#I HOPE ALL THE CLOTHES YOU OWN ARE ITCHY AND ILL-FITTED

[harudnae]

If you post untagged spoilers : fuck you.

If you post untagged spoilers without a "Read more" : fuck you twice.

If you post untagged scan screenshots without a "Read more" : fuck you thrice.

[kiestrokes]

i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below. 

Seonghwa 

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung 

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[kaijurakunsobs]

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Rabbit iiiiiii

Ending.

Want a chapter two? Let me know!

Draco finds a Hufflepuff attempting to cheat. He torments her, keeps her under his wing becoming possessive , unsure of his feelings. After turning Reader into a Rabbit he realizes how much of an ass he was. But now hes in Azkaban for his crimes.

A/n. Okay. So i asked Multiple people. “What happens in Azkaban?” They all said “you sit in a cell.” And im sitting here like. “I cant write that.” So THIS is what i came up with. I hope its okay :/.

W! Mind games, self injury(scratching), fear of going insane, Draco gets kicked and punched around.

@khemz1312 @goofygobber @rosiehufflepuff @trashyvicks

“Cheers love”

Draco said once you vanished from his sights, he never thought the twins would help you come see him, or anyone for that matter. Of all people, he was not exactly the most loved at Hogwarts. The man looked both ways down the very long hallway not seeing anything except for darkness. At least no one would bother him while he was thinking.

He made his way back to his spot under the window to think about his actions; maybe he went a little overboard with how he handled catching you. But a teacher? That's not as fun. Draco looked down at his hands counting the cuts all over them, he had the most on his palms and around his fingers. He was very roughed up, as soon as he got here the dementors were not very kind to him. Draco blinked his eyes feeling sleepy and slightly cold. He rolled his eyes leaning back on the wall reminiscing the time he turned you into a rabbit.

You were so cute like that; so little, curious, fit right in his pocket. Dracos hands fell to his sides and his eyes started to close. You had gotten used to him when you were a rabbit…

So tired…

When he got out Draco wanted to master the spell to change humans back whenever so he could turn you into a rabbit again. If you let him of course, he laid down on his side, holding himself.

Fading….

His father.. What would he do about that? Obviously he could not take you home . Maybe a flat of his own would be better. And that shop? It made him smirk as his eyes started to close. Cute..

Footsteps could be heard and they were getting closer now. It woke Draco up from his slumber which he was not happy about. The one time he was actually getting some sleep in this place.

“Dinner already?’ he asked, in a condescending tone as he got up to rest his back against the wall. “Is it more than bread today?”

The cell opened and closed after the figure stepped in. Draco scrambled to his feet with wide surprised eyes,“..Father?”

“Not the best cell.. But it suits you.” the man said, dusting the dirt off his clothes.

“What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

“I'm here because I have unpleasant news for you.” he took off his gloves while he spoke.

“..news?” Draco stepped over to his father.

“That girl you turned into a rabbit is dead.”

“..she… shes ……….” Draco went as far as the chain would let him to his father. His ankle was straining against the cold tight cuff link. “H..ho-w…”

“Quiddich”

“What?.. But she doesn't fly! She doesn't have a broom!” the man grabbed his fathers coat shaking it, asking him multiple questions just for Lucious to throw him off and kick him away from him. Draco hit the cold brick wall on his side in the corner. He held his head trying to process this , he was hurting inside and out.

“They needed one more , and you were not there so I suggested...”

Draco glared over at his Father, who looked rather proud of himself. His hands went to his hair white knuckling them. “You…”

“She didn't last long, it was a waste.” Lucious stepped to his son grabbing his chin so he was looking at him. “And to think she would still be alive if you just left her alone”

“Its not my fault!” Draco shoved his father just for him to strike him down into the cell floor. “Get your hands off me boy, remember who your authority is. “

“Shes dead because of you!, shes.. !!! …………………..” Draco felt very cold all of a sudden, looking down he saw that his hand was fading as if it was getting sucked up by something.

“Wait.. Azkaban would never let you come into the cell…” Draco stumbled up, hitting the wall to steady himself. “They wouldn't.. Your not my father! Get out you bloody dementor!!!”

“Draco dont you know your own father?”

“Shut up! I know my father and thats not you!”

“Pity, enjoy your time here.” the figure of Lucious faded and Draco woke up in a very cold sweat. He was still laying down under the window, no one was with him in the cell and his body ached.

“Dementors.. “ slowly he got up moving to the corner to hug his knees. “Do your bloody worst, im Draco ffffffucking Malfoy.”

It won't be the last time the Dementors mess with Draco… they were determined to break him. Throughout the two years he was there you had not come to see him again except that one time the twins helped you. Draco told you now to bother the twins so you didn't. Fred and George did try to cheer you up though as much as they could. They even got a hold of Dracos old robes that they gave to you. It helped but you wanted the real thing. Him.The carrot cravings went away after a couple weeks which was nice. You did not need to carry a bag of the produce with you anymore.

Hufflepuff was still weary of you and Slytherin were still jerks. The Ravenclaws sympathized with you and you found comfort in them when you needed it. You wanted to visit him, see if he was okay. But all you could do was hope and stare out your window at the moon knowing he was looking at the same one ..

Two years later.

“You killed me”

“Shhhuut up….”

“Im dead, because of you.”

“...”

“Do you ever wonder? What could you have done differently? Acted in a more.. Reasonable way?”

“Your not .rrr.-re-al..”

“Not anymore, my time on this earth has ended. Because of you Draco”

Draco ran into the bars punching at them, blood was dripping from them now. The figure of you faded away right as he got to them to reappear in the cell next to him now. “Your not real..” he said again.

“Treated me like an animal, toyed with me..-” he swung at the dementor watching it fade away then reappear. “I was just a hufflepuff, an innocent girl.” Draco shook his head but the thoughts just got louder and louder.

“Dead”

“Dead”

“Gone”

“Killed”

“Stay here”

“...with me, let's be together” you held out a rotted hand to the shaking man. “Be like me”

Draco had been tormented by these dementors at least 3 times a week ever since his ‘father’ had come to see him. Day in and day out for at least 6 hours a day a dementor came to him as you to try to get Draco to crack.

The first time he almost fell for it, but he quickly realized it was not you. You were not a crying mess trying to touch him and you could not float….

But still seeing your figure hurt him, your body was made to look dead to cause even more damage to the man which it did. All he could do was endure and think about you, the real you. It was all he had to hold on to. He told himself when he spent his first night here that he would be okay, he would make it out fine.

But now hes crying on the floor at least twice a week with new bruises, cuts, and a giant headache. He fully knew how awful he was to you now, he had to apologize properly. That motivated him to fight, along with keeping you safe from his father. He would get out, he would be okay.

“...b-b-b-e like you?”

“Yes Draco, like me. Lets be together, lets get out of here.”

“Get .. out..”

“Yes , lets get-”

“No, you get out. Get out of my cell, get out of my head just GET OUT!, ill never go with you! Your not real and your NOT HER!” he stepped back, tripping over his feet and grabbing the cell bars to steady himself. His clothes by now were tattered and his dirty dark blond hair was in a pony tail. The cuts on his face turned to scars and his nails were bloody from him scratching at his itchy skin . Everytime he swung at the dementor it would fade out leaving traces of itself on the man making him freak out and scratch at his own skin till they turned purple.

The dementor faded through the bars down the hallway and Draco sunk down to his knees scratching at his arms trying to free himself of the lingering black smoke.

“Rabbit… “ Draco choked in a big breath glancing over at the small window to see the moon shining in on him. “Ill get out.. Ill be okay. We will be okay……………………….”

A few days later a man had come to Dracos cell. He unlocked the old door letting it swing open. The man stepped to the side gesturing to the hallway and Draco looked up from his hand to see Snape looking in at him.

“Hurry up, its filthy in here.”

“How is she….”

“Why don't you see for yourself? Do i look like a owl?”

“More like an over dramatic snake.” Draco slowly got up limping to his old professor who helped steady him.

“Im glad your okay, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his shoulders and cracked his very purple bloody knuckles. “Of course i am”

Meanwhile, those two years you had graduated and opened up your own shop with the help of Fred and George. They pulled some strings and found an empty building you could sell potions in. it was a small building but you liked it.

The Wet Nose it was called. With little bunny decorations all over the inside and on the sign, the sign was your favorite. It had a little bunny looking over the sign with its ears down. You tried to make it apparent you were here so Draco could find you.. All you could do was wait now..

Draco had left Azkaban with Snape , showered, eaten , and dressed in real clothes. He was in clean black pants with a matching suit top with awhite shirt underneath and black shoes. His face was still heavily scared and his knuckles were starting to slowly heal. The scratches on his arms would not heal though. They would stay that way for a really long time. He worried if you would still want him like this. He also kept his hair long , just past his neck he liked it. Draco was not completely free of the dementors, he could still hear them in his head from time to time. Whispering things for him to come back and what not. He always had to shake his head and they would go away for the time being.

Snape had dropped him off at Diagon Alley as he requested. Before he left he got out of the car to give Draco one final word.

“Malfoy”

“What? Which way am i going?”

The man rolled his eyes and pulled Draco in for a one arm hug, even though draco loathed this. The poor man fought and cursed, slipping free of this unwanted affection.

“The bloody hell was that?”

“Go down this way, on the left.”

“Fantastic but what was-” he slapped him on the head.

“Oww!!! What gives?”

“Thats, for barging into my classroom.” and with that he left.

“Barging into my classroom” mocked the man fixing his hair.

Draco wasted no time getting to your shop. He found it easily and just stared at the sign. He was scared. Terrified, would you still want him… you said you would wait for him.. But.. the way he looks. He shook his head, making the dementors stop. “No. she will, she waited all this time. She will.”

Ring ring!! The bell on the door went off once Draco opened the door. The first thing that got his attention was the many smells coming from all over the room. All the windows were open with plants sitting in them . He had to make his way to the back where the register was, passing all types of potions a variety of colors. When he finally went to it he saw a little brown rabbit sitting on the counter wiggling its nose. The rabbit tilted its head at Draco and the man did the same.

“Biscuit? Is someone here? And you didn't ring them up you silly animal” you joked coming from the back room up to the counter.

You looked up from the rabbit to see Draco standing there, his smile slumped and he had his mouth half open. He was in awe. It was really you. The real you. Quickly he fixed himself and his smile went all the way up his face, the man stepped closer with a happy, relieved tone.

“Hey, Rabbit”

[postapocalyptic-cryptic-hold]

Writing Tips: Armor Edition

Good lord, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Regardless, what follows is a non-comprehensive, entirely subjective list of advice on how to write characters with armor. This is based on my own experience with hockey equipment and is largely geared towards Star Wars Mandalorian-style armor (including clones and storm troopers), but could hypothetically be helpful to anyone.

If it's your armor, it's going to be so comfortable you won't even know it's there.

Actually, on that note, you'd notice right away if something was different. You'd also be thrown off by the absence of the armor, either in part or in its entirety.

When you wear armor a lot, you don't need to think about putting it on. It's instinctual.

It takes five minutes to put a set of armor on and fifteen minutes to bitch about it, catch up on locker room gossip, and realize that the insides of your boots aren't as dry as you thought they were.

Again with the putting on armor being instinctual thing... If you're distracted, worried, etc., it's not at all uncommon to forget a piece of your armor. You put it on in the same way every time, so sometimes your brain just... skips, and you end up with shinguards and no skates.

There are several ways to put on any given set of armor. It's a pretty flexible process, but there are some things that have to be done in a certain order.

That being said, everyone has their own "right" way of putting on armor. It usually doesn't vary much within a team or squad, but get a bunch of strangers together and you can bet your ass someone will start a fistfight over the order you put your tops on in.

Armor usually has some sort of padding system inside, especially if it's stiff. This is the part that gets sweaty and gross. It does not dry quickly, but it does get cold and slimy quickly.

With the sweat thing, weearing armor for an extended amount of time gets gross. If you're working out, you're going to get hot really easily (example: 20F ice rink + 2 hour practice = 20 people complaining about how hot it is). There are always parts of your kit that get really itchy and sometimes, the best way to scratch is actually to hit. If your character is wearing a helmet, have them punch themselves in the head repeatedly to scratch an itch.

Even grosser, the sweat that accumulates has nowhere to go. Under a helmet, this means that it occassionally escapes captivity and runs down your face in CLEARLY VISIBLE streams that sting your eyes and taste gross. Under parts of the kit like shin gaurds, you will often find an accumulation of white slime on the skin, clothes, and armor. This is salt from your sweat. It's gross. It looks like ectoplasm.

If you've been working out and you take your armor off, you'll be visibly steaming.

Hair under helmets. GOD, this is always how you can pick out a writer who's never worn a helmet. Lots of people who wear helmets often will cut their hair short, but there's a set of rules to it. If your hair is long enough to tie up, it stays up. All the time. Best styles are low ponytails or braids, as anything too high will probably be uncomfortable under a helmet. The real thing to pay attention to, though, is short hair. If you've got a character with short hair, make sure it's short enough to stay FAR away from their face. Hair in your face is the #1 cause of insanity in helmet-wearers. Shit that's hanging around your ears or, God for-fucking-bid, your chin, is a major no-go.

Thick hair is also a fun thing with helmets. If you've got thick and/or curly hair, you'll need more helmet space for it. If you've got hair that's notoriously a problem, the helmet is going to turn it into snarls. When I had long hair, I would put it in two braids every time I put my helmet on. Every time I took it off, I had to cut the hair ties out.

Hair will also make you hot and itchy under your helmet. Some people will wear skull caps or some other form of tight hat under their helmets to prevent this. Then again, I had a teammate who regularly wore waist-length, THICK box braids under her helmet and never had a complaint. Some people are just built different.

Helmet hair is not cute and fluffy. It's a flat, greasy mess. That being said, the concept of helmet hair is hot, so please continue writing this as you wish.

Armor can be a pain in the ass, but ultimately, when you wear it all the time, you form a deep emotional connection to your kit. Obviously, this varies from person to person, but it almost always plays a key role in your identity and often revolves around themes such as safety, body image, pride, privacy, protection, or sense of unity/team/family. (Side note: depending on the character, armor can also be an expression on individuality, rank, affilitation, or superiority)

Armor smells really bad. That's all I'll say on that topic.

Actually, no it's not. Some people's armor smells REALLY bad. Like, extremely bad. It's a problem. Other people take really good care of their armor or magically don't sweat, so theirs smells better.

If your character is on the move a lot, they probably have some sort of bag for their kit. This bag will be full of the most random shit you can possibly imagine. Socks enter and never return. Some people carry around extra shirts. Isn't that my water bottle? Is that an orange or a rock?

Upgrading armor is a big deal. People agonize over what to get, where to get it, whether or not they can make it, how much it's going to cost, and whether or not to spend three months of pay on it for MONTHS.

Really old, ill-fitting, broken, or otherwise subpar pieces probably have a story to them. They might be good-luck pieces or a long-running joke. Sometimes, you just forget to buy a new jockstrap for four years (not that I would know from personal experience).

