#can flush myself down the toilet right

[bredforloyalty]

when my mother's having a tough time and breaking down she goes. she sometimes holds me and cries at me and says "you just need to study so you can be smart and not have a shitty job okay i just want your life to be good". and i would just like to reflect on this and say that she has a rather high-paying job and i certainly wouldn't call her life good so i don't know how i'm supposed to aspire to that. or anything else for that matter

[h3arts4harry]

- favourite girl -

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warnings: ANGST(resolved), sls, TW, self harm, anorexia, hospitals, sewerslide attempt -lmk if i forgot anything

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y/n is 17 and has really bad mental health issues, she started struggling with self harm and eventually disordered eating at 14 years old. it only got worse when her safety net, her brothers, left to move to LA.

-y/n pov-1:53am-

"just one more" i whisper, swiftly moving the blade across my wrist for the 6th time. "fuck.." i mumble as i stand off the floor. i look at myself in the mirror, staring at the girl infront of me. i cant help but feel sick with hate from what i see. my cheeks are swollen and red from crying, mascara smudged down them from the countless tears that have fallen. my eyes all ugly and puffy. i look down away from my face, down to my body. my monstrous body. how could i look so horrible all the time? how is it possible for someone to be so fucking hideous? my hand moves slowly over my stomach, i hate this. i hate what i see. i hate how i feel. i hate all of this. why do i have to feel like this? i divert my eyes away from one horror to another, the blood from the cuts, a beautiful crimson, dripping down my arm, creating a puddle on the floor. for a moment i just watch as it falls, rippling as it crashes to the floor. then it hits me, i cant leave a mess, they cant find out, im struggling again. "fuck fuck fuck" my heart pounds out of my chest as i fall to my knees, wiping the floor with toilet roll, flushing away the tissue. i carefully place band aids over the straight red lines, then wrapping my arm with a white bandage. i look at myself in the mirror once more wiping my cheeks with a deep sigh. i quickly hide the blade back into the back of my phone case before rolling my long sleeve shirt down, heading back to my bedroom.

-the next morning-11:47am-

i roll over with a groan as a bright light fills the room. "morning sweetie, theres a surprise downstairs for you, get dressed and come down" mum says as she opens my curtains then walking back out the door. i huff as i blindly move my hand searching for my phone, grabbing it and turning it on. the time reads 11:40am. i really have to fight myself to not fall back to sleep. i sit up wiping the sleep out of my face, groggily standing up and walking over to my chest of drawers grabbing out a red hoodie and baggy jeans throwing them on, messily tying up my hair in a loose bun, before walking downstairs.

i turn the corner into the kitchen, "so whats this surprise you said about" i ask with a yawn. my eyes snap open when i hear 3 familiar giggles. chris, nick, and matt were stood there with the biggest smiles that could always brighten my day no matter what. i immediately ran to them jumping into their arms, not have seen them for over 3 months. "hey kid" matt greets rubbing the top of my head, "h-how-when?" i struggle to speak through the shock, "we flew in last night, we knew your lazy ass wouldn't be up by earliest 11 so we got here a couple hours ago" nick says, pulling my into the hug tighter. "i-you- you said you couldn't fly back for another 2 months?" i step back, our hands still holding each others. "we managed to get everything done early and surprise our favourite girl" chris explains, his smile not once moving from his face. i step forward back into the hug again "i cant believe youre actually here, i- i missed you guys so much" i sniffle, a tear or two falling down my cheek. "are you okay kid?" "i-yea" i pull them in tighter "just really fucking missed you guys" "hey! language smalls" chris laughs poking at my ticklish sides, making me double over and step away giggling.

-12:29pm-

the four of us decided to go out for a drive, not having much to do in the house. "yo anyone else really feeling a mcdonalds right now?" chris asks turning to have the three of us in his view, matt and nick agree and matt pulls through the drive through. "hi can we get a double cheeseburger meal with a pepsi, and then- what did you want again nick?" chris looks to the older boy, "same as u works" "and another of the same please, and then- matt?" "ill get a chicken nugget meal with a pepsi please" matt says into the speaker box, "y/n what about you?" chris asks, "i-uh, im not that hungry, can i get just a water?" i fidget with my fingers, "are you sure? you haven't eaten yet today?" "im sure, im just feeling a bit sick" "mhm okay, and can i get a large water with ice please? yea that's all thank you" and with that chris sits down properly in his seat.

"so what you been up to angel?" nick asks from next to me, eating from his fries. "nothing much honestly" i shrug, turning from the window to face him. "really? its been almost 4 months and nothing interesting happened? sorry kid but i dont believe that for a second" matt says, looking at us in the back through his mirror. "i dont know what to tell you guys, i really haven't done anything" i look back out the window, biting my bottom lip. "hows school going? mum said youre grades are dropping again" nick tilts his head, attempting to get a glance of my face, i sigh and slump back against the seat. "smalls? whats going on with you?" chris turns fully, slightly leaning against the dashboard. "nothing going on im fine" i snap, bringing my legs up onto the seat and hiding my head behind them, along with the hood of my hoodie. the boys dont push further and just drive home.

pulling into the driveway, i quickly jump out and start heading straight for my room. "hey kid wait-" matt yells, running in behind me. "leave me alone" i huff as i keep walking, "smalls hold up" chris says, lightly grabbing my wrist. i wince in pain as i snatch my arm back, tears forming in my waterline "y/n?" nick whispers softly, "dont tell me you-" he cuts himself off, silently pleading that chris just grabbed me too tight. only nick knows about my struggles with self harm. i had promised nick that if i ever felt like i had to do it again that i would instead go to him. obviously i didn't. i dont respond, i just look down with guilt. "baby no-" he breaths out pulling me into a tight hug. "im sorry, im so sorry nick i swear i- im so sorry" i apologise between cries. chris and matt look at each other confused then back at us two. "nick? y/n? whats going on?" nick moves back a little, "can i?" i shrug with a small nod, i cant believe this is actually happening. my gaze doesn't move from the floor as nick explains everything. how he found me on the bathroom floor back when i was 15 with a razor blade over my bloody left wrist, and how he helped me clean everything up, and how i swore id go to him, and how i clearly didn't stick to said promise. "oh smalls, cmere" chris's voice sinks as he rushes to bring me into a hug, matt following behind and nick not long after joining.

we all stood there for what felt like hours, them just holding me. "how can we help you kid?" matt asks, "i-i dont know- i mean- i dont even know how to help myself, h-how am i meant to know how you can?" i manage to say between sobs. "shh its okay smalls, we'll figure it out together"

-timeskip-11:48pm-

"laura no- what do you mean we need to come back? we just got here" i wake up hearing nick on the phone, to laura from what it sounds like, i creep out of my room, to the top of the stairs that lead down to the living area where the boys supposedly are. "nick what? put it on speaker" chris says. "theres been a couple meetings that you guys need to be at come up" i can just make out through nicks speaker. "what? no we cant, cant you rearrange them for when we're back?" matt grumpily says down the phone, "im sorry matt, i already tried since i knew you guys were going back to boston, theres nothing i can do, you guys need to be back by tomorrow night" "this is so fucked up, what is this even for? we're needed here and not to be rude but this is way more important than any meeting" chris snaps, not at laura directly but at the situation hes found themselves in. "its a meeting with the big companies about brand deals, like i said i really tried to organise it for a month from now but they wouldn't do it, these guys really want to partner with you guys, theyre offering a lot of money" "fuck, can we call you back laura?" nick mutters, "yea sure, call me back asap so i can book your flights okay?" "yea okay bye laura" and he hangs up. "what the fuck are we gonna do?" matt asks, "im not sure, we cant leave y/n but mum and dad will not let us bring her with us either cause of school" nick thinks out loud, "what if we just dont go?" chris shrugs, "we cant not go chris, dont be fucking stupid" nick claps back in a duh tone. "for fucks sake, how many meetings did she say it was?" "theres three, one on Tuesday, one on Thursday and another on Monday" "what if we go and then fly back like straight after? would that work?" matt suggests "i mean it wouldn't not work" nick shrugs "but we cant leave y/n right now dude, shes struggling and what will happen if we just leave again?" chris pipes up again, to which matt huffs falling back into the sofa. "i dont know what to do you guys" nick sighs almost in defeat, "me neither", "fuck."

i let out a shaky breath before getting up and head straight back to my room, getting back into bed. 'are they gonna leave me again?' 'what if theyre gone for months again' my mind starts to race. i snatch my headphones off my bedside table and place them over my ears, playing my playlist, turning the volume all the way up, attempting to silence the thoughts.

-9:34am-

"hey y/n? kid wake up" i rub my eyes open to see my brothers, matt sat on the edge of my bed with chris and nick stood behind him. "whats going on?" i ask slightly dazed, "we gotta fly back to la but only for 9 days and we're gonna be right back okay?" matt says softly. my face drops, i thought i just dreamt last night. "youre leaving me again?" i mutter, "no- well- kinda? but we're going to come right back we swear" chris rambles. "whatever" i mumble, pulling the covers over my head and turning away from the three. "y/n please, we dont want to go but we have no choice, laura called last night and we tried to get her to rearrange it but she couldn't, please understand that" nick pleaded, i didn't reply, i just stayed still and ignored them. i cant believe theyre leaving me again. "im sorry smalls, please dont stay mad at us, we'll be back before you know it" chris says rubbing my shoulder, they all mutter small goodbyes and leave. after i hear the door shut, i let out a small sob i had been holding in.

