearly not as drunk as I thought, cause he appeared dead sober when he turned towards me to ask, “You like Alice, yeah?”

I inhaled deeply. We hadn’t talked about Alice since the night I asked about her weeks ago. And while I knew he was aware we hooked up, I guess he must have known more than I realised. A large part of me was happy he knew, and was happy I could talk to someone about it. So I answered honestly, “Yeah.”

“Then what the fuck was all that about with Sasha?”

He must have been referring to the bird I’d been chatting with for hours when we got here, “Was that her name?”

He laughed, “Right. Of course you didn’t even know her name.” He leaned deeper into the seat, “What happened to being kind to Alice? You know she’s going through shit.” He sounded worried, maybe even a bit upset.

I scratched my head, knowing how badly I fucked up tonight, “It seems I do really stupid shit when I’m scared.”

He must have had some type of understanding, cause he didn’t say anything for a long while as we just stared out at the view.

“You wanna know why I’m always in tank tops?” He asked out of nowhere.

I frowned, “Yeah, actually I really do. Nothing wrong with it mate, but when it’s fucking freezing out it makes me wonder. Especially since we’ve given you mountains worth of tour merch and you just cut off every sleeve in sight.”

“Alright, no need to make me feel weird about it.” He said with a frown.

“Shit sorry. I mean, yes please – enlighten me.” I said, gesturing with my hand to proceed.

A smile slowly bloomed on his face, “I’m a real skinny guy. I never liked to lift weights, always had a problem putting on weight. The amount of hook-ups I’ve had where the guys were in deep disgust when they saw these noodles.” He waved his arms about to highlight how bony they are. “I hated myself. Started wearing anything that covered me up. I stopped dating, just accepted my loneliness.” He looked down, “Quite sad really…” 

I opened my mouth to console him, but he continued before I got a chance, “But then my mate got injured, and as part of his rehab he needed to go swimming. Despite how much I hated being topless I wanted to be a good friend and support him. The swim instructor was an absolute god of a man, deep blue, ocean eyes.” His expression turned dreamy as he described the man, “After the third session he came up to me, told me I was the most beautiful man he had ever seen, took me out that night and he’s been my boyfriend since. He doesn’t stop gushing over my hair and my build. He told me he always wished more skinny men would show off their arms.”

“That’s beautiful, I love that.” I said sincerely.

His smile got bigger, “Since then I’ve worn all my ‘flaws’ on my metaphorical sleeves, and while many people don’t like me – or disagree with how blunt I am,” He gave me a knowing look, “I’ve gotten so much closer to some people, and gained myself some absolutely fantastic friends… And of course a job I couldn’t be happier with.” He said, nudging my arm.

I laughed, “Glad we don’t drive you mad.”

After another silent beat, he asked, “You scared she won’t like something about you?”

I knew that’s where he was going with his story. Liam had seen me through some of my worst times after the breakup. While we hadn’t talked about it, I know it was pretty obvious how fucked up I’ve been the past year.

“I showed her a glimpse of it a couple days ago, and she ran off.” I answered solemnly. Vague but true.

He studied my face, “Didn’t you guys just hook up?”

I smiled at him. “That obvious, huh? Who else knows?”

“To be honest with you Oli, I’m not sure the other lads would notice if you made out in front of them at this rate. They’re fucking clueless when it comes to most things.” We both laughed at that, before he continued, “But I just guessed, considering how fast you ran after Alice when she stormed off – and the state of you both when you came back.” He finished with a grin.

I sucked my teeth for a second, wanting to tell him more, not knowing what would be too much information. “I’m not sure what our hookups mean to Alice. I have a bad feeling it’s not the same as me.”

He nodded, “I don’t know, maybe it’s not meant to be. But there’s only one way to find out, really.”

His point was valid, but I was terrified. Knowing my odds were low – probably even lower after the kind of shit I pulled tonight. Yet looking at her now, staring out the window, it seemed worth the risk. 

The way she makes me feel…

It’s not like with my ex; her intensity matched my own, both of us desperate for something larger than life – an all consuming love neither of us was scared of, and embraced with open hearts and minds. I was gonna marry her, spend the rest of my life with her, I knew that early on. 

Then she tore me apart and left me in a state I’m not sure I’ll ever fully recover from.

But it’s very different with Alice.

She’s not open. Sure, I can see the intensity simmer under the surface, but I don’t think it’s the same flavour as my own. And I can’t tell if that’s my perfect counterpart – my ying to my yang. Or if I’m water and she’s oil, and we’re doomed to never mix.

It doesn’t help that she lied tonight.

I knew I pushed her too far, I knew I shouldn’t have choked her that long. I just want her to see that she’s playing with fire, yet she refuses to admit it. For some daft reason it just makes me want to push her further.

When we pulled up to the hotel I quickly nudged Matt awake so he’d get out first.

“Not the bloody penguins!” He yelled as he jerked awake violently. 

All of us broke out in laughter, even the driver, “Fucking hell mate, you’re alright. You’re at the hotel, not Antarctica.” I said, amused.

Matt wiped at his mouth, “Thank fuck for that. Remind me to never invest in igloos.”

I shook my head, “Well shit, guess our next business venture’s off then.”

When Matt got out of the car I turned my attention back to Alice. I wasn’t expecting her to be smiling lazily at me, clearly drunk. I couldn’t tell if she was just amused from Matt’s dream, or if she was silently reaching out to me, letting me know she wants to spend tonight with me.

I was waiting to see if she was getting out on her side of the taxi, or staying behind to let the others get a head start. But she didn’t move. She just kept smiling at me, and I felt hope build in my chest.

When everyone else had evacuated, I slipped out of the car, offering her a helping hand. I’m happy I did as she more than likely would have fallen face first onto the pavement if I hadn’t been there to catch her.

She was a lot more intoxicated than I had originally thought. Sadness crept back into my heart at the realisation, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make a conscious decision on whether to stay with me tonight or not; knowing her choice might not carry too much weight.

I watched the others disappear into the hotel as I braced her against my arm to slowly lead her towards the entrance. She welcomed my help, leaning into me, warming something inside me.

“You alright, love?” I asked gently, testing to see how slurred her speech would come in response.

“Yeah, just really tired now.” She said, sounding perfectly sober.

I frowned, confused, not sure what to make of her state.

I watched through the clear glass of the hotel doors as the elevator door closed with everyone behind them. I smiled, knowing we’d get a moment of privacy to slip into the same room if we wanted to. But instead of walking through the entrance, I side stepped and leaned her up against the brickwork next to the door. She smiled up at me, glassy eyes meeting mine.

“Wait, why aren’t we going inside?” She asked.

I felt the nerves hit me as I responded with my own question, “Well, what room are we going to?”

“I don’t know.” She said, sounding more distant now. She placed her hands on my chest and began trailing upwards, sending a shiver up my spine. Was she not done with me afterall?

“Do you want more, love?” I asked, letting my hands slip around her waist, stepping closer to her.

“No, I’m exhausted.” She said, sounding more inebriated again. 

My confusion doubled. I didn’t have any more answers than before all my questions, so I decided to gently continue my prodding, “So what do you want to do?”

She searched my face wordlessly, her features turning sadder by the moment, causing my heart to sink.

This was it – this is the moment she’ll turn me down for good. Either out of fear of where this could lead, or she’d gotten everything she needed from me, and I simply wasn’t worth the trouble anymore after tonight.

I couldn’t blame her.

Rejection hit me like a ton of bricks before she even got a chance to say a single word.

Mine and Liam’s conversation was running through my head. Do I push through the fear and lay my heart out to her? This might be my only chance. Not knowing how drunk she was meant a couple of things; her reaction could mean very little, as she may feel very differently tomorrow. Or she simply wouldn’t remember any of it.

But I was drowning, and I could fight it with everything I had – hoping the waves would take mercy on me. Or just relax into it and sink to the bottom.

I decided to go out kicking and screaming.

Then my mouth opened to speak, knowing that it might be the worst mistake I’ll ever make. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I found myself hoping she wouldn’t remember any of this, but the words had already begun escaping my mouth.

“You wanna know why I almost relapsed the first night we had sex?”

Shock flickered in her eyes, before she clumsily – drunkenly – nodded.

Okay, here we go.

My gaze fell to the ground and I took a deep, shaky breath, placing a hand on the brick next to her head to steady myself, before letting my eyes meet hers again. “I don’t think this world is made for people like me. I feel too much, too fast. And there’s no room for that anywhere, is there?” I could feel my heart racing as I let myself stare at her for a moment, trying to memorise her features – knowing this could be the last time I was this close to her.

My other hand seemed to have a mind of its own, as I found myself caressing her cheek. She leaned into it and warmth spread inside me, despite knowing it might just be the alcohol causing her to react like that.

“I think some part of me knew I was in trouble the first time I saw you.” I sounded so distant, making me question whether I’d spoken the words out loud or simply thought them.

I took another ragged breath as I let myself become more vulnerable, “I’m terrified of you. I’m terrified of how much I think about you. How much I feel for you.”

She was just staring at me, bewilderment on her face, making it impossible to tell what she was thinking, or feeling. But I knew exactly what I was feeling…

“I think I’m falling for you, Alice.”

It was as if I’d jumped off of a cliff as the words came out of my mouth.

Her mouth fell open, and I was expecting her to run off again any moment now, so I placed a hand on her arm before I continued. I wanted – no, I needed –  her to hear everything I had to say before she slipped away from me one last time, “And I know, I have a weird way of showing that with all my nonsense tonight.” One more deep breath before jumping off yet another cliff, “I wanted to get high that night to stay away from you, to save myself from whatever obsession I have with you, to save you from me – from stupid shit like tonight, when I know you’re in pain too. No one should have to put up with how fucking broken I am.” I laughed a bitter laugh, looking away, not ready to face what was in her eyes, “I’m intense, and I knew I’d smother you. So naturally, here I am, smothering you…” My words trailed off, sounding as defeated as I felt. Shaking my head, I let go of her arm, ready for her to make a run for it. Instead I felt her hands on my chest dig into my shirt. And when I dared to meet her eyes again there was so much emotion in them it was my turn to be shocked. I still couldn’t tell what she was feeling, and to prevent her from speaking one last time I blurted out the question I wanted answered most of all right now, “Anyway, you wanna come back to my room tonight?” Clumsy, forward question. But I had to know. 

My heart was pounding so fast I was getting light headed, as her mouth opened and shut a couple of times. I heard my nails dig into the bricks from how tense I was growing by each passing second.

“No,” The pause between her words were mere milliseconds, but it was enough to make me feel like my world was crashing down around me, before she quickly continued, “let’s go to my room. All my stuff is there.”

My whole body relaxed, and I couldn’t help but smile. I knew her response didn’t necessarily mean anything, but at least she hadn’t run away.

At least I would get to hold her as I slept again.

“Alright, your room it is.” I said and tucked her under my arm. She leaned into me, holding onto me eagerly as I led her inside.

We fought against the lock of her room for a while, but as soon as we got inside she instantly began ripping her clothes off. With every item she removed she nearly fell over, and the shoes she tore off hit the wall, missing the mounted TV by inches. I huffed out a laugh. It amazed me how she had similar grace – and luck – no matter if she was drunk or sober. 

When she was done she unceremoniously collapsed on the bed.

She was stunning naked. Her soft, ivory skin, only marked by me. So very different from my own skin, which was more marked than not.

I undressed and climbed in next to her, pulling her into my embrace. To my surprise, she didn’t just relax into it, but entangled us further, soothing every wound inside me.

I can’t remember the last time I slept as good as last night, with her in my arms; finally, rest without nightmares. With any luck tonight would be just as peaceful.

I felt her twitch, already fast asleep. Not surprising with how exhausted she was. I fought against my own sleep for as long as I could, wanting desperately to enjoy the moment, but I could feel myself slip away.

And before I knew it I was drifting…

The crimson river flows far and wide.

Her lifeless eyes stare down at me; I could fall into them, swim in them, drown in them.

She is starving.

She takes a bite; do I taste sweet enough?

Sharp teeth tearing into warm flesh.

She’s painted red; blood runs down her chin, down her breasts, down to where our bodies connect.

Once again her claws reach into me; my ribcage an open book for her to read.

She takes what she wants, what she needs – what she craves.

Meticulously picking me apart, leaving the unwanted behind.

Discarded, like peas on a child's dinner plate.

My remains are left to rot.

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[five-sparrows-two-pennies]

bites & perseverance

23 October 2023

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." - James 1:2-4 (NIV) At the start of last year, I got bitten by an insect several times around my knee. A few itchy bites (which I'm sure I would have poked at) soon became a red, hot, itchy patch on my leg. The GP gave me some medications, and my mum told me to take some Vitamin C tablets - except what was supposed to help seemed to make it worse, and before you knew it, I was left with a whole-body rash. It's not fun being itchy all over your limbs! I used to scratch and poke and every mosquito bite I got, even though I knew I shouldn't. The temporary relief seemed worth it. The incident last year has taught me so much restraint and self-control. I couldn't scratch my red, hot and itchy limbs because it definitely made it worse, and after several weeks of increasing affliction, the last thing I wanted was to drag it out longer. Now, when I get bitten by a mosquito (or anything else for that matter), I don't even think about scratching it. It is so much easier to resist the urge. I think I finally understand what James means now. The joy comes in knowing who you could become on the other side of the trial and testing, but you must first persevere. You can't just resist sin and temptation once or twice, but every single time. It is likely to get harder before it gets better - first, you resist the urge to scratch a few bites, but then you must keep on resisting when it afflicts your entire body. You must let perseverance finish its work otherwise it doesn't work. And the assurance that you will come out the other side stronger, better, makes it quite exciting!

[bonnie-bug]

pro to my new migraine preventative injection med: I’ve only had like half a migraine since the beginning of april and i think that’s just bc it was way too fuckin hot the day before. I was getting them like 2x a week previously so that’s very good news

con 1 of my new migraine preventative injection med: it’s an injection and I hate needles

con 2 of my new migraine preventative injection med and the one that’s actually worse than needles: apparently it gives me a VERY strong injection site reaction. I look like I was bit by the world’s largest mosquito. there’s a red swollen patch on my arm like 2.5 inches long and looks exactly like a massive bug bite. and it ITCHES

[harrypotterthehufflepuff]

Bludger

This was requested by: Anon !

Request: hi! can i request a reader x george where the reader is playing quidditch and falls or gets hit and ends up with a concussion or other tbi and gets comforted by george?xx

*

I’ve written something familiar to this, but with Cedric (you can read it here if you want) So I tried to chnage it up a little. Hope you’re happy with it !

*

Warnings: Swearing.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader.

Words: 1.2 k

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ronaldandremuslover and I’ll try and fix it for you !

~ ~ ~ ~

"Gahh!"

Your head is aching, causing your vision to go blurry. You can hear faint voices, yelling out for you as you lose control over your broom. Butterflies forms in your stomach as you soar down to the ground, quickly. It was all happening in a daze but still, you knew that the landing would not be very mild. But just as you're supposed to crash to the lawn, you feel your body stop, as if you've landed on a cushion.

"Everybody get down to ground level!" Even though you couldn't see it, you knew it was Madam Hooch.

Your back landed softly onto the grass. Footsteps surrounded you but your head hurt too much to even open your eyes.

"What the fuck was that about!"

"Are you mad?"

"Fucking bastard!"

Angry voices called out, some seemed familiar.

"Alright, watch your language!" It was Madam Hooch. "Crabbe, that was such a lousy thing to do! What has gotten into your mind!"

It felt as though your head was about to pop. But you managed to open your eyes just a little.

"Y/N's awake! Look!"

The sunlight felt brighter than ever before, causing your eyes to immediately shut again.

"We need to get her a pain-reducing potion as soon as possible. Merlin knows how long Y/N is going to stay awake." Hooch said in a rush.

And it was as though it was all planned; the pain seemed lighter and the sun less bright. Then the voices became even more distant, and your thoughts travelled miles away. Everything blackened.

~ ~ ~ ~  

"Shit..."

The hospital wing was quiet, Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. The pain was still there, but not nearly as bad as it had been... since how long ago?

You reached up to scratch an itchy spot on your head and was shocked to find that your head was bandaged. Had it all been that bad?

You had been on your broomstick, soaring towards the hoops of the opposite team - Slytherin - while holding the quaffle. Crabbe and Goyle had been on each side of you, but you had been too close to the hoops that you didn't want to risk passing the quaffle over to a fellow teammate. But just as you had been about to throw the quaffle to score a point, your head had been brutally hit, not by a bludger, but by the bat the beaters use. That's when you had dropped the quaffle and reached for the back of your head instinctively. But that was short-lived as nearly a second later you felt another hit straight in your face, this time by the actual bludger.

It had been a nightmare filled with pain. It was like lis-

"How's your head feeling?"

Snapping your head to the direction the voice came from, you saw a tall, ginger boy standing by the drapes that secluded you from the rest of the room.

"You scared me." You sighed, feeling your heartbeat slow down from the sudden scare.

He sat down on the bed by your feet, apologising.

"I must look like crap." You touched the top of your head, grimacing as you felt around the bandage.

"More than normal, you mean?"

Kicking him softly with your foot, you smiled weakly.

"Hooch is seriously pissed. I understand though, Crabbe and Goyle shouldn't be allowed to play anymore after this."

"George, could you grab me a glass of water?" You ignored his comment, the thirst couldn't be dealt with any longer. But George seemed oblivious to your request.

"...The way Crabbe grinned after Goyle finished you up with that bludger!"

"George-"

"Crabbe literally beat you with his bat! Can you believe that! You could've died! Dumbledore must be so fuc-"

"George, please! Can you get me a glass of water, my throat is as dry as Percy's humour at the moment." You groaned, pointing at your throat.

He looked apologetic but transfigured an empty potion bottle into a goblet and used the aguamenti charm to fill it with clear, refreshing water which you gulped down in a haste.

"Mmm, that really hit the spot. Thanks." George took the goblet from you to place it on the bedside table.

"Fred lost his shit, you know. He was about to give Huey and Duey a real beat up if Harry and Oliver hadn't stopped him." He said, looking at you with worried eyes.

You smiled and reached out a hand for him, which he grabbed cautiously as if he was afraid of causing more pain to you. "I'm very thankful for all of you."

"Do you know when you'll get outta here? I mean, it's almost been a full day."

"No idea, I haven't even seen Madam Pomfrey. But I hope I'll get out soon, I can't stand being here." You really wished you could leave right this second, but knew that it was more than impossible to get Madam Pomfrey to let you leave the hospital wing.

George squeezed your hand. "When you get out, I'll take you up to the common room. Make sure you don't get hit by anything else, you know."

"Like Peeves throwing water balloons at me?" You chuckled.

"Or worse," he said, "dung bombs."

You exaggerated your reaction, gasping and widening your eyes. "Nooo, not dung bombs!"

He nodded solemnly, playing along. "Yes, I'm afraid so. So you'll need this handsome young chap to escort you through the madness that Peeves can create."

"Can't wait."

~ ~ ~ ~

It had been three days and Madam Pomfrey had just given you permission to leave. You had gotten the bandage around your head removed, leaving you feeling slightly cold. A big bump had grown at the back of your head, a big bruise and another bump from where the bat had crashed.