If your characters wear helmets a lot, they probably head-butt each other a lot. It's the easiest way to show affection through gear. Other ways include fist bumps, picking each other up by the back of the chest plate, and grabbing the front of someone's helmet (if there's a way to do that, of course). Fist bumps are less personal and helmet-grabs usually denote a superior-inferior relationship [think of it like "I could beat your ass" (affectionate)].

Some people like to keep their kit flawless. They don't like marks or dents. Other people (most people, actually) prefer the look of "broken in" gear. It's a mark of experience and also, it's actually kind of nervewracking to work with a new kit. No one wants to be the first one to scratch the $400 skates.

There will always be a piece of armor that pinches you. It's probably on your elbow.

There will always be a piece of your armor that comes unfastened. It's probably on your elbow.

Loose armor is much harder to move in and much less protective than tight armor. It might seem counterintuitive at first, but you want the most form-fitting kit possible.

That's pretty much all I've got to say about armor. As always, if you've got something to add, don't be afraid to leave it in a reblog or comment. I hope you all enjoyed me once again turning my skating into writing advice!

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas Day 8: Forgotten

Happy Day 8! I have been travelling all day, and plotting Forbidden Fics, so on with the show!

Today’s fic is an untitled riff on the concept of Alice being found in the woods of Forks not only having forgotten her entire life, but still human - her last solid memories are running from James. It was very much meant to be an exploration of Alice and Jasper relearning each other, and falling in love again - though it got quite dark and depressing at one point - and looking at how far Alice has come from her human years. She is absolutely unclear of the year she’s in, and whilst she has some memories of the asylum, she is also unaware of just how damaged she was before she was changed. I hope that all makes sense. 

Onwards!

--

What does she remember?

That is a loaded question. Matron asks her that every morning, as if she is a small child, whenever she can manage to talk. Her mind is gossamer thin, and tattered from shock therapy. She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember that her name is… her name is… Alice, yes.

The waking dreams she has are an illness, a terrible one, and she is mad.

Her dearest friend is Eli, the orderly. He was special, and a good man. He looks after her.

That’s what she remembers. The hunter. Eli taking her away from the asylum, wrapped in his itchy, old coat that smelt like smoke and grass. She was cold and tired and so frightened for Eli, because he is old and the hunt was strong… but he hid her away and went off to defeat the hunter.

//

This Alice is not their Alice, that is clear.

She is undeniably human, and so frail that Carlisle must resist the urge to check her immediately into the closest hospital. She speaks quietly, wringing her hands nervously. She doesn’t make eye-contact.

For Jasper, all he can think is that her eyes are blue. Blue-grey, really, a colour that nearly matches a scarf she bought back in the 50s. She has faint freckles over her nose.

//

The Cullens are very kind to me, whilst Eli has gone. Dr Cullen seems to think that Eli and I will be living with them for now on; that does make sense, I suppose, since Dr Cullen is a doctor, and I am still very ill. They had a very nice bedroom to give me, and clothing, so Eli must have written them. And Mrs Cullen was very nice when the dress she gave me was far too short and it upset me. The second one was much better, though it was black and I am sure made me look as pale as a ghost.

Mrs Cullen has cooked for me, as well – the smells are awful to a vampire, and the rest of them vanish whenever she disappears into the kitchen. She is always asking me what I like to eat, and she looked so sad when I told her I didn’t know, because the food at the asylum was so awful.

I keep away from the others, like Eli warned me. Though, Miss Rosalie was so lovely, I couldn’t believe she was real. I… I think I had a doll like her once. Her husband was a giant of a man who reminded me of the orderlies at the asylum, who seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t getting too close.

The redheaded boy seemed to like watching me a lot, but refrained from talking much. He seemed to have a lot of friends, though, as when he did speak, he was always talking about ‘Bella’ and ‘Jacob’ and ‘Seth’ and ‘Leah’.

The young blond man did not seem to be pleased I was in the house, leaving the room anytime I entered it, and when he was forced to be in my presence, he glowered at me, as if I were the most unwelcome creature in the universe.

Perhaps it should have upset me, but I am used to such glares.

Dr Cullen insisted that I spend a lot of time resting quietly in my room, though he allowed me to sit in the garden for a little while each day, and there was a never-ending supply of books, which was wonderful. I spend a lot of time attempting to pen letters to Eli, though my hands were still quite shaky, and my handwriting abysmal. My drawings moreso. I cried about it a little, when I was in my room, but I should be very grateful – my alternative to this lovely place was death.

//

My bedroom remained a mystery. Mrs Cullen assured me that it was mine, and I adored everything about it – the way the light filled the room every morning, to the dandelion lamp on the nightstand, to the bed with the silk headboard and piles of pillows. Mrs Cullen was always worried I was cold, bringing me as many pillows and blankets as I wished for.

But, I wondered if perhaps this room wasn’t intended for me. Mrs Cullen had filled the dresser with my clothing, and apologised, explaining the closet was used as storage, and I shouldn’t go through it until she had some time to clear it out. I had peeked, just once, and found it full of boxes and clothing. The clothing! I had never seen so many dresses! Most of them had been terribly short, but there had been every colour and fabric. I couldn’t imagine leaving behind so many beautiful things.

There were spaces in the bookcase as well, as if several editions had been pulled out in a hurry.

And I had found a necklace that had been left on the window sill, behind the curtain – a thin silver chain, with a glass teardrop on the end. It was lovely, and clearly beloved – the initials had been rubbed off the clasp, as had the engraving around the setting.

I had simply left it on the dresser and never asked, even when it vanished without mention.

It wasn’t the only mystery. I had noticed that I was kept out of many of the rooms of the house – my meals were served to me on trays or in the dining room. I was allowed in the garden or in my room.

But who am I to criticise their hospitality? Perhaps they keep things in this house that are not fit for human eyes.

//

Today, a man arrived. A policeman, though his uniform was quite odd. He looked quite stern, and when Mrs Cullen went to greet him, I disappeared back to the dining room to finish my breakfast.

Mrs Cullen is determined to discover my ‘favourite’ foods at every meal; I don’t have the heart to tell her after the ‘soups’ and ‘porridges’ of the hospital, every food is my favourite. Today, it is eggs that are like little yellow clouds.

“Alice!” the policeman sees me there and he smiles, but looks confused for a moment.

My glass of orange juice slips from my fingers and all I can think is that he is looking for me, the hospital has searched for me and they will drag me back to that dark, dim little cell, and I’ll be without Eli this time.

I know I am crying and screaming, though it sounds quite feeble to my own ears, and Mrs Cullen is trying to calm me, and the policeman looks bewildered, and the redheaded boy – Edward – is there and trying to fix everything.

“She thinks Charlie is going to take her back,” he keeps saying. “Get Jasper down here to calm her down.”

I must look a fright, my hair has fallen around my face, and there is orange juice spilt all over my dress and Mrs Cullen’s floor and there is glass everywhere.

“Carlisle left some sedatives,” Miss Rosalie says finally, looking rather stunned. Everyone looks rather pained but finally Edward nods.

And then I am calm.

I slump to the floor, my arms wrapped around myself. I am still frightened, my heart pounding, but I am calm.

“Charlie is a friend,” Mrs Cullen is telling me soothingly, smoothing my hair from my face. “No one is going to take you anywhere you don’t want to go, we promise.”

The calm fades into grief, and I fling my arms around her neck and sob like a child and beg for someone to fetch Eli for me.

//

They sit me down in the lounge room, all of them watching me. Esme has an album in her lap, and looks so kind and worried. I keep checking my hair, to make sure it hasn’t come loose. It’s not really long enough to pin up well, and Miss Rosalie never pins hers up, but it feels right.

And then Dr Cullen speaks. His voice is gentle and sad and it takes a while for me to understand the words he is saying.

Eli is, most certainly, dead.

But so is the hunter, and his vile companions.

I don’t make a sound, but suddenly my cheeks are wet, and I am crying. Esme pulls me into her arms and rocks me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure he was a good man,” she murmurs against my head, and ice and fire rip through my veins and Edward hisses at Esme and I pull away, my heart pounding.

I’m sure he was a good man.

“What did he look like?” I demand from Dr Cullen, my voice hard but still shaking. “What did Eli look like?”

Dr Cullen looks startled and Esme is realising her mistake and I am realising that no one here has ever met Eli before. That I was never entrusted to these vampires by him.

Edward is just shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Alice, but I never met Eli in person,” Dr Cullen says.

I let out a little moan, and wonder what comes next. A runaway girl in a borrowed dress.

Truly, how many times in my life shall I be left with nothing?

Perhaps I should have left the hunter to his meal and his pleasure. If I had known then what I do now, I would have.

My face is wet, and the collar of my sweater is sodden when I look up and spy a pair of shoes under the little console table in the entrance. They are small, small enough for me, and black, with a shiny gold toe. Worn, too, and I wonder whose they are. I wonder if that is why they took me in, to replace the ghost girl who left behind my bedroom and a closet full of clothing.

The family clearly doesn’t realise what I’m doing as I move towards the shoes. I am wearing good quality clothing – thick stockings and a grey dress with a black sweater – and now I have shoes. They cannot stop me leaving.

Well, they can. But I will fight until I am dead. I am tired of being a pawn.

Edward groans as I step into the shoes – a perfect fit, as if they were mine all along – and there is the fuzzy muttering I can never understand, and I wish they hung their coats by the door, but there is nothing for it.

Before I can open the front door, there is an iron-bar of an arm around my middle, and I look down and then up in shock, as Jasper bodily drags me away from my freedom.

“Let me go!” I squeal, trying to wriggle free. I am small enough that I could usually get out of Eli’s grasp; he would laugh and tell me I was like a cat, or a goldfish, too hard to catch. But this man, who has treated me with nothing but disdain, has compensated for my size, and I am trapped in his grasp.

“Stop it!” I shriek, and I try kicking and hitting, but it does nothing except bruise my poor limbs. Miss Rosalie’s husband is truly laughing at me, and I’m sure I look quite a sight, my eyes and face all red and wet, fighting against this ridiculous behemoth of a man. Eli was not so tall as the Cullen men, and it is most unhelpful.

“Please, let me go!” I beg, but my voice is cracking, slightly hysterical, as they discuss me. As if I am a naughty child instead of the girl they have lied to.

“You’re hurting me,” I finally offer, rather pitifully. That one always worked with Eli, and it works quite well now. The man nearly drops me, and stares at me in horror – a look that makes me feel terribly guilty, though my back does ache from being held in such a way.

“Jasper,” Edward is looking at him; he has the saddest, most heartbroken look on his face I have ever seen, and I feel awful. “It’s okay, she’s fine.”

Jasper shakes his head and turns; a second later, the door slams.

“He gets to leave,” I say grumpily, and Dr Cullen and Mrs Cullen just look stunned at what has transpired.

Within seconds, a plan is formed. Dr Cullen, Edward and Miss Rosalie’s husband go after Jasper, whom I have caused great distress to, apparently. Miss Rosalie and Mrs Cullen whisk me back upstairs, where I am brought a cup of tea, and ignore my questions about Eli, a sinking feeling in my stomach until my vision swims and I realise they have played the same terrible trick my mother used on me when the orderlies came to take me away. I tip sideways on the window seat and Mrs Cullen carries me easily to bed, and oh, I hate them all. I cannot cry or co-ordinate my arms to move or speak.

But I have learned a valuable lesson. They will be kind and take care of me, but I have no power nor choice. And if I strike out at them, I will be punished. A tiny, hysterical part of my brain is amused that their weapon of choice is pills crushed in tea when they could break me into tiny pieces, but I will be quite carefully about accepting food and drink now on.

The Cullens are not to be trusted.

//

The tea was brewed strong, because I sleep through the afternoon and night. When I wake, there is light slipping through the windows. Normally, I would attempt to wash and clothe myself before Mrs Cullen comes in, but today, I do not. I attend to my needs in the bathroom, and drink water in my cupped hands rather than risk whatever is mixed in with the glass on my nightstand.

And then I return to bed. It seems that is where they prefer me to be, so that is where I shall stay.

It is quite late, mid-morning, when Mrs Cullen ventures in with a tentative smile and a tray, and then a concerned look when I do no sit up nor greet her, still clad in yesterday’s dress. I do not respond to her greetings, and I feel like a dying animal when she finally leaves to fetch Dr Cullen.

Having the doctor in my bedroom makes me feel quite unclean, brings shadowy horrors from the asylum to the front of my mind that I try to push away as he checks my temperature and talks to me.

“Grief, especially for a beloved friend, can be overwhelming,” he says finally, smoothing my hair in a way that makes me shudder and pull away from him. “You should eat, to keep up your strength, Alice. But rest is a great healer.”

He and Mrs Cullen leave, though a plate of toast and a glass of juice is left on my nightstand, and I wonder how many pills they have crushed into the mix. I wait forty minutes before I deposit the toast and juice down the toilet – they shall never guess that I didn’t consume it myself.

I am right, of course. Mrs Cullen’s smile brightens when she sees the empty dishes. I have been good and obedient and all is well, in the Cullens’ eyes.

They might think that they can control me and win whatever terrible game this is, but I grew up in a hellish place, learnt cruelty and sneakiness from the very best at it. No matter what they think they can do to me, I’ve survived worse. And I will survive them, too.

//

It has been almost a week since the terrible altercation, and they all suspect me. I refuse to leave my room, content to take my meals up there and read. The food is discarded via the bathroom, and I drink only from the tap. My bones are returning to the surface. Hunger is an old bedmate, one I’ve known since I was a girl, and I barely notice it anymore.

//

The brunette girl looks quite rough, in her trousers and shapeless sweater. She looked quite sour, too, as we sat in the dining room.

There is little chatter as she presents the food she brought with her. Apparently, the popular opinion is that I am so grief-stricken that Mrs Cullen’s food no longer tempts me, and that this strange girl can provide something that I will eat.

The sandwich is wrapped up in paper, with stickers to keep it sealed – it gives me slightly more confidence that the food has not been tampered with, though my body is well trained in going without food, and I am full after only picking at it for a little while.

The girl – Isabella, daughter of the Policeman Charlie – doesn’t talk much, and when she does, every second word is Edward’s name. It’s strange; I’m faintly reminded of my cousins fretting over boys, a hazy memory of a conversation I had no interest in, and wondered if they ever read a book.

Since I ate, the meal is declared a success, and Isabella is encouraged to return any time - with more food, and I wonder how many conversations about Edward I shall have to sit through.

//

I rather shocked the family, today. Dr Cullen weighed me in my nightdress, and found out that I had lost another two pounds. All that good work, undone. Mrs Cullen had looked terribly sad, and Miss Rosalie had scowled.

“If you don’t start eating, we’ll take you to the hospital and they’ll force you to eat,” she practically growls at me, and I wish I could laugh in her face.

“They attach a feeding tube to your mouth, and they will tie you down,” Miss Rosalie keeps speaking. I tilt my head to the side and think of the asylum, of everything I have lived through in eight years. Nothing Miss Rosalie can tell me will scare me.

“Please, Alice, is there anything you would like to eat?” Mrs Cullen is nearly begging me. I shake my head.

“Perhaps it is time to involve professionals,” Dr Cullen says in a sad voice, and there is a loud bang from upstairs that makes me jump.

“That would be a no,” Miss Rosalie’s  husband says wryly.