-7 days later-

the last couple days have been really difficult, and i mean really fucking difficult. i havent left my room unless it was to go to the toilet, which ive only done like twice. i haven't showered. i haven't eaten, or drunk anything. mum and dad are really worried, they keep leaving plates of food and water outside my door but i physically cant get up to go get it, and even if i did its not like im going to eat it anyway. i hate that im such a burden for them, i hate that im worrying them so much. all i knew was i needed them, i needed my brothers. i tried messaging them in our group chat for help 3 days ago but there isn't much they can do being 5 and a half hours away. i huff, slamming my phone down onto my bed. i cant do this any longer. i push myself out of bed, trudging towards the bathroom, locking the door behind me. i tiredly look in the mirror, a worn out, struggling girl looks back to me, begging me not to do what im about to, but i ignore her silent pleads. i turn to the shelves, reaching for my basket on the second bottom shelf, grabbing a box of meds, then lifting a bottle to reveal a new razorblade underneath. i pick up the blade and put the bottle back into the basket. i fill a small cup we have for rinsing up with water before sliding my back down the cabinet, leaning against it. am i actually gonna do this? what am i saying i cant continue suffering like this anymore. but am i gonna leave without saying goodbye? that's a good point, ill write out a text, something simple so they dont suspect anything. a simple "i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3" yea thatll work, and i hit send. i turn off my phone, placing it on the cabinet, above my head. taking a breath i take a sip of water and swallow a handful of pills, then another, emptying 2 boxes. shit i really just did that. i look down at the silver blade in my hand, so much power is in such a tiny little thing. i slowly move it over my unwrapped wrist, the recent gashes already starting to heal. i push down hard against my wrist and pull, blood pushes out of the slit like its been waiting to escape. again, i push the blade down and pull. again. again. again. again. again. again. the crimson blood pooling around me. again. again. again. i start to feel faint. shit. am i really doing this? i dont want to die? i just want the pain and suffering to stop. shit shit shit. i try get up but my vision starts to blur, no no no, not yet i cant die just yet-

-the same time but sturniolo triplets pov/ no pov?-

ding ding ding all three of their phones went off. chris checks his phone and sees the notification from y/n, to their group chat, even though hes in the middle of a meeting he opens it anyway;

"i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3"

for a minute, he smiles at the kind words. but it doesn't last last before his smile turns into a frown, "guys, look" he says shoving his phone into his elder brothers faces, "chris what? we're in the middle of something here, sorry about this" nick apologies, as if chris is a toddler interrupting his parents at work, but his face quickly drops as he reads the message, snatching chris's phone from him, to make sure hes reading it clearly. "im so sorry about this but a big family emergency has just come up and we need to go, ill get laura to contact you, and again im so sorry but we have to go" nick rambles as he packs his stuff up and leaves, matt and chris right behind him.

"nick what is going on? you cant just leave like that, that was the most important meeting out of the three!" laura almost yells down the phone, "sorry laura but i think y/n is in trouble so that meeting can kiss my ass because y/n is way more important, i gotta go" "nick-" and he hangs up. the three boys grab their bags that they still hadn't unpacked from before as they planned to fly straight back after the last meeting, and drove straight to the airport. they rushed in and got straight on the plane.

-5 hours later-

knock knock knock "cmon y/n open the door!" jimmy yells knock knock "sweetie you've been in there for hours, are you alright?" Marylou softly but loudly speaks "cmon lovey open the door for us".

"dad mind out the way" chris says and he runs up the stairs, "oh fuck chris you almost gave me a heart attack" jimmy huffs, moving out of the way, along with Marylou standing next to him. once chris gets outside the door he starts to kick it in, matt and nick are not long behind chris and start helping to kick the door in. it only took around 4/5 kicks with their combined strength for the door to slam open, but the scene revealed on the other side was the worst thing they could've ever imagined. they all froze at the sight. the shriek from Marylou seemed to bring them all back as it rung through all of their ears, "boys call 911 now! and get away from the bathroom!" jimmy yells as he takes marylou downstairs and away, sure his mind was running but he knew he had to get his wife and eldest kids away before he could actually do anything.

its like time has paused, yet moving so fast simultaneously. the blue lights can be seen flashing outside the sturniolo residence, matt almost flies down the stairs and lets them in and guides them to where y/n is laying, with chris next to her, holding a washcloth tight over her wrist, trying to stop blood flowing out. "chris move, the paramedics are here" matt shouts as he follows behind them. what feels like at the speed of light, they take y/n into the ambulance before asking "theres only space for one extra person, or we could take her on her own?" "ill go" "ill go" chris and nick say in sync before death glaring each other. "we dont have time for this, im going, you two talk to mum and dad then meet us there okay?" matt says calmy, although much like his dad, hes freaking out like crazy inside.

"is she going to be okay?" matt asks as the ambulance is racing to the hospital, "please tell me something? anything? i need to know shes going to be okay?" he frantically rambles, "i cant be 100% on whats going to happen but no matter she'll live" the paramedic stood over y/n confirms, "so shes going to be okay?" matt says hopeful, "i didn't say that" and with that whispered statement his heart sinks.

-2 hours later-

the ambulance arrived at the hospital and they rushed y/n in. a doctor met matt in the waiting area to question him and ask what happened. nick, chris, jimmy and Marylou arrived around half hour after matt did. matt then had to fill them in on what he knows, which really isn't much. and from then they have just been waiting for a doctor to come over and say shes okay and breathing, and that they can go see her. jimmy and Marylou had nodded of as its almost 3am but the boys were very much still wide awake, not fully used to the timezone change yet.

"um for y/n sturniolo?" a doctor shouts, the triplets jump up and rush over, "and you guys are?" the doctor questions, "her older brothers" "is she okay?" "whats going on?" they all blurt out over each other, "ah, shes doing okay, but she is asleep still. she has a drip that helps try save her liver and we've stitched up her wrists. she'll physically be okay if all goes well but you might want to get her some mental help, i brang out some leaflets that have different ways to help, here" he says passing over a few leaflets to the boys, "thanks" nick hums putting them in his back pocket. "can we see her?" chris asks "give me like 20 minutes to check everything and ill be right out to getcha" the doctor nods with a polite smile.

-20 minutes later-

"hi boys, so everything is okay, you can now go sit in her room but she is still infact asleep so try be quiet, she needs the rest. shes in room 197, second floor" the doctor finally reveals, "thank you so much" all three boys say in sync before rushing off to the stairs.

"there look 197" nick points the a sign hanging above a door. they slowly walk in and see y/n laying there asleep, connecting to a drip like the doctor had said. "she looks so uncomfortable" nick mumbles walking closer to her. "did they say anything about how long it would take for her to wake up?" nick asks his younger brothers, to which they both shrug, and so they decide to sit and wait for her to wake up.

-hours later-y/n pov-

i slowly wake up and my head feels like its throbbing and my heart feels so heavy, like it weighs a thousand pounds. i lift my arms to rub my eyes but i have a strong pain shoots through both, i squint my eyes open to see bright white lights shining down on me. i look down to my arms and see my left wrist covered in bandages, and my right arm is connected to a drip? where the hell am i? i look around a bit more, with my eyes fully open now and i see the boys asleep, they should be in la still? what the fuck happened? -oh. that explains why i feel so numb.

i feel sick to my stomach, i cant believe how selfish i was. to do that. and to let them find me. my whole body feels like its closing in on itself, my heart pounding out of my chest, my lungs being tightly squeezed to the point i can barely breathe. im such a horrible person, why on earth would i put my favourite people through this? i tightly shut my eyes and let out multiple shaky breaths. my head running wild.

"y/n?" i snap out of my trance, to see matt stood over me, drowning in anxiety. i bite my bottom lip and look down, away from his worried eyes. "kid look at me. please?" i reluctantly look back up to the older boy, terrified of what hes going to say. a moment of painful, awkward, silence passes, just looking at one another, no verbal words being exchanged but everything needed was said. he pulls a small, comforting smile onto his face and leans forward pulling me into one of his hugs, attempting to squeeze out all of my suffering.

"omg y/n youre awake!" is almost yelled from behind matt, he pulls back to reveal a happy but anxious chris. "hey smalls, how are you?" i lightly shrug. nick then walks into the wrong with 4 bottles of water, "i bought y/n some water to for when she wakes- omg y/n!" he drops all 4 bottles and runs over to me wrapping me in his tight embrace.

-timeskip- a month later-

its been hard this past week. i got released from hospital like 3 days after i was admitted. ive had therapy sessions three times a week with Dr Louise, shes nice i guess, it might just be me but it feels like she doesn't understand what im going through or what ive been through. like i get shes there to work and get paid but it feels like that's the only reason shes there, like she doesn't care, but hey, i have my brothers. the boys haven't left boston yet, they told me theyd stay for 2 more months minimum before they had to go back for a couple weeks for work then theyd be back again. i know its gonna take some more time but i really feel like im eventually gonna get better. and its all thanks to matt, nick, and chris.

"hey angel, we spoke to laura and we managed to clear our schedules for the next 2 months so we can stay here with you" nick sits down next to me on the couch, chris and matt mimicking his actions sitting the other side of me. "we told her that our favourite girl is more important than any work stuff and we would risk it all just to make sure our favourite girl is okay" chris smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug "we would drop everything in a second to fly back here for you kid." "im sorry, about everything. i love you guys" i say with a small smile. "dont apologise smalls, we love you more than youll ever know, like i say, your our favourite girl"

-

NOTE: sorry im not being too active on here, college is kicking my ass and im js not in the best mental state rn so ive js been a bit distracted? ig idk. i saw that 750 people are now following me and im like speechless, i appreciate and love all of you so fckn much istg🫶

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

LOVE YOU HOES

taglist:

@m0r94n @chrisgetsmewetterxo @raysmayhem-72 @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @sturniolo-slvt @mattspolitank @cerismo @chrispotatos @ncm9696 @pvssychicken

[obxthornton]

Ladylike (Wolverine/Logan x Fem!Reader)

Wolverine X Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N just wants to be a little more "ladylike" for Logan.