George, as he had said, was waiting by the big doors of the hospital wing to escort you. He looked very happy to see you up and about. He had admitted to have being incredibly worried for you, saying that 'he hates seeing his weird friends turn even weirder.'

"Ready?" He said, tangling his arm in yours. You leaned slightly on him, still feeling a little blue. But he didn't seem to mind.

"As ready as one can be."

~ ~ ~ ~

You made it to the Gryffindor common room which was empty besides for a couple of second years who had a break. He led you to an empty armchair by the fireplace, helping you sit down and wrapping you with a red and golden blanket.

"Will you be okay while I'm at divination?" He asked, studying to see if he could detect any more bruises or cuts.

You nodded, smiling broadly as you appreciated his concern for you. "I'll be great here. I already feel better."

"Liar." He said, shaking his head.

"Fine, I still feel like shit, but I'll be more than fine in this chair."

George looked you up and down, seemingly to decided whether or not your statement was honest enough to satisfy him. But in the end, he said, "Right, I'll be back in an hour. Don't die on me, that's my only request."

"I promise I won't die."

"Don't know if I should believe you or not."

"Guess you'll just have to trust me."

"That's a very bad idea."

You shrugged, "If it's a bad idea, it's usually good."

He narrowed his eyes, then a smile crept on to his thin lips. "You're absolutely right."

"As per usual."

"Mmm, don't get too cocky, now. I'll be back soon."

As he scurried off, you gazed into the fire. Feeling your mind go blank, you closed your eyes just a little. But you couldn't help it; sleep took over you.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Vulture Food

[UK Tour; Wing Au]

Wing Reference EB’s Reference

So @spooner7308 and I did a writing-art trade!! They requested EB looking out for Tour!Joan in the wing AU, which is a dynamic I can really get behind! 

This fic is not meant to be taken in a shippy kind of way despite the ship they made with EB and Joan, because 1) this is Tour!Joan and 2) I write Tour!Joan as a teenager. EB and Tour!Joan kinda have a mentor-student relationship. Or maybe a grouchy gay aunt and niece relationship? It’s just not romantic. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, Rowan!! Sorry if I got EB wrong in some parts!

----------------------

Everyone said Joan was scared of everything- being late, delayed shows, messing up during a performance, talking to people, ordering food, the dark, probably even her own shadow, and Joan wouldn’t deny some of those things (though, she was not afraid of her own shadow…), but she felt like she had every right to be afraid of the technician in the show.

EB, or Elizabeth Barron, was a griffon vulture Avem, and also quite possibly the scariest person Joan had ever seen before. Her wings were massive, a dull sand color that faded to gradients of dark brown at the tips of the primary feathers, and her tail feathers were short and choppy, quills picked out and frayed, leaving them looking like the remnants of an avian after Drop Feather Fever. She was covered in tattoos, some of skulls and dead things, others of symbols that reminded Joan of their past life, and a few that didn’t make any sense to Joan at all. Her body was gangly and lean, but she made up for it in killer glares, razor sharp talons that never stopped twitching, and a mouth that always seemed to be contorted into a Resting Bitch Snarl.

And she scared the absolute shit out of Joan.

Avems always made Joan wary; out of all the tribes, they always seemed to hate hybrids the most, but something about EB just made Joan want to play dead whenever she came near. She would always freeze and watch the woman fearfully, waiting for her to snap around and gouge her throat out with her talons. But she never did. Not that that diminished Joan’s anxiety.

The first time they formally met each other, Joan had froze in her place and slammed her eyes shut, willing the vulture to go away. And it wasn’t even that EB was a vulture, she didn’t care about what her wings were from, she was just nervous around everyone. It wasn’t a personal thing. She hoped EB didn’t think it was a personal thing. Would she rip her guts out if she did? Would anyone care if she did? Oh goddesses, what if she--

  “Damn. You are shaking.”

The deep, but snarky gruff voice made Joan’s ears flick in surprise. She dared to open one eye, and saw that EB was peering at her curiously. Her large wings were folded back against her back, feathers slightly sticking up in disarray, and Joan wondered how she managed to hold them up so easily. The stench of cigarette smoke invaded Joan’s nose, and she struggled not to react to the smell to avoid looking rude and setting EB off.

  “You’re Joan, yeah?” EB said.

  “Umm--” Joan floundered for a moment. “Y-yeah. I-I mean-- Y-yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, do not do that.” EB said, snorting lightly. She looked closely at Joan as if she were a peculiar flower that just sprouted out of the tile. “Abiel’s tail feathers, you are weird-looking.”

Joan’s ears lowered and she looked away, suddenly feeling hot shame rocket through her. Now she just wanted to melt into a puddle and live the rest of her miserable life as a liquid. People would still walk all over her, but at least they couldn’t make fun of her when she was water.

  “Oh, shit,” EB said, suddenly looking a little less scary and a little more concerned. She ran her sharp claws through her hair, and Joan could just barely see patchy crest feathers sticking out from her scruffy brown hair. “Fuck, kid, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I meant ‘weird’ as in ‘cool’. I think you look pretty rad. Much cooler than most avians around here.”

Joan shifted her wings, not used to being complimented. “Oh. Th-thank you, ma’am-- I mean-- Sorry.”

  “You are very nervous.” EB observed. She tilted her head at Joan. “Why aren’t you running away from me? Are you not scared of me?”

  “I am.” Joan blurted, then instantly wanted to bite off her tongue. But EB didn’t look offended. “I-I just, umm…” She couldn’t get her words to form coherently.

  “Freaks gotta stick together, huh?” EB said.

  “Oh, uhh-- Y-yeah.” 

EB cracked the smallest smile, ruffled Joan’s hair, and then lumbered away. Joan blinked as she walked away, feeling slowly returning to her tense muscles. She touched the area that EB had pat, and wondered how she got out of that alive.

------

Joan saw EB frequently, but it wasn’t until a freezing cold rainy day that they really interacted again.

Joan had trudged through the rain, already late for work, and was now shivering from head-to-toe. Her ears felt like they were frozen solid, her wings were dripping wet and heavy with rainwater, and she was beginning to worry that her claws were about to fall off. Mist was streaming from her nostrils and her fangs chattered together loudly as she staggered to her dressing room to get busy, but was stopped when a certain griffon vulture stepped into her path.

  “You about to blow up or something?” EB said, glancing at the white mist wreathing around Joan’s small fawn horns.

  “Oh, uhh-- N-no,” Joan said. “Th-this just, umm, happens. Sometimes. Wh-when I get too cold.”

  “Ah,” EB nodded. “You gonna dry off?”

  “I don’t have time,” Joan said. She shook off her wings, and droplets sprayed everywhere. “I gotta s-s-start working.” 

She attempted to duck around EB to get into her room, but EB opened one huge wing and stopped her. She stepped back, folding her ears back. EB suddenly looked a lot like an actual griffon with the glinting of her eyes and sharpness of her facial features.

  “Look at you,” EB said. “You can barely speak coherently without stuttering. Do you really think you can work like this?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Joan said, pulling her dripping wings in close around her. 

  “What if you get sick?”

  “I’ll still go to work. That isn’t gonna stop me…”

EB rubbed her forehead. “You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have expected that.” Then, she was sliding off her thick grey-green coat and dropping it over Joan. “There.”

The weight of the jacket actually made Joan stagger slightly. It was heavy and bulky, but was still warm from EB wearing it. She blinked over its mass at EB.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t wash this right now. There’s not a washing machine here. I can take it home with me, though?” Joan said.

EB looked at her like her ears just detached from her head and flew off into the ceiling. “No, I’m giving it to you. So you can wear it.”

Joan blinked even more. “What?”

  “You’re shivering just a little, kid,” EB said, gesturing to Joan’s vibrating body with one wing. “Take it. You need it more than I do.” Without the jacket, EB’s tattoos and the scar around her neck was more visible than it usually was. It was inflamed bright red, like Anne’s and Howard’s, but rough like a third-degree rope burn that never truly healed. Joan struggled not to look at it, so she just focused her eyes on the tattoo of a noose wound around EB’s left wrist.

  “B-but--” Joan stuttered. “I-I can’t. Y-you need it, too!”

  “Trust me, it’s okay,” EB said. “Go on. Put it on and go do your work. Don’t worry about me.”

And then, she walked away, ending the conversation and not allowing Joan to give her her jacket back. Joan hesitantly put the coat on. The smell of cigarettes and incenses was oddly comforting.

------

  “Oi, heads up!” Joan yelped out loud when a water bottle suddenly hit her in the head. She rubbed the area of impact and turned around to see EB standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry.” EB said. “Stay hydrated, kid.”

And then, like last time, she whisked off before Joan could even say anything else.

------

When molting season rolled around, Joan’s wings became two masses of discolored itchiness. Her old feathers were now brittle and stiff, and the new feathers scratched her skin as they grew over the old ones. She had to start plucking soon, since she didn’t want to bother Aragon and Howard with helping her molt.

And then, there was a knock against her door frame.

  “Damn,” EB said. “You got worse wing care than me, kid.”

She walked over to where Joan was hunched over her work table. Her own wings were surprisingly glossy and shiny, meaning she had molted recently. It was strange to see her feathers not sticking up everywhere like they were charged with static electricity. She extended her clawed hands to Joan’s wings.

  “May I?”

  “Umm… Sure.” Joan said hesitantly.

EB opened Joan’s wing with more gentleness than Joan had been expecting and whistled.

  “Yikes.” EB commented helpfully. “Yeah, I’m afraid to tell you that your wings are now overgrown bushes.”

Joan grunted. “They’re usually like this…”

EB raised an eyebrow. “Really? Hybrids can’t molt?”

Joan shook her head sluggishly. “No. So I gotta pull them out or else they’ll overgrow and get yucky and then I’ll get sick.”

EB nodded. “Ah,” She said, then swiped some scissors from a cup of supplies. “Well, we don’t want that happening, do we?”

Joan glanced back at her. “Wh-what are you doing?” She asked.

  “What does it look like?” EB answered, twirling the scissors haphazardly on one of her fingers. “I’m helping you. Now, face forward and sit still, or I can’t be blamed for you getting cut. For once.” She chuckled.

That’s right. Didn’t EB go to jail? Several times?

Joan swallowed thickly and sat as still as she could. Her hand was shaking slightly, splattering small droplets of black ink on her notepad. Her ears were pinned back flat against the top of her head. In her mind, she kept saying that nothing would happen, that everything was going to be okay, that it was--

  “Ow!” Joan yelped, flinching and flaring her crest feathers.

  “Sorry, sorry,” EB said. “Yikes, these are fragile. They’re just breaking right off.”

  “Yeah, that--that happens,” Joan said.

Behind her, the scissors EB was using snipped away, cutting off old feathers and allowing room for the new ones to grow in properly. Her hands and movements were surprisingly gentle, wickedly sharp claws just barely brushing the skin of Joan’s wings. She was actually being quite careful to avoid cutting Joan on accident.

  “So…” EB started. “Sorry, I’m a little awkward, too. I’m not used to this, either. Being around people so much. I kinda just avoid everyone. Though, it’s not like anyone goes around me anyway.” She opened one wing and waved it slightly.

Like crow and raven Avems being a sign of death and dove Avems being completely innocent, a stigma was formed around vultures. Mary I of England, aka Bloody Mary, had been a white-backed vulture. After she mass murdered hundreds of people by burning them alive, a mark was left on the views of vulture Avems, and not just the white-backed ones. They were stereotyped as malicious, sadistic, and filthy creatures that ate corpses and smelled like decay and had sex with dead bodies.

But EB didn’t look like she particularly enjoyed engaging in necrophilia (Joan wasn’t even sure where that stereotype even came from). She didn’t smell like decay, either, rather just cigarettes and the smallest hint of what she thought was oil. And she definitely didn’t seem like she ate dead stuff; Avems couldn’t even eat dead things without getting sick, anyway, only Vespers could!

No, EB just looked jaded. Grizzled from the gore of her brutal execution and rugged from the harshness of the modern London world, EB was cold, but not cruel. She was helping Joan, after all. She was just hiding a warmer heart behind walls of thorns because she had learned that to stay safe, she had to become stony and detached. So, she kept her eyes in a permanent sharp leer and her voice barbed and wrapped in shards of glass. She gave in to the stigma of her wings to keep them on her back.

  “Oh,” Joan said after a moment. “I’m sorry.”

EB shook her head. “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah, but stil…” Joan said. “It’s awful… What some people say…”

  “It wasn’t that bad before my death,” EB shrugged. “Mary hadn’t gone fucking insane. Though, some people did think it was weird that a vulture was also a nun.” She chuckled, and it was a rough, rumbly sound in her throat. “But I got used to it.”

Joan wished she could do that. She was never able to just ignore what people said about her, and simply not caring was even harder. Because she did care. A lot. And it hurt really badly to hear some of the things people said about her.

  “Yeah,” Joan whispered softly, though she didn’t have the same outlook as EB at all. She could never be that strong or confident over herself.

A silence descended upon the two of them again as EB continued to cut away Joan’s old, dead feathers. Joan’s wings still itched, but not as badly; she truly appreciated what EB was doing for her.

  “Thank you,” Joan said, breaking the silence. “This was really nice of you to do for me.”

  “Don’t mention it,” EB said. “No need for you to get picked on even more for having dirty wings.” Then, thoughtfully, after a moment of thinking, “Your wings looked better than most of theirs, anyway. Much cooler.”

Joan felt a shy blush rise to her cheeks, folding her ears bashfully. “Th-thanks,” She whispered. “Really. I really do appreciate it.”

EB hummed. “No problem. I got your back, kid.”

------

There was a small storage area on the back of one of the tour buses that held spare tech equipment, and EB was insanely protective of it.

Nobody really knew why, but most of the other crew members called it her “nest.” She manned and took care of the equipment, she unloaded tech items when they were needed, and she made sure everything was in working order. And she /hated/ when people went back there without her permission.

But Joan didn’t get the memo.

Well, she did, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to consider the risk she was taking when she staggered to the back of the truck. She just needed to be alone, away from the workers that had called her rude slurs for accidentally hitting them with her wings, and she thought that the truck would be the perfect place to have her mental breakdown in peace. The door was cracked open slightly, anyway, so it should have been shut if nobody wanted her being inside. And she hadn’t even recognized the truck when she shimmied underneath the door and staggered into the darkness.

Instantly, a wire wrapped around Joan’s ankle and she yelped, jumping free. She ran into some stacked speakers, then smacked a few metal poles with her wings, and now she was starting to see why she had been yelled at. She was so stupid and clumsy and--

Joan sniffled. She stepped over several snarls of wires and weaved around spotlights before finding a nice spot between a few boxes where she could sit down. She wedged herself into the small space, hugged her knees in close, and then started to cry.

Every bad thing was bubbling forth again, but she was used to it by now. She tried so hard to suppress all her emotions, but the slightest bad thing caused them to come spewing out.

She just hated her wings. And she hated being a hybrid. And she hated even being alive again because she felt like there was no real point for her being there. She wasn’t anyone special at all. She was just forgettable and useless and dumb.

Joan’s chest began to ache with the force of her sobs. She pulled her ears with her claws dug in; sometimes she considered just ripping them right out. Maybe she could pass for a regular Avem if she removed them and then broke off her horns and then never opened her wings.

Maybe she could finally just be normal.

A sound interrupted Joan’s crying session- footsteps, ruffling wings, rattling metal.

The truck door flew open.

Joan flinched, accidentally letting a gasp escape her when the metal door hit the top of the truck. She only then realized where she was and froze, curling into a tight ball to try and hide herself behind the boxes.

  “Who is in here?” The vulture’s voice snarled.

Joan squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to the goddesses that she would be spared from a brutal death. She was already imagining her throat being gouged out by EB’s claws or her stomach getting slashed open and her guts ripped out.

She imagined the jaw trap and barely suppressed a sob.

She could take a gut spill and even EB decapitating her to mimic her own death, but she couldn’t take the jaw trap. Not again. She was already starting to taste the metal plate and feel the iron jaws clamping around her mouth and hear the clinking and ticking of gears and springs as the rusty old jaw trap began to malfunction and spring open, ripping her bottom jaw off while she was still breathing…

EB stepped into the truck; Joan could hear her wings brushing against speakers and lights and boxes.

  “Who is in here?” EB said again, this time a lot more fiercely. “Answer me, now!”

Joan wrapped her wings around herself and wept in fear. She couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t want to be punished for something she did on accident. She didn’t want the jaw trap on her again.

She heard EB walking further into the truck, peeking behind metal beams and moving boxes to check in crevices. And then she came to Joan’s hiding spot and they locked eyes.

  “Joan,” EB said, slightly surprised.

  “I’m sorry!” Joan blurted instantly. “I’m so, so sorry! I-I didn’t mean it! I didn’t look where I was going, I’m sorry!”

  “Woah, hey, calm down,” EB said.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” Joan begged, trying to hide under her wings. “Please, please… I didn’t mean it, I promise!”

EB stared her down in silence for a moment. “Okay, you need to take a breath,” She said after a moment. “You’re freaking out, kid.”

Joan whimpered pathetically in response.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, alright? I’m not mad.” EB said, raising her talons to seem less threatening. “Just calm down.”

Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes. EB looked at her closely.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I-it’s nothing,” Joan said, then hiccuped. Of course. She always hiccuped when she was nervous or scared. Or upset. Or flustered. It was just awful.

  “Did someone say something to you?” EB pressed anyway.

Joan shrugged, even though she knew the answer was ‘yes.’ “I-I just needed to be alone,” She croaked. 

  “Ah,” EB nodded. Then, she took a key off the key ring she was holding and tossed it to Joan. “Here. This is a spare for the truck. You can come in here whenever you need to get away from everything.”

Joan floundered for a moment in shock, blinking and opened and closing her mouth several times.

  “Th-th-thank you,” She finally sputtered out.

  “Yeah, yeah,” EB said. “Just don’t touch anything. And don’t break anything.”

Joan sniffled and nodded. “O-okay. Thank you.”

------

Joan was standing outside of the theater, watching the rain, getting some fresh air to ease her aching chest. She didn’t like the anxiety attacks that made her heart feel like it was exploding inside of her; she would rather not be able to breathe because this just made her think she was having a heart attack, which then made the anxiety attack even worse.

She closed her eyes and held her breath for five seconds, then released it. She did this several times, not really feeling a change in her heart pain, then heard the front doors to the theater open and close.

  “You good, kid?”

Joan opened her eyes and saw EB standing there beside her. She thought the woman had an expression of worry on her face, but she couldn’t quite tell; EB’s emotions were always really difficult to discern.

  “Y-yeah,” Joan whispered shakily.

  “You don’t sound good,” EB observed. She leaned against the wall next to Joan. “I’ll keep you company until you are.”

  “Thanks…”

Silence fell between them. Thunder rumbled deeply from the thick dark grey clouds overhead. The rain fell harder. A chill settled over the street. Joan shivered and pulled her wings around herself, but the smooth bat skin inside of them provided little warmth.

  “How do you do it?” Joan asked quietly.

The tufts on EB’s ears pricked up and she looked at Joan curiously. “What?”   “How do you not get bothered by all the mean people?” Joan clarified, internally wincing at how childish the question sounded.