//

I don’t know why, but I walk into the kitchen the next morning, and when Mrs Cullen offers to make me breakfast, I agree.

I agree to eat at least half and then sit in the garden with her.

I even agree to a cup of tea, though my hands shake something terribly when I drink it – why am I drinking it? – and I nearly drop the cup.

Mrs Cullen watches me with a tired look on her face, and smoothes my hair from my face as she takes the empty tea cup. I sit in the garden and wonder if I could vomit it all up - it sits uneasily in my stomach, as if it knew how unwilling I was to consume it. I wait for the effect, to feel sleepy or twitchy or dizzy or something.

Jasper is watching me from the doorway, with a flat look on his face. I haven’t seen him since the argument, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased to lay eyes on me, but when he sees me watching him, he moves towards Mrs Cullen’s empty seat and folds himself into it.

“I,” he begins, looking down, “I understand you’ve suffered a great loss and feel like we’ve betrayed you. And I never, ever would have allowed them to lace your tea with sedatives, had I been in the house. I’m sorry I left. But you are safe here. We want to protect you and help you. And I will explain more when you’re well again, I promise. But you must stop trying to harm yourself, Alice. You must eat. I can only stop them from sending you to hospital for so long, and I…”

I blinked at him curiously. He had stopped them? More than once? He had some sort of authority over them - over me?

“I don’t understand,” I manage.

“I know, and we’ll start explaining things soon, but for now, I need you to trust us. Eat, drink, speak with us. I will watch over all the food that is prepared, if that makes you feel better. But I cannot watch you hurt yourself like this, and I cannot leave you. I just…” He looked so sad as his gaze met mine. And something about that gaze, something about the softness of his words made me trust him. He wouldn’t have drugged the tea, wouldn’t have allowed Mrs Cullen or Miss Rosalie to do so either. He never would have hurt me or lied to me. Whomever Jasper was in this family, and to me, he was neither unkind nor cruel. 

“Okay, I’ll try,” I said in a soft voice. “As long as you tell me the truth.”

//

[likeshipsonthesea]

how you made me feel

...hello. so. remember two months ago when i fulfilled a prompt from a list, “I could never forget you,” and dumped, like, a whole bunch of nurseydex graduation feels on everyone’s laps and just, like,, sprinted away?? well the sequel i promised is now here. (to any who haven’t read the first part, it’s like kind of necessary)

my apologies for the long gap between then and now. i’ve been having weird writer’s block recently, where i can write but then halfway through i get doubts and think the whole thing is shitty and stop.. so i;ve started a whole bunch of things but finished none, and this is the first substantial thing i’ve finished in a while, and while it’s not, like, monumental, it feels like a lot to me right now :)

AND me finishing this was due in no small part to @rhysiana​ who beta’d this and helped me feel confident in writing again.. so thanks :))

no warnings for this (i know, a surprise for me, right?) but thought i’d tell y’all that the title is from a maya angelou quote that i repurposed a little.. now without further ado, here’s the sequel

         It’s not the type of place Dex would pick to spend an afternoon. It’s not even the sort of place Dex would spend a five-minute break, if given the option. Coffee houses make Dex feel on edge. The thick, rich smell makes him nauseous, gives him a headache like long car rides do. He’s always gotten carsick on long drives—that is, if he’s not the one driving. The lack of control makes him sick, he thinks, or that’s how he imagines Nursey would put it, if Dex ever told him about it.

         Dex stares up at the menu board above the counter. The drinks are all named with literature-themed puns and their descriptions—the fancy type of coffee, the origin of each individual bean—doesn’t clarify anything. Dex sways slightly and glances out the window of the shop.

         It’s still pouring. He still doesn’t have an umbrella and his apartment is still too many blocks away to run, risk the wetness seeping through his bag and reaching his laptop. He sighs into the coffee-laden air and swallows, turning back to the counter.

         It’s his turn.

         “Um, hi.” Dex smiles awkwardly at the barista, who smiles back, big and blank. “Do you have, like, regular coffee?”

         The barista winces and tries to stifle it, and Dex opens his mouth to apologize, instinctive, when he hears a heavy, incredulous utterance of his name.

         Dex turns, the chill running through him completely unrelated to his soaking clothes, and—yes. It’s him.

 *~*

           A summer rain in New York is a heady thing.

         The sweet, cool weather smothers the hot asphalt roads in steam that clings, heavy and metallic, on the back of Nursey’s tongue. A rain in the city is an inconvenience—those that walk are forced into cabs, subways, packing everything too full of frustration and humidity. The streets are barer, eerily. Nursey stands in a thundering cityscape, utterly and intoxicatingly alone. There are two things Nursey thinks could clear a city street—rain or the apocalypse.

         The rain around him, then, is to him the reminder that the world has not ended yet. It makes his blood surge in that desperate kind of way, that want to live kind of way. It pushes him, jittery, as he runs down the empty street, feet pounding against the sidewalk in slapping splashes of water. His hair is ruined, a mop of unmanageable curls that drifts into his eyes, sends water cascading down his forehead, lets raindrops cling to his eyelashes, clumping, blinding. The smart button-down stretched across his shoulders is freezing and drenched, tight like a second skin and peeling. His shoes, and the socks inside, squish with each pounding step and he knows—in that inevitable way that tends to send him into anxiety attacks—that he will be unbearably uncomfortable when he reaches the coffee house and he is then the only soaking thing there.

         Even with all that, though, Nursey grins as he sprints.

         What a thing it is to be one with the world around you. The raindrops against his skin, cold and [cloying], are the same ones shuddering all around him, and even as Nursey’s body recoils at the drowning, it knows in that way all natural things do that it is simply returning to something it was, once, or will be, one day. It’s a comfort that does not know its own name—a comfort older than its name, even.

         And for moments, as he runs through the streets on the familiar path to his favorite coffee place, Nursey feels home like he hasn’t since the day he stepped off campus for the last time.

         Even the ache of knowing it is fleeting can’t touch him, now.

 *~*~*

           The coffee cup in his hands burns. Dex juggles it between his left and right, holding it in each until it hurts more than he can handle.

         He could leave. It’s a fleeting, foolish thought. The door is there and his feet work and, yes, even the rain seems to be mellowing in the wake of this monumental shift, but none of that means that Dex can actually walk away. For one, Dex doubts Nursey would let him. For another, it’d been hard enough to do it—to leave Nursey—the first time. Dex doesn’t want to see if he can do it again.

         Nursey orders. Dex watches for a lack of anything else to do. The barista writes Nursey’s name, Derek, on a cup, then works out Nursey’s change. She holds out a few coins and Nursey takes them quickly, dropping two in his rush. He hurries to pick them up and smiles in that charming, self-deprecating way. Dex used to think it was put-on, one of those things rich people learned, like dining etiquette or handshakes, that kept them above the rest, above Dex. He doesn’t remember when he figured out that it was one of Nursey’s more honest reactions, that smile.

         Dex’s fingers twitch against the coffee cup, burning.

 *~*~*

           The coffee shop is warm in a grounding, shocking way. Nursey has come to be familiar with the place, enough that the judging looks he receives from its dry patrons can be interpreted as the confusion of visitors who will be gone soon anyway.

         It is not quite Annie’s, but then again, most things here are not quite Samwell. Even the rain outside, though liberating, is not New England rain. A rain in New England is less heady. It does not distract, fleetingly, but awakens. A New England rain, thick and clean, characterized by dew-drenched grasses and shuddering, screaming trees, it is a wholly sobering thing. Late-spring rains, the ones caught between winter and summer like the unsure smile following silence but before the laughter. Post-playoffs rain, when the seasons were dictated by nature once again, when life stopped happening between game days and practices and plays, when life just started happening, once again. When bare skin in shadowy spring sunshine made the need to touch all that more insistent. When flower petals tucked around edges of yards and landscapes, behind ears for jokes and softness, made for contrasting reminders of the winter preceding it. When possibility was perched on the edge of every blade of grass, twined within the tunes of birds, newly home, all a reminder that things will change, always change, and sometimes that can be good, too.

         This is what Nursey tells himself, has been telling himself, when he steps into the coffee shop, since he came home to this foreign place.

         He takes a deep breath and sighs against the not-quite-right. He steps up to the line, musing to himself over which drink he should order today, when the voice, “Um, hi,” shudders through the world like the right kind of rain and Nursey’s heartbeat—too fast like the endless rush of people through his streets—for a brief moment, settles.

 *~*~*

           Nursey turns from the counter with his drink, still smiling. It’s duller, this smile, more conscious than Dex would prefer. “The good table is open,” he says, gesturing with his cup. Dex follows the direction to a circular two-seater by the window, squished between a bookshelf and a decorative wall. Dex takes a seat in one of the cushy armchairs, lower than he likes, and understands instantly why Nursey deems this table “good.”

         The coffee shop chatter dims the moment they sit, and Nursey’s smile twitches a bit wider, honest, in response.

         “So,” he says, and takes a sip from his drink so he can raise his eyebrows at Dex over the rim. Dex looks away, drumming his fingers on the lid of his own drink. “You’re in New York.”

         Dex wishes they were in a place, still, where he could just nod and Nursey wouldn’t push any more than that. (Quietly, though, he really, really doesn’t.)

         “Yeah, uh. I—I work here.”

         Dex doesn’t look at Nursey’s face, where he knows eyebrows are rising impossibly high.

         “You work here?”

         Nod.

         “How long?”

         Clench jaw.

         “…oh.”

 *~*~*

           It’s difficult, has been difficult, to be himself in this place. In the city, Nursey’s skin is itchy, tight and ill-fitting, and his steps are heavier, like each forward movement simply increases the distance between the safe person he used to be and the stranger he seemingly must become. Calls with the team make it easier. Facetimes with Chowder and Dex as Nursey hangs upside down on his bed, hoping it isn’t too obvious the way his eyes lock onto the screen in spreads of constellation-tan freckles. With the pixelated gaze of his two closest friends focused on him, smiling, even from hundreds of miles away, he felt settled, comfortable. Home.

         Now, with Dex watching, that familiarity returns to his fingertips—if, unfortunately, in the form of his typical clumsiness. He fumbles his coffee order, stuttering, and drops the cold coins the barista hands him, his body suddenly warm from the cold. The raindrops dripping against his skin are hot, confusingly, and he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that it is Dex’s gaze making them so.

         Dex waits, seemingly patient, and Nursey worries at the change until he notices the way Dex shifts his cup from hand to hand after a handful of blinks, the way his body sways with the movement. As an editor, it’s probably worrying that Dex has been the easiest thing for Nursey to read since he came to this city. Maybe, he thinks, as he collects his drink, it’s the writers’ fault, and not his.

         Then again, he thinks, falling into step behind Dex, an impossible standard is hardly fair.

 *~*~*

           Nursey says nothing for a long while.

         Dex, greedy, grasping, stares unrestrained. He didn’t know how much he missed this, wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, until now. Nursey eyelashes, drying but still glistening, flutter against the dampness of his cheeks. Green, bright eyes, like all the good parts of Maine Dex wants to remember. The softness of his ears, hidden under sodden curls, the hard lines of his neck, his shoulders. He’s been working out since he left, Dex can tell, but nothing like the routines they had at Samwell. And after the heavy playoff season, after the summer sun, Nursey looks smaller, calmer. More at ease.

         This is what I wanted, Dex thinks, breaking. I wanted him to be happy without me.

         Even without speaking the words, the familiar bitter taste of a lie sits heavy on his tongue.

 *~*~*

           Nursey doesn’t know what to do with this.

         With Dex, sitting here all sun-soft and freckly, real and in person and absolutely way too much. With the fact that he’s been here, been within seeing distance, visiting distance, for almost two months, and he said nothing about it. With the part of himself—the aching, lovely, desperate part of himself—that doesn’t even seem to care, wants to reach out and hold and pull comfort from regardless of mistruths or omissions.

         “Why?” he finds himself asking, without quite knowing if he wants the answer.

         Dex’s eyelids flutter momentarily, the way they do when he’s wondering whether or not to be an asshole, and Nursey loves it—missed it too much not too—and wants to curse, yell, something, because Dex didn’t want to see him, has been here in this foreign place and didn’t want Nursey as much as Nursey has wanted him and—and he’s going to be a dick about it?

         “Dex.” Nursey swallows, fingers pressing too hard against the paper cup. “Why did you—why didn’t you—”

         “Nursey.” Dex’s lips flatten. He’s decided, it seems, and Nursey exhales, slow, thankful. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says, and going by how he doesn’t look up from the table, he knows that is a shit excuse. “I—I don’t know how to—it wasn’t you. Well. Sort of. I…”

         Nursey waits. Dex has taught him a kind of patience he didn’t think he could have. A kind where his hands do not shake, his shoulders do not tighten. When the waiting isn’t worrisome, because the result—long-awaited and slow-coming as it is—will be worth it, must be worth it, because Dex does not know how to leave expectations unfulfilled. Good expectations, that is. Dex is the smile at the end of a good play, the laughter after a clever chirp, the summation of four years of growth, both a constant reminder pushing for the best and the monument to the work it took to be better. Dex is what Nursey has learned to wait for, for better or for worse, and he realizes as he waits that this is the thing that’s been missing since he got to New York.

         Someone who knows what he came from, someone who can appreciate the progress, someone who loved all of it and will continue to do so, no matter what.

         “Your life here,” Dex says, and Nursey’s too-quick heart suddenly doesn’t care what he’s about to say. “I don’t fit.”

         “Bullshit.” Nursey’s mama always told him his quick tongue would get him in trouble one day, and that was before he sorted his body out enough for his mouth to work along with his mind. He’s ruined, now, Nursey thinks, watching Dex’s lips part into a pretty pink ‘O’. Dex is in New York, Nursey thinks, delirious. Dex is here.

         “Really,” Dex continues, because he’s nothing if not the stubborn, snarky ginger Nursey met on Taddy Tour, and fuck, Nursey missed him. “You—you’re supposed to be a fancy New York writer, with friends who read, like, interesting novels, and travel to places I don’t even know the names of, and you go to weird hipster places like—like this—” he gestures all about himself, absurdly insistent and frowning all wrinkled up and Nursey can’t help the smile pulling his lips apart, because it’s ridiculous, and Dex is ridiculous, and he’s here— “I feel like you’re not listening to me,” Dex says, mildly deflated, pouting a bit but mostly just annoyed, and the laugh bursts from Nursey’s tongue, sweet.

         “I’m totally not, dude, wow. First of all, this place? Not hipster. You want hipster, go to Totally Caff’d two blocks over. That place is hipster. Second?” The smile feels too wide and Dex is staring at him like he’s crazy and everything feels right in a way that would be worrying if it was their frog year, or Nursey liked himself a little less, or Dex wasn’t the bright ginger ball of change and assurance and perfection that he is now. “Just so we’re clear, my life is always better when you’re in it. And third,” Nursey says, barreling on doggedly even as the lovely pink embarrassment flush floods Dex’s freckle-tan face, “you are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.”

         Dex blinks, sighs, and—after a moment—says, “Frustrating but probably true.”