Warnings: Cursing, light Dom reader and Sub Logan, Subjective use of what 'ladylike' is. 

WC: 2335

I had never been particularly fond of making myself look nice, especially on missions. Saving the world wasn't for the weak and was definitely not for a full face of makeup. By the end of the day, you would have mascara and eyeliner dripping down your face along with blood. It was simply easier not to get dolled up. Sure when I went out to the bars or to dinner I looked nice. Full faces of makeup were for those kind of things. Fighting and killing, however, not so much.

But here I was, applying mascara to my eyelashes while Wade banged on the door. "Princess, saving the world can't wait for you much longer!" He yelled kindly, but banging on the door again. "And I certainly can wait to piss either." I sighed dropping my makeup back in my bag and unlocking the door. "Thank you peanut," Wade said pressing a kiss to my cheek before pulling down his pants to piss, not waiting for me to leave.

"Woah. Park it fancy fuck." Wade said as I was leaving. I didn't turn around but I did stay in the doorway. Sounds of his urinating filled the bathroom. "What?" I asked rolling my eyes at my roommate.  "You got shit on your face. And not the normal shit. Date night shit. All over. False advertisement right there. And your tits our out. Mind telling me who you got all dolled up for?" Wade flushed the toilet and I walked out of the room, him following. "Drop it asshole," I said zipping up my suit higher and grabbing my guns from the counter, making sure the clips were full and stuffing them in my side holsters. I grabbed my knives next, checking them over.

Last week Wade and I had spent long hours discussing the housing arrangement if I were to get a partner. "What do you mean a partner? What's wrong with me? Your sexual, emotional, and fighting partner?"  I rolled my eyes at his words, "Shut the hell up Wade, you'll scare all my options away." Wade had scoffed and motioned around the room, "Wolvie isn't here, you are fine. Besides, you're scaring him away yourself." I narrowed my eyes at the man, my arms crossed. "What the hell do you mean?" Wade simply shrugged, kicking his feet as he sat on the couch. "Wolvie wants a lady, not some killer who will keep him on a leash for all of eternity." I used my foot to kick his leg, "I am a lady!"  Wade shrugged, "Only where it counts. You are a dominant entity and that's okay!! I'm very much into that. Logan likes a nice ladylike woman." I told him to shut up, but his words stuck a little more than I had hoped.

The door to our apartment swung open revealing a pissed off man. A pissed off man who looked at me and shoved a finger in my face. "You take too long." He stated. My eyes were big staring up at the man. Logan had become my weakness lately, a weakness I didn't even know I had. I was always bossy and blunt, never taking a liking to trying to impress or be giddy around a man. But Logan. It was like I couldn't help but never know what to say. My mouth went dry and my heart sped up and I'm sure he could hear it. It was only him. He was the only exception. I snapped out of it, pushing his finger away with a knife, "Cool it Wolv boy."

"She was getting all ladylike for you. That's why she took so long," Wade said behind me. I turned around and plunged the knife into his stomach. "Shut the hell up, Wade," I muttered twisting it lightly. "Aren't you just a kinky Son of a gun? A little longer of this and I'll probably cum."  I rolled my eyes and pulled the knife out, wiping it on my suit. "I hate you," I muttered. "Oo that's the spot." Rolling my eyes once again I turned back to Logan, shoving my knife in the strap. "Come on."

Wade knew about my soft spot for Logan. The day that we had encountered him, Wade had introduced himself and I stayed silent, eyes wide. Wade had wrapped his arm around my shoulder, "Lots of knocks to the head. She may be immortal but she still has a lot of scaring up there. She goes by Y/N, and you'll love her once you get over the hatred in her heart-" I cut him off by pushing his arm off, turning around slowly, and death glaring at Wade. "My time to stay quiet." He mumbled, sighing, and walking away. Logan had looked down at me, smiling, "If you can make him shut up like that every time, we'll get along just fine." 

I walked out the door, not seeing if the boys were following. I let out a sigh of relief to avoid an awkward situation. I silently cursed myself however for stabbing Wade, that wasn't very ladylike. I suddenly became aware of my body. Was any of it ladylike? Was my ass big enough, was my waist thin enough. I had never once in my life worried about any of this stuff. Never in my life had I ever felt insecure or uncomfortable in my skin. I mean I never had to, Wade kept the compliments flooding for miles. Always pushing that boundary of workplace harassment. 

"Pissed isn't a good look on you with all that cake on your face." Wade's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I didn't turn to look at him, but sent my fist out, punching him in the cheek. "Ow princess. That's not very nice. Or ladylike in front of Wolvie over there." I stopped in my tracks and turned to Wade, pulling my knife out of my pocket and showing him against the brick wall next to us. I held the knife up to his face, my forearm against his throat. "You need to shut the fuck up about all of this! If I hear one more goddamn word about any of this I swear I'm going to make you wish you could die, you hear me?" I yelled at the boy, shoving him deeper and deeper into the wall. I could practically see Wade's smile under his mask. It pissed me off. I shoved my knife into his chest before I was ripped away from him.  "What the hell has gotten into you today?" Logan yelled shoving me away from Wade. I was aware of everything again. If it was anyone else, anyone else, I would take them on and slice them up. But this was Logan.  His eyes pierced my soul and his face was daring, asking me to punch that look right off of him. But I didn't, "get out of my way," I huffed pushing past him.

-

The day had been long. I desired to go back to my room and take a shower, washing off the sin of today. Blood and dirt caked into my skin and on my suit, the black color speckled with red. I had tuned out Wade's comments or he had stopped saying them, I wasn't sure. 

When we got back to the apartment, Wade pushed past me and Logan, causing us both to stumble. "Dibs on shower!" He yelled racing into the bathroom and locking the door as if we would try to fight him for it. I sighed knowing I was too tired to do such a thing. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top cabinet in my kitchen before going over the couch and stretching over it. I flicked off the cap, sending it flying to the other side of the room before I put the bottle lip to lips and took a long sip. I felt the alcohol seep into my system, making my wounds feel a tad better. 

Logan came over and looked at the side of the couch displeasingly before he pushed my legs off and sat down. I moved my legs back on top of his lap and took another sip of the bottle before passing it to him. He pushed my legs off of him with one hand as he brought the bottle up to his lips. "No." He stated. I sighed and sat up. "So what's actually up with you?" He asked out of the blue. I grabbed the bottle from him and took a long sip. "Nothing," I said defensively. Logan rolled his eyes, "I may be old, but I'm not stupid. You've been letting shithead get on your nerves a lot more these days." I shrugged and poured more of the liquid into my mouth. "He annoying." Logan chuckled, "Yes I know." He grabbed the bottle back and leaned on the couch arm, spreading his legs. "Come on. We can't have you like this. What's in that head of yours?" 

I sighed praying that the alcohol would seep into my bloodstream. "He's been saying I need to be more ladylike," I muttered looking down at my spread legs before crossing them. "Who the hell cares about that?" Logan said as if that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. "I've been on this earth for 150 years. And not once, not once have I ever cared about what a man thinks about me." I said, taking a long sip from the bottle, "but then I met you. And suddenly I cared about everything. I cared about how you perceived me because for some reason you're perfect. Some fucked up joke it is. Never caring about what men thought of me because they were just so inferior and mortal." I chuckled and drank out of the bottle again, "Yet you, you're just like me. Stuck with this curse of caring forever. And I'll drink to that." 

Logan shook his head and grabbed the bottle before it hit my lips, "you aren't making any sense y/n." I groaned and leaned my head back, "You're hot Logan! You're hot and you fuel all my daddy and abandonment issues. Is that what you want me to say? It's gods sick joke that you made me for me down to the T of even being fucking immortal, yet we won't be together." Logan scoffed. Scoffed. As if what I said was completely unheard of and a challenge. "Why not?" His voice filled with anger as if I had just spoken insane claims. "Because lo, I know your type. Your type is not the girl who could kill you, it's the girl that says yes sir and has you dinner made for when you get home." 

He scoffed at those words and stated defensively, "Stop acting like you know me. you know nothing about me y/n." I rolled my eyes at him, grabbed the knife from my belt, and leaned over Logan. I pressed the knife against his throat and looked at him, my legs around his waist as I did. "Come on Logan." I said "This is not attractive. This is not the kind of person you want to get with." I huffed pressing the knife lightly against his skin. Logan's eyes pierced into mine, his hands resting on my back as if to hold me still. One hand reached up and placed it on top of me, pushing the knife deeper into his neck. "Everyone is attracted to you bub." Logan said narrowing his eyes lightly at me."You think everyone is joking when they say things like that because of Wade's fucked up humor, but he's not even joking when he says those things to you." A smirk covered his face, "Wade would fuck you in a heartbeat. Anyone would bub." His eyes narrowed at me lightly. "The knife's cute. You stab Wade all the time with it. It's like you forget I can regenerate too."