  “Oh,” EB said, then shrugged. “I just ignore it, I guess. Why should I care what other people think? They don’t know me, and they certainly don’t matter to me.”

Joan nodded, but didn’t find that very helpful for her. It was impossible for her not to care.

  “Alright,” Joan said quietly.

  “Don’t let stupid people bother you.” EB said.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Joan mumbled. “Sorry…”

  “Hm.” EB hummed. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket and held one down to Joan. Joan blinked up at her. “You mind?”

  “Oh.” Joan understood after a moment. She ground her teeth together, riling up the firestorm inside of her, then blew a breath of frost onto the cigarette.

She and EB stared at the now-frozen cigarette. Joan’s face turned bright red, while EB chuckled gruffly.

  “S-sorry,” Joan whispered.

  “Don’t sweat it, kid,” EB said. She put the frozen cigarette back into the box to thaw and grabbed a new one, using an actual lighter to light it. She offered the box to Joan. “You want one?”

Joan wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No thank you.”

EB chuckled again, this time a little more heartily. “Good girl.” She said. “This stuff will kill you.”

  “Then why do you smoke?” Joan asked confusedly.

EB shrugged and blew out some smoke like a Hydra would. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Plus, who knows, maybe I like pretending to be  Hydra.”

  “Oh.”

Another silence fell over them as EB smoked. The smell was overwhelmingly rank, but Joan didn’t want to make EB mad or upset by saying something, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “Does what people say bother you that much?” EB asked.

  “Yeah,” Joan answered softly. “It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

  “I see,” EB said. She finished her smoke and then put the cigarette out. She turned to Joan. “Let me know who bothers you, yeah? I’ll break their ribs.”

Something about those violent, but protective words touched Joan’s heart, and she was suddenly leaping forward and throwing her arms and wings around EB.

  “Oof-- Okay,” EB stumbled back slightly. Her talons hovered over Joan. “Agh. Alright. Fine. Just this once.” She returned the embrace, sweeping her massive wings around Joan.

  “Thank you,” Joan whispered, nuzzling into EB’s warmth and secure hold without even thinking it through. She couldn’t help herself- she so desperately craved touch and affection.

  “Heh. Yeah. No problem, love.” EB said. “You adorable little freak.”

And, for once, Joan wasn’t hurt by those words.

[chicgeekgirl89]

A Little Bit Broken Chap. 11: Itch

Fandom: SEAL Team

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Lisa Davis, Jason Hayes, Clay Spenser, Trent Sawyer, Full Metal, Cerberus, Brock Reynolds is there but he doesn’t say anything, Ray Perry, Naima Perry

Summary: Sonny is itchy and miserable.

                                     XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“So if we breach here and here that should get us in,” Jason said, pointing to the blueprints on the screen.

Sonny tried to listen to the practice drill plans as he scratched at his arm. Damn mosquitoes. They’d bit him up something fierce. He’d told everybody they needed mosquito netting for beds and better insect repellent but nooooooo. Nobody ever listened to Sonny’s concerns. Now they probably all had West Nile. And Malaria. And Dengue Fever. He scratched more aggressively.

“You got fleas or something?” Clay asked, eyeing him strangely.

“Those damn mosquitoes,” Sonny muttered. “Ate me up the entire two weeks we were in country.”

It had been a lengthy, boring op with lots of hanging around, waiting for intel that never came, and green lights that never got lit. Sonny had set up a couple of soccer games for the local kids with all their down time to keep himself from going stir crazy. Everybody was glad to be home and running strategy until the next spin-up. 

“If Full Metal and I come in from the top I think that gives up better coverage,” Ray said.

Jason shook his head. “Too exposed. What about the side?”

Now his leg was itching too. What the hell? How had the buggers gotten inside his pants? God damn it.

He tried to scratch it against the table leg and the whole thing shifted, coffee sloshing around dangerously. “Sorry,” he grunted.

Clay raised his eyebrows and even Cerberus perked his head up, but Sonny ignored them.

“Well whatever we do we’re gonna have to be quick about it,” Full Metal said. “They get one whiff of us and they’ll light the whole place up.”

“What about—all right Sonny, what the hell?” Jason finally asked.

“What?” Sonny asked.

“You’re sitting there squirming like somebody’s shoving a hot poker up your ass.”

Every eye turned to him, which just made him itch more. And was it getting hotter? “It’s those damn mosquitoes. Ate me the fuck up.”

“There’s no mosquito in the world that should make you do what you’re doing,” Ray said pointedly.

Trent grabbed Sonny’s arm and yanked up his sleeve. Sonny stared. His skin was covered in little red bumps, some of which were open and oozing. “That doesn’t look like mosquitoes,” Clay said skeptically.

“Nope,” Trent said. “That’s chicken pox.”

“What?” Sonny looked at him in horror. “No way. That’s for kids.”

“Or adults that haven’t had it,” Trent said. “Did you get it when you were a kid?”

“No. Quinns don’t get sick,” he scoffed.

“Right. Sure. And you didn’t get vaccinated for it?”

“Why the hell would I get vaccinated for a kiddy disease?”

“In case you’re ever around a bunch of unvaccinated kids. Like we were last week Mr. Soccer-Man,” Clay said with a grin.

“Oh Sonny boy, you’ve done it now.” Jason was smirking so hard it made Sonny want to punch him. 

“Trent, it’s gotta be something else,” Sonny insisted, starting to sweat. It was really getting hot.

“Fever, rash, definitely chicken pox,” Trent grunted. “Only thing to do is go home and wait it out.”

“For how long?” Sonny asked, starting to scratch again.

“Stop that!” Trent said. “You’ll scar.”

“Yeah wouldn’t want to mess up that beautiful complexion,” Clay said.

“You shut up,” Sonny snapped at him. “How am I supposed to deal with this?”

“Calamine lotion,” Ray told him. “Stop and pick some up. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

“Worse?!”

By the time Sonny got home he thought he might be dying. His head ached, he was freezing cold and sweating, and he itched like crazy. He collapsed into bed and fell immediately into a restless sleep punctuated by dreams of fire ants and mosquitoes crawling all over him.

He was woken by a hand tenderly stroking his forehead. He squinted up at Lisa who looked down on him with a fond sort of bemused smile on her face. “You are so stupid,” she said.

“Not my fault.” His voice was croaky and rough.

“It’s definitely your fault.” She shook her head. “All your fears and phobias and you somehow miss getting a chicken pox vaccine? What am I going to do with you?”

“Get me a beer?” he asked hopefully, a hand scratching absentmindedly at his chest.

She trapped it with her own, forcing him to stop. “Do not scratch. You’ll regret it. How about I run you a bath instead? We’ll put some oatmeal in it.”

“I am not taking a bath like some frou frou spa day,” he protested.

“Then itch away my friend,” she said, getting up. “I’m going to make dinner. Let me know when you change your mind.”

He lasted about ten more minutes before he gave in. “All right!” he yelled. “Make me a lady bath!”

She walked back into the room, a smirk on her face. “That’s what I thought.”

As it turned out an oatmeal bath wasn’t too bad. It was actually kind of nice. And it did help a lot with the itching. “I told you so,” Lisa said, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Sonny opened one eye. “This stays between us right?”

She snapped a picture of his face with her phone. “That depends on if you’re nice to me. If not, this goes straight to Clay’s inbox.”

Sonny spent an incredibly miserable week and a half at home in bed. The rash spread all over his body to the point that he couldn’t walk by a mirror without grimacing in horror. He was no Brad Pitt, but now he looked like something the cat had dragged in. Not that he was doing much walking. The fever and body aches had him pretty well confined to his bed or the couch. Never in his life had he been more grateful for Lisa who brought him food and forced him to complete some basic hygiene tasks to keep himself alive and going.

Trent stopped by a handful of times, likely aware that Sonny would die in his own bed rather than go to the hospital if things became dire. Clay came by with some Gatorades and chicken soup. Even Naima came over to check in, probably prompted by Ray’s complete lack of information on the situation. “Looks like you’re on the mend,” she said after taking his temperature. “The spots should clear up within a couple of days. Have you been using the lotion I sent with Trent?”

“Yes. Don’t help much with the itching though.”

“Well there’s not a whole lot we can do about that. It’s got to be getting better though, right?”

“I suppose,” he grumbled.

“Just remember not to—“

“Scratch. I got it.”

“You know you’re pretty lucky. Chicken pox isn’t typically too bad in kids, but it can be really hard on adults.”

“This is lucky?!” Sonny asked.

She gave him a wry smile. “Your fever could have spiked so high it caused brain damage. Or you could have gotten a bacterial infection in your skin. Or given yourself pneumonia. Or—“

“All right I got it,” he griped.

She stood, picking up her purse. “What I’m saying is, next time, make sure you get a vaccine.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Thanks for coming by.” She’d worked a full shift before coming over and he knew she wanted to get home to Ray and the kids. But that was who Naima was, if someone on the team was down, she was there to pick them back up.

She patted his shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Lisa came home a couple hours later. “Hey, how was your day?” she asked.

“D’you know The Price is Right is still on?”

“Nope, and it is definitely time for you to go back to work,” she said, settling in next to him on the bed. “I heard Naima came by and gave you the go ahead.”

“Yep. I think she brought lasagna or something. It’s in the fridge.”

“Oh thank god, I was not in the mood to figure out dinner again tonight.” She slid closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Chips?” He offered her the bag of BBQ chips he’d been munching on.

“Thanks.”

He reached across his chest to scratch his shoulder and she caught his hand without looking. “Don’t.”

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Helping Hands - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Natasha makes Haley an offer, Haley and Loki share another late-night conversation during a storm, and a plan is formed.

Chapter Warnings: Mention of previous injuries, implications of previous abuse

A/N: I KNOW the gif is our dear Sir Thomas Sharpe. But he has black hair, so just, like, pretend?

“How are you feeling?

Haley squinted and blinked away her slumber, lifting her hand to shield her eyes against the glare of bright, sterile lighting above her. A quick mental check of her body with a few small twists and stretches, and she could fairly confidently answer Nat with a grumbled, “Probably better than you. Healing just as I always do.”

The bed shifted, and Haley finally opened her eyes enough to clearly see the lethal blonde perched on the side of her bed, looking a bit worse for wear with dark circles under her eyes and a gray tinge to her skin. Somehow she was still gorgeous, which was honestly just unfair. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Color stained her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes to her hands, pleased and confused to see that someone had scrubbed the blood from them while she had been sleeping. Probably the same person who changed her into the itchy, thin gown that scratched against her skin. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. You could have died.” Nat winced a bit when she reached up to brush a bit of hair out of her eyes, dropping her hand to her side. “Once I’m healed up, I want to help you, too. Say a bit of fight training? I don’t want you to ever need it, but in my experience, it… helps.”

She didn’t know Natasha’s past. She didn’t know anything about her besides the fact that she wasn’t gifted any superhuman abilities like her or Loki, or given some sort of serum to make her different, like Bucky and Steve. But there was wisdom in her brown eyes, shadowed with pain and a darkness that worked to pull her full lips into a frown and knit her brow together. Whatever she had faced before living in this tower and fighting for the good of others, it had given her an understanding of the unease that lingered constantly at the back of Haley’s mind. That much was clear. 

“I’d like that, yeah. Thanks.”

Nat nodded her head, standing up slowly and heading toward the door. Just before she left she waved her hand at the bedside table, calling out, “I caught Loki leaving that for you this morning.”

It was a plush black hoodie, the exact same as the one that had been cut from her body the day before, freshly washed and still warm from the dryer. She reached over to hug it to her chest, smiling at the glow that stretched within her at the familiar scent of spice and mint lightly perfuming the fabric. 

She would have known who had gifted it to her even if Nat hadn’t spilled the beans.

~

They were so high in the sky the thunder rattled her teeth just before each blinding flash outside the floor-to-ceiling windows making up an entire wall of her room. The dark sky rolled just beyond her eyes, illuminated with frequent lighting to reveal heavy clouds thick with rain that pelted the glass in fat, heavy drops. It was too much. To go from a life spent underground, rarely seeing the sun, to practically living inside the vicious storm was proving too frightening to handle alone.

And sleep? Out of the question. Not even with the comfort of her hoodie wrapped around her and all of the blankets cocooning her in the middle of her expansive, too soft bed could she keep her eyes closed once the deafening boom and crack of the storm battered against her ears.

She left the solitude of her bedroom, a sliver of hope guiding her to the living area where she yearned to find a distracting companion. If her efforts were futile, at least the space was bigger, and it wouldn’t feel as if she was right in the nasty elements. Her silent prayers, given to any deity that would listen, were answered in the form of Loki, draped across the couch and watching television with concentrated curiosity.

“My brother appears to be quite angry this evening.”

She scurried over to sit beside him, crossing her arms over her stomach and balling her hands up into fists in the fabric of her overly long sleeves. “Thor?”

Loki paused the television, dropping the remote onto his lap before running a hand through the midnight black locks spilling over his shoulders with a nod. “The God of Thunder, as he was known on Asgard, and as some of the ancient Midgardians worshipped him. What became a trip seeking freedom and adventure in our youth accidentally started a bit of a following amongst the Nordic people, centuries ago. Quite fascinating, really.”

She blinked. “So he can’t really control Thunder. It’s just a name.”

“Oh, no, he most certainly can. Lightning is more his forte, though. I am sure if you ask him he would be more than happy to demonstrate for your entertainment,” Loki corrected her with just a hint of bitterness lacing his tone.

“But he can’t do magic like you? He isn’t like you?”

Just then a particularly close bout of thunder shook the tower, and she squeaked, pressing herself further into the back of the couch so that her leg rested along the length of his and the back of her head brushed against his hand. His thigh was warm and firm through the combined layers of fabric of her pajama bottoms and his jeans.

The devilish smirk that he directed her way made her tummy flutter oddly beneath her hands. “No one is like me, little one.”

She didn’t know a man’s voice could go that low and sound with such promise, soothing like cool satin and teasing her skin into tingling goosebumps. Normally, any deep voice she heard was laced with threats and growls, demanding things of her that she didn’t want to give. But, if Loki was seeking something with that heated tone, some instinctual part of her knew that it would be good. His eyes shone as his hand dropped from behind her to curl over her shoulders, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over her arm.

“The storm cannot reach you in this tower,” he assured her, glancing up at the deluge muddling the bright lights of the city that never slept. “You are safe.”

They all kept repeating that: safe. Sometimes it didn’t sound like a word anymore. Like it had lost all meaning from how often it was repeated behind sad smiles and heavy sighs. She knew they meant it, but it didn’t silence the nagging doubt at the back of her mind that couldn’t place Mr. Shaw with the still faces she had climbed over during her escape.

But it was quieted when she was curled up next to Loki beneath the strong weight of his arm, searching his expression for the telltale signs of pity. Pity made her feel weak, like some broken doll with too big brown eyes and full lips that had its hair shorn off by a vengeful toddler who didn’t know how to properly play with the nice things it had stolen. 

But the understanding that permeated his lingering stare?

That made her soft, warm and content and hopeful. For what, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t have a name for the tiniest flicker of longing that itched in her fingertips. Could his silken hair soothe that need?

Where were these thoughts coming from?

She had to blame the reality television Sam and Darcy had insisted she watch - to "teach her the ways of the world", they’d claimed. Or maybe it was the soap operas Nat had suggested.

“I know that you have not seen much of this realm. I was watching a program concerning the Nordic nations I spoke of earlier. Would you care to join me?”

It was better than sitting in the darkness of her room all alone. And Loki wasn’t terrible company, even with the unnameable feelings stirring in the pit of her belly. “Sure.”

He restarted the television before disappearing for a few minutes, leaving her to stare at the lush green fields, black sand beaches, and jagged cliffs cut into mountains of snow and ice that sparkled so brilliantly she thought she’d never seen anything more breathtaking. The din of him rummaging around stopped just before he came back to the couch, settling back against her and handing her a plate of treats and a steaming cup.

“Hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows and whipped cream, and double fudge brownies,” he supplied, taking the plate and balancing it on both of their thighs.

She couldn’t stifle a moan when the sweet sugary dessert melted on her tongue, closing her eyes to savor the taste.

“I thought you might like those,” he mused, taking a bite of his own brownie before turning his attention back to the dancing green and blue lights across the night sky on the screen. “Ah, northern lights.”

“Are they real?”

He smiled gently at the awed expression on her face and gave her a small nod. “They are. I will ensure you see them one day.”

~

“Absolutely not.”

Loki’s rage tensed along his back as he faced down the entire Avengers team.

She had faint memories of brightly colored pictures on a beige wall, young men dressed in outrageous outfits and all posing seriously for the camera, women grouped together and pouting with silver eyeshadow and wavy hair. The Avengers reminded her of those distant images, grouped together with solemn expressions on their faces.

“I gotta side with Loki on this one,” Tony agreed, taking off his glasses and shoving them into the pocket of his jeans, following the fidgeting gesture with both hands so that his shoulders almost touched his ears. “She isn’t bait.”

“It’s the best shot we have of luring that asshole out of hiding. He’s going to want her back.”

She didn’t know anything about the black, eye-patch sporting man separated from the rest of the gang. He had strolled in, called for a meeting, and then waited impatiently for everyone to congregate in the living area. But his voice was hard, his black suit - stark, and his stare - cold. It reminded her too much of her former owner - the topic of their discussion.

“Fury.”

The unknown man - Fury - stood up and leveled Nat with a frigid glare. “Get her ready. We’ll catch this bastard.”

And then he left just as quickly as he’d come, pulling out his phone to make a call, effectively cutting off any further attempt at talking some sense into him.

It was hard to breathe against the terror that seized her like a vice. Nat, Steve, and Tony all approached her at the same time, but it was Loki that turned and reached her first, tugging on her wrist until her trembling frame was tucked securely beneath his arm.

“I won’t let him touch you.”