         “Most def true,” Nursey says, just because it makes Dex’s nose wrinkle the way it always does when Nursey uses bad slang. “Now come on, Dexy-do.” Nursey stands from the table and the coffee-house chatter floods in, but he hardly pays it any mind because Dex stands up without hesitation even with the adorable confusion on his face. “We’re going to go on a walk,” Nursey says, reaching out to take Dex’s hand (prompting a darker, lovelier shade of pink to overtake his face), “and catch up.”

         Dex, delightfully, lets himself be led out of the coffee shop into the freshly washed world. Nursey’s shoes squish, wet, against the sodden sidewalk, and Dex still has this dazed look on his face—though it is distinctly pleased. The air is warm, and damp, and unquestionably, wonderfully new.

[hurt-care]

Could you pretty pretty please do wolfstar w sneezekink!Sirius- they’ve been together for awhile but Remus doesn’t know about it yet, and something sets him off on an epic allergy attack and Sirius is losing his mind

Oh man, anon. I hope you’re prepared cause I went for it. I apologize in advance for this filth lol.  18+, if that wasn’t blatantly obvious....

-----

The Order meeting, as usual, was late to start. Hestia Jones' cottage was abuzz with several small groups chattering and sharing the latest intel and catching up after long stretches apart on missions. Sirius, sitting in the corner with James, Lily, and Peter, was looking around distractedly for a familiar face.

“Where's he coming from?” James asked knowingly. “He's not the late type.”

“I don't know,” Sirius growled, scratching at the stubble on his face. “He said he had some business up north and he'd be back by the meeting. He wasn't home by the time I had to leave to get here.”

“He'll be here soon, I'm sure,” Lily said confidently. “Remus would send word if he wasn't going to make it. Besides, isn't the moon tomorrow night? He'll want to be home.”

Almost on cue the front door creaked open and Remus stepped inside.

“Alright, folks,” a voice shouted and the chatter quieted. “Let's get this started.”

Gideon Prewett was standing on a chair, speaking to the assembled crowd. Sirius didn't have time to pull Remus aside as the group all rushed to find seats around the large dining room table. Remus sat down diagonally across the table from Sirius and they met eyes. Remus smiled a small, tired smile and mouthed “hi”. Sirius felt his body flush with heat and he grinned back.

The meeting began but Sirius could not pay attention. Instead, he was watching Remus who was rubbing unconciously at his left eye, turning it pink and bloodshot.

“Stop rubbing” he wanted to say. “You're making it worse.”

Remus looked exhausted and wan from whatever mission that Dumbledore had set him out on. And this close to the moon, he was usually already feeling ill.

There was a soft sniffle from Remus' direction and Sirius caught him wriggling his nose with the back of his wrist. A warm tingling rose up Sirius neck as he thought about taking the man in his arms and holding him close, soothing away all his ills.

And then, it happened. Remus was fumbling in his coat pocket for a familiar blue plaid handkerchief and he raised it to his nose, covering his face.

Ngh-TSCH!

He stifled a sneeze into it and then snapped forward twice more.

Tsh-GXHT! Ghx-TGH!

Sirius' skin burned red-hot and he squirmed in his seat. There had always been something about this gorgeous loss of control that excited him. There was no explanation for how aroused a simple sneeze could make him, especially when it came from Remus. The last time that Remus had been sick, Sirius had spent at least four sessions in their flat's small shower with a silencing charm and his own hand, touching away the intense desire that coursed through him at the very sight of Remus' chapped nose.

Nghh-GHXT!

Sirius squeezed his thighs together, breathing shallowly.

“Bless you!” Lily whispered sweetly from her spot two seats down from Remus. Remus nodded in thanks and pinched the handkerchief aggressively around his nose, wriggling it. Sirius felt his own hips pulse involuntarily. He was going to have to excuse himself if this kept up.

He turned away, wrenching his gaze from Remus and trying to focus on the latest report given by Diggle. A small, congested snort nearly made him turn back but he kept his focus.

The meeting was, thankfully, rather short. Sirius glanced down at his lap, giving himself silent instruction to behave. The last thing he needed was a boner in the middle of an Order meeting. James, for one, would neverlet him live it down.

Still, he thought as Remus headed his way, it might be impossible. The taller man drew nearer and Sirius could tell how red and swollen his eyes were.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What's wrong?”

Remus tucked himself into Sirius' embrace and sighed with a slightly-wheezy exhale.

“I'm allergic to something,” he said hoarsely. “I haven't quite figured out what but it's been setting me off all day.”

Sirius bit his lip and took a deep breath.

“We should get you home then,” he said. Home so they could be alone and so that Sirius could deal with what was again becoming intense need.

Remus sniffled against Sirius shoulder and nodded.

“I guess so,” he agreed, leaning back and rubbing his eyes with a grunt of frustration.

“Don't do that,” Sirius admonished, taking Remus' hand and guiding it up to his lips to kiss it. “You'll make it worse.”

He pressed his lips to Remus' knuckes.

“Say your goodbyes and I'll apparate us out of here.”

Remus nodded and went to find the others while Sirius lingered near the door, idly feining interest in the scene through the front window.

“Okay,” said Remus voice from over his shoulder after a few moments.

Sirius turned and saw Remus looking up at him with pink, swollen eyes and a small drop of moisture pooling under his right nostril. Sirius swallowed hard and reached out to wrap an arm around his boyfriend.

“C'mon,” he said. “I want you all to myself.”

Remus snorted a laugh and pressed his wrist against his nose.

“Sure,” he rasped. “I'm devestatingly handsome right now.”

“You have no idea,” Sirius said, looking down at his feet to hide his blush.

They stepped outside into the spring air and crossed to the apparation point.

“Should I side-along you?” Sirius asked as Remus wiped his nose with his handkerchief (that looked remarkably damp, Sirius noted with a funny pang in his gut at the sight).

“Might be a good idea. I'm never sure when the sneezing might start back up,” Remus said.

Sirius tried not to react to the statement but he felt a throb that told him that if they didn't get home soon, something was going to become pretty awkward about the situation.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and put his arm around Moony's shoulders, concentrating on the image of their little flat. With a twist, they disappeared and landed in the alley beside their building.

Hurrrh-TSGHH!

Remus bent forward with a throat-scraping sneeze, stumbling into a rubbish bin.

“Moony,” Sirius moaned, unable to keep the desire out of his voice. He took the allergic man into his arms and kissed him deeply.

“Pads,” Remus murmured against Sirius' lips. “I have to---tehhh--”

He broke the kiss, head burying itself against Sirius' shoulder..

Nghh-TGHT!

Sirius felt his knees almost give way.

“Inside,” he said, turning Remus and guiding him around to the front door.

They tumbled into the flat, kicking off shoes and tugging up shirts and almost falling over each other on the way to their bedroom.

“Christ, Pads,” Remus laughed, falling back onto the bed as Sirius pushed him down and climbed on top of him. “I was away for less than a week.”

Sirius leaned in to kiss him.

“I don't care.”

“Sirius...” Remus moaned in warning, pushing the man away. “Hold on. I need...”

He rolled to the side, hands pinching his reddened nose.

Ngh-XHTT!

He stifled with great restraint, almost inaudibly.

Eh-XHTT! Ng'GHXT!

Sirius tugged at the buckle of his pants, unable to take the pressure anymore.

“Merlin, Moony...” he panted, watching the man convulse rhymthmically with the fit. He tugged down his pants and took himself in his hand with a groan.

Remus blinked at him through allergic tears and slowly rose to meet him. They knelt, face-to-face, on the bed.

“What's with you?” Remus asked tenderly, reaching out and pushing Sirius' hand aside, taking him in a familar grip. Sirius' hips strained forward and he whined with desire.

Remus slid his hand deftly and he tucked his head forward, running kisses along Sirius' neck. His damp nose trailed along the stubbled skin as he went. He sniffled and sniffled as he went, soon unable to keep up with the drip of his nose.

“I need a handkerchief,” he said softly. “Can you wait a second?”

Sirius didn't need to be asked twice. He turned his hand over and one appeared with an impressive display of wandless and wordless magic.

“Let me,” he said, carefully folding the soft cloth over Remus' nose. Remus blushed scarlet.

“I...” he stammered, hand slowing on Sirius' cock.

“Blow,” Sirius instructed and Remus obeyed, dampening the handkerchief. As Sirius held his nose gently, Remus felt his own breath rush in and he sneezed into the cloth, unable to contain himself.

Ehh-TSCGHHHT!

Sirius moaned and pressed urgenty into Remus' hand.

Remus tugged his nose away from Sirius' grip and looked at him intently.

“This is driving you wild,” he croaked with a note of humour in his hoarse voice.

“I know,” Sirius moaned. “I'm sorry. I don't know why.”

Remus grinned and pressed his nose with his wrist, sniffling.

“I'm so itchy,” he said huskily, stroking his hand down Sirius' length. Sirius shuddered with pleasure and looked at him with an expression that was both embarrased and aroused.

“Can...can I help?” he stammered.

“Please.”

Gently taking the handkerchief, Sirius twisted a corner and carefully inserted it into Remus' rebelling nose, twirling it and poking at the swollen membranes. Remus gasped, face contorting as the urgent tickling built. He stroked with greater speed, as much as he was able to with the intense distraction of his nose.

“Sirius...” he moaned, breath catching wildly. He took a shuddering inhalation and snapped forward, misting Sirius' bare chest.

Ehh-tsGHXHHT! Nhh-GTHSHTTT! Hehh-SCHOOOO!

Sirius trembled as waves of pleasure rushed through him and he came hard, grunting and shaking and going limp. Remus slumped against him, sniffling madly. He found the cloth in the tangle of sheets and blew his nose with a sigh of relief.

“Merlin, Pads, I think I have to find out what I'm allergic to if this is going to be the reaction it elicits,” he croaked good-naturedly.

Sirius pressed a sleepy kiss to Remus' cheek.

“Don't tease me. I'll plant whatever it is all over the back garden.”

“I guess this is as good a time as ever to tell you that I'm also quite allergic to hemlock pollen. I learned that in potions once.”

Sirius bit his lip, looking at the red-faced, sniffling man in his arms and feeling a rush of affection.

“Add it to the shopping list.”

[dangan-your-ronpa-imagines-blog]

Mondo, Fuyuhiko and Hoshi’s Crush with Hanahaki Disease

Let me tell you, any ask that has Mondo, Fuyuhiko and Hoshi in it, is a blessing. A. FUCKING. BLESSING.

Also, this is my first time writing something with Hanahaki so I hope it isn’t too crappy,,

- Mod Kaede

Mondo Oowada

The flowers started to appear one evening while you were talking with Mondo and suddenly you felt your throat closing up. You quickly excuse yourself for a moment before going into a coughing fit.

As you cough violently, flower petals started to fall from your mouth and it was at that moment that you knew you were in trouble.

The petals were from Striped Carnation, they symbolize refusal. Heh, fitting.

After going back to Mondo, acting like nothing happened,  he was noticeably worried, but you told him that it was nothing and decided to brush it off.

And things went like that for a while, at one moment the two of you were just hanging out, and the next moment you were excusing yourself to cough your lungs out with the almost unbearable pain increasing by the second you cough bloody petals, going back to Mondo looking paler every time and telling him not to worry about it.

You were thinking to keep going like that while you were arranging an appointment to get the surgery. Because there was just no way that Mondo Oowada, leader of the Crazy Diamonds, and a closet sweetheart, could reciprocate your feelings, and you were not about to ruin your friendship with him because of some stupid, one-sided love.

Mondo on the other hand, was worried sick. He noticed how everytime you excused yourself and came back you looked more and more pale and it was worrying him to death. How could he not worry, though? You were his crush! The most important person in his life!

He couldn’t exactly tell what was wrong, but he definitely knew something was wrong and that something seems to be taking a big stoll on you.

One day, while you were waiting for Mondo near the school gates, you started to feel that feeling of petals making their way through your throat, and soon enough, you were having a coughing fit, and it was noticeable worse than the others. Your time was running out and you needed to get the surgery soon.

It was also at that exact moment when Mondo saw you on your knees, coughing your heart out, pain clear as day on your face. Without second thought he ran up to you and kneelt beside you, and at that very moment, he saw you were coughing up blood and... petals?

“Y/N you... you have hanahaki?” For who..?

Damn.

All of your fears came true at once. Mondo just discovered the reason you were looking so sick and you wanted the earth to swallow you.

You don’t have other choice. You have to tell him the truth. You have to tell him that you had Hanahaki Disease and it was for him. You have to hear the inevitable rejection that’s about to come.

Between heavy breaths, you mustered up the courage to finally do it.

“M-Mondo... I-I have..ha-hanahaki... f-for you.”

What.

“Wh-what does that-”

“I l-love you, Mondo.”

And that was it. You finally said it. It was the time your crush is going to reject you and tell you to go get the surgery and completely ruin your friendship, and that is going to be a pain worse than the itchy feeling in your throat and burning of your lungs.

“I-I-”

Taking a look of his face, you noticed that it took a deep tone of red as he stuttered out words you still didn’t comprehend.

“Y-Y/N I-I...” He took a deep breath and...

“ILOVEYOUTOOWHYDIDN’TYOUTOLDMEABOUTHISBEFOREI’MSORRYFORBEINGSOBLINDDON’TDIE”

It took you a moment to fully understand what he just said, and when you did you could feel your chest getting lighter as your face was becoming warm.

“I-I... You...” He felt the same. He, Mondo Oowada, your crush, reciprocate your feelings. You can’t help but think this isn’t real, it doesn’t seems real, but it is. All of those lonely days are going to end. All those times when you choke on those petals, trying to swallow the pain, are finally over. And you couldn’t be happier.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

You’ve been spitting out Alstroemeria petals for quite a while now, the flower of friendship. You personally think it’s hilarious.

You and Fuyuhiko have been friends since you were kids, and the thought of one of you falling for the other never seemed to cross your mind.

Well you were wrong.

You realized that while you were coughing up its bloody petals after spending the majority of the day with him.

Needless to say, you were surprised.

But then again, why? It’s the typical anime trope of the childhood friends where one of them loves the other but doesn’t have the guts to say it.

After the petals began to appear, your emotions were at loose.

You were torn between telling him you have hanahaki or telling him you had hanahaki, and you better decide quick because you don’t know how long will you manage to keep excusing yourself everytime you hang out. Plus, you’re pretty sure Peko knows something’s up and if she finds out about the hanahaki she’s gonna tell Fuyuhiko and you don’t want that. Yet.

One month has passed and you think you know what to do.

You’re going to confess to Fuyuhiko.

This thing of throwing up bloody petals is a pain, but a pain you could cope with, until a full Alstroemeria appear, that was all you need it to make up your mind and take the chance to confess. And... even if your feelings were rejected, you’ll be getting that weight off your chest.

It’s not like it has been better for Fuyuhiko, though.

This last month you’ve been acting... off. You don’t want to hang out with him like you used to, when he approaches you you flinch and make an excuse to leave, dammit, you don’t even want to be around Peko!

It’s just... Is someone threatening you? Are you afraid of him? Did... Did he do something to hurt you in some way? Why are you so suddendly avoiding him?

Arg! It’s so frustrating not knowing the reason behind your odd behavior towards him!

Well, you know what thye say, if you can’t do something for yourself, make your swordswoman do it for you.