It felt like I didn't even drink half a bottle of whiskey because I suddenly realized what was happening. I was straddling the Wolverine with one of his hands on my ass and the other pushing the knife into his neck. "You are crazy Logan." He cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled, "What's crazy is you think you aren't attractive for being strong. Being powerful. This. This is sexy." My eyes were wide, "what did you just say to me?" I asked, trying to move my hand away from his throat and my legs off of him, but his grasp around me stayed firm. His eyes stared up at me, "You are so strong and powerful y/n, it's so hot." Logan said, "I can't be worried if my girl going to be killed or hurt because she can't defend herself. I need someone like you. I need you." He finally let go of my hand and I let it fall to his chest. "oh yeah?" I cooed at the man as I leaned my head down. Logan bit the top of his bottom lip, a smile coming across his face, he nodded. I brushed my bottom lip over his top, smiling lightly. Logan leaned his head up, capturing his lips in mine. Deepening the kiss, I grabbed the back side of his neck, pulling him into me. His stubble burned against my face, it felt so good.

"Are you guys done yet? That was so nice to watch. Needed after a long shower." Wade said, a towel wrapped around his torso and his head. I threw my knife across the room, letting it impale Wade's chest. He looked down at it, flicking it. "Not ladylike Ms. y/n." I rolled my eyes at his comment. He smiled and walked away towards his room. "Asshole," I muttered under my breath. His head popped back over the corner, "ladylike." He said. I threw my other knife straight at where his face was, he screamed but he moved out of the way, leaving it to stick in the wall. Logan smirked, "cute."

[simpingland]

Ooohhhh okie so;

Can I get a Harwin x Fem!Reader

Major fluff, I’m thinking Harwin either wining or losing to Daemon at a tourney and reader like cleans him up as they share a bath.

The idea is really vague.

(Feel free to ignore!!)

Crown of Soap.// Ser Harwin Strong x fem!reader.

Summary: Ser Harwin only wants to crown his wife as the Queen of Love and Beauty. And the problem is not that Daemon is his opponent, but that his wife does not want Harwin to win the tournament.

A/N: sorry if this was too much introduction till the bath. I LOVED THIS IDEA. Thank you for reaching, hope you like it❤️gif not mine.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Days at King Viserys's court were quiet considering the presence of Prince Daemon. Daemon's marriage to his beloved niece Rhaenyra had brought happiness to the family, though it was a difficult decision for the King. But the Princess radiated joy and quickly outgrown your reputation as a happy bride. Whenever Rhaenyra appeared in your room, your husband Harwin left politely but hurriedly. You could see him roll his eyes when your attention was taken from him, and you could only smile at his politeness, knowing full well that he was not irritated, and that he was exaggerating just to amuse you. You, on the other hand, were deeply happy for your dear friend Rhaenyra, who had trusted you from the first day you sat beside her. And of course, the Crown Princess's wedding deserved something grand, something to entertain the nobles, a tournament.

"No, Harwin, there is no need for you to participate," you told him at dinner. Your refusal took him by surprise.

"And why not? It will be fun. Besides, who can beat me?"

Ser Harwin "Breakbones," of course, and his confident smile appeared at that nickname. And the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms would never deny it, but not everything lasts forever. Daemon was a proud, competitive man, and besides, Harwin was more clumsy, strong, but clumsy.

"Well, I just don't want you to get hurt too badly."

"I'll take my chances. I want to crown you Queen of love and beauty."

"That's very sweet..." you saw him take your hand, pleased with himself. "But I wouldn't want you to."

"I'm not understanding anything."

Poor thing, you stroked his hand, big and rough but so manly and tender.

"It's a tournament in honour of Daemon and Rhaenyra. And Daemon will want to win to crown Rhaenyra. And honestly, she deserves to be crowned, even if Daemon doesn't deserve to win. You don't know how many times the Princess has cried on my shoulder for Daemon. She doesn't deserve that man either...but since she's got him, it would be fitting to give them a nice start to their marriage. Do you understand, my love?"

You watched as he processed the information, his sweet eyes looking into yours. And he nodded, smiling and stroking your hand back.

"All right...but I'm not going to make a fool of myself."

"Harwin..." you chided him.

"You deserve crowns too, and it is my duty to honour you. So I won't let them laugh at me or you. And I will fight as hard as the Prince fights." His tone was serious, but not strong or stern.

"I don't want a crown!"

"Then you shall have it!"

"You are disgustingly stubborn."

"You cannot prevent me from winning fairly. It is dishonourable."

"Harwin, please..." he got up to get into bed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to win you that crown." He pointed his finger at you and began to undress.

"Then I'll flush it down the toilet," you lied, crossing your arms.

You could see the smile creeping back on his face, and you couldn't hide it much longer either. And the 'discussion' went on until Harwin fell asleep.

The tournament was not long in coming. Of course, while you were putting on one of your best dresses, Harwin was putting on one of his best suits of armour. He sat obediently for you to put his long, curly hair up in a ponytail. You offered to be late for the tournament while you frolicked in bed, but he declined.

"We'll enjoy tonight, where I can see you happy and beautiful with your new crown. Only with your crown."

"That's if you come in one piece, my love."

Of course, he never took such remarks with offence. A man as great as he was did not doubt his manliness in the face of words, and his dear wife was the first with whom he could be vulnerable and who truly knew his ways. And to hurt Harwin's spirit it took more than that, and that was what you loved most about him, that he was so much more than 'the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms'. He gave you a tantalising kiss before parting from you, a kiss that could have gone further, but Harwin broke away, leaving you wanting more. As you sat down next to Rhaenyra, you could see him smile sympathetically at his squire, happy and nervous. The bride looked with his same emotions, her eyes searching energetically for Daemon, touching her necklace.

"Who are you going to bet on, Princess?" you asked jokingly.

"For my husband, just as you will bet on yours..." she replied, smiling.

"Oh, don't think I'm so convinced. Prince Daemon will do everything he can to crown you. He'd be willing to finish off the brute of Harwin to win a kiss from you."

You watched as Rhaenyra laughed, blushing. She reminded you of yourself when you were newly wed. A young lady, who travelled with her father to King's Landing to gain a place among the King's court. And of course, you were given the duty of marriage. The Princess and now Queen Alicent were kind, and kept you company during the exhausting courtships of the lords. Rhaenyra was only bent on marrying Daemon, Alicent was already married, but you couldn't find anyone you liked at all. Until the hunt in honour of Aegon. Ser Harwin Strong hadn't said a word to you since you arrived, and it was understandable since you were a girl in the shadow of a princess and liked to watch him from afar. When the whole court moved to spend three days hunting, the Strongs offered to take you and your father in the carriage, for yours had broken down in the middle of the road. And it was during those days that Harwin truly saw you. He gave up riding on his own horse to keep talking to you on the road, gave you his cloak at night when it was cool, and sat beside you at suppers, listening to your gossip while he told you what he had seen on the hunt. And though Harwin was a candidate to be the Princess's husband, he was quick to ask your father for your hand, but not before asking you first. Your betrothal was so simple and so happy that Rhaenyra had to hide her jealousy, but it was soon noticed and you and Harwin planned dinners with Ser Lyonel, where you convinced him that Daemon would be the best choice and conveyed it to the king. You triumphed.

The jousting began, and as expected, the final three were Daemon, Harwin and Criston. Your husband winked at you every time his opponent fell to the ground. And it was he who defeated Criston, making both you and Rhaenyra chuckle a bit too much. When it was his and Daemon's turn, they both approached the stand where you were standing. Daemon asked his wife for her favour, while Harwin asked for yours. You chose the most beautiful and simple ribbon, with small purple flowers and colourful dark green leaves. When you put it on Harwin, you looked into his eyes.

"I would wish you luck, my lord, but if you do the right thing, you will always come out on top." That was your last request.

And you watched as they both clung tightly to your horses. Difficult to overthrow, Daemon and Harwin were beginning to grow frustrated, as were you and Rhaenyra. And when Harwin broke Daemon's shield, it was all but settled for the knight to win, not the prince. Before they made the final turn, Harwin looked at you, without the smile, and you nodded for him to look at Rhaenyra. She was holding your hands, her face was one of disappointment as she saw her husband angry at the situation. And you saw how he himself struggled. On the last blow, Harwin again galloped with impetus, as did the Prince, and before he could strike the blow, the Prince was able to push him off his horse. It was harsh, and a resounding fall. Everyone held their breath a little before bursting into applause as Harwin removed his helmet in defeat. You clapped as you watched your husband, being lifted up by Daemon. They shook hands and then he reached for his squire. And from a distance he could see the smile on your face as Rhaenyra was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by her husband. Then, he waited for you to arrive at his tent so that you would feel sorry for him.

"Are you all right?" You asked, genuinely dismayed.

"I think I need to wait in bed for a month and a half. In the company of my wife, naked if possible. The masters so indicate." He exaggerated a tired tone that made you laugh.

"You are perfectly fine, I see. Though you reek of sweat."

"A crown of flowers would have taken away this stench."

"Soap and water is also a good option."

And you walked towards the castle, but Harwin was not at your side, and when you turned you saw that he was limping. The sight made you tender, for he was so big, he made so much noise in that armour, and he walked like a little boy with that smile framed by a beard. You had to let him rest his arm on your shoulders.

"Come on, 'old-bones', we haven't got all day."

You smiled at him when he rolled his eyes at his nickname. Harwin didn't have that many years on you, you were always amused by the nickname, pointing out his very limited grey hair as if it was the beginning of the end, and watched as he proceeded to try to impress you with his talents. And you loved those displays, him picking you up, practising with his sword in front of you, or helping to fix things around the castle. In time, Harwin began to enjoy your "pity" for him when he fell asleep on your chest, or when you read aloud to him. When he was drowsy he always let you fill his face with little kisses. The maidens prepared a large bath for you, with refreshing water after the hot day, and the squire brought into the room the cloak, shield and crown with which you had wished Harwin luck.