And somehow, she believed him, mentally holding onto the fervently whispered promise with a death grip that only rivaled that of her fingers clutching at the folds of his shirt. 

~~~

Series taglist: @kneel-before-queen-loki @alexakeyloveloki @from-hel-i-with-love @cleocc @cateyes315 @coldbookworm @rjohnson1280 @bambi-butt @skiddleskaddle​ @myraiswack @ilovetardis @midgardian-mistress​ @lisaspageofstuff​ @lokis-high-priestess @bluestaratsunrise​

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @thathedonistgirl @lokixme

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @snoopy3000 @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare​

[wrongwiredmind]

Before I start saying anything I'd like to warn that the content of this post is both gore and contains suicidal thoughts, if any of that triggers you, please do not read, I care about whoever is reading but I can't hold any responsibility for anything that might follow, stay safe, and remember that no matter what, what comes next in your life will be better, one way or another.

This post is rather long, but that's kinda the point of this page, here we go, then.

So, I had almost my weirdest dream to date, right now, and then I thought, to heck with it!! Let's share something!

So first of all, I need to set some points straight before writing so it might explain a few things, hopefully, without giving a lot away about my personality:

(I have no idea how to put them on order, so they're pretty much a mumbo jumbo. Ah~ My favourite type of writing~. Kidding, of course, I actually prefer reading well written stories and articles)

Anyhow:. 1- I have a really deep unexplainable fear of the vast beast called an ocean (or a sea, or really anytype of deep water), I still go to the beach and pools and whatever, but there's always some sort of an icy grip tightening around my non-existent heart.

2- I love IronMan! So so much, and I kinda adopted Tony Stark!! (no one tell him, please!).

3- my adoration of a certain supernatural series made me love batman! (well, not entirely true, I always loved him, but kinda from afar, you get me?)

4- want me to get hooked on something? Give me a fanfic of it!! (of course like a series or a book, not a substance, you bad bad people!!), that's how I loved Bilbo!! (imagine me saying it in my adorable voice, the one I use when I try to sound cute 😉)

5- I binge read a certain fanfic about those two amazing superheroes saving the world, and themselves!! (I refuse to give up the name since if you think this is me oversharing? You've got another thing coming, honey!) that had a cruise and another prototype of the IronMan suit (don't ask which mark it is but it's so fast it broke the sound barrier!!)

6- I'm a little bit under the weather, (not corona, folks!) and my throat is kinda itchy, to the point that I lost all my vocal prowess for a little more than 24 hours a few days ago, still kinda annoying, and my stomach rebelled so much yesterday (before and during sleeping) that I thought she should take the rebellion symbol from Mr. Che Jivara!! (with all due respect to him, I'm only joking, so please no one takes it seriously).

7- I'm a little bit of a spacetoon (and all that's good and beautiful in our childhood) encyclopedia, want a name of a cartoon or a song you can't remember? I'm usually your best bet, after the second mother, google, of course!!

8- this week is so dead that if you want to see zombies come to our lectures any time in it, seriously we're so under a lot of exams, thank God and the doctors for postponing our tasks and assignments' due-date.

9- if I was a little more of an extrovert I might not have had to write most of these strange snippets about me in a freaking post!!!

And finally, on with the dream! (another thing you probably know by now, that I kinda take you around and under and left and right before I say what I want to say).

So, it was an assignment to some sort of subject (don't ask me which, since as far as I know, not a single thing in our curriculum will make me do what I'm about to do here, or at least, I hope so!!!), we made some type of fall-body suit that needed analysing (who am I kidding, it was the IronMan suit!!), and guess who was picked as a pilot? That's right! Yours truly!!

Anyway, good thing to bad, we had to make the prototype test in the middle of the (as I said above) the vast beast! Mr. Oceanus (I know that that is a Mr. Titan, but who am I, the lowly mortal, to deny his decision to appear in my paragraphs? And no, he didn't show up in the dream, thank God! [ours, not any of the others]),

So, I was put in the cruise, in the middle of the ocean, with the IronMan suit, and a seriously sick stomach, can you guess where we're going with this? (I'm actually kinda enjoying writing this since it reminds me of a certain mad superhero/not superhero who finally joined the XMen!, of course he joined a few years ago but I only watch the second movie circa a month ago) no? let me tell you, a bit of dizziness, seasickness, and an already rebellious stomach? Not a good combination, and remember that I really, really fear the ocean (just remembering the dream and the images in my head is traumatising, let alone living it vividly for a few hours), so, I fell, and strangely enough, I was a good swimmer (ah~ I really count my blessings here since no matter who or when someone taught me to swim, I still can't manage), I was able to stay close to the ship, but couldn't really pull myself up, so all I could do was keep a good hold on a rope tied around the ship and keep my legs in a calculated, slow what feels like a walking-in-place exercise,, (I can still feel the water around me, and the gentle waves of the ocean, it was both a calming feeling and a horrible one) and then...

Something touched the soles of my feet, and it kinda hurt, and it continued to move under me till something hit my toes, it was a shark fin, that's right, a shark choose me as his next meal, how honoured I was!!! Kidding i was kinda terrified, but all that YouTube survival videos came to mind, I left the rope of the ship and kinda dipped under water (triple scare, here, yikes!) and I... pushed.. his muzzle?

Yeah, so not really what they taught you in the videos, my polite nature rears its ugly head again (politeness is not as good as it seems, people! actually once a stray dog entered our home and jumped on the couch, and I was asking nicely and politely if "Mr. Dog would pretty please leave us be", and no, I wasn't scared but mom told me not to touch it, and it kinda was a cute, if a mangy mutt)

I didn't really want to punch the shark, even if my life kinda depended on it here, for a few reasons and actually at least one of them was pretty reasonable, which is, my punch is pretty weak, guys!!

Anyway, of course since its skin kinda scratched my feet there was blood, so it didn't leave me alone, two things I concluded here, first, Mr. Shark was either a lazy guy since he was coming to me slowly as if he either was a giant cat coming for pets no matter how many times you push her, or he was playing with his food, aka, me.

The second thing I discovered was that I was really sick in real life since my imagination couldn't conjure another family member of my guest here (again with the small mercies, can you imagine being alone around all these carnivores? And I bet not all of them will be moving so leisurely!!)

So, I finally decided to be the champ of my cruise and punch the thing in the face, so I pulled up all the power I can in my fist and punched him in his snout!!!

And let me tell you, it's not as easy is they make it sound, first, his nose is actually pretty hard, not the sensitive area they led us to believe, second, my hand really hurt and his skin scratched my knuckles, and I believe it kinda broke a bone in my hand, third, and worse, it actually enraged the mister so much that it left me, J-squared again and this time, flew! in my direction and I swear I still feel his teeth sinking in the shin of my right leg, but before he tore it apart, I actually did the right thing to defend myself, I (and I apologise, Mr. Dream shark, but you really hurt both my leg and my feelings!!) poked his eyes, which made for a very awkward stretch to my body, but finally, I was left alone!! With a mangled leg, of course, but hey!! It's not real life, so let's be glad.

The saltwater stinging my feet, still sick, and more dizzy from blood loss, you have no idea how glad was I that I was still near the ship, a little bit more than a meter but still floating, and then, the bad became worse, I actually goT SWALLOWED WHOLE BY A WHALE!!!!!!!!, YUP!! THE WHALE IN THE PICTURE!!!

And then god with his mercies again, it swallowed the ship but opened his mouth for me to leave, neat, ain't it?

But let me tell you what happened in a little more details, I felt a ripple in the water beneath and around me, and the ship started to sway, and a faint sound of something between a roar and strange song-like-sound, feeling the rumble under me was what made me look, and lo and behold!! The mighty animal wanted the meal that the shark didn't get, bye bye world!! Bye bye the suit that I still didn't to get to wear! And bye bye the report I needed to write for this freaking assignment that because of it I might fail and my friends will rail me when they see me!!

The ship and I couldn't help but enter the mouth of the humongous fish, the sounds of the wood, metal, glass and whatever is the cruise was made of was deafening, so loud and cruel, and I got a more than a few bruises and abrasions, and the feel of his teeth behind my back, sharp and huge and bigger than my own size, was something I don't know how to describe, and suddenly between all the breaking and suffocating water and absolute darkness, something caught my eyes, the slits in the helmet of the suit were lit, I'm sure it was a malfunction because of all the destruction on Mark, but it took all my fear, as if sucking it from my own eyes, and as sudden as it glowed, it vanished, but the calm remained, I closed my eyes, since it didn't matter, and just stopped everything, even trying to hold my breath, but not breathing as well, as if all body functions just... Stopped.

And then my eyes flew open again, not because I woke up, but because of an almost crushing change in the water pressure, it just pushed me forward more inside the huge mouth, and when I thought that this is it, I found the whale mouth moving further away from me, taking the ship and Mark with it, and leaving me alone, in the middle of the ocean that I wanted to say "c'mon!! If you ate me it'll be a win-win situation!!!!" but the second I opened my mouth water rushed inside that I tried swimming up to breath (even though not knowing which way is up was problematic, since something similar happened in real life before I wasn't worried, but that's a story for another time), breaking the surface was a godsend, I tell you! But my misery wasn't in any way over, I was so thirsty I actually wanted to drink salt water a again (and then death, oh wow, how smart?), and once the adrenaline deserted me, my leg returned to trying to kill me, and I don't know if it was a real thing if it happened in real life but it actually stopped bleeding, which was both fantastic, since it means that I won't die of bloodloss, and horrifying since I'm not going to die because of bloodloss, at least then I would have been able to calculate an approximate time for my death, but no, I have to wait and see what kills me next, I almost wished that I just had my previous stomachache and be done with.

Anyway, moving was not really an option, and staying was not either, and the breeze was making me so cold my teeth almost broke from all the shattering they were doing, I wasn't really sure when the others might decide to check on me, and I'm not really sure if I was still in the place they left me at, and I really didn't know what to do, I was so helpless, and cold, and thirsty, in so much pain and so so tired.

I cursed the whale again for not ending my misery, and cursed the shark for being a coward and not finishing what he started and cursing the assignment for being so impossible yet important, and most of all cursing myself, though I don't know why, but my self-loathing decided that now is the time to remember how horrible I am.

As physics does, the water raised me till I was floating on my back, which made me feel even more cold but I didn't have any energy to do anything about it, and strangely, I fell into some sort of doze, not asleep yet not really awake and aware, my whole body half above half into the water, though my right, injured leg, was bend in the knee into the water, which made my pained scream when something took hold of it in its mouth the more agonizing since it made my upper body enter the water, and the thing holding my leg left it alone, and I was able to right myself and look around me for the next threat, the fear was immense that I thought I might get a heartattack, which, admittedly would be better than the pain going to be inflicted upon me any second now, looking around finally led me to what attacked me, and for a moment, with my blurry, and fear filled eyes looked like Mr. Shark has indeed returned to finish what he started, he even returned to his play-with-my-food attitude, but when my eyes finally focused they detected differences, from the lighter shade of colors, to the more smooth curves of the fin and snout, and the gentle, warm (even if it looked sleepy) strange brown tone of the mammels eyes,

The dolphin was about two meters away, and looking at me with intense, twinkling eyes (if they were blue and he wore glasses, or at least marking that looks like it, I would have thought that the dolphin was Dumbledore' animagus and I really wouldn't have hesitated this time to punch his already crocked nose.. err.. snout [which it isn't, the dolphin's snout was perfect] with my broken hand!!) and moved slowly towards me, he pushed me gently with his nose in my abdomen, swam back a few inches, then entered the water and moved towards my leg, not touching it, but he was close enough to feel with my already almost destroyed sensitive nerves, he did all of that while I'm standing/floating, stupefied, hardly even breathing, and then he left, and pushed me again with his snout on my back, this time with more pressure that my body couldn't help but move to the dolphin's right side to let him pass, with my hand just above his back, when my hand touched his prominent back fin, he pushed my hip gently, as if telling me something, and pushed his fin into my hand again, it felt like rubber, and I couldn't help but ask "you want me to hold you?" he made a strange clicking noise then kinda slapped the water with his side fin in the other side of me, and bizarrely, his actions made me feel as if he was saying "are you stupid? Why else would I offer you my magnificent dorsal?!!" I stared, flummoxed, at the creature and couldn't help but throw my head back and laugh, I'm certain that it was the tension, fear and hysteria that made me do it, but for me, the whole situation was so hilarious that it seemed like it made Mr. Dolphin look at me and think "alright, the pathetic, hurt, star-shaped blemish is, indeed, stupid and needs help from my majesty" and then, using his right fin, slapped me non-too-gently on the side of my left hip, squeaking something as well and pushed his dorsal in my left hand again, but when he noticed my wince, he actually kinda rubbed his slippery appendage on my thigh while honest-to-god cooed at me that I couldn't help but smile at him, "it's okay, big guy, and thanks; you know, you kinda remind me of flipper!" and then I petted him a couple of times (which he purred at, I think I need a cat! 🤔🤔) then grabbed his fin in a tight but non constricting grip, my right hand was swollen by now so my only hope was to keep holding using my left hand, after shaking his body a little as if to check my hold, he dove with me into the water!! I almost screamed in fright but then he broke the surface and jumped about three meters high into the air!!!

Hello, there, adrenaline, didn't see you since a few!!

He dove again into the water and this time gradually moved towards the surface, with the water flowing into my hair and pushing me from my saviour, my left leg moved on its own violation and moved around the body as if I was riding a horse,

"WOOHOO!!", I shouted once we were in the air again, it was exhilarating; cold, but thrilling, though the warm body beneath me was perfect, he took me in a straight if slightly curvy line, and when I noticed that, I also noticed that his right fin was not moving as his left, I even thought he was injured for a second, but then a sharp sting in my leg and a slight jerk from him made me understand, my injured leg was beneath his wing-like appendage, and he was being considerate, as a solution, I flattened myself on his back, kept my left leg dangling as if in the horse saddle, my right one, as gently as possible, bend on the knee above the dolphin's back, my left hand gripping the top fin with it touching my shoulder, and my broken right hand above Mr. Flipper's cousin head, and then I came into a a sudden realization!! "does that mean I'm Lopaka????" I asked Flipper the second, and he made a sound suspiciously almost like a snort, but my change of position made him move in a much more pronounced straight line; the speed decreased as I started to doze again, as if he was worried about dislodging me, though the annoying feeling of the salt crusting on my skin woke me up, no idea how much time had past, except that the sun was on either the verge of descending or rising, and finally, finally, I saw land and buildings and what not from afar, and I certainly moved to another continent all together, let alone another country, after reaching the area where I could stand comfortably on the ground beneath the water, people started to come to see what was happening, I ignored them for the sake of my silent companion, suddenly he actually stood on his tail fin, and kinda sort of awkwardly leaned on me without trying to put too much pressure, I didn't understand what was happening though it seemed sorta like a hug?

Anyway, I pat his back again, (and again with the weird purring noise), when he released me I felt buzzing in the back pocket of my jeans, I actually still have my phone!!!

Pulling it out and snorting that after everything that happened my phone was still working!! all I could say is "well, it seems like the time of a picture, Mr. Flipper, sir!" and after an awkward kneeling so I could put my injured arm around him and trying to stretch my bloody leg (both meanings are accurate here, tbh) so it wouldn't interfere with the selfie, I positioned my left hand.

And the last thing I remember is the picture of my (Lopaka the second 😂) wide mouth grin and an equally wonderful grin from Mr. Flipper the second!!!

The End.

It really was a dream I had, with all these details, the only thing that's not entirely true about this post, is saying that this is the weirdest dream I had.

[darknessisafriend]

Beyond memory Part 3

Part 1, part 2

Enjoy !  (I found this picture he’s so beautiful on that one !!)

You were glad that the hospital had provided you some fresh clothes for you to go home. Although they were a bit itchy, it will do until you arrive home where you will be able to wear your own clothes. You looked at your face in the mirror, you had a band-aid on the side, they had told you that you had stiches to take off in a few weeks, you had a few cuts and bruises on your temple and left cheek but nothing that should mark you forever. What a shame they had cut a part of your hair to treat the wound, you though. You suddenly jumped at the sound of someone knocking at your door it was probably Joe.

“Come in!” you invited, smiling, quickly fixing your hair before turning to face him. However, your smile faded, you didn´t expect to see Joe in such a poor state, his hair were disheveled, he was wearing a long sweatshirt, he had bags under his eyes, he briefly made eye contact with you and you noticed how exhausted he looked.  

“Joe are you alright?” you asked him with a worried frown, he nodded avoiding your gaze; something had happened to him since yesterday but could have possibly make a big man like him look so miserable?

“C´mon let´s bring you home.” he said with a raspy voice, briefly touching your shoulder to get you moving, you didn’t ask him again as he didn’t seem to want to talk.

The ride was silent, Joe didn´t speak a word, you were upset and continued to wonder what had happened to him overnight; he had seemed quite well yesterday. You hoped you weren’t the cause of his poor state. You finally arrived at your house, it was small, and covered in white wood plank, there was even some flowers growing on the grass; you thought it was a funny sight, a big guy like Joe in such a cute little house. Then, he led you to the entrance, you were excited to see if the inside of the house was similar to the outside.

“Alright, welcome home” he declared trying to make it sound joyful but you heard the sigh in his tone, he sounded terribly tired.

You walked around, exploring the place, it was a really nice little house, with a small but practical kitchen made of wooden furniture; then you stepped into the living room which was full of light, there was a sofa full of pillows and tartan rugs, it looked very comfy. Your eyes noticed pictures hanging on the wall behind, you approached to look at them, it was photos of you and Joe.  

“You always loved to take pictures of us.” he said as he came come to stand next to you; he scratched his head then, he lifted his arm and pointed at the first photo; you had an arm passed around his shoulders, your head against his, Joe had a big smile on his face, his eyes were shinning with happiness.  

“That´s the day where you officially accepted to be my girlfriend, you were so excited that you took a photo and send it to your parents.” he described with a nostalgic smile, you laughed in return, it was totally you to do this.

The second photo was the two of you kissing, in bed apparently. You blushed; it was such a strange feeling to see yourself in intimate moment with someone but not remembering them...still, you both looked so cute and in love.

“That’s huh...it was on my birthday, probably my favorite picture.” he explained with a lump in his throat, his eyes were wet, starting to fill with emotion “you had gotten up early without me noticing...and you had brought me breakfast in bed, I think we stayed in there the whole day” he sadly chuckled, you gave him a sympathetic smile, you wished you could make him feel better. Then, your eyes landed on the third photo and it broke your heart.

“Our wedding I presume” you murmured, you both looked so happy on that day, staring lovingly in each other's eyes, while holding hands. You had a gorgeous dress with a veil made of lace and he wore a very chic three-piece suit, you both looked so beautiful. Marrying had always been one of your dearest wishes, you tried to imagine how that day went, the excitement in the morning and a bit nervousness, and then walking to him, nervously waiting with the priest, your family moved by your happy smile, then the dancing after the ceremony and the wedding night...

“Yeah” the reply of Joe was barely audible, the more he went through the photos, the more it hurt him, you wished you could put an end to his suffering, remember and happily carry on with your life where you left it. You continued to go through the photos on the wall and each time, it became harder for Joe to speak and harder for you to respond.