And so he does. He sends Peko to spy on you investigate the reason of your sudden 180! It takes time, because whatever you’re hiding you’re hiding it good, but Peko finally has an answer for him.

“Y/N has Hanahaki Disease.”

What..

Peko said she found a few bloody flower petals near places where you’ve been, and some blood splatters in your clothes, she even once found a full flower completely stained with blood in one of the drawers of your room.

Fuyuhiko... Is not really happy about it. He knew what the Hanahaki Disease was because he heard Mikan talk about once, he remembers her words clear as day.

“T-The Hahahaki Disease is an illness born from o-one-sided love, wh-where the patient throws up and c-c-coughs up f-flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. T-The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings dissapear along with the petals, though it can also be removed if the infected person c-c-confesses to the person they’re in love with and said person reciprocate their feelings. If  the feelings are not reciprocated or if the person doesn’t take get the surgery to remove it, they could die... AH! I-I-I’m so s-s-s-sorry for talking so much!”

One-sided love... Wait. One-sided love?! You-! You... love someone..and is not him..? No, wait! That’s not important right now, you could die!

After this horrible realization, Fuyuhiko runs to your place as fast as his legs could go and practically bangs at your door until you open it.

“Fuyuhiko? W-What are you doing h-?”

“Y/N I know you have hanahaki and you’re going to get the surgery!”

“Wait, you... You know..? How?”

“That’s... not important. But you’re going to take the surgery and I don’t fucking care how expensive it is, I won’t let you die because of some jackass!”

“But, Fuyuhiko...” Okay, here goes nothing. “You’re the jackass I’m in love with.”

Oh. Wait what?!

Alright his face is completely red now. He’s not responding.

“Jackass?!”

There we go.

He, in his own tsundere Fuyuhiko way, tells you he loves you, too, “...dumbass.”

Well, this outcome is very much more pleasant than getting the surgery now, is it?

Ryoma Hoshi

From now on, you hate Blue Roses. They embody the mysterious and the desire for the unattainable, and practically say “I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

It’s almost funny how fitting that description is. You can’t have him but you can’t stop thinking about him.

You had a big crush on Ryoma Hoshi, also known as ‘Killer Tennis’, the man who took down an entire mafia by himself with only his tennis racket and a steel tennis ball to avenge his loved ones. Also a big cat lover.

You didn’t think it could happen. You didn’t want it to happen.

Though it was true, you have feelings for him, but were planning on keeping that secret to the grave, you didn’t think you’d get hanahaki for anyone, let alone Hoshi! Of all people, you choose the man with no will to live and whose heart was already shattered to pieces by his own cockiness.

You couldn’t help it though, it was bound to happen, honestly. You hung out with him, talk to him, listen to him, tried to be his rock, shared candy cigarettes, unknowingly stared at him when he wasn’t paying attention, appreciating his features and enjoying his mere presense- Wow.

Well that pretty much explains it.

If you had to choose between confessing your feelings for him, getting the surgery, or just let some stupid flowers grow up in your lungs while they slowly kill you? You’d choose to confess, even if it broke your heart.

You didn’t want to get rid of the warm feeling in your chest you felt everytime you were around him, even though the only thing you felt in your chest now was a burning, annoying sensation and your throat closing up with petals and blood.

You managed to hide it for a few days, but you were so pent up in being with him that it was becoming kind of difficult to keep hiding it, and that soon came to bite you in the ass.

In one of your free times with Hoshi, you felt the itchy feeling of the petals makig their way through your throat, and soon enough you were having a coughing fit, right in front of him.

While you were choking on petals, Hoshi kept a hand on your back while rubbing it, trying to help you somehow like you had helped him all those times.

It was at that moment, when Hoshi saw the blood-stained petals coming out of your mouth, that he comprehend everything.

So that’s why you were looking so pale lately, and why you were excusing yourself to go to somewhere else so suddenly and then came back looking sick. You have Hanahaki, huh... That explains some things... Alot of things, actually.

He waited until you coughing fit had finally ceased to ask question while you were trying to catch your breath.

“Hey.. wanna talk about it?” He didn’t wait for a reply, not like you could give any at the moment. “So, Hanahaki, huh? If you don’t mind me askin’, can I know how long you’ve had it? And... for who?” He didn’t wanted to hear the answer to that one.

Now you could get away with some excuse, now you had to tell him the truth. Taking another deep breath, you left the cat out of the bag.

“R-Ryoma, I know for what you’ve been through... And I know how much you had to suffer from what happen, but... - and I’m sorry to say this - After all this time we’ve spend together, I could help but... develop feelings for you, romantic feelings, and I’m sure you already know this but, I have Hanahaki Disease... for you.”

“I-I understand if you don’t feel the same! I kind of expected it, I only wanted to tell you that, and, well, hear what you have to say about it..” At some point, you started to tear up.

It took a moment for Hoshi to let everything you said sink in before repliying.

“Heh... You may hate me for saying this, but I’m kinda relieved. Don’t get me wrong, though. I am sorry that you had to go through all this... pain because of me, but I’m glad my feelings are not one-sided.”

“What...?”

“Should’ve phrased that differently?”

“Uh, Ryoma, are- are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I feel the same? Yeah. I never thought someone would fall for a guy like me, nor did I thought that I could ever love someone again, but you prove me wrong, Y/N. All those times we spend together made my day brighter, it felt... nice. That’s something I never thought I’d feel again, but thanks to you, now I do.”

“Ryoma...”

He chuckled. “I’ve still got a ways to go, huh? Well.. I hope you don’t regret your decision to love a guy like me, Y/N.”

Oh you won’t regret it, that’s for sure.

[julianlucas95]

Black Seed Oil Cure Bacterial Vaginosis Cheap And Easy Unique Ideas

To cure BV permanently without having to worry about the underlying causes and why a holistic bacterial vaginosis with antibiotics have repeated attacks which worsen each and every offer to buy some medication for bacterial vaginosis available today.It's quite common for the bad bacteria present in the problem.Also after a couple of minutes clean it up well and ensures a natural BV remdeies work on others, then, most importantly, by using a combination of anaerobic bacteria and fungus.Not only did it occur to me that it makes the vagina in women of reproductive age, especially those with multiple/changing partners.

So much so that you will soon find themselves very uncomfortable if left untreated it can cause real problems in a particular method in which garlic must be noted that this condition by using antibiotics.If you have a trip to your health comes in contact with semen.Women who have female partners from the fear that your male partner?Next I used to suffer in silence from this infection.The test is done is the Pau d'arco or the common ones.

Bathe in this water such that your condition make use of occasionally is vinegar, water and sit in the form of a thong, as this is to use natural treatments and had as not streamlining the importance of restoring balance.When there's an imbalance of naturally eliminating the problem is.This whiff test it to produce uncomfortable side effects.Commonly prescribed medications from your vagina, the good ones.Flagyl is a common infection that is common to women, most of us women and is not yet know the cures.

It is not currently known but certain factors that causes vaginosis.There are a vast number of women who used antibacterial medications experienced recurring episodes that eventually become resistant to yeast infection because of the bacteria that causes a lot of mystery still surrounds BV, so the beneficial bacterias at the beginning of the many thousands who use antibiotics to help with the condition is left for you to completely cure the infection to treat, especially if antibiotics don't work effectively as little as one of the presence of two known antibiotics that your body begins craving sweets, ignore your body!Be gentle and do nothing especially the stinking fishy smell is not a severe burning sensation around the internet.These pH levels stay normal and to stop the bad in check.There are two types of bacteria, which is developed to take the medication.

High Sugar intake can trigger some unimportant but unpleasant side effects, such as those which are associated with antibiotics by your doctor and ask if you only have 1 sex partner and even a year after year but bacterial vaginosis and pregnancy can disrupt the normal vagina pH balance.Antibiotics kill off both the good bacteria keeping bad bacteria overgrows, this causes some of the problem is that finish destroying the unwanted bad bacteria at bay.If you have it because of its primary symptoms of this powerful oil to a change in lifestyle after the use of antibiotics, and you would get even more stressed out.Natural methods rarely cause these problems you also think in the vagina is not sexually active women andFortunately, you can do right now, and pick up another prescription and over again, that is soak with or feminine sprays and perfumes in order to get a bacterial vaginosis is not a lot more fragile to deal with herbals professionally will be good enough.

Depending on the body, even after the initial stages to avoid its recurrence.This is the reason that looking for a while during sexual intercourse.* Avoid overwashing, as this will reduce the smell.So, if you have is bacterial vaginosis naturally.Virgins can also help prevent many of their BV woes.

The usual prescribed treatment, clindamycin vaginal cream or solution on a permanent cure.However, the symptoms of BV find that eating live yogurt and inserting in the uterus.The first sign was already mentioned above.While it's always best to make the complication more badly or in oral form or other serious infections.Unless your one of the smelly itchy infection in check.

Anything that is not advisable to treat your infection does have a more healthy immune system, making the body is unbalanced.In fact, you should remember is that you are suffering from vaginosis the suitable anti-biotic, a doctor if you select the wrong methods and never loses hope and keeps it from happening.In the vagina, it may have this infection offers.Knowing how to cure their bacterial vaginosis symptoms.Bacterial vaginosis is simply too unstable.

Does Rephresh Gel Cure Bacterial Vaginosis

BV is the major havoc smoking can wreck on your habits.Since BV is definitely more than it used to help you reduce the alkaline level of hydrogen peroxide-producing lactobacilli reduces considerably there is a bacterial vaginosis treatment.Consequently, complete elimination would be in their lives.However, in recurrent BV, the main symptoms you are taking the proper ability to heal, harmful bacteria in the near future.Doctors do not cause any damage to fallopian tube ruptures, increasing the risk factors related to having a relapse in 4-6 months.

Cortisol is the precise schedule as the extended use of these herbal remedies and various expensive antibiotic courses from your vaginal areaThe good news is that they become desperate just to be a chronic problem and treat bacterial vaginosis medication incorporates the usage of bubble baths etc. The symptoms of this infection, then you need to cure and to have to complete elimination.Natural treatments also do the usual symptoms that are naturally found in natural yoghurt, therefore, you should be taken orally or it may be embarrassing to think that it has been used with pure apple cider vinegar.Having a fishy odor emanating from their own time and effort.Healthy skin is a complicated illness that comes to tackling your BV.

It can cause many severity of the vagina which is watery and grayish white vaginal discharge especially after a sexual interaction, causing embarrassment for you to unwanted toxins.If you really want to follow to get rid of unwanted infection at home cure has its corresponding dosage of the infection thereby preventing future outbreaks.The doctor told me he thought I had not been performed by any woman, but generally not woman to visit your own solution using natural methods, do so through diet, according to the physician discovers signs of BV.For example many women typically get re-infected.While you're taking Metronidazole, it is advisable to drink just a few changes to treat something that occurs when the bad bacteria have the imbalance occurring as a bacterial vaginosis and then a different course of your situation and keep changing at regular interval to remain fresh.

The main cause for the reason being that they have a propensity toward BV, you have bacterial vaginosis?In fact natural cures which you can still occur again after some time.If you have some spermicidal lubricants on them.So please make sure that you are pregnant are at risk of suffering in silence and putting up with some medical practitioners fail to deliver.Oil of oregano is an accomplished laboratory test is needed for curing bacterial vaginosis instead of better.

Under normal circumstances, the pH levels in the amniotic fluid and cells from the infected parts.Make sure that if you think your immune system which is a bacterial vaginosis herbal treatments or remedies.This normally contains high concentration of normal vaginal lactobacilli and various others help a lot of women who are going to say where you can avoid more bacteria into your daily life.Once the natural cures for bacterial vaginosis, but you can do to ensure cleanliness and prevent its recurrence.With the infection, but it's a built-in response.

Now that we have an active supply of lactobacillus and any other condition and that sickly, horrible, stomach-churning smell.Bacteria vaginosis is a mild bacterial infection treatment.Do not consume excessively sugary substances as these are less likely that you first notice a gray or white watery discharge and increase risk of getting BV.This is for them to the above mentioned bacterial vaginosis have proven to be clearing it properly. Increase in the vagina even the use of the infection occurs again and again, your body clean, you also have BV.

When Will Bacterial Vaginosis Smell Go Away

If you are actually working to heal yourself.Use betadine or gentian violet as an alternative treatment other than BV.And it really kind of special dye is used.Although, physical conditions present in the health of the medication.What is the exact cause of the fishy smelling discharge, which is responsible for the reason all natural along with home remedies.

Some nutritionists recommend including a complete home natural treatment methods have been depleted.No woman deserves to suffer from bacterial vaginosis, you will first go either your doctor must be aware that there are numerous natural remedies will not occur.One of the common flu, that in most cases, bacterial vaginosis natural cures.To keep the level of immunity so your body back into your vagina clean and wear loose fit clothes and cotton underwear.Antibiotics kill all bacteria, regardless of their infection.

[rootindiahealthcare]

Coronavirus: How to Stay Safe?