You helped him take off his armour, one of your favourite hobbies, and your husband always enjoyed watching your concentration. He had bruises when you undressed him completely, and one that was sure to get worse on his abdomen, where Daemon had struck to get him to throw it off. He was sweaty, incredibly handsome, but his injuries worried you.

"Don't worry," he said, voice low and caressing your face, making you stare at him. "I'm fine."

"It's a good bump."

"That's what happens when you raise your arm too high, you find a weak spot."

You could tell by the smile. Harwin had done it on purpose, he'd let himself get hit. It made sense, he had the advantage, and he was too easy to beat even when Daemon had been hurt worse.

"You let him win..."

"No..." he lied. "I'm old, that's all."

He climbed into the tub by himself, sinking down to wet his head. Meanwhile, you stood outside, watching him, your brave knight. Grabbing an ointment, you sat beside the tub and carefully spread the cream over those bruises. You could feel Harwin's eyes following you. And when you reached the big one, the pain made him pull away.

"I'm sorry," you said, "I can't quite reach, turn around a bit."

"No," he replied. "Get in with me. You smell like sweat too."

"But I have to put the ointment on you."

"Put it on later. Take a bath with me."

At your refusal, Harwin splashed the water on you, soaking much of your dress and hair. So, wanting to kill him, you gasped and shed your clothes. Your husband couldn't take his eyes off you, and immediately made room for you.

"This bathtub isn't that big..." you said as you settled in.

"I know, and that's what I like the most."

You were in front of him. You had to pull your knees up to your chest to get in, and Harwin grabbed your foot and made you straighten your leg. When he kissed you on the sole, his beard tickled you.

"Harwin, stop!"

"I can't hear you, wife, you're too far away." And he tugged at the hand you'd thrown to pull your foot away from his lips, and pulled you down to lie in his lap. Your faces close and his hands resting on your waist. Then already Harwin let you clean him. With the washcloth and a bar of soap, he closed his eyes as you ran it gently over his armpits, over his shoulders, always leaving a path of caresses.

"It's a shame you didn't win, my lord..."

"More's my pity you didn't get a crown."

"You're obsessed with the crown," you joked. Harwin opened his eyes to focus on you. "Honestly, I don't need you to win tournaments or be a great fighter to prove anything. I like the humble, good man I have for a husband."

As you washed his face, Harwin moved his hand along the curve of your back.

"I just wanted to see you shine," he confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since you came to the palace, you've been in the Princess's shadow forever. And I only dared to speak to you when I could find you apart from her. You are more than a lady-in-waiting to Rhaenyra, and I feel that the life I give you does not take you away from that. I feel that...I need to bring you pride and honour. I need them to see you, as I see you."

"Oh, Harwin..." you threw yourself on his mouth, and you kissed each other so passionately that you felt like you could melt right there, on top of your husband, with his flowery scent and warm from sweat. And as you kissed, Harwin's hand caressed your thighs, drawing you even closer to him. When you broke apart, your smile was irrepressible.

"I adore you... I adore you for what you have done for Rhaenyra. And I adore you for thinking of me. And I love you, Harwin, I love you for being the gentle knight as sweet as you are stubborn."

You saw him blush, smiling. And you kept bathing him until all that was left to do was to wash his hair. Then you stood behind him, all that back holding your upperbody.

"I can't wait to be an old man so you have to bathe me all the time." You felt him relax with your massage.

"In a month you'll be fulfilling that dream, you little elder."

You heard his laughter as you removed the soap from his hair. And then all that was left to do was relax. With Harwin between your legs and his head on your chest, his hands caressed the hands resting on his chest and you stared into nothingness. Then you began to talk about your favourite subject.

"I saw Criston tripping before the joust began," Harwin said. "He thought no one saw him, but he saw me looking at him."

"And you laughed, didn't you?"

"And I laughed..." and Harwin burst into laughter again, laughing and making you laugh as well. "Well, though in fairness, I don't think there's anyone in the kingdom who could wear a crown of flowers better than Criston, he's a handsome mother fucker..."

"I don't agree. He's very handsome...but he doesn't deserve it."

Your arm reached for the small crown from before, Harwin looked over to see what you were doing. When you took the little crown, he thought he understood everything.

"True, you are a better candidate for..." when he went to take it from you to crown you, you pushed it away from him.

"No, my dear Harwin. I don't deserve it either..." you put on an exaggerated solemn tone. "The true king of love and beauty is the sweet knight Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' Strong."

And he let you put the crown on him, his hair wet and clean. You watched as he clasped his hands together and placed them tenderly near his cheeks, lifting one shoulder flirtatiously. He forced you to kiss his hand, which you did as you laughed. But his appreciation was shown when he plunged you back into one of those kisses that only he knew how to give you, the kiss he had promised before the joust began.

And you knew he was truly honoured because he spent the rest of the day with that wreath on, and took one of the flowers in his suit the next day. No one else could know even if they saw it on his shirt. But only you needed to know, because when you got close to his chest you could smell not just a flower, but the love and beauty it represented.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

[stollengoods]

Chapter 7

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, deaths, & mentions of drugs.

Summary: Myung-gi is acting strange, You get into it with Se-mi, and Nam-gyu suggests something to you to calm your nerves.

————

Before you guys left the bathroom, he told you to pee so you don’t get an infection. You agreed, walking into the stall by yourself. You sat down on the toilet and that’s when the thought first crossed your mind, ‘Was he backing out again ?’ You wondered but quickly shrugged it off, you didn’t need anymore negative thoughts in this hell hole.

You quickly finished up, wiping and flushing the toilet. And when you came out, Myung-gi had a huge smile on his face, to the point it seemed like someone was holding him at gunpoint. You would’ve been off-put by it, if your body hadn’t felt so relaxed from your orgasm moments prior.

But Myung-gi could only put up the charade for so long. His facade began cracking not too long after you two came back from the bathroom together.

He’s been distant, avoiding eye contact with you when you guys talk and making it a point to only say a few words when speaking to you.

It’s been only a few hours and you would think the man that just came in you would be all over you right now, but it almost seemed like he was trying to avoid you.

In the back of your mind you knew what was going on but you couldn’t bring yourself to think it yet, let alone ask Myung-gi about it. So you just let him be, telling yourself he’s probably just freaking out. That he needs time to come to terms with the fact that he might be a father… again.

————

The next game they had you guys play was a bunch of mini games. It was a team event and they gave you guys ten minutes to find a group of five. You had no idea in hell where Myung-gi was, feeling your heart sink as your fear grew more and more.

‘You can’t think about that now.’ You thought, ‘I gotta focus on surviving.’

You decided to block Myung-gi from your mind until after the game was done to not distract you. The only other person you knew here was Nam-gyu, so you searched the crowd for him. You found Thanos and your eyes lit up knowing Nam-gyu wouldn’t be far behind.

Walking over to Thanos and Nam-guy, you noticed they were talking to two other people already. You quickly interrupted them to solidify your spot as the last member of their team, “Hey you guys ! Can I join your group ?”

Thanos and Nam-gyu turned around to face you. Nam-gyu had a smirk on his face while his eyes raked you up and down. You felt yourself blushing, somehow thinking Nam-gyu knows what you and Myung-gi did. And then it dawns on you that Nam-gyu could’ve saw you guys go with the guard.

“Of course.” Thanos said with a smile on his face, “Any friend of Nam-gyu’s is a friend of mine.”

“Plus,” Nam-gyu chimmed in, “you came just in time, we needed one more player.”

You smiled, “Great, who are the others ?”

Nam-gyu moved to the other side of Thanos to reveal a man and- ‘Ah shit.’ You thought, ‘Not the psycho stalker.’

The woman stepped forward, “We met earlier. I don’t think I introduce myself though. I’m Se-mi.” She held out her hand and you shook it.

“Y/n.” You responded, trying your best to smile.

The other unknown team member stood next to her, “And I’m Min-su.” He bowed and you did as well, recognizing his name as the man Se-mi told you Nam-gyu bullied.

You all sat down in the middle of the gaming circle. It wasn’t hard to figure out who was going to do what as the timer finally buzzed. You guys were in the middle row, which you were thankful for; so your team could pick up on tips of what to do and what not to do.

Nam-gyu and Thanos gave you their rings to practice Gong-gi with as they spoke among themselves. You concentrated while also tuning in and out of their conversations.

You heard Nam-gyu talking to Min-su and you paid extra close attention. He sounded nice, he asked his name and even brought up a quote to not only encourage him but the whole team. A small smile formed on your lips until Se-mi put in her two sense.

“Yah, don’t tell us what to do.” She retorted.

Your eyebrows furried, surely she wasn’t talking to Nam-gyu.

“Me ?” Nam-gyu said, also confused.

“Yeah you, nice shaky hands, asshole.”

You stopped what you were doing and looked over at her, “What the fuck is your problem ?”

She laughed, “I don’t have a problem, but it seems you do. Why so feisty ?” She asked, scrunching her nose at the word ‘feisty’.

“Because that was uncalled for. You may not like Nam-gyu but he was actually being positive just now.”

“You’re so naïve.” She chuckled.

That made your blood boil, “You hate when he’s an asshole and you hate when he’s trying to be nice. What the fuck do you want from him ?” You snapped, clenching your fists.

Thanos put his hands out each one facing one of us, “Hey Señoritas.” Thanos deep voice boomed, “Stop it.”