“Yeah that’s it, you have more photos in your laptop if you wish to see more. I wrote your password on a paper next to it.” he told you still avoiding your gaze as if the sight of you itself was unbearable; and you didn’t hold it against him.

“Thanks Joe” you mumbled with guilt. He sighed looking at the stairs leading to the bedroom, he had one more thing to do; yesterday under the stress, he didn’t take all the clothes he needed for his stay at the hotel.

“Alright, the house is all yours. I have to finish packing up my stuff and I’ll leave.” he gulped as he started to walk away from you. You nodded and watched him as he headed upstairs, his eyes looking at his feet, his back bent. But frankly you didn’t what else you could do for him; it wasn’t easy for you either. You went to the kitchen; you were hungry and you were glad that you didn’t have to eat the food the hospital anymore. You opened the fridge but there wasn’t much left, you’ll have to go grocery shopping soon; so, you opened the cupboards and smiled as you found something to your taste, a peanut butter sandwich will be perfect.  

After making it, while biting into it you walked around the house, looking at the different items, your coats, shoes, then you decided to head upstairs. Joe had told you there was your room, a bathroom and another room which you used sometimes to work and as a personal library. You could go in the study while he was in the bedroom. However, as you climbed the stairs, you stopped as you thought you heard something unfamiliar. You listened closely trying to determine what it was; until you recognized the sound of muffled cries, was Joe crying? Of course, it was him, nobody else was there. You could have ignored it and leave him time to recover but you felt like you couldn’t leave him like this, remembering him or not, he was your husband, suffering because of your memory loss. When you arrived upstairs, you noticed that the door wasn’t fully closed, so slowly, you pushed the door open.

“Joe...” you softly called, but he didn’t answer, instead his cries became louder at the sound of your voice. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, he was panting as if he couldn’t breathe, he was struggling to take his shirt off, he felt constricted, he felt crushed by everything around him; you realized he was having a panic attack, how could you be so stupid and believe he wouldn’t mind going away from his own home because his wife didn’t recognize him?! How could you be so selfish! To make things worse, you noticed the many scars he had on his body, where are they from? Some of them were so big that he must have went under terrible pain; then you saw the fresh cuts on his forearm and these were unmistakable, he had mutilated himself last night and that’s why he didn’t look well this morning.

This made you realize how of a broken man he was, what did he went through to end like this? You had assumed so many wrong things about him and now you were regretting it. No, you couldn’t leave him like this, he needed your help and that was the least you could do. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands in yours, your thumb soothingly stroking his palm.

“Joe, look at me.” you tried, but he didn´t hear you so you spoke again those words louder and with conviction which made him react and pushed him out of his thoughts. His eyes were pleading you not to hurt him further, but this time you will do everything to make him feel better.

“Joe, I need you to breathe with me, okay?” you told him clearly so he would keep listening to you; he nodded, a tear running down his face.  

“Alright breathe in and out.” you instructed “That´s right, keep looking into my eyes” you encouraged him with a smile, as minutes passed, you progressively slowed down your breathing rhythm, and it worked he followed your rhythm, and as you managed to stop his panic attack your hands didn´t leave him, you kept looking at each other and it felt like you didn't even need to speak to understand the other. Then, you leaned forward putting your arms around his neck in a tight hug, he reciprocated the gesture, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Please, don´t hurt yourself Joe, I´m sorry” you murmured against his ear, caressing his hair. You stayed in his embrace for several minutes, you realized how nice it felt, you could feel his love and devotion to you and it seemed that you had formed a strong with him before the accident. And you had dared to ask him to leave you.

“You don´t have to leave just yet, you can stay a bit more with me. Let´s have dinner together, if you’d like?” you offered and you saw hope in his eyes and relief not be thrown out just yet.

You help him to put his shirt back on afterwards and led him to sit in the kitchen, you didn’t want him to leave your side in case he tried something worse. You felt so responsible for his state that you felt the need to protect him and care for him until he got better. You made him a warm cup of milk with honey, it something your grandma always gave you when you were upset, so it should work with him too. As he drank his milk, you prepared a quick and filling dinner, nothing like good food to brighten your day! The meal was mostly silent, apart from Joe looking at you from times to time and telling how good the food tasted; you had smiled flattered by his compliment and happy that you were helping him, at least a bit.

“Thank you for dinner, I´ll better be going to the hotel now” he declared with very little conviction after dinner, he didn´t want to leave, not after this nice moment you had spent together. Actually, you didn’t feel like staying alone tonight either, the both of you needed a presence, some comfort.

“Joe, wait! I think you can stay here; I mean I want you to stay.” you blurted out, his brows furrowed, he looked at you with confusion, were you truly changing your mind?

“I feel better with you now, so...maybe you could sleep on the sofa?” you felt a bit embarrassed to say it like this but Joe´s face instantly relaxed and had tenderness in his eyes.

“That would be great.” he replied softly. The sofa was quite comfortable and even if you had offered him to sleep on the floor he would have accepted, it felt like progress to him, maybe he could make fall in love with him again! So, he hurried back at the hotel to pick-up his belongings, and he felt determined to win you back.

When he entered the house once again, he saw you prepare the couch for him, adding a cover, and arranging the pillows; that was such a nice attention from you and he craved to hold you again and kiss your face for this.

“I hope you won´t feel cold” you worried, you wished you had more to offer him.

“Don´t worry about it, it´s perfect. Thank you Y/N.” replied Joe moved by your behavior; it felt good to be noticed and cared for.

“Alright then...goodnight Joe” you wished him with a shy smile, he felt hypnotized, so much that he didn´t even answered you. And as he went to bed, Joe was smiling, this day had gone a lot better than he had ever expected. And Joe had never slept so well since the accident.  

You got more comfortable around him as each day passed, his presence was soothing. You even started to kiss him goodnight on the cheek; for you it might seem a small gesture but for Joe it meant the world. You were no longer running away from his touch and showed him that you appreciated his presence, and it only gave him more hope to win you back.

Every morning you found Joe already awake and preparing your breakfast, he knew what was your favorite food in the morning and that was so sweet, you were starting to understand why you had fell for a man like him. He was truly caring and he also looked like a big fluffy teddy bear, especially as you watched him prepare breakfast, his hair were untied, he was wearing a large sweatpants and hoodie, he actually looked so warm and comfy that you imagined yourself in his arms. You only realized you had gone daydreaming about this when he turned his head and met your eyes. You instantly felt blush creep on your cheeks, he had caught you.

“See something you like?” he teased you amused and pleased. You opened and closed your mouth several times, you had never expected him to flirt with you, not that you complained.

“Yes?” you replied embarrassed, you didn´t know what else to answer, a small smirk formed on his lips and didn´t leave his face as he brought you your plate and sat down next to you. You lowered your eyes and focused on your meal, you face was burning which you thought was stupid, like he was supposed to be your husband and you were getting flustered like a schoolgirl. Joe stayed silent, enjoying watching you eat the food he had prepared for you, it almost felt normal, as if nothing had happened, he felt so close to bring you back and yet there were so many things ahead before reaching the state of the relationship you had before; and he needed to it to continue living like the oxygen to breathe.

“Y/N I was wondering something.” he started, his voice lower than he wanted to, you lifted your head and met his eyes.

“Hmmm? What is it?” you asked genuinely clueless about what he wanted to talk about. He suddenly seemed nervous; his heart was beating fast, he never thought he would have to go through that again.

“Now that we are in better terms. I was thinking that maybe we could try to do something together.” he finally declared, gosh his heart was racing, what if he had scared you again?

“Like a date?” you lifted your eyebrows, to be honest you were a bit surprised, of course you were appreciating his company now and let’s face it you loved looking at him and he was surely eager to have you back as his wife. But it still felt like you didn’t know him enough...  

“Yeah dating.” he hoped he didn’t make you feel forced, but he didn't see why you wouldn’t fall in love with again, he had just caught you dreamingly staring at him; all of these were positive indicators!  You thought for a bit as he looked at you waiting for an answer; yeah, maybe a date could help you to know him better, it would be the only way to make your situation evolve.

“Alright I’ll go on a date with you Joe.” you formerly answered with a soft smile, the moment felt very romantic and intimate. To your great pleasure you saw relief Joe’s face and a happy smiled formed on his lips as his eyes filled with affection.

Tag list: @skaravile​ @lyoongx​ @weirdflecksbutok​ @stardancerluv​ @niniita-ah @thedamchii​ @arthurismybby​ @radio-hoo-ha​ @ninathefandomcollector​ @kiddastle @lovesickforjoaqvin for some reason I can’t tag some blogs sorry :(

[just-a-lil-bit-psycho]

Whump Prompt #2: Lye

��          K, so everybody know about good ol’ Mr. Salt and what he did to open wounds, right? And his companion, Lady Alcohol? But y’know what other underappreciated whump material? NaOh!

           Right, first, lemme talk about NaOh. So, Sodium Hidroxide, a.k.a lye and caustic soda, is this white, almost transluscent thingies that comes in (mostly) flakes about as big as your pinkie nail. Just like its name suggested, this material is highly caustic, meaning you’ll get a serious itch if it touches your skin.

           Of course, lye is harder to get than salt, but if you wanna write a whump with, say, indefinite supplies and creativity, I actually recommend this more than salt. Why? Well, simple, because these lil fuckers do more damage than salt (if you want multiple damages in one strike only). I know this first-handedly because I used this for an experiment a while back, and I get to observe some of its characteristic. Like:

·         When it mixes with water, lye produces heat. For my experiment, I had to mix about three to four tbsp of lye with half a syrup bottle of water, and the water became so hot to the point where I can use it to warm another bowl of water by simply dumping the bottle to the bowl. It didn’t boil, but the bottle felt hot enough I can’t touch it with my bare hands.

·         As I said before, when it comes in contact with skin, it causes this horrible itchy sensation that immediately made me want to scratch and wash my hand. It didn’t immediately itched. At first it felt kind of warm, but then it sucked your body heat, and it started to melt, and that’s when the itch began. Here’s the annoying part. It produces heat when it’s mixed with water unless it’s running water and you only got a small amount of it (like a piece or two). But it’s basic, and it gets all soapy when you wash it, which only make it harder to wash it off your skin.

·         When it meets open wounds, this shit stings more than salt. Actually, the sensations are quite different—if I had to compare it, salt kinda feels like a knife is slicing open your not-yet-healed wound, and lye feels like hot needles are poking it—but accompanied with the already unbearable itch, it feels worse.

 So yeah, imagine your whumper adding a generous amount of lye to a bucket of water, and then just dumping it to the whumpee’s scarred, messed, and bloody back. Imagine the whumpee’s screams as the hot water touches their hypersensitive back. Just as they let out a shaky breath, thinking it’s just hot water, they can endure it, the lye stings their raw wounds like a thousand needle, and wherever the skin is bare from scars, it itched so much the whumpee wanted to claw off their skin to make it stop. But of course they can’t, because whump is never enough without chains and restrains:D

[goblinswamps]

the longing woman’s curse

The longing woman’s curse, they called it. “Watch not the ocean with longing in your heart, for she will respond in kind, and her call cannot be ignored,” Grandmama told you, stern and sincere, but when you told your mother she ruffled your short hair and said, fondly, “Don’t listen to her folk tales, baby. She likes to scare you. She did the same to me, when I was your age.”

“Did you watch the ocean?” you asked, and she shifted in place.

“It didn’t appeal to me anyway,” she said, and changed the subject.

You watched the ocean, straying there more and more as things worsened at home. Your father liked to hurt, liked to control, and your mother was just too frightened to even acknowledge her husband’s ways. She didn’t stop him hurting and controlling, and home was not somewhere safe.

You watched the ocean. The waves ushering each other closer to the shore, whispering against the pebbles and sand of the cove by your home. Sometimes, crashing against them as though the ocean herself was enraged, trying to fight back against the people who hurt and polluted her. You felt a kinship, there. If you could have crashed like the waves against your father, you would have.

Watch not the ocean with longing in your heart, Grandmama told you, but you could not stop. The ocean understood you in ways your family could not, and Grandmama was too sick to live with you all now. Her home was miles and miles away, two hours by bus, and you had not the money or the time to visit. You were alone, but for the ocean.

You sat, submerged to the waist, and watched the horizon. “Why don’t you respond?” you asked, pressing a hand to the sand beneath you, but the ocean didn’t answer.

What you didn’t know is that the ocean, old as the world itself, does not move quickly. She does not hurry herself for anyone, and her responses are impossible to discern until it is too late. You did not know what the longing woman’s curse was, and yet you invited it with all your heart.

The ocean heard, as she had been hearing for the years you told her your heart, and her response began to come.

It was barely something you could notice, at first; you thought perhaps you had a cold, some kind of infection. Your breath rasped through your lungs, sending you into bouts of hacking coughs. It got worse and worse until you felt like you were drowning on air, every drag of it into your system scraping against your throat. Your parents didn't have much money, but they took you to the doctor, and he had no idea what was wrong.

“This is like nothing I have ever seen before,” he said, frowning. “You need to see a specialist.”

You didn't have the money for a specialist. Your parents took you home, and you wondered if you were dying. The skin on the sides of your neck was itchy and raw all the time, no matter what you tried to soothe it, and after a few months the skin all over your body felt stretched tight, as though it was too small for your body. You gained a little weight in your abdomen and lost a little in your chest and thighs, but the fluctuation did not make the tightness understandable. It wasn't enough to feel like this.

The first time you threw up your dinner moments after eating it, you sat with your head in the toilet bowl and sobbed for hours. Your father, unsure of how to treat you now that you were too fragile to bear his fists, gave you a wide berth, and your mother's touches were fleeting, worried but more frightened of your sickness than yearning to comfort you. You felt completely alone, but this time there was no better future in sight. You were going to die, alone, and you didn't even know why.

You started eating less, finding that fish and vegetables stayed down easier than carbohydrates and meats, but found that your weight maintained itself despite this, which was a relief. You spent more time by the sea, nestled in the sand, watching the ocean and wishing that things were different.

It had been months since you first became sick. Your hair was greasy, your skin dry, your stomach empty. Your heart hollow. You perched on the edge of a rock pool and watched the seaweed wave in the faintest trace of a current, the sand shifting in ripples. A crab made its careful way from one rock to another across the pool, and before you knew it your hand was around its hard little body, clutching tight. It pinched you, drawing blood, but it barely even hurt – your teeth were already cracking through its shell by the time you registered the pain. You didn't think, just kept crunching, feeling the shards cut the roof of your mouth. You finished eating, swallowed, and suddenly realised what you had done; it made your stomach lurch with fear and horror, and you hunched forwards to retch into the sand.

The longing woman's curse, you thought, Grandmama's warning in your head. Shit.

In the middle of the night, you took all the money you could find in the house and took a bus to your Grandmama's care home. You arrived in the early hours, long before visiting was allowed, and waited on the front step for hours until the sun peeked over the horizon and a startled nurse found you sat there, still as a stone. The nurse led you inside and brought your Grandmama to you; you knew she had always been an early riser, so the fact that she was already awake was not a surprise.

“Grandmama,” you said, croaking, and she came across the room to take your hands in hers, her soft, wrinkled skin brushing against the sandpaper of your palms.

“Oh, child,” she said, tears in her eyes, “You didn't listen, did you?”

“She's coming for me, isn't she?” you asked. Grandmama shook her head, touching your face with her trembling hands. Her eyes were full of sadness deeper than you had ever seen.

“She has already come,” Grandmama said softly. “She has already taken you, sweet child. You are already hers.”

“It hurts,” you whispered, pressing your cheeks against her palms. “Oh, Grandmama. It hurts so much.”

“You must go to her, my darling,” Grandmama said. “You called for her, and she always listens. You must finish what you have started.”

“I'm scared,” you said, feeling salty tears roll down your cheeks.  She wiped them away.

“If she has come for you, that means you have loved her,” Grandmama said. “She will only come if you have loved her, and she has loved you in return. The ocean is the mother of the Earth, and the mother of all of us, and she is taking you to be one of her children. Once you have gone it won't hurt anymore, I promise. But you can never come back.”

“I'll never see you again?”

Grandmama smiled.

“Perhaps someday,” she said. “But it will be a long, long time. You don't have long left, my child. You must go to her before the longing kills you.”

She kissed you, not minding the roughness of your skin. You blinked without blinking, and Grandmama stroked your human eyelids with her thumbs. “Oh, my darling, you are barely still human,” she told you. “Look at your sharp little teeth, your bright eyes, your smooth-rough skin. Your neck...” She touched where it was red and raw and you flinched back with a hiss, and she hummed. “The air is killing you. I will always love you, my angel, my little star. Go home.”

You did. The ocean cradled you like a mother's arms; you sat in her embrace and it soothed the itching of your tight skin, the dry scratch of air in your bruised throat. “You responded,” you murmured to her. “I called for you, and you really came.” The waves brushed against your collarbones, whispering their unspoken song. A tear rolled down your cheek to join her. “Thank you,” you said, spreading your fingers underneath the surface and feeling her rush between them, holding you tenderly.

Go home, said your Grandmama's voice. You sank underneath the water.

Many years later, you found yourself drawn back to that little cove, having travelled the whole ocean and realised that it was where you were meant to be all along. Never before had you come back - there was nothing here for you – but when the ocean called, you followed. She had never steered you wrong before, your oceanmother, and you trusted that she was calling you there for a purpose.

When you breached, the waters clinging to you like a second skin, you spotted a figure at the edge of the waves, hunched and small. It was one that you would recognise anywhere in a heartbeat.

“Grandmama!” you called out, feeling your heart leap, and dived towards her, the water speeding you along, feeling your excitement. She looked up, the lines in her face even deeper than when you last saw her, the last wisps of white hair barely clinging to her scalp, and smiled.

“My child,” she said, once again placing her wrinkled hands against your cheeks. “Oh, how you suit her.”

“Grandmama, why are you here?” you asked. “I've dreamed of this moment for so long!”

“I have come here to die,” Grandmama said simply. “I have lived long enough on the land. I am tired.”

Your throat tightened. “Grandmama,” you said, but found yourself unable to continue. “Grandmama.”

“It's alright,” Grandmama said gently. “I have lived for just as long as I was meant to. You know,” she said, looking out at the horizon, “I heard her call myself, when I was young. I ignored her. I had met your grandfather, and fallen in love with him, and I decided that I would not stare at the waves lest they took me from him. I never regretted that.” She looked directly at you, fond. “But I always did wonder what it might have been like, if I had called back. If she had come, and I had gone.”

“It's wonderful, Grandmama,” you said, voice thick with tears. “You would love it.”

“Ah, it is too late now,” Grandmama said. “I have chosen my life, and lived it, and been happy. If I had gone to the ocean, you would never have been born, and I can never regret you. All I want is for you to let her have my final breath, and then you must take me to the most beautiful place you have ever seen and lay me there to rest. My bones will be where I never went, and the ocean will have me, as I think she was always meant to.”

“No,” you said. “This is not the end. Grandmama, there is so much for you to see. Underwater caverns and vents and fish with the most beautiful colours you've ever seen, shipwrecks resting at the very bottom of the ocean.”