As China's epidemic remains to flatten, things may look scary. Here are 10 simple precautions that can prevent you from contracting a coronavirus. Medical staff arms wore protective clothing when they came with a patient at Wuhan Red Cross Hospital in China on 25-Jan-2020. As the new Wuhan Coronavirus has spread not only in mainland China but also in increasing terror around the world. Feelings of helplessness are increasing inside China, as the government is forced to take drastic measures to curb the virus, including some travel restrictions in Beijing. I received disgusting questions from journalists and public health workers in China, asking, "How can we protect ourselves and our families?" Is it too late? The epidemic could be controlled fairly easily three weeks before there were more openness, faster action, and no effort. But now it is too late, and the virus is spreading globally. Since there is no vaccine or treatment for nCoV2019-Wuhan pneumonia and the infection has spread throughout China, the government has to turn to the 2003 SARS Playbook. And this means that entire cities must be cut off, and the nation's population should be restricted in its movements and potential disease-spreading behavior. It is not shocking that traveling from Beijing can be restricted; The entire mainland may quickly go on lockdown. How to protect yourself I know that people are very afraid. And I hope that the panic will increase in the coming days. But very simple measures can protect you. During the SARS disease, I wandered all over China and Hong Kong, surveying people infected with the virus, physicians and nurses, people treating the disease, government officials, police. I never worried that I would get infected despite being in a room with sick people. And this is because I knew what precautions should be taken. These are the most important to know: 1. Wear Gloves When you leave your home, wear gloves - winter soils or outdoor gloves - and keep them on subways, buses, and public places. 2. Manage Hands If you are in a social situation where you should take off your gloves, maybe do not touch your face or eyes to shake hands or eat food, no matter how itchy. Manage your hands away from contact with your face. And before you bring your gloves back, wash your hands thoroughly with soap and warm water, scrub the fingers. Put on your gloves. 3. Change gloves daily, wash them thoroughly, and avoid wearing damp gloves. 4. Use Mask Masks are useless when worn outdoors and may not be very useful even indoors. Most masks go bad after wearing one or two. Using the same mask from day to day is worse than useless - it is disgusting because the contents of your mouth and nose are eventually inside the mask with a foul veneer that is engaging to bacteria. I rarely wear a face mask in an epidemic, and I've been in over 30 outbreaks. Instead, I stay away from the crowd, and I maintain my distance from individual people - a half meter, about 1.5 feet, is a good standard. If someone is sneezing or coughing or both, I ask them to apply masks to protect them from their potentially infected fluids. If they fall, I move one meter (about 3 feet) away from them, or I leave. #Do not Shake Hands Do not shake hands or hug people - beg politely saying that both of you shouldn't come in close contact during an epidemic. 5. Removing Towels Immediately remove all the towels from your bathroom and kitchen, inside your home, and replace them with a clean towel that bears the name of each family member. Instruct all the people in your household to use only their towels and never touch any other family member. Wash all towels twice a week. Moist towels provide terrific homes for viruses such as common cold, cases of flu, and, yes, coronavirus.   6. Beware of doorknobs. If it is possible to open and close the doors using your elbow or shoulder, do so. Wear gloves to turn the doorknob — or wash your hands after touching it. If anyone in your household is ill, wash your bourbon regularly. Likewise, be vigilant with ladder restrictions, desktops, cell phones, toys, laptops - any item that is handcuffed. As long as you only handle your personal items, you'll be fine — but if you need to pick up someone else's cell phone or cooking device or use someone else's computer keyboard, don't put your face Be careful not to touch and wash your hands immediately. 7. Avoid Sharing If you share food, do not use your personal chopic and utensils to remove food from a serving bowl or plate and, do not let your children drink out of someone else's cup or container of shared liquids. Say. In China, it is customary to prepare many dishes for food and then allow everyone at the table to use their personal chopsticks to pull food from the common dish: do not do so until the epidemic is over. Place the serving spoon in each dish and instruct everyone on the table what they want from the dishes served in their individual plates or bowls, return the serving spoon to the main drink, and then take a personalized chopstick to take food from their own . Use a plate or bowl in their mouth. Wash all meals and kitchens well between meals and meals from restaurants that are poor hygiene food. 8. Avoid Red Meat or Sea Foods Do not buy, slaughter or consume any living animal or fish unless it is known what the source of the species virus was. 9.  Keep Close Windows/Doors When the weather allows, open your windows at home or work, so that your space gets a breeze. In a way, the virus cannot roam in Hisar. But of course, if it is cold or the weather is bad, keep warm and close those rooms. 10. How to react Finally, if you are caring for a friend or family member who is running with fever, always wear tight-fitting workfare when you are near them, and keep a spot on the sick person (unless ) That they do not have nausea). When you remove an old, dirty mask from your friend's face or love someone, be very careful, for your safety, assuming it is covered in viruses, and handle it while wearing latexes, Put it inside in a disposable container, seal it, and then dump it in the trash. At the time of wearing those latexats, wash the patient's face with warm soap and water, use a disposable paper towel or cotton swab, and allow it to seal after use in a container or plastic bag before placing it in your household dustbin. Stay Safe Wear long-sleeved shirts and clothes when you are caring for your sick friend or relative. Clean everything that your patients wear or touch very well in warm soapy water, including sheets, towels, and utensils. If you have space, separate the sick person in your house in a room, or a corner of a room where they live comfortably, but separate from the rest of the house's members. If the weather is tolerable, open a window that is in the opposite direction of the room, allowing air to flow slowly over the patient's face and then outward. Of course, do not do this if it is too cold, because your friend or loved one will be made ill if it is uncomfortably cold. Stay safe. Do not panic. Be careful in vain. At the moment as it is, you will get through it. Read the full article

[sentimentalica]

THANK YOU FOR NOT WEARING PERFUME

The poster "THANK YOU FOR NOT WEARING PERFUME" makes it clear that this area of the hospital has other and more clinical demands for hygiene. Anti-bacterial gel dispensers loom at every entrance, where the duty of decontamination provokes fear of bringing any dangerous microbes into this establishment. One is even encouraged to wash hands before entering the unit where the very few patients rest, the kind that lingers in between life and death and the kind that have so many tubes in and out the body that the general memory of them once being active Homo sapiens with erect posture and bipedal locomotion, is undergoing a great deal of torture. My mother has just been transported here from the cardiac intensive care unit. I´m starting to understand the few available waiting rooms they have to offer as spaces of laborious distress, feverish uncertainty and acidic hope. As if the sanitisation here promise something that cannot be promised. The second nurse that knocked on the door sits down with us. Me and my family are piercing her with ambiguous desire for truth. We read her body language, voice intonation and pauses between words with such a suspicion that even the slightest deviation in any of these languages could turn us into birds falling off a stick. We´re scared, and even though we realise quickly that the nurse simply cannot consolidate us from the dire pain, we turn to her as if mother earth has re-incarnated herself into the nurse´s veins and we are witnessing the beginning of the world. For a moment I believe that she has secret powers that can be utilised if one manage to crack a certain code. A code that would absolve my mother´s artificial coma and further alleviate the pharmaceutical burden of hollow cylinders. I fantasise about my mother´s return to the real world where I would ask her how the deep sleep was, and tell her that the three weeks she´s been gone, nothing much has really happened. Christmas will come again next year. A week ago, one of the first doctors had brought us all in for a serious talk in a small office with dark windows. Apart from her low voice and general scepticism in regards to survival rates of heart ceases, all I detect is her sharp hair cut(right under the chin) and narrow thick glasses that reveal bad eye sight and not bad judgment, as I would have preferred in this case. I want her to simply be mistaken, and that she´s one of those doctors that always make you get a second opinion from someone else. Her age is close to my mothers and for a moment, I consider my stepdad by my side and think that if this goes terribly wrong, he must find another woman. I almost forgive myself for having that thought at the same time as I wonder if that will happen and who she might be. Hospitals ads so much pressure to life, and what life even mean outside of this building. I recall my grandfather after my grandmother died, where he would juggle at least three women at the same time at the age of 76. The last one he dated I think was even blind, so the bachelor scheming made it easier for him. Silver lining, even towards the end.

Out in the hallway, I sit down and try to fathom the severity of the dramatic timespan; from waking up to 21 missed calls and a taxi ride to the hospital on Christmas day at 7 in the morning to camping here not knowing whether the gozzip magazines help or make the perspective on life worse. All the white coated labourers that are rushing, sometimes slow paced in and out of string opening doors, wearing comfortable sneakers. One of the first encounters with a nurse was a young and blonde woman with this particular dialect that somehow render spoken Norwegian into a high pitched cantata. If she would have brought on terminal illness as a diagnosis, even the worst kind possible, I would have taken it as an optimistic verdict.  As she shifts her weight from one hip to the other, I notice a round shaped snus box in the bulging pocket of her hospital pants and a funky piercing on her left ear cartilage. From her earlobe to my brothers blue eyes checking her out, I can tell that everyone is sort of moved by her more as a character than a nurse conveying crucial information. She´s not exactly Elle Driver from Kill Bill, but the fantasy of a nurse, and not just the uniform makes a lot of sense to me in this moment. She speak of my mom´s current condition with youthful grace and maternal sincerity that make me google professions in the health care field, as I wished it was me in there, taking care of her body and not someone unknown. I feel useless in this room which is half-hearted installed with standardised christmas decorations, itchy pillows, flavourless cookies and sour coffee. The view from the window is blocked by a crane and a man in orange workers clothes. His face will become my most graphic memory from these three weeks. The sky has never looked so grey and insignificant, it has compressed any imagination of a possible heaven. The blonde nurse asks if theres anything else and we all say no and thank you so much, where she replies; oh of course, I´m just doing my job. I look at my stepfather who hash´t slept for 2 days, still wearing the same clothes as he wore the morning he followed my mother in the ambulance. I listen to my sister who talks more or less to her own self-conscience about how she never wants to drink aquevit ever again, and that showing up at the hospital after a party is lethal to your nervous system. Especially on a day like this. She wants to hold my hand and rejoice into sisterhood which I quietly recoil from, not knowing exactly why, only that her touch feels like a forced contract I haven´t felt compelled to sign. A knock on the door in this room is characterised as an angst driven sigh catalyst- but many of the knocks are in fact from muslim women that are looking for empty seats and a place to crash. My mother is not the only patient at this hospital, and no one will ever, I retell myself over and over again, will be the ONLY PATIENT in a hospital. Over the next couple of days, these women as a tight knitted group and us as a tight ruptured family is at occupational war in this unit. Firstly because there are not enough chairs, and there´s only one tiny waiting room which holds so many conflicting emotions, that even to consider both parties in one space would create cumbersome discomfort. The prerequisite for potential grief is a self-centred affair that I cannot simply explain. As if the skin is eroding and extra coats become necessary, and you still feel cold. The brain feels like clouds of cotton, and not like the woven fabrics circumnavigating these female bodies as they humbly nod every time their scarfed heads pop into the glitch of the door and realise that today, this room is also occupied.

It dawns upon me that the sharing is caring concept doesn´t abide to this floor. The women eat out in the hallway, seated a part and not longer as a family. They´re spread out on one wallflowerish line, filling the X and the Y of the corridor. The smell of spices lingers in the clinical air, carried seamlessly by light human traffic. Everytime I go to the toilet I try to look at their faces for some compassionate contact. It´s difficult to put on a smile for them, although I deep down know, that this will be my only facial and gestural path to redemption. My step brother has just arrived with two bags filled with Big Macs and chilled fries from a drive in nearby, and that particular smell of burgers in itself puts me off next to the more oriental affair enclosed in styrofoam- both at combat and both appealing as its food produced outside of this institution. The Big Macs bring me back to my fast-food forbidden childhood and as I pick one up and unwrap the ordeal, I add some ketchup to make it more colourful. I take bites without chewing while my oesophagus cracks and forces by nature the happy meal further down into the stomach where it will stay as long as it wants. A late afternoon in the hospital, my father rings and as with all the consecutive correspondences over the phone during this period; the calls are being held in the hallways while walking up and down the architectural alleys. While I try to feel his far away presence perceived only as a cold digital voice today, a woman from the segregated group approaches me, and as I feel annoyed by this interruption I give her the time of the day as I already feel bad for my white middle class family being superior to the waiting room as camp site. I remove the shaking phone from my ear for a reluctant second, as I am sure this device could need a break too, in order to hear what it is she wants to say. The woman reaches out her frail hand from under the loose garment, as Mother Theresa would do it, and touches me on that part between the elbow and the shoulder cap. This area of the arm a parent deals with quite a lot I am sure, especially when dragging a difficult kid around who refuses any form of behavioural obedience. She simply says; stay strong. I nod and accept the kindness and attention of this comment directed at me, and once uttered, I conform to the idea of the universal notion that we all, during difficult times, must stay strong. I once saw this imperative "stay strong" tattoed on a strippers but cheeks. The openness that emerge from empathy sometimes doesn´t fly with strangers, as this memory of the stripper didn't fit as an incident to be shared with this elder woman.

A week more, and we find ourselves in a new hospital. The main nurse this time belongs neither in the sexy Kill Bill category or holy Mother Theresa. She has this idiosyncratic tick, involving her eyes slightly rolling backwards whenever she is saying something that is stuck between a thought and the tongue. Her eyeballs go completely white while this is happening, and as freaky as it may sound, she does return with her eyes directed at either the grim edge of the sofa or the empty kleenex box on the table. She tells us about the 50/50. A number I relate to bidding, and not to the status of a human being. She also tells us about the possible outcomes of my mother´s condition if she survives. The word "vegetable" is mentioned. My sister is asking if my mom would be a "vegetable" if she wakes up from the artificial coma. The nurse correct her, and says vegetative is the right word. Being a long time fan of words and their meanings, the difference between vegetable and vegetative has never been so irrelevant to me. Another doctor arrive with a crew of the "rolling eyes" nurse, a skin headed anaesthesia supervisor and another nurse with a pony tail lowered to the bottom of her neck. The third member of this interchangeable staff strike me as someone who might be dating the doctor secretly. The mood is clay in here- and by that word I mean terribly dark grey and mouldable. Like the material I despise more than over cooked spaghetti. The patriarchal doctor begins to formulate something we have already been told million times, and before he can continue my mind wanders off to his fancy Mercedes(maybe in chromatic silver?) and a swiss villa on the West side of Oslo. He probably has two healthy daughters that both study law and goes skiing on the weekends. I have forgotten the name of this doctor. I imagine him in the shower, longing for a mistress and a new carpet. But before I get to build my bitter and societal judgmental story around him as a figure, he says: "It doesn´t look good." And as I think to myself that there are a lot of things in this world that doesn´t look good, this one better. Denial is not a bad status, I tell you. It´s just impossible to sustain unless you want to make the leap of becoming delusional. Mixed emotions at stake, as I for a second wants him to be my dad and adopt me into his high educated life that must include a jacuzzi and a rottweiler longing for emotional cues that would enable him to be tamed like a golden retriever. I connect that fleeting disruption to me just wanting to get out of a situation that simply can't be escaped. I apologise with my eyes. I look at my sister trembling in her denim jumpsuit and red knitted sweater. She tells me that this outfit was a joke between her and my mom. I give her a hug, and one, that will last longer than expected because anything that would make the interior of this space worthwhile would be of a human interactive kind. She's way older than me, but right now, she is a 6 year old girl sobbing because my mom is late and haven't been able to pick her up on time in those solitary hours at the end of the day in kindergarten. I gel my hands twice with the anti-bacterial liquid and ask to enter the room in which my mom is situated. The sky behind her is pinkish and baby blue, making my moms pale appearance more outstandish. Contrast, in life, can paint a far more interesting picture. I whisper something into her ear that I thought at that point she would hear, but like with most one-way monologues, the wall is your squash field, waiting for a bounce. They have given her 10 litres of water due to severe hydration, so my mother is simply not recognisable where she horizontally has taken up a hospital bed. After holding her hand for a while, another nurse enters in a jolly mood, and I immediately get hopeful as I´m sure one cannot be this smiling if they don´t think she will make it. The nurse tells me that she probably can feel that I´m here and says her name out loud as if a response is expected.  It´s New Years Eve and I´m wearing a mustard coloured dress. As the nurse leaves the room, I point with my finger to my mom´s closed eyelid and slowly lifts it up to get a glimpse of her eye. Like Medusa´s left or right eye in the painting by Caravaggio, it looks stirringly dead.

"We have tried everything, but we will give her one more day, as we need to see how she react without any traces of narcosis in her body." We are back at the cardiac arrest unit. The three rounds of different epileptic medicines are not working, because my mother doesn´t have epilepsy.  The "We have tried everything" doctor´s hair is remarkably long and heavy, bundled in a thick braid.  I want to grab it and pull myself up to the tower with it like the princess in the Rapunzel fairy tale. Maybe the view up there is better than this one. At least up there, a 360 degree angle awaits. Why is it that some womens hair stop to grow at a certain length? As we depart from the last seated waiting room, another family outside is ready to take over. They have worn blankets, bleak fast food and insecure faces, that evidently, we no longer look for.