Then he turned his attention to Se-mi, “Se-mi apologize to Nam-gyu.”

Se-mi looked over at Thanos and sighed, rolling her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Nam-gyu had a satisfying smile on his face as he used his jacket sleeve to cover up his mouth to keep from laughing.

Thanos smiled, “Good.” He turned his attention to Nam-gyu, pointing at Se-mi, “Now Nam-gyu you do the same.”

Nam-gyu’s expression fell as his hand dropped into his lap, “Wha- I didn’t even-“

Thanos just starred at him, “Ugh, fine. I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

Gunshots rang out as the first team lost, the sound seemed to echo against the walls as you began to practice Gong-gi again. Your hand trembled as you picked one up, you starred at it trying your best to make your hand be still but it wasn’t working.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath.

“Oh look at that.” Se-mi began, “There’s Mr. & Ms. shaky hands.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll strangle you with these shaky hands bitch !” You stood up, “And trust me my grip will be firm.”

Nam-gyu yanked you back down beside him, “Hey hey, chill okay ?” He whispered, but all you could focus on was Se-mi gloating in the back ground. You attempted to stand up again, but he just as quickly pulled you back down.

“I don’t like that bitch either, but we need her for our team. If you kick her ass, that could result in her not being able to finish her task and then we’re all fucked.”

Your eyes shot daggers at her while he explained your dilemma, ‘He’s right.’ You thought.

“Shit.” You whispered, biting your lip and looking away from her.

“Can I ask you a question ?”

“Sure.” You said, still trying to calm down your racing heart.

“Have you ever tried drugs before ?”

You made eye contact with him, “What ? Why are you asking me this ?”

He cleared his throat, answering you in a low voice, “I just tried one of Thanos’ pills and they work amazing. See-“ He held out his hands in front of you, “Their not shaking anymore and I don’t have that sense of impending doom currently.”

You sucked in a shaky breathe, pursing your lips together as you starred down at your trembling hands, ‘Fuck it.’ You thought.

“I’ll try one.”

[theocddiaries]

Stone: Yeah. The chairs are rocks. You can get a 1-day cushion for $8, or a 2-day for $12. Last year, I got 2 1-dayers-big mistake. My son went on to win the whole thing, and all I could think was "I just flushed $4 down the toilet." [buzzing sound signaling a wrong answer] Stone [absent-minded, claps]: Whoo! Shadow! [keeps on talking with the lady behind his seat]: I guess I just didn't want to presume that we would be here for the two days. But still, what kind of message was I sending with the 1-dayer? Shadow [approaches]: You "whoo'd" me? Stone: …What are you doing here? Shadow: I'm out. I got the question wrong, which is embarrassing enough without you "whoo-ing" me! [storms off] Stone: Shadow! Shadow, come back here! [gets up and follows him] Lady [goes to get the cushion] Stone [comes back and holds it against his chest]: Don't! [Stone finds Shadow sitting, head down, backstage. The questions can still be heard in the background, and Shadow answers them, dejectedly.] Stone: What are you doing back here? Shadow: I didn't have the room key, and I don't want to be seen in public. Stone [sits in front of him]: I thought about what you said before… Moderator: When did China's last emperor ascend the throne? Shadow: 1909. Stone: You can say a lot of things about me, but I am not someone who lives through his kid. [buzz] Moderator: Sorry. It's 1909. Stone: Do I like to see you succeed? Of course I do! Moderator: Tritium is an isotope of what element? Shadow: Hydrogen. Stone: But do I need that to make myself feel important? Absolutely not. [buzz] Moderator: No, the answer is hydrogen. Stone: As a matter of fact, I'm a little hurt you would think I was so shallow. Moderator: The persian satrapy of Skudra included which two areas? Shadow: Macedonia and Thrace. Stone: I know parents like that, and that is not me. No way. [buzz] Moderator: Macedonia and Thrace. Stone: Are you freaking kidding me?! Macedonia and Thrace? What even is that?! You're hardly even listening! How could we lose this?! … … I said "we"? Shadow: Yeah. You do that sometimes. Stone: …I'm so sorry. I am one of those parents. I like it too much when you win. I really love lording it over the other parents. Shadow: Well, in our house, I'm kind of your only source for that. Stone: You're telling me. Yesterday, Ivo asked me if he could be part owl. Shadow: He does get his head pretty far around. Stone: Shadow, I'm so sorry. Shadow: It's okay. Maybe you do put pressure on me, but it's nothing compared to what I put on myself. I guess I needed somebody to blame for what happened today, and there you were. Stone: …You know I'm in awe of you, right? [gives him a hug]: Come on. I know a back way out of this place. Shadow [points at his cushion]: Wait. Don't you have to return that? Stone: No way. I paid good money for this.

[thepersonnamedsam]

is that bluey? - dr3

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: being home alone with a migraine, you turn on a show that reminds you of your boyfriend

word count: 803

warnings: if you have emetophobia, you probably shouldn’t read it…

note: i myself am currently suffering from a migraine and i am just listening to bluey to not feel so alone, yay me

masterlist / taglist

The toilet was your favourite place right now. With a blanket laid down on the floor and a cushion under the toilet, you were curled up in the bathroom. You installed a power strip, so every electronic device could be charged, such as the humidifier, your iPad, the kettle and your phone. Plus it was the only room without a window, which usually was something bad, but that day it was a blessing.

You were home alone, Daniel was away with Scotty, either training or doing some shit. You wanted him here, but you also didn’t want to disturb him. You had a migraine, it was one of the milder ones, you had worse of 'em, but still bad enough to stick to the toilet. The cold floor helped you stick to reality. You were sweating like crazy and your left side of your head was pounding. It was like your heart was in your head.

Nausea overtook your body once in a while, but there was something that helped you through it all; Bluey! Even though you usually didn’t like the blue-light of the electronics, today it was some relief because you felt less alone. You couldn’t wait until Daniel got back.

You knew the show because of Danny‘s nieces and nephews, they were always watching the show. Daniel was always invested in the show, trying to watch it at home with you, but you always refused. But now it reminded you of him, especially the way Bandit is treating Bluey and Bingo. It reminded you of him and his sisters kids. You missed Daniel, having a migraine without someone caring for you was the worst.

That’s why, when you heard the key in the door, you were so excited you almost felt your eye pop out of its socket.

„Baby? I‘m home, where are you?“, he shouted through the flat. His loud voice pounded through your head. You loved him, really, but you could’ve killed him that moment. He opened the door to the bathroom and saw you lying on the floor. His mind instantly connected the dots; you had a migraine!

„Aww my poor baby, how can I help?“, his voice now in a hush, not wanting to worsen the ache in your head. You whined and opened your arms. He snickered and tried to fit his lanky body on the floor. You cuddled into his body and closed your eyes.

„Are you watching Bluey?“, he tried to contain his excitement in his voice, but failed miserably. You hummed and he just smiled at you. „Finally“, he whispered.

„But why?“ - „I missed you, s‘all.“

After a while, you felt the nausea kicking in and you wrestled yourself out of Danny’s arms. Thank god you were already in the bathroom, because you didn’t know how long you could’ve contained yourself.

You felt Danny trying to make a ponytail with your hair and a soothing hand rubbing over your back.

„Let it all out, my sweet girl. That’s good, let it all out“, he whispered to you. You hated vomiting, it’s the worst. You were just dry heaving after some time, your body still trying to eject everything from your stomach. Tears were hitting the toilet ring and Daniel wiped your eyes with his thump.

„I know, I know, everything’s gonna be good. Just a few more moments.“

„Can you please get me a glass of water and a new ice packet?“, your voice barely over a whisper. Daniel stood up and came back with all the stuff needed. He even brought you a coke, the wives tale or getting rid of nausea. He also brought a painkiller, having seen you take one only 15 minutes earlier, but when you vomited, you probably flushed the painkiller out of your body already. He was such a thoughtful person.

Later in bed, you had a bit of a moment where you felt better. „I am so happy you finally wanna watch Bluey“, Daniel exclaimed with excitement. You giggled, you knew he’d be happy to see you watching Bluey. „It reminded me of you“, you shyly smiled at him. „Aww baby.“

„You know, I think Bingo is the glue of the family, you know what I mean? Like, she’s the piece that’s holding all of the together“, you explained to your boyfriend. He chuckled lightly, he knew you’d be invested in the kids show. „Yeah, I think so too, honey“, he whispered against your temple. He kissed it and closed your eyes with his hands. „We can watch some tomorrow, hopefully your migraine‘s gone by then.“ You nodded your head, instantly regretting it.

You put the cold packet on your neck and cuddled into Daniels side. His arm snaked around your waist and pulled you even closer. „Night night, love you“, you whispered. „Love you too, darling.“

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21

[hannahmanderr]

WHOO HOO ECTO-IMPLOSION!! I was honored to get to step in to write for the incredible artwork done by @praetoring! They're such a talented artist, and their art was truly inspiring!! I'll be reblogging it myself, but definitely go check it out here and share the love with them!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This would be so much easier if you opened up, Daniel.”

Danny huffs and scrapes the heel of his scruffy shoe on the thin carpet. “It’s Danny. And I told you before. There’s nothing to open up about.”

Dr. Bell leans forward and laces his fingers underneath his chin. Danny’s seen the critical glint in his eye before, in the other psychiatrists who have come before him. He wonders if it’s something they teach in medical school. Maybe they make it a graduation requirement.

“I’m here to help you. We all are,” Dr. Bell says, his honey brown eyes trained on Danny. “You’re here because you have people who care about you. They want to see you get better.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but there’s nothing to get better from.”