“I have run out of time,” Grandmama said, tone soothing, but you shook your head.

“The ocean will not let one of her children die,” you said firmly. “Even if you strayed from her. It's time, Grandmama. It's time to answer the call.”

You leaned forwards and pressed your lips against her forehead, pulling her as you did so so that she fell forwards into the water, your body supporting hers. You closed your eyes, and sensed that she had done the same. “It's time, Grandmama,” you said again, pressing your foreheads against each other, and when you opened your eyes hers were bright with ocean magic.

[irwintry]

How to Attract a Sea Bear

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: 1. Play the clarinet badly 2. Wave a flashlight back and forth really fast (flashlights are their natural prey) 3. Stomp on the ground (they take it as a challenge) 4. Eat cubed cheese – sliced is safe 5. Wear a sombrero in a goofy fashion 6. Wear clown shoes 7. Wear a hoop skirt 8. Screech like a chimpanzee 9. Run (makes them attack again) 10. Limp (worse than running) 11. Crawl (worse than limping)

Word Count: 6k

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever, So I think I'll be six now forever and ever.”

― A.A. Milne, Now We Are Six

-

Up until Luke, there were two types of people in the world. Those who were family (the ones who had to love you unconditionally no matter how many walls you scribbled Patrick Star on) and those who were your classmates. Close friends weren’t in the picture yet. Though public school had been going on for nearly two years now, you were perfectly content with keeping to yourself in the back of the classroom. A sheet of paper and a crayon were enough to keep you happy.

And then, Luke Hemmings had to come and ruin it all.

It was his first day of school after moving to town, and he decided to waltz right up to you and compliment your drawing of the Krusty Krab. If you had kept your mouth shut, you weren’t sure what would have happened. Maybe he would have kept bothering you. But instead, you said “thank you”, and he sat down right at your table while you went on about his funny accent. The other kids stared, of course. You never talked to anyone! Not even the teacher.

When you asked your parents if you could have Luke over for a playdate, they nearly cried. You took the time to introduce him to all of your toys, and he listened. And he was willing to play with them! No one could believe it. Of all of the people on the earth to become your first best friend, they were thrilled to know that it was the nicest one possible.

Slumber parties were common, mostly so the two of you could watch cartoons together the next morning with Eggo waffles or Lucky Charms. Couches became forts while your parents tried their best not to think of the future potential the friendship could have. It was hard not to hope for their child to love someone as wonderful as Luke was to you.

First years became second years, then third to fourth, and nothing changed between the two of you. You couldn’t imagine it ever changing. Not at all.

-

“He was thirteen that year, the age when children splinter off and abandon the old loves.” ― Mark Costello

-

“If you don’t change the channel, I’ll sit on your face and suffocate you.”

“Thank god you said you’d kill me, otherwise that doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”

Luke had been in this situation with you a million times. Your place or his– he was used to constant back-and-forth banter. If there was no banter, then the two of you were most likely not together. The friendship of crude humor and gross farts had only just entered teendom, though Luke couldn’t imagine a thing would change. He knew you didn’t have cooties, and vice versa (he hoped). It didn’t matter. The seven-years-in-the-making friendship meant more than the jokes of scrawny preteens.

“I give you four seconds,” he said.

“Why four?”

“Three... two...”

“That’s a dumb– “

“One!” Luke pounced on you, his arms darting to taser your sides as you screamed and squirmed. Meanwhile, the two capri-suns had fallen to the hardwood with a small splat. “Stop screeching like a damn chimp,” he hissed, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Sea bears don’t like that.”

“Don’t– “ You gasped for air, and finally, you were able to kick him off of you. The remote had dropped down to the floor beside the leaking drink pouches. “Don’t care. I’ll screech like a damn chimp if I wanna.”

“Your mum’s gonna hate that you swore.”

“Your mum is gonna hate that you swore.” You glanced down to the fallen heroes beside you. “You owe me a new Roarin’ Waters.”

“Only if you put on Spongebob.”

“Fine.”

Things were as simple as that. Luke never had to worry about upsetting you, nor you with him, and it all narrowed down to the similar personalities that had developed throughout the past three years. If Luke didn’t have you, he wouldn’t know who he would be.

He had a premonition– a hopeful tug at his heart when he thought what was to come between the two of you. Maybe it had been this way all along. Every side glance or puckered expression made sense in his mind. The humor the two of you shared was unlike any other, and he simply couldn’t fathom the possibility that someone else out there would one day share it with you as well. Luke had never considered himself a jealous person until the few times at your locker or during lunch when he wasn’t the only one in your world.

How could he have let himself get this attached to someone? It would take him years to know.

-

“Did I think he was “the one?” I’ll never know. At sixteen, everyone is “the one.”

― K.A. Tucker, Ten Tiny Breaths

-

It was a rare occurrence for you to keep a secret from Luke. You told him about your celebrity crushes and your desire to write fanfiction (there were minor judgments on his part). You told him about the darker sides to your parents’ divorce, and you always opened up to him about whatever insecurity was going through your mind. However, when your friend Hailey asked you who you though the hottest guy in school was, you knew you would never be able to let him know that you had said his name.

It was the age of formals and sappy first dates, though you still felt too young to understand the complexity of relationships. While everyone else was exploring new ways to make-out, you were too busy trying to get comfortable with yourself. Tight jeans, flannel shirts, and skater shoes were the keys to unlocking the ultimate prize when it came to high school. And Luke, well, the ultimate prize had won him.

You became the way to his heart. In order to get to him, everyone had to get through you. At first, being the gatekeeper didn’t seem all that bad. You controlled who was worthy. If they had done a few sketchy things within the past year, then Luke – through your words – just so happened to not have feelings for them.

As the year went on, more people were turned away, and things became, well, weird. Truth be told, every single person who went to you to seek out Luke was told he, unfortunately, was not interested in them, even if it wasn’t true. You were speaking through jealousy, not facts, and you never figured he would catch on.

So, when he did, naturally, it blew up in your face.

“Did you actually tell Marissa McKee that I didn’t like her?”

The walk home had been silent for quite some time. You could tell his outburst had been building ever since school let out.

“Like, what the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You huffed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your fluffy sweatshirt. “H-how was I supposed t’know that you liked her?”

Luke chuckled dryly. “Jesus. I told you two weeks ago! You’re supposed to know because we’re best friends. Best friends know that shit. Best friends don’t tell the person their friend likes that they don’t like them back.”

“’m sorry.”

“How could you not know?” he continued. “Like– Jesus.”

You couldn’t figure out what else to say, and neither could Luke. The two of you parted ways a moment later once you turned on his block, and then it was only another neighborhood over in order to get to your place.

It wasn’t rocket science, but you couldn’t figure it out at the time. All you knew was that it possibly had something to do with calling him the hottest guy in school, but you left it at that.

-

“I wish," he said, "I had known at eighteen what I know now - that there are some things on which one does not compromise.”

― Mary Balogh, Simply Perfect

-

“Don’t eat that,” Luke said, voice rushed as his hand jumped to grasp yours. He had a point about his itchy sweater; the red, wool material scratched your skin, albeit barely grazing it. “Do you want to attract a sea bear? ‘m not a big fan of having to clean up blood from my mum’s carpets.”

You tried to keep a straight face as you lifted the cubed cheese off of the tray despite Luke’s request. “The final touch,” you mumbled and set a bland cracker just under the Swiss cube.

His eyes widened. “You’re a dumbass. A real, lactose-intolerant dumbass.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a smirk. But the cubed cheese wasn’t as good as you were hoping it would be.

The Hemmings Christmas parties carved the path for your favorite time of year. Somehow, the snow knew when to fall as ugly sweaters gathered in the living room you used to watch Teen Titans in. Cocktails and hors-d'oeuvres were served on platters, and children danced around legs longer than their own height. And the decorations... sometimes, you had no words. Everything had a place, and everything had a purpose.

This year, your nerves were on high alert. In years past, you and Luke would spend the majority of the night by each other’s side, making snide comments or talking “grown up” with other adults. His girlfriend came into the picture months ago. Nevertheless, she was invited, and she was late. You didn’t know what to do once she got here.

Luke’s nerves were also on high alert. It was the first time Lara was meeting his family, and her lack of punctuality was already not making a great impression. The funny part of it all was the fact that cared more about your impression overall. He needed your approval, whether he wanted to believe it or not. You were the only person who knew him better than he did.

The air stiffened when Lara walked in. Luke didn’t know why he noticed it, but he had, and maybe it was because he knew you better than you knew yourself as well. He could sense every dropped composure or change in expression. He convinced himself it was the twelve years of friendship that caused him to read you so intently. But he couldn’t let all of this bother him.

He hardly saw you throughout the next few hours of the night. And then, it was charades time.

“Ready to have your ass kicked for the fifth year in a row, Lukey?” you said with a smile so sweet it could melt anyone with eyes into a sugary puddle.

Luke shrugged, and his shoulders itched with the movement of his sweater. “Can you even reach my ass?”

“I have my secrets.” You plopped down into the chair across from him and began scribbling down ideas onto tiny slips of paper.

“A secret to reaching my ass? That sounds– “

“Hey, shut it,” said Liz, but she had cracked a smile. “Let’s get on with the game.”

You prided yourself in being the ultimate charades actor. Luke, on the other hand, could hardly figure out how to act out Ghostbusters. But, like you had a secret to reaching his ass, he had a secret to stumping you and your team. It was a miracle it even worked.

“Shit,” you muttered, reading the slip of paper in between your small fingers. Your eyes met his and immediately hardened into a glare. “Die.”

Luke burst into a small fit of laughter, and he hardly felt Lara’s grip on his hand loosen as he focused all of his attention onto you. With a sigh, you held up six fingers.

“Six words,” said his uncle. “Shit, really?”

You rolled your eyes before bringing your hands in front of you to begin acting. You tried your best to look as though you were playing clarinet, though a few other instruments had been shouted out as you kept going. A moment later, you were stomping and holding up the tray of cubed cheese while pounding on your chest like a damn chimp. Luke made sure he took a mental picture of this. He could never forget this moment.

“Time’s up,” Liz yelled through the loud chatter. “What the actual hell was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at your blond best friend and spat, “how to attract a fucking sea bear,” before running over to his spot on the couch to tackle him. His chest hurt from the laughter booming from his lungs, and he could hardly feel his face aside from the occasional burning of his cheeks.

Someone mumbled “that’s seven words”, but neither of you could hear as he attempted to push you off of him. Luke’s senses were overwhelmed. The loud laughing and shouting of the small yet crowded room, plus you being practically on top of his lap at the same time, were sending his brain into some euphoric state.

And somehow, he knew it would all come crashing down.

Lara took him aside moments later. “If you want to keep me around– “

Luke didn’t like where this was going.

“–you will keep your hands off of Y/N.”

Luke didn’t know how to say no.

-

“Everyone, at nineteen, is dumb and beautiful in equal parts...”

― Raphael Kadushin

-

need iced coffee rn

wanna come?

Luke had his comforter pushed up to his nose. Being home for the holidays meant feet dangling off of childhood beds, his mother’s infamous casseroles, and best of all, plenty of time to spend with you. He rubbed his tired eyes before slowly sitting up to answer your text.

You buying?

He replied and sighed, rubbing his neck and pushing his weight out of the twin-sized bed. The small murmur of chatter from the kitchen filled his ears, and if he was honest, he didn’t want to join the conversation. All Luke wanted was a long drive with you.

like hell

i’m drivin bitch

gimme gas $$

Luke chuckled at your response as he dug through his bottom drawer for a thin sweatshirt.

Fine I’m in

The next few minutes were filled with wandering around the small (and quite dirty) confines of his carpeted bedroom and humming along to whatever song popped into his sleepy brain. Your car was in the driveway before he realized, and soon, the familiar obnoxious honking bounced around the four walls.

“Luke, tell Y/N to shut the hell up!” shouted Liz from the kitchen, but it was all fun.

He let out another laugh before rushing into the living room and out of the house with a squeaky “g’bye”. You continued honking even when he clambered into the passenger seat, and a part of him wanted to let you keep going. You were smiling so damn big.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, hitting your hand away from the steering wheel. “Liz was seconds away from beating you up.”

“Tell her I want that,” you replied before pressing resume on whatever song had been playing on your phone. “If Liz can take me in a fight, then I don’t need goals. Like, I’m set for life after that.”

“Oh, but fighting me is just second nature?”

You shrugged as you began backing out of the driveway. “Yeah, I mean, you’re weak, so...”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish ya could.”

“I– “ Luke didn’t have a comeback, so he cut himself off.

You gasped. “Does that mean you actually want to fuck me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his voice jumping up to a much higher octave (which usually occurred whenever he had to defend himself... it was either that, or he was lying).

You giggled, like you usually did when pressing his buttons, and then turned the music up.

Luke hadn’t thought much about sex without anyone else since breaking things off with Lara many months ago. It was tragic but true. No one consumed his mind; he hardly had the time to focus on fancying anyone. He knew how to satisfy himself enough, though Luke couldn’t help but wonder if he was broken. The thought only overwhelmed his mind for a split moment– your poor dancing to the Jonas Brothers distracted him meanwhile.

And then, he was thinking about you.

No, he hadn’t thought about fucking you. For the majority of his life, you felt like family. Hell, you were treated exactly like family. Somehow, along those lines, he still recognized the fact that you were special to him and only him. Years ago, he would have thought it weird to think about you in bed. He still thought it weird, but the more it washed over him, the less acidic the idea tasted on his tongue.

Luke could force the feelings away if he truly wanted to. He could forget he ever spent a moment thinking about you in this way. But instead, he grabbed your dainty hand, wedging his own fingers in between yours before slipping back into the new future his brain was conjuring up for him.

Most of all, you would have no idea that his skin flushed at the thought of spending an evening with you.

-

“He was twenty. I remembered twenty. I'd known everything at twenty. It took me another year to realize I knew nothing.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton, Circus of the Damned

-

His hands held the desire to crush the two plastic cups in his drunken grip. If he focused hard enough, he would trample the toes of ditzy dancers, their hips knocking hard into his path. Instead, his eyes were trained on you. You, with the curve of your neck aimed towards a taller man, were too busy to notice your best friend.

The contents of the one red cup spilled over his angry knuckles. Luke hardly noticed the sharp sensation of plastic digging into his skin until the alcohol hit the feet of innocent bystanders. There were loud yelps and threats, but he didn’t hear a single one. He envisioned the smoke streaming from his ears the moment you leaned into the man whose hand traced circles onto your waist.

Luke locked himself in the bathroom. The white-tiled room proved itself to be more interesting than the crowded college party he originally invited you to. There were pictures of city skylines and prints of surrealist paintings, but he couldn’t stay concentrated on one thing long enough before he lost himself in the thought of that man’s hands on you. Luke could have stopped it if he had the mental strength. But truth be told, he preferred feeling pathetic over disappointing you.

He had managed to get comfortable on the small fuzzy rug in front of the sink. His black t-shirt was covered in some alcoholic drink, and he assumed it had been yours before his fingers did the deed of crushing the solo cup to death. This jealousy had sprung up out of nowhere. If he hadn’t invited you over in the first place, he would have never experienced someone captivating your attention like he was so used to doing himself.

An hour of “occupied” and “someone’s in here” passed by slowly, and Luke spent the entire time checking his phone for texts from you. The same wallpaper of your face photoshopped onto Squidward greeted him every time. It reminded him of when a friend or stranger would ask who you were, and he would spend close to ten minutes trying to convince them that, no, he was not dating you. By that point, he’d rather say yes. He had enough knowledge of you to convince them.

someone said some blond has b een pukig his guts out in trhe bathrom for lik an hour now????

is that u??

are u ok

canm i c ome pee

Luke sighed. At least you had texted him.

Yeah, but I’m not puking

Pls join me

He sighed, resting his head against the wooden cabinet behind him as the sounds of the party echoed in his aching head.

hm ok ;;)

“Knock, knock!” you shouted from outside of the door. “You better be naked.” A few giggles left your lips, and if Luke had been any drunker, his entire body would have burst into flames.

“Comin’,” he mumbled as he lifted himself up gradually. His knees cracked as they bent, and it took most of his energy to not keel over into the porcelain bathtub before him.

You were grinning as he opened the door, your body immediately falling into his chest before closing the door behind you. “Comin’, huh?” you questioned, gripping tightly onto his waist. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me as you came?”

Luke peeled you off of him. His eyes were wide as he asked, “how many drinks have ya had?”

You held up four fingers, or maybe it was five. Or maybe three. Luke couldn’t tell– he didn’t care. You dragged down your pants a moment later.

“W-wh– what are you doing?”

“Goin’ pee,” you replied before sitting yourself down onto the toilet.

Luke sighed again as he turned away from you. This whole night was a terrible decision.

“What are you doin’?” you asked him. Your voice was still light and slurred, but you sounded happy. It was hard for Luke to comprehend the emotions surrounding him at the moment.

“Givin’ you privacy.”

You snorted. “Okay. Fourteen years of like, no privacy at all, and now you decide to give me privacy?”

He tried to focus on the sounds of the party as you spoke. “Mhm.”

There was a loud flush. “So, what’s up your butt t’night baby boo? Why’d ya lock yourself in here?” The sound of rushing water filled the small space, so he turned to face you once more.

Luke shrugged. He had no way of telling you about the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the sight of you pressed against another man. He had no way of communicating the fact that this jealousy ran deeper than just friendship.

“Lukey, I can read ya like a book,” you said, plopping down onto the rug he had just spent a whole hour sitting on and waiting for you to text him.

He shook his head. “Jus’, no reason,” he replied, another shrug following.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him in suspicion. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “You locked yourself in the bathroom when you received your first college rejection letter.”

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“You say that, but– “

“Are you having a good time?”

“What?” you asked.

Luke leaned back against the door the moment someone knocked their knuckles against it. “Occupied. I said, are you having a good time?”

“Well, yes, but– “

“Then, that’s all that fucking matters.” Luke wanted nothing more to be in bed with you at the foot as you went off about some dramatic contestant on that evening’s episode of Jeopardy. He didn’t want to be in this position with you.

You stood up, your arms folded tightly across your chest. Your eyebrows were knotted, and your lips were pulled into a frown. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled out so low he could hardly hear.

“Lu, what is your deal?”

“That fucking guy!” he shouted. “That guy who had you wrapped around his fucking finger is my deal. Okay? Happy? I’m fuckin’ jealous for some fucking reason. I wanted to punch his fuckin’ smirk off of his fuckin’ face because his fuckin’ hands were– “

“You’re jealous of a guy touching me?” you whispered.

Luke wanted to pay a random buff guy to punch him in the face so he could forget this conversation ever happened. That wouldn’t cause you to forget it, but he could at least convince you that you were going crazy.

He let out a long, shaky exhale before bringing his hands up to his temples. “I fucking guess.”

Your lips were pulled into a deep frown. It was the kind of frown that you wore whenever someone disappointed you, no matter how small the issue. If they couldn’t pick up a candy bar from the store, cue the frown.

“Can– can we go?”

Luke nodded. Both of you had accepted defeat.

-

“When you are in your twenties, even if you're confused and uncertain about your aims and purposes, you have a strong sense of what life itself is, and of what you in life are, and might become.”

― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

-

Luke had, once again, pulled out the old red sweater for the annual Hemmings Christmas party. However, this year, no girlfriends were attending alongside him. It was relieving to know he could catch up with you whilst surrounded by the primitive atmosphere of his immediate family. Plus, he already down one beer before the afternoon began. Despite his (very) minor intoxication, he still convinced himself he was seeing things as the sight of hanging greens and white berries tied with a bright red bow caught his eye.

“Mum, what’s this?”

Liz ambled over and grinned. “Mistletoe! Figured we’d start a new tradition.”

“Wh-what?” He would definitely need another beer within the next hour, and the party hadn’t even started. “Why?”

His mother shrugged as she continued going through her decoration checklist. Wreaths were hung, platters were stacked with all sorts of foods, and champagne flutes were delicately placed beside the many bottles of alcohol. The Hemmings family took their Christmas parties seriously. The large fir in the living room had gifts below the lowest boughs for weeks.

“Jus’ need more excuses to kiss Andy,” she replied smugly.

Luke rolled his eyes, and he almost accepted that as her final answer before she continued.

“The whole family decided that it’s about time you and Y/N get together anyway,” she said, and nonchalantly at that. She was stacking the brownies without bothering to look back to see her son’s gaped expression.

“What?”

She hummed.

“Ya can’t be serious, mum!”

“Of course ‘m serious,” she chuckled. “We swore ya’d be together by now.”

Luke sighed. The past few years had changed your relationship, both distance and different feelings combined, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. He assumed you were doing the same. By this point, there was no way he could deny the nerves that built in his stomach at the thought of being in the same room as you. Something tugged in his heart when it came to you, and it only ever pulled him closer.

The evening came, and it only took about thirty minutes for the aunts, uncles, and cousins to get absolutely smashed. Luke, on the other hand, cradled his second beer until the glass no longer held a touch of cold. You had willingly joined a few of his cousins for a conversation on the couch, while in the dining room, his uncles were yelling political statements that had no reason to be shouted. Luke was left in the kitchen to analyze the foods.

“Okay, I get that like, marriage is a thing, but I don’t wanna talk about that with your cousins,” you said on your way into the kitchen. You had done something new with your hair, and Luke couldn’t stop thinking about how soft it looked against your dark green sweater. “Don’t eat all of the little smokies!” you wailed, crossing your arms. “Ya fuckin’ animal.”

Luke chuckled and tossed his used toothpick into the trash under the sink. Meanwhile, his eyes caught a glimpse of– “your shoes. What are those? Fuckin’ clown shoes.”

Your mouth fell open. “Meanie. I bought these on sale. ‘m sorry they’re too ugly for your Christmas party.”

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about that,” he said with a grin. “’m worried about the... the sea bear.”

You rolled your eyes and started towards the living room. “Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish you could,” he replied, following suit.

“Literally, I never– “

“Stop right there!” Liz shouted from across the living room. A little over a dozen heads snapped in the direction of you and Luke, and their smiles only widened. For a moment, Luke couldn’t figure it out.

But then, he looked up.

“Shit,” he mumbled, eyeing the mistletoe that hung above the two of you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes followed his gaze, and once again your mouth fell open slightly.

“If ya don’t kiss, I’ll beat you up,” threatened someone, and their statement was followed by a bunch of kiss chants that sent Luke’s blood boiling.

He wasn’t angry, nor was he upset. He was nervous. Your eyes were still locked on the dainty branches hanging just above his forehead, and Luke didn’t know what to do. Your lips, the lips that he had thought about kissing for years, were pulled into a small pout.

“We don’t have to,” he mumbled, trying his best to smile through the pain of the situation. But he knew it wasn’t a bad pain. The ache was crawling up his chest and into his throat, preventing his voice from tossing out words that didn’t need to be said.

You shrugged, neck twisting to face the family that had practically become your own after all of these years. If this had occurred years ago, would he feel your hesitance the same? “Let’s just please ‘em,” you sighed with a chuckle. “They won’t let us live it down otherwise.”

“Ya sure?”

You nodded, the small smiling growing ever so slightly as your shoulders rose and fell with grace. “No harm in it.”

Luke nodded, too. You were wrong, however, because if nothing changed after this, the harm would come to him.

“So, we just– “

He took a small step forward, touching the tip of his boots to the tip of your clown shoes. Sure, he had been this close to you hundreds of times before, if not closer, but the proximity meant nothing then. It meant nothing when he crawled on top of you to retrieve the remote. It meant nothing when you attacked him after a game of charades. It meant nothing until he finally realized it always meant something.

Luke inhaled sharply, resting his hands on your waist as you gave him another reassuring smile. He truly loved your smile. “S’okay?” he whispered while leaning in and resisting the urge to back away.

You hummed. Your hands had found their way up to his neck, and his skin burned from the touch. Even without the pads of your fingers dancing along the muscles along his throat, his skin would still burn.

He felt as though years had passed by the time you closed the distance, your bottom lip gently nestling in between his. You put an ample amount of pressure into the kiss, careful not to overstep your boundaries, but Luke’s mind took control after that. His fingers dug into your waist as he took the chance to press his lips a little harder against yours. The skin on his cheeks would melt off if either of you took this a bit further. Every nerve in his body had ignited.

And then you let go, and suddenly everything felt cool again. He didn’t like the sensation of your lips leaving his, but he did like the timid smile that stretched across your blushing cheeks. There were cheers from his parents, hoots and hollers from his uncles and aunts, but he could hardly hear a single thing. Luke needed you to know how that kiss made him feel.

“Um,” he mumbled, letting out a cough as he reached for his beer to take a quick swig. Luke glanced over at the clock on the stove before looking back to you. “Grab your coat and meet me outside.” He took off towards his bedroom a moment later.

The shaking in his hands hadn’t subsided by the time he met you outside. Your teeth were chattering, but you looked too damn adorable in your knit hat. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you.

“W-what’s up buttercup?” you stuttered with a great big smile. Maybe you hadn’t minded the kiss at all. Nevertheless, it didn’t make the upcoming conversation any easier.

Luke kicked a chunk of snow onto the sidewalk. “Uh.” He winced, brushing his curls back before adjusting the beanie on his head. “Shit, I don’ really know where to start.” He let out a defeated laugh. His hands were already raw despite the fur-lined pockets of his coat. If only he had brought gloves.

You didn’t say anything as the two of you rounded the corner onto the next street over. The street lamps and porch lights lit the path well with the help of the snow as a reflector. Luke believed that, throughout his sixteen years of knowing you, he had shared secrets much deeper than his fondness towards you. None of them proved to be as nerve-wracking as this moment right here.

“Y’know when we were like, sixteen, and you told the girl I liked that I didn’t like her?” he asked, a hot puff of air hitting his cheeks as he exhaled rapidly. Luke gazed over at you and watched your confused expression tighten.

“I-I think so?”

“I wasn’t really that mad.” Luke wanted to reach out for your hand, similar to the times he would do it just to hold onto something.

“Oh, okay.”

“And the time Lara asked me to stop– “

You snorted. “Fucking hated that bitch.”

Luke smirked in response. “Yeah, that really pissed me off. It destroyed me. I dunno why I didn’t realize that I’d pick you over her any day. Fuck, I’d pick you over anyone.”

“Really?”

Despite the conflict arising in his brain, Luke reached out for your hand, and he was relieved when you gladly complied. “Mhm.” He blinked and breathed out a few times to hopefully steady his heart rate. “’nd when I got mad ‘bout that guy at the party a few years ago.”

“Oh, Lu, I told you I hardly remember– “

“But I do,” he said, frowning. “I was so jealous. Like, so fuckin’ jealous. Didn’t know why. Couldn’t even figure it out. And then, it clicked, and suddenly– “

“What clicked?” You stopped walking, your eyes widening, but just barely.

Luke swallowed thickly. “I jus’– I guess I– “ He sighed. “I don’t even know when I noticed but– “

“Luke,” you chuckled, tugging on his hand, “it’s just me.”

He stared at you, noticing how relaxed you seemed in his presence. You were right, it was just you. He nodded and took one more deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”

Your smile faltered, and in that moment, Luke could feel his heart fall to his feet, but the smile soon grew once again. “Y’are?” You bit your lip.

He could feel his lips twitch into a grin as well as he nodded again, his grip on your hand slackened gently. “Yeah,” he whispered.

In one swift movement, you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your cold lips to his. Noses bumped, and teeth clashed, but neither of you seemed to care as your embrace tightened. Luke could feel your smile against his chapped cheeks, and he didn’t mind one bit that your toes were on his. He hardly had enough strength to balance the two of you, but if you were to collapse into the snow bank beside the shoveled path, he wouldn’t care one bit.

“Is this– um,” Luke pulled away to look at you. “Does this mean– “

“If you don’t get too bummed over losing charades again for the ninth year in a row, I might just be in love with you, too.”

[eremiss]

Bits and Pieces: Status Ailment

Prompt #4 of this post

One moment the Coerthan thug was in front of her, hurling something at the ground. And the next Gwen was being assaulted by a cloud of thick, acrid smoke that coated her face and clung to her skin.

Strange heat bloomed in her eyes as Gwen coughed and blinked furiously, throwing her free hand over her mouth to try and filter the smoke. She backpedaled, barely able to discern the shape of her opponent somewhere ahead.

The heat in her eyes abruptly shifted into painful stinging, like a limb regaining feeling after falling asleep. She hissed through her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut against her better judgement. Tears welled and overflowed, cutting cool paths down her cheeks. Her backpedaling became staggering, her sword arm wavering as she tried to reflexively cough and cry the smoke out of her system.

Her foot caught on a jut of rock and she stumbled, snapping her eyes open and flailing her arms to save--

Gwen couldn’t see the ground. She couldn’t see anything. The world was flat, featureless black.

Her mind yelled that she was falling, she felt her balance shifting, but nothing seemed to be moving.

Something hard and rugged crashed into her temple, sending pain jolting through her skull and white specks flickering in the blackness of her vision. The same rugged surface hit her shoulder, then her hip.

The ground.

Thancred’s voice shouted, “Gwen!”

Dazed, she wasn’t sure if her furiously stinging eyes were open or closed. She blinked hard, and then again. They were open, squinted against the pain, and the world was utterly dark. She gormlessly wondered who turned off the sun.

Rushing footsteps behind her were abruptly interrupted by clashing metal, followed by a flurry of curses.

Her thoughts snapped into place again. Fighting. The duskwight. Smoke bomb. Get up!

A fresh surge of adrenaline muted her confusion and gave her heart the energy to leap into her throat. She realized her hands were empty, her saber knocked from her grasp when she hit the ground. She flailed one hand in the darkness, praying her weapon hadn’t skittered too far away, and furiously rubbed and scraped at her eyes with the other.

Her searching hand collided with a piece of metal wrapped in leather. She snatched her blade up, clutching the handle so tightly her fingers hurt.

She felt nothing on her face but skin and tears, smothering the hope that her blindness was caused by something she could wipe away.

Gwen’s mind was moving a malm a second, head pounding in time with her racing heart as she jumped to her feet. Her balance was tenuous without anything to orient it but the feeling of the ground under her feet. She made a frustrated sound as she steadied herself and turned to properly face the sounds of combat. Her arms snapped instinctively to the right position as she raised her saber, muscle memory proving to be perfectly functional without sight.

All of the rubbing and blinking had done nothing to alter the empty darkness in front of her eyes, and she couldn’t see even a vague hint of what was causing all the noise. She only knew she was holding her sword properly because of which end felt heaviest in her hand..

If she wanted to do more than stand there she’d have to make due with careful listening and what she could remember about her surroundings.

Focus.

Gwen could hear two sets of feet shuffling, metal clashing and sounds of exertion and pain somewhere a handful of yalms ahead of her. Trying to create a mental image of the area proved more difficult than she’d hoped, owing to how little thought she’d spared her surroundings while she could see them. That error in judgment left her fumbling for details, the image that coalesced in her head coming out hazy and continuously changing as she second- and third-guessed details.

The footsteps and clashing metal stopped. There was a low groan.

Something hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Gwen stiffened. The fight was presumably done, but who was the winner?

Thancred’s voice called out in the sudden silence. “Gwen, are you alright?”

Relief was paltry and brief. Was he hurt? She still couldn’t see.

Gwen strained her eyes, trying to force some semblance of imagery out of the empty darkness. The effort made her head throb. “I’m-- I-- What happened?”

“A smoke bomb,” his voice was moving around and she belatedly turned her head to follow it, “A cheap trick if ever there was one.”

The smoke bomb. Normally they were meant only as a distraction, but this one had been augmented with alchemy. Not exactly unheard of, but she’d never experienced it before.

Her eyes had stopped stinging at some point, and now they were strangely warm and fuzzy. The skin all around her eyes was tight and irritated like an itchy sunburn. The darkness hadn’t lessened.

The fighting was done, at least, if Thancred’s casual tone and the general silence were anything to go by.

Without the distraction of combat, the daunting task of trying to deal with her blindness had her full attention.

Her voice was higher than normal when she spoke, “I-I can’t see! Are you alright?”

“Please, these ruffia--” Thancred cut off with a strange sound, “You can’t see?”

Gwen made a frustrated, unhelpful sound and told herself to calm down. It was difficult, as sudden blindness was proving quite distressing, and having no cure for such an ailment made it even moreso. She lifted her hands to try rubbing the darkness away again, her arms trembling with the sudden lack of adrenaline.

She paused halfway, rolling her wrist to angle her blade away and avoid any sort of tragic acc--

Metal hit stone and her saber trembled in her hand. She recoiled with an undignified squeak, jerking her blade away from whatever it had struck. She wobbled when she came to a stop, balance now a conscious struggle rather than simple instinct.

She pressed her mouth into a thin line, very aware of how ridiculous and skittish she looked. Embarrassment and mounting frustration had her shoulders hiking higher and her muscles tense.

Thancred made a concerned sound to the left of where she was facing. “Easy, dove,” he said, taking on a calming tone, “the fighting is done, you can relax.”

She responded with a self-conscious cringe and a grumble of annoyance, “I’ll hold off on that until I know what’s happened to my eyes, I think.”

His tone dried a little, “How terribly pragmatic.”

Thancred’s footsteps were unusually audible when he started moving towards her, and Gwen tried to use the sound to properly face him. She wondered if there was some truth to that ‘lose one sense and the others become stronger’ saying.

A beat later she considered that he was purposefully stepping more heavily because he didn’t want to startle her and get stabbed.

The sword in her hand didn’t give her the same sense of comfort and security it normally did, mostly due to how useless it felt. She could swing it, but she had no way to ensure she hit her target.

There were few things she hated more than feeling helpless, and she felt precisely that.

For what it was worth, it seemed Thancred didn’t intend to try and make light of her jumpiness.

“Twelve take that duskwight and his stupid…” she muttered, adjusting her feet and her balance.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Thancred’s voice was right in front of her, his footsteps coming to a halt. “But, given he’s dead, there’s not much vengeance to extract. Tell me what you can, or can’t, see.”

She made a vague, frustrated gesture with her arms, “Nothing, just darkness. It was something in that smoke bomb.”

Hands touched her arms and the sudden contact sent a jolt of surprise through her. “An alchemical affliction, then.” Thancred’s voice was distinctly unhappy. “Mayhap they weren’t so run-of-the-mill after all.”

Gwen left her sword at her side and carefully raised her free hand again, bumping his arm along the way. Her frown deepened.

“Hm…” He was quiet for a moment, probably watching her rub and scratch at her eyes, “And aside from your vision? Are you well?”

“My eyes are itching like mad,” she said. Frustration with her situation and anger at that bloody thug and his alchemical bomb was starting to eclipse her concern about her blindness. It also brought her headache more sharply into focus. “And my head hurts.”

Thancred hummed, hands tightening on her arms. “That tends to happen when one is so forcefully acquainted with the ground.”

Gwen pouted.

His hands disappeared. One was suddenly on hers. Her heart twitched again. “No more of that, hm? The last thing you need is to make it worse,” he said, stopping her effort to scratch the annoying itch.

She made a noncommittal sound in reply. It hadn’t been helping too much, anyway.

His other touched her sword hand, fingers shifting around and sliding under hers to release her grip. “And, not that I don’t have the utmost faith in you, dove, but I think it best you leave the sword waving to me for the time being. I’d like my remaining eye to stay where it is, if it’s all the same to you.”

Gwen huffed, lifting her chin a little to frown towards his face. She was in no mood for teasing.

But, fretting and bristles aside, he wasn’t wrong. Blindly waving her sword around (literally) made her a danger to herself and him as much as anything else. Trying to sheathe it herself was probably risky, too.

Gwen was keenly aware of the moment Thancred’s hands, and her sword, disappeared.

All of a sudden she was left relying entirely on her hearing again.

Anxiety coiled sharply around her chest, tightening further when she flexed her empty fingers. Her thoughts tangled together, knotting around sharp uneasiness and frustration.

The stability of Thancred’s touch had been more grounding than she’d realized, and without it she felt acutely, uncomfortably isolated.

Which was ridiculous. She knew it was. She knew that. Thancred was right there, less than a fulm in front of her face...give or take a few ilms. She was anything but alone.

But she couldn’t see that, and it had far more of an effect on her than she thought it would.

She moved her eyes left and right, straining despite the way it aggravated her headache. Nothing but darkness.

Thancred was still there. There was no way in all seven hells he’d leave her stumbling around on her own. He’d protect her if any threats decided to rear their ugly heads, and he wouldn’t begrudge her for it, either.

Thinking about it, he probably wouldn’t get more than a fulm away from her until she could see again, no matter how long that might take. The thought gave her a bit of relief, a thread of ease weaving through and loosening the knots in her head.

Gwen cautiously reached out with both hands, listening to the ambiance of nature and Thancred’s breathing. Her fingers collided with him mere seconds later, and the little surge of surprise at the sudden impact was smothered with a wave of relief. She curled her fingers into his shirt, immediately regaining that sense of stability she’d lost.

When her exhale rushed out of her she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Worried I’d try to sneak away? You wound me, dove,” Thancred teased, nudging her arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The red that came to her cheeks had more to do with exasperation and self-consciousness than anything else. “No, no, I was just--”

Gwen felt a tug at her belt and stiffened. She heard the scrape and click of a sheathing blade, and then a familiar weight was hanging off her hip. She huffed.

Twelve she was jumpy.

Being a little thrown was one thing, but feeling so overwhelmed? Surely the Warrior of Light could muddle through like she always did?

To be fair losing one of her senses, specifically the one she most relied on, was a perfectly reasonable excuse to throw composure to the wind for a little while. And to be an unhelpful mess, besides.

.She wondered how long she could be stuck like this, aware that inflicted ailments could last anywhere from minutes to bells to days. Twelve, please not days.

Thancred’s hands rested on hers and squeezed.

“I hate this,” she said, as though it weren’t apparent.

He hummed an agreement.

“Everything is so off,” she went on, trying again to will her sight back. “I know you’re right there, but I can’t see you and it’s so--”

“Aggravating? Disorienting? Miserable?” he suggested.

Gwen shuffled his shirt between her fingers, absorbing the warmth of his hands, “To put it simply.”

Dirt and gravel crunched near her feet and one of his hands disappeared. He mumbled, “Head.”

Head?

His missing hand rested gently on the side of her head.

The warning hadn’t quite hit the mark, but the effort and consideration behind it stirred a warm, fond feeling. The coils around her chest loosened a little.

Thancred tilted her head back to better examine her eyes and Gwen obliged without protest. She concentrated on blinking less.

He made a thoughtful sound, tilting her head a little to one side. Despite the warmth of the sun on her face she didn’t need to squint or shade her eyes. Light seemed to hold no sway over her when she couldn’t see it.