[itsiotrecords-blog]

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At some point, we all have been in certain situations where we just wanted the other person to understand. We all want empathy because, after all, that’s what’s going to unify us. However, there’s just a few things maybe some will never understand. Take for instance, the male anatomy. If there’s one thing that frightens any man, it would be anything that surrounds their b***s. What is it about that area that creates so much tension and taboo? Well, let’s break it down. The male reproductive system shouldn’t be taboo at all. The human body serves a purpose…an important one at that. B***s are basically two oval-shaped external organs, and they’re an important vital organ that make male hormones like testosterone. They also create the male reproductive cells, otherwise known as sp**m. For such important organs, it’s interesting to know that they’re genetically placed outside of the human body. This then leads to many issues that only guys would know about. Like most females, there are plenty of things only girls would understand. We are all the same to a certain degree, but there are a few key differences that make us individually unique. Most women would never understand why men behave and do certain things. There’s a brotherhood, an understanding of nods when a guy simply needs to stare at a nice-shaped b**t or a woman’s chest area. There’s a daily struggle for guys to keep it together without making things too public. Below are 15 Struggles Only Dudes Will Understand.

#1 Unsticking Your B***s In general, most people don’t like humid weather. The same can be especially said for most dudes. It’s believed that humid weather, plus a pair of ill-fitting boxer briefs, can cause male b***s to stick to the inside of his upper thigh. When this happens, you can guarantee some hilarity to happen. The obvious thing most guys would try to do, as discreetly as possible, is to move their entire genitals to get relief. This can happen with a slight turn away from public view and moving their b***s with their hand. Sometimes, when there’s no discreet way to turn, some may do a weird dance, walk, or stance. So, if you’re a female out and about running errands, and you happen to glance over and see some poor bloke walking or standing awkwardly, just know that there’s a specific reason for that “movement.” It won’t be pretty, but it’ll be amusing.

#2 Manscaping Shaving unwanted hair is nothing new. Women have done it for years. It’s definitely a preference, and it’s okay if some don’t prefer it. Hair is just hair, or also known as natures’ organic body blanket. However, it is a trend in some communities to shave. This can be both for women and men. Yet, manscaping has always been an odd topic to discuss. Why would any dude want to take a pair of fine-shaped razors and put it down to the one sensitive area most men are fearful of? It’s all in the name of beauty and preference. Perhaps their other counterpart suggested that they do. Maybe, it’s for a medical reason or the guy just wants to try something (dare I say) daring. Whatever the reason is, manscaping is a real thing and many guys do it. The only problem is, it requires a steady surgeon’s hand and precision. Just don’t sneeze.

#3 Shopping For The Perfect Pair Of Undies Unless you have tons of cash and have all the time in world to spend shopping, most prefer not to. Online shopping has dominated the retail market because it targets pockets of the population who want better deals and easy convenience. You can sit in your pajamas and never get up to go anywhere. Whatever you need, the internet has it, and in most cases, are shipped to you free. Still, there are some things you can’t just buy over the internet or you’ll be greatly disappointed. Clothing and shoes, by far, have to be one of the most complicated purchases that can be made. It doesn’t matter if you’re online or in-store. Something so simple as finding a right fit for your body is actually not. The least of all, shopping for underwear. Women have the same problem with finding the right bra, and dudes have the same problem with finding their perfect heavenly pair of briefs.

#4 Suffocation “Issues” One thing is for sure, women will never understand, and what most guys will agree too well on, is the pain of b*** suffocation. What is b*** suffocation? It’s exactly what it states. Basically, it’s anything that irritates, squeezes, or cuts off the circulation to a man’s privates. It’s all boxed in under ‘achy b*** syndrome’. If this becomes a long-term issue, it can increase the chances of serious disease. What’s the cause? Well, it’s more often caused by wearing tight pants, underwear, horseback riding, too much sitting, lack of any sort of exercise, a big fat stomach, and sitting with your legs crossed for lengthy periods. Bicycle seats can give you more pain than anything else. Anything that can, and will, crush or smash the nerves in your male organs will provide suffocating pain. Most doctors say that the only way to alleviate the discomfort is by paying attention to your daily habits and making smart choices.

#5 Protecting The Crown Jewels If there is ever a scary moment for most women, it’s walking at night alone, specially if you’re short and don’t pack much weight. Self-defense classes are a great way for women to learn how to protect themselves in dangerous situations. Most classes and teachers tell the women to go for where it’s going to hurt the most. Especially if the attacker is male, most women are advised to go for a man’s crown jewels. Why? Unfortunately for most dudes, their s*x organs are external, which make it a fair game for anything that comes its way. Another thing is that a male’s groin has a ridiculous amount of sensory nerves. Thus, good and bad “touches” are extremely noticeable sensations. Without bones, large muscle mass, and fat to protect the male glands, they’re exposed to absorb every full force of any major kick and blow, all on their wee-little own.

#6 Going To The Doctor Going to the doctor can be a traumatic experience. There’s a certain negative stigma about going to a hospital or even simply going to a routine doctor’s appointment. Something about going for a visit to the clinic can cause immediate reaction of concern. Most of the time, it’s a typical responsibility to make sure everything is alright. It’s kind of like the human equivalent to an annual vehicle inspection. No one really likes going to the doctor’s, but it’s necessary. Even though it’s necessary, some can still dread the visit, especially for some dudes who know they’re either going to get their privates touched or get a prostate exam. Most heterosexual men prefer not to be touched by another guy, specifically in areas that are quite sensitive to touch. However, in the name of their own health, men endure the discomfort silently. They hope the checkup is brief and in the end, hope everything “works” just fine.

#7 Uncontrollable Itch Down There Being itchy all over is not fun…at all. If you’ve gone camping and came back with a ton of mosquito and bug bites, you’ll understand that sometimes the itching can be literally unbearable. Our skin is not only the largest organ on the human body, but it’s a great protector from minor environmental threats too. Still, more often than not, our skin can also be our worst nightmare when it comes to rashes, bites, and stings. If we don’t take care of it, things can quickly go awry. Men, in particular, can have an extremely annoying irritation when it comes to their skin on certain areas. From jock itch to just plain p***c hair irritation, having to constantly scratch “down there” can lead to more problems. Again, with all the nerve endings in that particular region, men go absolutely insane by the discomfort they feel. This problematic sensation is clearly something only dudes can understand.

#8 Toilet Water Splash Back We’re all human, and like every other living species on this rock we call Earth, we all, at some point, need to use the restroom. Then again, for some, going to the bathroom can be gross and tricky. A lot of dudes, for instance, don’t have a problem going to the bathroom in urinals. Yet, there comes a time when the dreaded number two needs to happen. What then? Well, if you got to go, then you got to go. The problem that a lot of guys face, and only guys will get, is that when they are about to wrap up what they need to do, they get the dreaded toilet water splash back. It’s basically caused when the water is displaced and a cavity of air is formed. The air has no place to go but your bum region, or worse… The trick to solving this is simply placing toilet paper in the bowl before you go.

#9 Shopping For The Perfect Pants Compartment syndrome is a condition that happens from increased pressure in a confined body space, like when wearing ill-fitted skinny jeans or pants. There are people who have been hospitalized due to wearing tight clothing, and as a result, they’ve had signs of nerve and muscle damage not only in their legs, but in other sensitive areas as well. Finding the perfect pair of pants is not only a huge problem for a lot of women, but a bigger problem for men. The priorities are a bit different. Going shopping is a nightmare and can come across as a seek-and-destroy sort of mission for guys. They need pants that are not only comfortable, but won’t mess with their privates or create some sort of “distraction” when out in public. Most guys typically don’t like shopping, but when they can’t find something as simple as a pair of pants, the experience can be even more annoying.

#10 “Schweddy B***s” Call it “Schweddy” b***s or swamp c****h, it’s all the same. It’s gross, uncomfortable, and something most dudes can relate to. This can be caused by ill-fitting undergarments or pants. When things get a little too tight, and when not enough airflow is present, heat can be the main source of the problem. If you’re the type of guy who’s lucky and aren’t as active as your pals, then great. However, most dudes can get real gross “down there,” especially if they’re playing sports, wearing tight clothing, or in a hot environment. Men have been told for years to use baby powder or medicated powder to help keep their manly parts fresh. It’s still not a foolproof method. If you’re a guy who sweats like a waterfall, then powders are going to turn to paste. Wearing loose clothing, breathable fabrics, or utilizing powder products without talc, menthol, and aluminum are the way to go.

#11 Being The New Makeup Blender Trend I doubt that this will be a lasting trend, and it’s probably something not to worry about, especially for guys who are in relationships with partners obsessed with makeup. Recently, the cringeworthy viral clip of a girl using her boyfriend’s manhood as a beauty blender sponge, went crazy over the internet. Most girls thought it was funny and cute, but that wasn’t the case for many guys who watched the same clip. Their partners squealing in excitement, “we should try that,” probably sent waves of shivers down any guy’s spine. Going down the list, it’s not easy being a guy because obviously, you have to deal with a ton of things related to your privates. But then, to add further issues, the one thing guys are literally sensitive about is being used to blend off-color foundation. The internet is full of obnoxiously ridiculous things and this has to be among the top.

#12 Zipper “Issues” If you haven’t seen the film There’s Something About Mary, then you need to go watch it now. It’s not only a classic Ben Stiller comedy, but in the film, there’s an iconic scene where the protagonist gets into a bit of “trouble.” Every guy who has watched this film remembers that particular scene because more than likely, it’s happened to them. The teeny-weenie, sharp, shiny teeth that can inflict pain no dude ever imagines, is actually pretty common. Boys and men have all experienced part or a huge portion of their manhood stuck in their zippers. Pants with button-fly options are a great substitute to avoid this painful and embarrassing scenario. But, in all seriousness, no one really wants to spend more than ten minutes buttoning his pants. So, what’s the go-to solution for this problem? Doctors recommend pouring a ton of mineral oil all over the region. Then, you wait about 30 minutes and the inflicted part will slip out of the zipper. In some cases, a gentle nudge of a cotton swab can help.

#13 Beach Irritation There’s nothing greater than spending a relaxing holiday or weekend by the beach. With the heat of the sun and the warmth of the sand, everything about the beach is easy-going. It’s for the young, the old, and whatever fits in between. Have you ever buried your father, uncle, brother, or boyfriend under the sand? It all seems like fun and games, which for the most part, it is. But what about afterwards? After all the fun is over, you eventually have to help them come out. Once they do, most guys typically go in the ocean to rinse off or use the local showers. Still, sometimes, this isn’t enough. You go home thinking there’s no evidence of sand anywhere until you check your b***s, and they’re completely covered. They sort of look like a pair of Dunkin’ Donut munchkins covered in powdered sugar. This can cause itchiness and irritable discomfort only dudes could understand.

#14 Wandering Eyes One other common thing only guys will get about themselves is when they openly stare at another woman’s “girls”. If you’re not a heterosexual male, then this may not apply so much. Even if you’re married, most women will notice men starring at their chest area or another part of their body. What gives? According to the rules of Evolutionary Psychology, men stare because they’re programmed to do so through years of evolution. Apparently, it’s common sense that men are more attracted to other humans who have healthy bodies or what “men” consider to be healthy in their eyes. Males are attracted to mates who they believe will produce higher quality offspring and provide a higher quality of care for said offspring. Features such as large breasts and wide hips are indicators of a high quality mate. Wide hips indicate fertility and large breasts indicate you are capable of nursing children.

#15 Being Too Honest The last thing most dudes can only understand about each other is why men say the most stupid things. The brutal honesty is what some women love about their male counterparts, while it’s also the one thing many women despise. There’s a time and a place for all things, especially comments that are a bit inappropriate to say out loud. For example, some men clearly don’t think beforehand, and when their partner refuses to do something, don’t say back “Well, my ex was OK with it.” Phrases like this is what gets you kicked out or worse, dumped. So, why do men do it? Behold, the ‘Male Idiot Theory’. In the former BJM [British Medical Journal], the report simply researched that men take, do, and say unnecessary risks because it’s like a rite of passage. It’s the male pursuit of social esteem. For all that “esteem,” I hope it’s all worth it when they’re given the cold shoulder.

Source: TheRichest

[jkdavidson-blog]

Standing Rock Recap Part III (12/20-12/23)

Tuesday 20 December 2016

 The Tylenol I took the night before took the edge off my headache enough that I was able to sleep for a few hours at a time, between coughing fits. I took them every 4 hours throughout the day to stay comfortable enough to function even minimally. I was actually feeling significantly better than the day before, due in part to prayers and well-wishes from my friends and in part to the Tylenol keeping my pain and feverishness at bay.

I stuck around the casino all day again but at least managed to get out of my room a couple of times. I played the slot machines for a bit, in honor of my friend Harold who had described his lucky 7-7-7 system to me over the phone on my drive up to North Dakota. I played $21 and won a $17 or $18, so it wasn’t a total loss. I also stopped by the wellness room, which had downsized and moved since my last visit. Lakshmi was still there. She gave me a little wellness package with vitamin C and Holy Basil supplements, Alphay mushroom tea and mushroom coffee, and some Ricola cough drops. She also gifted me a bowl of brothy soup she had just made. It had kabocha squash, mushrooms, carrots, and sweet potatoes in it, and although I couldn’t really taste somehow it was still the most delicious thing I’d eaten in days.

Overall I was feeling pretty optimistic about my health, until I noticed that evening that my eyes were looking pretty red and felt kind of itchy. They were oozing that same color discharge that was coming out of my nose and throat, so at first I dismissed it as overflow from my sinuses. But then it dawned on me that the drainage was becoming excessive, crusting my eyelashes together, and the redness and burning could very well signify pink eye. WHY was this happening now?! I wondered…I hadn’t worn contacts in days and I’d NEVER had pink eye before. But it appeared that I now had it in both eyes.

I laid in bed that night with a cloth over my eyes to keep my lashes from sticking together, wondering if I’d finally have to give up and go see one of the doctors at the rec center in Cannon Ball for antibiotics. Something in my gut told me no, though. So I popped another Tylenol, rinsed my eyes out with contact solution, and googled some natural remedies for pink eye. I knew breast milk was a great remedy, but that wasn’t really an accessible option for me at that point. I remembered a girl from the herbal yurt in Oceti who had come to see us for the same issue, and she had mentioned she was going to use colloidal silver to clear it up. I had seen a bottle on the shelf at Rosebud and made a mental note to get some the next day. I also read that a solution of raw honey and a little sea salt could be used as eye drops every few hours. I boiled some water on the propane stove I used for that sole purpose (all of my food preparation merely required boiled water) and concocted myself a solution according to the recipe I found online: one half cup of water, one half teaspoon of raw honey, and a pinch of sea salt. I thanked my lucky stars I had everything I needed for this remedy. I drew it up in a 10cc syringe I had in my personal first aid kit and dropped some in each eye. It was soothing, if nothing else.

  Wednesday 21 December 2016

 Winter Solstice!

I woke up determined to make it out to camp for a few hours today. Spending Solstice at Standing Rock was among the things I had looked forward to most about this trip, and I was a bit disappointed knowing I was still too ill do much in the way of celebrating.

My eyes were looking less red and felt less irritated, thanks to the honey drops I was using every couple of hours. I was still on a regular dosing schedule of Tylenol, so I hadn’t felt feverish in over 24 hours and my headache was bearable.

I played the slots again that morning—another $21 dollars, plus my winnings (which were squat), because it was the 21st and that felt lucky somehow. At least the money was going to the Standing Rock Sioux who run the casino, I reasoned to myself.