Dr. Bell’s eyes crease into a sad sort of smile. “There’s a term for that, you know. When a patient believes their problems aren’t a problem. ‘Ego-syntonic’ is what we call it.”

“Why would I care what it’s called?”

“Thought you might like to know.” The doctor shrugs. “You seem like the inquisitive type.”

A silence befalls the two, broken only by the gentle ticking of the antique cuckoo clock on the wall. Danny scrapes his heel on the ground again.

He doesn’t like the quiet. It leaves room for too much to sneak through. Too many chances for something to slip through the cracks. 

But he doesn’t speak.

It’s a lose-lose situation, really. He can stay quiet and run that risk, or he can talk and have to deal with all this. Again.

He shuffles and crosses his arms.

Dr. Bell sighs. “You do know why you’re here right now, yes?”

Danny doesn’t answer at first. His gaze is focused out the window now, at a point on the horizon. The sun is glaring down, melting the slushy snow and causing the air to shimmer. It’s a mesmerizing sight, he decides.

“Daniel. Danny. Look at me.”

Danny grits his teeth, but obeys. Still, his eyes continue to drift back outside. 

There’s another look in Dr. Bell’s eyes. One that Danny also knows well. The same reproachful, pitying look given to him by the students in the halls at school, the cashiers at the grocery store, the dozens of professionals he’s been forced to talk to. The same look accompanied by low whispers and unrelenting rumors.

Danny knows he should be used to them by now, but he still can’t help but lash out at them. Every time. Even if it’s in his own head. 

Dr. Bell tilts his head thoughtfully. “Why did you throw those meds away, Danny?”

Danny bristles. He can still hear the flushing toilet and his sister’s shouts of disbelief. The angry lecture from his parents. It’s not pretty.

Somehow, he’d never thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“Maybe if you listened to me,” he snaps, “you’d understand that they’re useless.”

“If we need to adjust the dosage, or if we need to try anoth-”

“No, just - I don’t need them!” His heart is beginning to race. He’s getting himself worked up again, and he knows it can only lead to disaster, but he can’t really help it. “I don’t need them, because nothing’s wrong!”

Dr. Bell’s brow furrows. “How long have you been tossing them?”

“Does it matter? I don’t need them, end of story.”

“Danny.” His name is spoken with a sort of sternness really only matched by his English teacher. It’s enough to make him shut his mouth and slowly sit back in his seat. Had he even realized he’d started to lean forward?

His heart doesn’t quiet, though. It pounds away in his chest, faster and faster. Something tingles in the back of his head.

He scrapes his heel again.

The doctor finally looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose. It pushes his glasses askew. “This is serious. You can’t simply decide to stop taking these meds because you think you don’t need them. That’s dangerous… to you.”

Danny doesn’t need to be a genius to hear the unspoken message in Dr. Bell’s words. Dangerous to you and the people around you.

Jazz would scold him for jumping to that conclusion. He can imagine just what she’d say. People with psychotic disorders are more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of it, she’d say in that presumptuous, know-it-all voice she dons any time she gets to talking about psychology. 

Danny knows better though. Statistics might say one thing. They don’t change what people think, though.

Another shimmer outside the window catches his eye. He hones in on it immediately. 

This one is different. He knows it. He can feel it.

Shit.

Dr. Bell is still speaking. “Please, Danny. You don’t want to end up back in the hospital again. You’ve been managing your symptoms for a while now. You don’t want to throw that all away.”

But Danny isn’t hearing him. Not even the thinly veiled threat of the hospital breaks his concentration. 

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he wonders if psychiatrists are supposed to be this blunt. All of the others before this one always danced around the issue so delicately.)

(He sort of appreciates the bluntness, for once. It’s a refreshing change.)

No, his focus is devoted to that point on the horizon, where the shimmer is waving precariously in the air, taking on a new shape and growing stronger. 

Really, he wishes it had waited until this appointment was over.

Then again, he’s really the one to blame for it, isn’t he?

“We can only do so much. Myself, your parents, your teachers… I know it’s difficult, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but we can’t do all the work for you. You have to be willing to step up and take care of yourself.”

Danny’s heart is throbbing painfully now. He can feel the potent hum of something buzzing just under his skin, making his leg bounce and his fingers dig into his torn jeans. His eyes remain stubbornly trained out the window.

But this time he’s heard Dr. Bell’s words. Specifically that last bit. And he has some words of his own. 

It’s perfect timing, thankfully. 

He stands up abruptly, so forcefully it knocks over his chair. “Thanks, but no thanks, doc. You may think I’m just throwing away my life or whatever, but I know myself better than you do. And for the record, I am taking care of myself. I’m taking care of more than myself, actually. So - and I’ll only say this once - kindly go to hell.”

Before Dr. Bell has the chance to respond, Danny sweeps out of the office.

No one sees him exit the building.

____________________________________________________________

One year, seven months, twenty-one days, and forty-six minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since the first crack.

It shouldn’t have been possible. His parents said so themselves. With the portal destroyed, the veil between worlds was never torn. Reality remained intact, thus preventing any leakage. 

That’s what they thought anyway. 

But Danny knows the truth. He’s the only one that does. 

He was there when it happened, after all.

____________________________________________________________

The next morning has Jazz hovering over his shoulder, watching him like a hawk.

“Go on,” she says, nodding to the pills in his open hand. “Take them.”

Danny doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the pills with disdain. Mom had been sure to make certain that he’d have them for this morning. Pharmacies work much faster with an impassioned Fenton breathing down their necks.

Either that, or maybe they’ve heard the rumors about him too.

Jazz huffs and throws her hands in the air. “Honestly, Danny, I don’t understand what the big deal is. They’re not gonna kill you.”

Danny tilts his head. He could probably make a decent argument as to why yes, taking these pills could end up with him dead, but he holds his tongue.

He can feel his heart begin to pulse a little faster. His focus immediately redirects to his breathing. 

Inhale Io Europa Ganymede.

Exhale Callisto Amalthea Himalia.

Inhale Elara Pasiphae Sinope.

Exhale Lysithea Carme Ananke.

Jupiter has 95 moons. Danny knows all their names by heart. It became especially easy to memorize them when he discovered they make for a wonderful mantra to time his breathing to.

And Jazz wanted to accuse him of not paying attention in therapy.

Except she’s still staring at him with murder in her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere until you take those. And no, I will not vouch for you with Lancer if you make us late.”

His eyes flick up to hers for the briefest of moments. He doesn’t maintain the eye contact - it’s too hard to look at the disappointment in her eyes - but it’s long enough for him to spot something else within them. He can’t quite believe it, though.

Is that… helplessness?

Conflicting feelings war within him. On one hand, he wants to snap at her, tell her to mind her own business and quit worrying about him. She’s been on his back for the better part of the past year and a half. How has she not learned that no amount of nagging is going to “fix” him?

But on the other hand, his heart pangs for his sister. After all, she’s been dealing with the effects of his… condition for that year and a half now, whether she’s wanted to or not. He knows his problems are not self-contained; they inevitably twist their way into the lives of everyone he comes into contact with. No one has been in closer contact with him than Jazz.

In a way, he sort of hates himself for it. Or maybe he hates the universe for putting him into this position. Either way, he hates it.

Yet he still can’t take the pills. He doesn’t know what sort of effect they’ll have on him, but he’s not eager to find out, either. 

Danny sighs and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “Whatever.”

He makes a show of tossing them in his mouth and taking a big gulp of water. Even after he swallows, Jazz still eyes him critically.

“Open up,” she demands, though her voice is gentler. Obediently, he opens and lifts his tongue to show her his empty mouth. 

She nods curtly, but Danny can see the tension drain from her face and body. The sight is somewhat strangely satisfying. “Thank you. Now was that so bad?”

Danny shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, I really don’t want to be late.”

“You go ahead,” he says. “Sam and Tucker wanted to walk with me today.”

Jazz raises an eyebrow. The gears are turning in her head, Danny knows, as she tries to pick the reason apart. Looks for a flaw. 

A year and a half of lying through his teeth has earned him such a lack of trust.

But he shrugs half-heartedly. He’s already taken the pills, hasn’t he?

Jazz seems to reach this conclusion. “Alright,” she says slowly. She bends down to pick up her bag, but her eyes stay glued to him. “But if you try anything funny…”

“What would I even try?”

“Just -” she cuts herself off and draws in a breath. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy, Danny. I just… I worry. You’re my little brother, you know?”

His heart pangs again. “I know.”

The hint of a smile graces the corners of her lips. She plants a kiss into his hair. There’s a weight to it though, one that holds the strain of all the heated arguments, all the angry and despaired tears, all the failed pleading and promising, everything that’s happened in the past year and a half.

Even if her melancholy hadn’t draped itself around his shoulders, he would’ve known.

Still, when she pulls away, he offers her his own small smile. She leaves the house without another word.

It’s only after he hears the door close behind her that he bolts to the bathroom.

____________________________________________________________

He had tried to explain what was happening to him, after the portal exploded on him. He tried to explain the strange feelings in his body, the impossible things he was seeing. 

The doctors (and his sister) immediately wrote off his complaints as residual trauma from the accident. You’re lucky to even be alive, they would tell him. It’s expected that you’d be having problems adjusting.

(Lucky to be alive. That’s what they said. That’s what everyone said.)

(If only he believed that statement was true.)

(And not about the “lucky” part.)

His parents, of course, had been intrigued at first. Perhaps it was because of some delirious hope after the destruction of their magnum opus, but they at least listened to him. There had been some skepticism, especially as it became clearer and clearer that there was no proof to Danny’s claims, but they stayed patient.