Thancred abruptly sighed, relieved, and his breath feathered over her face. “For a bit of good news, your eyes don’t appear damaged. I should think this blindness isn’t permanent.”

Gwen stiffened. Permanent?

Of course that was a possibility. Medicine and healing magic had their limits.

Her panicky thoughts hadn’t even gotten that far, too hamstrung with anxiety to look at anything past that exact moment.

She made a strangled sound.

“Not permanent, I said,” he repeated, drumming his fingers on her head. “Y’shtola will have you back in proper Eikon-slaying, griffin-wrangling condition in no time, we need only return to Mor Dhona.”

Gwen decided against informing him of her short-sighted thought process. Instead she took the reassurance she was offered and smiled a little, “I wonder what she’ll have to say about how it happened.”

“You should brace for some chastisement about recklessness, I think.” One finger ghosted over the place her headache had been emanating from, “And she’ll get rid of this, too.”

Gwen wondered if Y’shtola would still get that signature unamused expression of hers if the red mage specified that she’d tripped and hit her head after she’d been blinded.

Thancred’s chest pressed more firmly against her hands, and a nudge of his hand angled her head down slightly.

Gwen made a confused noise.

Thancred’s beard tickled the bridge of her nose half a second before his lips pressed against her forehead, gentle and sweet.

“I think I lost a year off my life when you said you couldn’t see,” Thancred mumbled fondly against her skin. “Terribly rude of you, you know.”

Gwen giggled, the tender gesture leaving her a little weak-kneed. She closed her eyes, the coils around her chest vanishing altogether, replaced with easy affection and the sense of security that had vanished when her sight did.

She grinned. “My deepest apologies.”

He lingered there and inhaled, pausing to hold that breath for several seconds before breathing a relieved sigh. “Hm. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were being insincere.”

Gwen wondered how worried he’d been, and how much her distress had gotten to him. He’d sounded concerned but composed, but he’d always been better at affecting calm he didn’t feel, particularly in his voice. He was also better at keeping a cool head under fire, but that didn’t always hold true when it came to those he cared for.

Gwen’s next exhale caused her to shrink an ilm, the ramrod set of her back finally loosening. The rest of her quickly followed suit.

She felt Thancred smile. “Feeling a little better, I see.” He planted another kiss on her forehead before leaning away,

Gwen hummed an affirmation, habitually lifting a hand to fiddle with her bangs. “Sorry for losing my head for a moment.”

He chuckled, “Apologizing for losing your composure when you were rendered blind. Yes, I’d say you’re feeling yourself again.”

Gwen could hear his teasing smile and conjure a perfect image of it in her mind’s eye. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fear not, dove,” he continued blithely. “I shan’t tell a soul.”

He was smiling wider. Gwen could hear it. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes a little more.

“I’m sure I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” he quipped, still audibly smiling.

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Now, if you’re done teasing--”

“For the moment, I suppose.”

“--I’d like to be able to see again. Let’s get back to the Rising Stones?”

“A wonderful idea.” Thancred’s hand left her head, his fingers lighting on a thin chain around her neck a moment later. “But, in the interest of arriving some time before the season is out,” he tugged something free from her shirt and directed her hand to it, pressing a familiar metal cylinder into her palm, “what say we put your bird to work?”

-------------------------------

(((Eh? Is the page break not a thing anymore? Or am I derp? ......Don’t answer that.)))

Anyway, yeah! :D The prompt was “I can’t see anything!” and so I went with the Blind status effect. Have fun with the projection, Gwen /patpat

I was blindfolded for an escape room a while back and I was fucking useless. 0/10. If I was actually blind I’d probably die reaaaal quick.

[imaginary-novelist]

BTS reaction - You’re insecure about your legs

Thank you for requesting, I had really fun writing this.💕

Jin

“Y/N it’s 30°, why don’t you wear shorts? You must be dying in your jeans!” Jin said, a worried expression on his face. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” “If you say so. Do you want to join us on our trip to the beach tomorrow?” You really wanted to but you were insecure about the red dots on your legs. “I’d love to but I can’t wear a bikini...” “Y/N what are you hiding from me?” You chewed your bottom lip and slowly tucked up your jeans. “Whenever I shave I get these red dots and I can’t seem to get rid of them.... I know they’re ugly.” “Aww Y/N you must be kidding me. That’s why you never show your legs? I would have never noticed them. Please don’t be insecure, everybody has some imperfections on their bodies. They make us special!” “I love you Jin, thank you so much.” You loved your encouraging boyfriend. “No probs, I’ll go pack the stuff for the beach day tommorrow.” He winked.

RM

You woke up to Namjoon shaking your body. “Joonie? What’s wrong?” “I can’t sleep, something is scratching my legs under the blanket and I can’t seem to find out what it is.” You were a bit embarrassed but laughed anyway. “It’s my legs Namjoon. They’re hairy.” “But didn’t you just shave them a few hours ago?” “Yeah I did. My hair is just rather thick and I can’t seem to get them smooth. I’m sorry, I will put on some longer pj’s.” “Don’t worry Y/N, you don’t have to. I was just irritated. You’re perfect the way you are. Please don’t hide yourself from me.” Namjoon looked at you with loving eyes and you felt your heart swell in your chest. “Thanks Joonie.” He tugged you in his arms and in a matter of seconds you were asleep again.

Suga

You just finished shaving your legs and they were already covered in red dots. You sighed and put on some shorts as well as one of Yoongis hoodies. You made your way to the bed were Yoongi was already seated. “What the fuck happened to you? Did you fall into a cactus or what?” Yoongi eyed your legs and gave you a weird look. “Stop it Yoongi. You know my skin gets easily irritated. Not everybody can have your glass skin.” You pouted. “I’m sorry Jagi, you know I’m only joking, right? I love your legs however they look. Now come here and wrap those dotted legs of yours around me.” You gave Yoongi an annoyed look but followed his instructions anyway.

J-Hope

You were in the dance studio with Hobi, practicing new routines. Since it was very warm in the studio you decided to wear shorts. In the bright neon lights the dots on your legs seemed even redder. You tried to always stay at least a few feet away from Hoseok because you wanted to hide your imperfection. Hobi wasn’t stupid so he noticed that you were distant. “Y/N is everything alright? Do I smell or something?” You giggled. “No Hobi, you’re fine, don’t worry.” “Then why are you avoiding me? Come here and give me a hug.” You hesitated but then you made your way to him. He scanned your body and his gaze stopped at your legs. “Ah I see. My baby is being insecure because she has problems with shaving her legs. Worry no more! I actually have a really great lotion for this exact problem.” “You do?” “Y/N I’m a dancer. My legs are my capital. I will give you the lotion once we’re home.” “Thanks Hobi. I love you.” “I love you too, no matter what your legs look like.”

Jimin

You were in the bathroom shaving your legs. Red dots were already appearing everywhere and to make matters worse you also had managed to cut yourself. “Jiminie?” You called out for your boyfriend. “Yes?” You heard from downstairs. “Do you know where the band-aids are?” Jimin didn’t answer and 5 seconds later he stormed through the door. “What happened, why are you bleeding?” He seemed very worried. “It’s okay Jiminie, I just cut myself with the razor.” “Oh no. And why are there so many red spots? Are you allergic to something? Do I need to call a doctor?” “No, it’s just an irritation from shaving. Jimin I’m fine, I swear.” Jimin gave you a weak smile and then took care of your cut and of course he also insisted on kissing it better. “Maybe you should just stop shaving. I don’t mind your hairy legs and I don’t want you to get a sepsis or something.” You heart swelled in your chest. Jimin was just too cute for this world.

Taehyung

“Y/N I’m home. Come out wherever you are.” You heard your boyfriend Tae call you from downstairs. You were currently sitting on your bed, glaring at your legs. You just waxed them yesterday and now there are red dots all over them. They were also itchy and you already saw a few fine hair peaking through again. Your hair frustrated you, why can’t your legs just be smooth? “Hey, what are you doing?” Tae entered the room and his eyes landed on your legs. You sighed and were ready to explain yourself when Tae’s eyes became big. “Wow! Your legs look so cool. You’re like a red libbard.” You giggled. Taehyung was so weird that even your legs fascinated him. “Oh Tae, you’re so special.” He laughed and then pouted. “I wish my legs would look so extraordinary. I love libbards.” You giggled again and then hugged Taehyung. You loved your little alien.

Jungkook

You scrolled through your Instagram, tears were streaming down your face. An hour ago you posted a picture of you and Kookie on Instagram in which you were wearing a skirt. There were so many mean comments about your legs because they had some red spots on them. “She can’t even shave her legs right”, “what does Jungkook even see in her?”, “only a perfect girl would deserve Jungkook” and many more. You never paid much attention to your legs but now that the people pointed out your flaws you suddenly felt very insecure. Jungkook already tried to call you a few times. He had seen the comments as well. You didn’t pick up, you just wanted to cry on your own. “Jagi, are you in there? Please open the door!” Jungkook spoke from outside. You sighed and opened it. “Hey, please stop crying.” He immediately wrapped you up in his arms. “I will go live later and tell them to mind their own business. You’re perfect the way you are and I couldn’t ask for more. I love you, please never hate anything about your self.” You smiled at Jungkook’s loving words. “Thanks Kookie, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Send me requests for reactions or imagines please💕

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[my-emotional-self]

Dangers on Set Part 2 (Chris Evans x Reader)

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Angst?  Kendra is a bitch!

Summary: You go to spend time with your best friend who happens to be filming a movie.  There you meet Chris Evans and soon find yourself falling head over heels for him. The only problem is that he is dating your best friend.

A/N: I did name the best friend as Kendra Adams, just because. But this is still a reader insert!

Idea and concept by my favorite lady @missecharlotte

The next morning you found yourself being rudely awoken by a near constant pounding on your door. “Ugghhh, I’m coming,” your morning voice not sounding at all sexy as you tore the covers off your warm body. Shuffling to the door, you opened it.

“Get up sleepy head. We leave in five minutes to go to the set!” Kendra exclaimed with a smile.  Her hair and makeup wasn’t done, but she still looked immaculate.  

“Five minutes?” you asked in frustration.  “A warning would have been nice.”  You were not a morning person at all, and to be told you only had five minutes to get ready before going to a movie set made nothing easier about this early morning.

Kendra furrowed her brows, crossing her arms across her chest.  “That’s not really a nice way to be appreciative Y/N.  After everything I pulled to get you a free stay here, you’re going to give me attitude?”

You turned your gaze down, not wanting to look at your best friend.  Letting out a sigh you replied, “You’re right Kendra.  I’m sorry.  I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Good.”

You shut the door, wanting to scream at her behavior.  In a way, she was right.  She was pulling strings to get you a free stay and for you to be on set at the movie. But she could have at least warned you last night what time you should have gotten up.  And attitude?  You weren’t giving her any attitude, she was the one who seemed to have become a completely different person.  

After splashing some water on your face, you brushed your teeth and threw your hair into a messy bun. You threw on a pair of skinny jeans and your favorite band t-shirt before grabbing your purse, hotel room key and phone.  

Kendra was already in the hallway waiting for you when you opened the door.  You hopped in the passenger side of her car and you two headed toward the set, Kendra yapping away the entire time.  She talked about who from the crew she liked, and who she didn’t like.  Even going as far as to criticize in every way why she didn’t like them.  This wasn’t your best friend you grew up with. No, this girl was someone entirely different from the lovable and carefree Kendra you were used to.  

You were sat in her trailer as she got her hair and makeup done; Kendra making everyone act pretty much like a slave.  It was uncomfortable the way she was acting and yet now you felt guilty by association for being her friend.  

There was a knock on her trailer door before it opened.  “Chris!!!” Kendra squealed in a high pitched voice, her hands reaching out for him to come to her.  Your head snapped up from your phone as you saw Chris come into her trailer, looking ever the gorgeous specimen he was.  You had seen his movies but those movies did nothing for what he looked like in person.  

“Hey babe,” he greeted her with a kiss and a smile.  

Kendra pulled away from him, a pout on her face.  “I can’t wait for filming to be over so you can shave off this scruffy mess.  It doesn’t look good on you and it makes my face itchy.”  You quickly placed your hand over your face, turning your gaze back to your phone, not believing the audacity Kendra had to call out her boyfriend like that in front of everyone.  

Chris scoffed, his voice lighthearted as he tried to push away her words.  “Who’s this?” you heard him ask.  

“That is my dear friend Y/N. She just found out her boyfriend had been cheating on her after she moved in with him, and then she got let go from her job.  So I offered her to come stay with me on set.  Aren’t I a saint?” Kendra shrilled with a smile.  You instantly became mortified; Kendra spilling all your secrets to not just her boyfriend, but Chris Evans.  Your face became heated while your left hand anxiously scratched at your exposed neck.  

Looking up you saw Chris standing close to you, guilt written all over his face.  “Chris, it’s nice to meet you,” he said , a slight smile on his face and you could tell he was trying to make you less embarrassed.

“Y/N,” you replied with a forced grin.  “Big fan of your work.”  His eyes lit up when you said that, a genuine smile appearing on his face and you nearly melted in your spot.  His face was covered in the perfect length beard as you got lost in his blue eyes.  

“It’s always a pleasure to meet my fans,” he replied with a wink, causing your heart to skip.  

Later that day you had watched from behind the scenes as Kendra was filming.  It had been really bothering you, the way she had changed, her attitude and demeanor towards not only you but other people.  At first you assumed she was stressed, but you quickly realized that wasn’t the case.  In fact, it seemed like she had gotten worse over the day.  

“Hey,” someone’s soft voice broke you from your thoughts.  Turning your head you saw Chris standing there next to you with a smile on your face.  

“Hi,” you quipped.  

“So how are you liking being on the set.”

Gazing around the set you nodded your head.  “It’s pretty amazing actually.  I’ve always loved movies so to be able to see what happens behind the scenes is pretty cool.” The two of you stood there, close together just gazing into each other’s eyes; almost like a coy game to see who could blink first.  

“And cut,” the director called, both you and Chris turning your gaze away from one another.  Kendra came racing up to Chris, tackling him into a hug as she began to kiss him with fervor, practically licking his face off. Your brows crinkled before turning the opposite direction; not wanting to witness that kind of activity, especially because it seemed like Chris was trying to pry her off of him.  

“Baby!!!” Kendra finally pulled away from attacking Chris’ face.  “What did you think of my scene?  I think it was the best one I’ve ever done!  The emotion I was able to pull into myself was pretty incredible.”

You felt a pair of eyes on you and you turned your head, seeing Chris’ eyes darting between you and Kendra.  Kendra’s eyes snapped in your direction before placing a scowl on her face.  “You weren’t paying attention to my scene were you?”

His face was tight as he turned to face Kendra.  “Babe I’m sorry.  I was just talking to Y/N here and was welcoming her to the set.”

Kendra stomped her foot like a child, throwing a tantrum which made your eyes grow wide. “Chris I TOLD you I wanted you to always watch me scenes!  You’ve been in the business longer than I have and I want you to watch me so you can critique me and make me better!  Ugh!” she stormed away from Chris but not before grabbing your hand and dragging you away.  You looked back to Chris, giving him a small wave good-bye, your heart aching for the way she just treated him yet again in front of everybody.  

Tag List: @patzammit @missfirstavenger @brastrangled @miss-cap21 @pumbibaby @marvelouslyme96 @kanupps06 @zohoffman @the-real-kellymonster  @mustbenot @marvelmakeuplover @projectxhappiness  @libbitinasdeath @01asianista @hispeculiartreasure @guera31 @ssweet-empowerment @sfreeborn @jjlevin  @supernatural-girl97 @sophiealiice @crushed-pink-petals @esoltis280 @poerebel@remember-that-one-blog  @coffeebooksandfandom @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @princess-evans-addict @badassbaker @janeyboo @sarahp879 @tessvillegas

[cassohwary]

Corn allergy/chronic illness update

Okay. So I’ve been waiting to post about my current health stuff until I felt like I had something concrete, and hoo boy, have I got something now. (This is gonna be a long post.) I have a newfound allergy to corn, and it’s taking over my life.

I’d been tested for food sensitivities years ago and had been removing some of the offending foods from my diet slowly, but I’d not paid attention to corn. It’s in most gluten free products (and gluten was the first to go), it doesn’t have to be labeled as an allergen, and you basically have to learn a new language to figure out where it is in everything. And I had been eating plenty of it in really obvious forms like corn chips without issues.

But then I started an elimination diet in the middle of May with a focus on eliminating corn and corn derivatives in everything, and within about three days, I was having reactions. My first big reaction that was obviously to corn was when someone made popcorn at work—instantly it felt like my sinuses had been filled with cement, I got a searing headache, and my exhausted muscles felt like I’d gotten the flu. Those symptoms lasted three days. I’ve been working since then on different foods, figuring out what definitely has corn in it and what might have corn in it (read: everything. Every. Thing.). I’ve been avoiding more and more. Lots of small reactions along the way, but mostly just annoying ones. I was sick, but I could manage it.

I’ve got a solid set of things I can buy at the grocery store, so I’m not nearly as sensitive as some people to cross contamination or things like pesticides and/or washes on vegetables, but I have really specific brands I can eat and am largely making my own food from scratch—it’s healthy stuff, which is great, but it’s a lot of work, and I often eat the same thing every single day. (Lots of greens, roasted cauliflower, and one kind of canned chicken. Evidently it looks really good to people at work, but I’m going on a month of almost only this.)

But Monday. Monday I got to experience anaphylaxis. The night before, while breaking down boxes with a friend, I started having a mild skin reaction to maybe the cat hair we were stirring up, maybe the boxes themselves (remember, everything has corn in it, and evidently some boxes are basically sealed with corn starch). Also my tongue hurt, but it didn’t seem like a huge deal at the time, just another weird body thing that I didn’t like but could wait out. Woke up Monday morning, felt weird but not terrible, but over the subsequent six hours I developed an intermittent rash that was almost always itchy somewhere but moved (like hives lite), my eyes got so dry they were burning, and my lips were itchy and maybe a little swollen. It suddenly occurred to me that my tongue was swollen, which is why it hurt (not the other way around). I’d been trying to get back to sleep, since I was scheduled to work Monday night, but at 2 pm, it became very clear that I needed to at least be evaluated by someone. I had huge amounts of Benadryl in me with no effect, and I kept noticing (or re-evaluating) more symptoms.

So I reluctantly threw some pants on and put some safe, shelf stable food in a bag (since I didn’t know where this was going to end up) and drove my (massively anxious panicky) self to urgent care. (This was a bad decision. I should have gone to the emergency room. I got lucky. But it was dumb. It could have gotten worse really fast.) I didn’t have any emergent problems that needed treatment right away, and my vital signs were stable, so they sent me home with prescriptions for prednisone (hence the time of this post, probably) and epi pens. I now own epi pens.

I wasn’t sure if this allergy would ever progress to this stage, but I had figured that if it did, I had more time to prepare. Epi pens were on my list of things to pursue, but not at the top. I also didn’t know what my limits were on treating anaphylaxis in myself—it can be harder to be confident in a decision if the symptoms come on slowly, or if some of them are variants of my normal issues—especially as it related to emergency care like when to go to the emergency room. But the PA I saw at urgent care agreed that it was mild anaphylaxis. I’m seeing my doctor (again) Thursday to figure out what next steps I need to take, but yesterday was full of panic, crying, and being completely exhausted. It was scary. This is a game changer for how I relate to food, how I trial new foods, and how I function within the very corny world at large. I’m gonna have to be more disciplined with what foods I’m eating and how long I take to trial them, and I’m probably gonna have to work more on expensive things like compounding all my medications, probably seeking out a specialist of some kind (at least an allergist, maybe another), and lots of tests. I thought this was taking over my life before, but this is another level.

So here we go. This is all really happening. The cornaggedon has begun. (I used that phrase in June or so, not knowing that the actual cornaggedon was still on its way.) I’d appreciate your love and support sent my way, but please, no care packages (especially in boxes, evidently). Just help me hold my fear and anxiety, please. There’s so much of it right now.