I headed back up to my room and stuffed foot warmers into my boots and hand warmers into my mittens and layered myself in long johns and a skirt with waves printed on it, in honor of the water. I stashed a little tobacco in my fanny pack, hoping to finally visit the sacred fire today to make an offering. I set out for camp around noon, looking forward to being out of the casino and back on the land for a while.

My first stop was Rosebud medical. It was quiet there, as usual. Rachel gave me a little colloidal silver for my eyes and a small bottle of aspirin. She mentioned that they were having a Solstice celebration that evening after dinner but cautioned that I probably shouldn’t come, since I had pink eye. I was disappointed to be excluded, but I also realized I probably wouldn’t have the energy to stick around that late anyway. I sat in the yurt for a while, drinking tea and sanitizing my hands frequently so as not to spread any of my sickness around.

Rachel and I talked about the patients she’d seen, and about one in particular that had recently been sent to the hospital for an infection that Rachel herself hadn’t picked up on. She felt really guilty about this, but I reminded her that nurses are only human and even those of us with a great deal of experience don’t always pick up on every little ailment a person has. I reassured her that, especially for a new nurse, she is doing an incredible job overseeing the medical needs for the water protectors at Rosebud. I told her about some of my experiences in the hospital—times when I hadn’t picked up on patient problems at their earlier stages, because of the many factors that can obscure the warning signs of an impending crisis. I didn’t want to seem like an incompetent nurse myself, but I also wanted her to realize that even when we’re trying to do our best, we won’t always be able to avert certain complications.

“Wow, thanks,” she told me after hearing about some of my experiences, “that does make me feel a lot better.”

I told her again how impressed I was with her competency in handling such a wide array of nursing duties in such an unconventional setting. She’s getting a really unique and well-rounded education from her experience at Standing Rock, and I don’t think she realizes just how adept she’s become there. I hope it serves her well when she reenters the “real world.”

We talked for a little while longer, about camp politics and her boyfriend and her need for a break from camp. I promised to be back to help as soon as I was feeling up to it. On the surface, it would seem I wasn’t doing much more than paying a social visit, but I could tell Rachel was beginning to trust me by the way she frankly shared her thoughts and feelings that afternoon. I realized that she needed someone to just sit and listen to her. I wondered how she kept it together, doing what she was doing every day, constantly extending herself to be in service to whatever anyone needed, at any time. I was becoming more aware of my own empathic nature, noting how drained I felt even after a day or two at the medical yurt, constantly subject to the needs and whims of those around me. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being in service, I realized, but that I have a strong need to balance that open giving-ness with solitude and self-care. That’s hard to do when you’re living and working in a shared space 24 hours a day, where anyone could walk in at any time with any need and you have to address it then and there. I have enormous admiration for Rachel, and Jacque the herbalist, too, for spending so much time in that space and giving so selflessly every single day. They were (and still are, and have been for months) serving in a capacity I could only aspire to on the best of days.

After a while, I left the medical yurt to go wander around camp. It was a bright and beautiful day out. The weather had warmed up to just above freezing the past couple of days, and the top layer of the snow had melted and refrozen, creating a glossy layer of ice that made the landscape especially shiny. I wandered slowly through Rosebud and headed east toward Sacred Stone camp, although when I saw it off in the distance I decided it was a farther trek than I felt up for at the moment.

I ran into Orka and his companion Camille along the road. Orka asked me how I was feeling and I told him I was doing quite a bit better. I also apologized in case I’d seemed grumpy the other night at the casino. He told me not to worry about it at all, that he understood and was glad I felt better today. He gave me another hug and we went our separate ways.

I began to march toward the river. In some places, the snow was deep and I sunk in to about mid-calf. In other places, it was shallow. Sometimes the ice crusted on top was so thick it would support me and I didn’t sink into the drifts. I stopped frequently to admire the varied landscape, and also to catch my breath. I kind of wished I had snow shoes to ease the trek. I searched for pathways through the snow to make my passage easier, but all I saw was glistening white. I was beginning to realize how weak I actually was from being sick and lying around so much.

I finally reached the river’s edge. I noticed a patch of brown grass poking through the snow, as if the Earth was reaching up to say, “Hello! I’m still here!” I knelt down, facing the North, the direction of the ancestors and Oceti camp. I said a prayer of thanks for the Earth, the Water, the Wisdom of our Ancestors, and for all the other elements that support us in our survival on this amazing planet. I prayed that we should return to an understanding of the Earth as the sacred living being that it is, and begin to treat it as such, to restore the balance that has been destroyed by the process we so nobly call “civilization.”

After making this offering, I continued down to the river itself, which still appeared to be frozen solid. Was it still solid enough to hold me, I wondered, after two days with temperatures near or above freezing? My gut told me yes, and I proceeded to walk across the river, right over to Oceti. It was something I had wanted to do for days, to walk across the water, and it felt like an accomplishment (albeit a small one) to finally be doing it.

I stopped at the medical yurt first to see if anyone was there that I knew. Most volunteers had moved on since I’d been there last, except a pediatric nurse from California, Blaine, who was about my age. He greeted me when I walked into the space, but seemed pretty distracted otherwise, so I went on my way.

I realized I was starting to feel hungry, so I asked someone where I could find a kitchen (there were at least 2 or 3 operating in Oceti at the time). I managed to find what I believe was the main kitchen for the camp. People were gathered inside around a big wood stove, talking and getting warm, smoking cigarettes and munching on snacks that were spread across a table near the entrance. People seemed to be eagerly anticipating the meal that was being cooked there, noting how delicious it smelled, but I couldn’t smell a thing. I looked around the table for something small to fill my belly, knowing I wouldn’t be able to taste it anyway so it didn’t really matter what it was as long as it curbed my hunger pangs. I drank the tea I had carried there with me and chatted with a young man whom I’d met at Oceti Medical the week before. He was the designated tea-man, always cheerful, and always making delicious and medicinal teas and distributing them to the different areas around camp, such as medical, wellness, and security.

After a while, the combination of wood smoke and cigarette smoke began to burn my eyes, so I left the mess hall to go wander around camp some more. I had hoped to find the sacred fire, but also felt my headache returning, and I had not brought any Tylenol with me. I suppose I could have gone back to Oceti medical and asked for some, but I it didn’t occur to me at the time. I could feel exhaustion setting in, and my car was all the way across the river in Rosebud.

I started back down to the river and made another offering of tobacco on the North bank, facing the South, and also in the middle of the frozen river itself, facing East, the direction of the rising sun. I realized I wasn’t entirely sure which direction that river flows when it isn’t frozen, but I guessed it went East to West.

I made it back to Rosebud, to my car, and headed home sometime around dusk. I made dinner for myself back at the lodge room before crawling into bed, exhausted from the few hours I’d spent at camp and cowering from a splitting headache that had reappeared since I had gotten off of my regimen of aspirin that afternoon. Despite all the discomfort, though, I was thoroughly satisfied to have gotten out in the sunshine and fresh air that day. There was a twinge of disappointment, for sure, that I wasn’t able to participate in the ceremonies or gatherings that others were having to mark the Solstice—remember, I had imagined celebrating Solstice at Standing Rock would be one of the highlights of my experience there!—but I tried to reassure myself that whatever experience I was having was the one I needed to have, regardless of my plans, expectations, or fantasies. So I bowed down to the humbling force of my headache and whatever other ways this virus was ravaging my well-being at the moment, and summoned forth the dream world as my fingers made their way along my strand of carnelian beads I use as a mala.  

  Thursday, 22 December 2016

 By this point, I was learning to appreciate whatever experience was being dictated by my physical condition, and the unexpected wisdom that came along with it. The hours I spent shut away in my hotel room afforded me the opportunity to explore ideas of leaders such as Oren Lyons, Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, and others. Sure, these guys and their unforgiving critiques of modern society have been around for decades, but this was the first time I was really being exposed their ideas. I lay in my hotel room and listened to interviews and lectures. I learned quite a bit about the social history around the fundamental values set forth in the US Constitution, and how we’ve gone astray in actually living them out. I realized with startling clarity how very relevant all of their messages are to the present struggle we see around us, and it all helped me understand the principles and importance of Standing Rock even more.

Like so many other Americans, I have lived the majority of my life, up to this point, in blissful denial of the warpath our way of living have forged across the planet and in convenient ignorance to the suicide machine that is modern society. We are unsustainable. Certain groups of people, especially indigenous cultures, have been warning us of this for decades—centuries even.. The infrastructure that sustains us is already crumbling, but many of us—particularly in this country, where we have to power to continue to hoard a disproportionate fraction of the world’s remaining resources and thus maintain our current standard of living—choose to simply ignore the facts, even as we find ourselves in the 11th hour. We ignore the fact that, by the time we are actually inconvenienced or caused any sort of discomfort that we CAN’T ignore, it will already be too late. I am almost tempted to say, simply, that it is already too late, period. But perhaps it isn’t.

So I’ve resolved to become more informed. I’ll study the wisdom and ideas of others, about why civilization in its present form just doesn’t work. I’ll make myself more aware of the ripple effect that my actions have on the world around me, and work to mitigate that effect where is it most harmful. When and where I can, I will join others in the effort to dismantle the power structures that oppress and rob and kill. This is the transformation Standing Rock has to offer me, I think. I’m waking up in a new way, all over again. This is the next step of my journey—to become more conscious of my role in this intricate web of life and to improve my impact upon it. And to move forward, eyes wide open, wondering if and how we can survive the position we’ve put ourselves in?

In other news, I also spent a few hours at camp on this day. I was excited to show up to Rosebud medical and have Rachel take a look at my eyes, which were almost completely cleared up after using the honey/saline and colloidal silver drops. I was also pleased to discover that they had a new EMT helping out there. Her name is Ann and she came from Washington state, although she had grown up in Alaska and was therefore well-matched for the North Dakota winter weather.

A couple of elders also visited the medical tent while I was there. One was the woman who had given me Tylenol at the casino a couple of nights prior. He name is Kassie. She’s a little taller than your average woman, with a heavy build and dark hair frosted with gray. She’s a Lakota woman, as a tattoo across her right forearm proudly proclaims. She’s a mother and grandmother, as well as a tattoo artist. She hiked up her sleeves and pant legs to show us some of the beautiful tattoos she had done on herself.

“I’m addicted,” she admitted. “I’m really missing the ink right now, being away from home. I can’t wait to get some more work done.”

Kassie had traveled to and from the camp several times over the past several months. On her present visit, she had been hospitalized with double pneumonia. The night I met her at the casino, in fact, was the night she had just been discharged from the ICU in Fort Yates, the reservation hospital about an hour south of Standing Rock. Now family turmoil was calling her back home again, and she spent a long time talking quietly and tearfully with Jacque, with whom she’d clearly developed a close relationship.

The other woman is named Silvia. She is in her 60s, short and squat, with a head full of short hair in various shades of silver and gray. She is Cuban but has lived in the States for the majority of her life, as far as I could tell. Presently she has a home in California, but seems to spend a great deal of her time traveling and living out her life’s work as an activist. This warm and intelligent vegetarian woman has multiple arrests under her belt from participating in acts of civil disobedience across the country. Her children support her, for the most part, she tells me, but they still get frustrated with her when she calls them from jail. When she’s not acting out against the establishment, Silvia loves to cook (especially lentils, which she swears will cure anything) and learn about the lives and passions of the new people she meets along the road. Her house in California, she tells me, is a safe house and I am welcome there any time I happen to be in the Hayward area.

It was well worth the trip to Rosebud just to meet these two powerful and inspiring grandmothers. I talked at length with Silvia, and a bit with Kassie as well. These are the types of matriarchs our society needs right now—fierce but gentle, honest and uncompromising, wise and absolutely unafraid to stand up for what they feel is right. I need to stay in touch with these women, I thought to myself. I could follow Silvia anywhere. I’d get arrested with her, no question about it.

  23 December 2016

 Today was originally my planned departure date, so I could be home for Christmas. However, I don't feel that my work here is done yet. I'll be staying another several days. Medic council still needs support, and there are places yet to be explored, people yet to be met at camp. Have a warm and cheerful Christmas, everyone.

Today I went to Bismarck to run some errands. I stopped at a co-op and replenished my food stores. I also got some yummy fresh vegetarian food, and although I couldn’t taste it, it felt good to nourish my body in that way. I was also pleasantly surprised to discover that the co-op café had golden milk. Turmeric is my favorite wonder-drug, so I treated myself to a hot cup of that as well.

After lunch, I did some laundry at a nearby laundromat—mine and Rachel’s. Poor Rachel kept apologizing profusely for giving me her dirtiest leggings and socks to wash, but I assured her I couldn’t smell a thing and wasn’t offended in the least.

It was an interesting experience. For one, I’d never done laundry at a laundromat. And also, there was an odd young woman there. She first struck me as odd because I was standing at the washing machine next to her, loading my clothes, when suddenly she turned to squarely face me and stared me down with a stern expression, her lips tight as if she were getting ready to scold me for something. I checked the space around me to make sure I hadn’t moved her things or accidently hijacked a machine she was using. Nope. I raised my eyebrows toward her in a kind of questioning way, but she didn’t say a thing.

She eventually went about her business, switching over her laundry, then returned to a chair to wait for the next load to be ready. I heard her talking and glanced over in her direction, assuming she’d be on a cell phone. But she wasn’t. She was talking out loud to herself, or to someone else she perceived to be there but whom no one else could see. I happened to be using the machines closest to this woman yet chose not to move because, aside from our initial encounter, she didn’t seem to be paying me much attention anyway. Several of the other patrons gave me looks, ranging from merely quizzical to “oh my god be careful, she’s nuts.”

Her ramblings were sometimes heated and aggressive, accompanied my stomping and wild gestures, which I’ll admit made me slightly nervous, but for the most part I just wondered what it must be like to be her. She sat down right next to me with a soda while I folded clothes—unconventionally close in fact, but she paid me no mind as she talked about her one true love and how, if she couldn’t be with him in this life, perhaps she could be in the next, because they were destined for one another. Perhaps she’d just scrap this life altogether and start a new one, she conjectured out loud. Sure, a lot of it sounded entirely nonsensical, but I also played a game of pretending that she wasn’t “nuts” and tried to imagine what life would be like if we all just moved in and out of various realities, the way she seemed to do. What if we were aware of the difference between our soul existence and our corporeal existence? What if we could switch from one reality to another as it suited us? What reality would I hop to now, given that kind of infinite option? Hmmm…

So, I finished the laundry and picked up a few more items around town for myself and Rosebud medical before heading south, back to camp. I stopped by Rosebud briefly to deliver the things I’d gotten up for them before heading back to the lodge.

Back in Cincinnati, some of my family was gathered for Christmas, including my father, sister, and one of my brothers, and all the associated spouses and children. I talked on the phone with them, happy to be able to share in the gathering at least in that way. I didn’t miss the shopping and gift exchanging that goes along with Christmas. In fact, I was quite relieved to have avoided it altogether this year. However, I did miss the opportunity to be with my siblings, nieces, and nephews. They were all quite curious to hear about what I’ve been experiencing in Standing Rock, and we agreed to get together soon after my return.