Until Jazz found out about the questions they were asking him. She had given them a lecture of her own for “encouraging his delusions” before “accidentally” dropping it to the therapist during a family counseling session.

His parents, disappointed as they had been, agreed to back off.

Leaving him alone to fix a problem no one believed was real.

____________________________________________________________

Danny’s head feels like dead weight as he lifts it from the toilet. He flushes it before he can look down and make himself sick all over again.

God, what has he come to?

The bitter taste of the half-digested pills burns at his tongue. Still, he chooses to fall back against the wall, breathing heavily and letting his eyes flutter closed.

His heart pounds in his chest. It had started even as he had been running to the bathroom. He silently berates himself for allowing it to happen. And although part of him has already resigned himself to the inevitable consequence, part of him still desperately latches onto the list of moons he knows so well.

Leda Thebe Adrastea.

Something potent and volatile pulses in the air. He can feel it seep through his skin and into his muscles and bones. It only makes his heart race faster, especially as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps coat his arms.

He’s had a year and a half to get used to the sensation, but it catches him off guard every time. Like something is tearing itself apart inside him. 

Or maybe like he’s being torn apart.

Metis, Themisto…

Danny curls in on himself. Pressure builds in his chest. Something he has no human words for storms inside him in a relentless whirlwind. He can feel the need for release, though whether that’s him begging for a reprieve or the force inside him demanding to be freed, he can never tell. Perhaps it’s both.

… Callirrhoe…

The sizzling snaps of something electric are audible in the air, concentrated somewhere behind the shower curtain. He holds his head in a death grip and his heart beats fast - impossibly fast.

So fast it might as well be stopped.

Something cold writhes its way into his throat, stirring his stomach into nausea all over again. He can’t swallow it down. He’s forced to open his mouth in a gasp and stare in dismay as pale, blue mist pours from his lips.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The demand from the force within has become intolerable. Like always, he’s left wondering if it’ll be too much for his tiny mortal body to handle.

Unfortunately for him, he knows he’ll be able to handle it.

With a guttural cry, the energy erupts in him.

He’s never sure what exactly happens next. He’s always been too overwhelmed by whatever it is to see or understand. All he knows is the thunderbolt of something electric, something powerful being unleashed into him. Or maybe it’s clawing its way out of him. 

Memories of blinding green light and an explosion that leaves his ears ringing rip through him.

That’s probably always the worst part.

And then, right as he’s sure he’ll disintegrate into nothing more than dust, it stops. In a single deafening clap, it stops.

Slowly, Danny peels his eyes open. The death grip loosens and his legs and arms begin to unfold. The tension, however, does not leave his body. Every human instinct of his whispers at him furiously to stay alert. Be prepared. Flee from the danger.

But a different set of instincts has clamored its way forward too. Instincts that are far from human. Instincts that draw him up from the floor and towards the bathtub.

A toxic green glow pulses behind the shower curtain.

____________________________________________________________ It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to start spreading. Amity Park is, after all, a sleepy little suburb. Its residents will take their drama where they can get it.

Did you hear about the ghost hunters’ son? they’d whisper. Did you hear about the crazy Fenton kid?

Speculations ranged far and wide. Even after the portal’s explosion became common knowledge, people would throw out wild theory after wild theory.

I heard he ate a bunch of ectoplasm and it’s poisoned him.

Well, I heard the radiation from all those experiments finally got to him.

Are you kidding? Those loony Fentons obviously started experimenting on him.

Comments like that last one always stung the worst.

If he’d been a social pariah before, he was even more of one after the accident.

And it definitely didn’t help that the accident left him with a slew of… “side effects.” Ones that really got everyone talking. 

____________________________________________________________

Danny nearly tears the curtain off the rod as he rips it to the side.

Sure enough, right in the middle of the bathtub, a rancid green crack shimmers in the air. 

“Go away,” he growls. There’s something ethereal about his voice now, something that makes it reverberate against the walls and fill the air with static. Something fueled by the anger and frustration in his bones.

Something - or someone - is trying to press their way through the crack. Even if it hadn’t been visibly apparent, Danny can feel it in his chest. It’s causing a distinct pressure that throbs out of sync with his heart. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

A different kind of static drifts through the portal. That would be the response, Danny gathers. Somehow, despite the lack of any English words - or any words, period - he knows exactly what’s being said. Or a rough idea, at least.

“No,” he snaps. A crack of electricity snaps in time with his voice. “You’re not coming through. Go away.”

He wishes the intruder would just leave him alone. The sooner he’s able to calm down, the sooner the crack will fade. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked. 

This time, when static drifts through the portal, there are the low undertones of something that can maybe be interpreted as language. Danny listens closely.

“This is my world.” He’s attempting to make himself sound as threatening as possible, allowing the anger and the fierce instinct to possess to bubble over into his demeanor. His blood is running cold, and he knows if he were to look in the mirror right now, he’d be met with not his eyes, but an otherworldly glow that mimics the color of the crack down to a tee. “This is my haunt. You’re not welcome.”

He’s still not exactly sure what a haunt is, and he’s not sure why the thought of this being his haunt makes his stomach flutter with both anxiety and excitement, but he’s dealt with this problem long enough to know how to speak their language. 

“Let me through,” a voice hisses from inside the crack, muddied by the accompanying static. “I only wish to help you.”

Danny scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like any of you have ever actually wanted to help me before.” His eyes narrow, and now he can feel a cold crackle gathering behind them. “So you’d better leave now, because you won’t like it if I have to make you.”

“And just how do you intend to ‘make’ me leave, halfling?”

There’s that word again. The one that sends a buzz straight down Danny’s spine and causes something in his chest to leap. The one they’ve all been calling him for the past year and a half.

Halfling.

What exactly that means, he still doesn’t know.

“I’ve gotten rid of plenty of you before,” he says, low and dangerous. “I can just as easily get rid of you.”

The pressure in his chest increases sharply as a shadowy figure presses right up against the crack. Foggy bits of the figure begin to slip through the crack. “Perhaps you are as powerful as they say.” The voice becomes clearer. “Perhaps your words have merit. Somehow, I doubt that.”

Danny growls again, and his hands ball into fists. He swings madly at the little tendrils of fog. They dissipate under his touch, and the intruder hisses.

“You are making a grave mistake, child. It is not wise to reject my aid.”

“Sure. I’m sure your ‘aid’ involves all sorts of terrorizing and wreaking havoc and stuff. Exactly the kind of help I need.” He grunts as the intruder attempts to shove their way through again, and it feels like someone has thrown a cinderblock into his chest. Still, he stands his ground. “This place is mine, and if you think I’m just gonna let you come in and run rampant, then you have another thing coming.”

Despite his best efforts, more and more foggy bits leak through the crack. The static in the air pulses, and he gets the vague notion that he’s being laughed at. “Such strong words from such an insolent boy. This is the great halfling child I was told so much about?”

“You know, you’re not exactly doing much to help your case.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll simply make you my offer.”

“Not. Interested.” His hands are tingling. Is it from coming into contact with the intruder? Or from something else? He can’t tell. “You can take your offer and -”

“I can teach you how to seal the rifts.”

Now that makes Danny falter.

____________________________________________________________

It only took about a month for Danny to realize it was him that was responsible for the cracks.

They didn’t start out as anything big. Barely shimmers or disturbances in the air, when he’d get worked up or nervous or upset. Nothing big enough for anything to fit through, of course.

But enough to get him to notice. 

In retrospect, it did make some sense. His parents’ portal had opened up on top of him. Or maybe even opened up in him. Of course, it was bound to leave some lasting metaphysical effects.

He just hadn’t expected to learn that he was the portal’s replacement.

It was sometime right then, a month or so after the accident, that Sam had campaigned and succeeded to revise the school lunch menu. The resulting argument between her and Tucker had gotten him so anxious that it resulted in his largest crack yet. One that was big enough to allow something through.

One that was big enough to allow one of the ghosts on the other side to slip through.

____________________________________________________________

The thought is tantalizing. It’s been so long, relying on his ability to rein in his anger and anxiety to force the cracks to fade. It’s a task much easier said than done.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have an easier, more reliable way of closing them? Of keeping the ghosts out of his territory? Of stopping things before they could cause too many problems?

The intruder must sense his hesitation, because they give another forceful push. Danny, wrapped up in his own thoughts, is caught off guard by the move, and he gasps in shock as he squeezes his eyes shut and reels backwards.

It’s enough of an opening for the ghost to slide the rest of the way through.

Danny can feel its presence. There’s something… musty about it. Like the way it feels when he goes into the attic and sees all of his and Jazz’s old baby stuff packed away. Or when he’s forced to use one of the particularly “well-loved” copies of textbooks at school. He’s not sure whether to be put off by it or intrigued.

But it does feel foreign. More foreign than the presence of most other ghosts he’s encountered.

He opens his eyes.

Endless red eyes bore into his.

He reels again.

“Who the hell are you?” he hisses. Static crackles under his voice again.

The figure simply floats there, mostly hidden underneath a cloak. Those awful red eyes shine like beacons from the shadows created by the hood. Oddly enough, they make it harder to see the figure’s face. If they actually have one. Danny’s seen more than one faceless ghost before.

“Believe it or not, I do truly wish to help you,” the ghost says. Its voice is smooth and masculine, and when it speaks, Danny is flooded with a wave of that same musty energy. Something about it feels old. Timeless.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest.

The words themselves are not reassuring either. Faces supplant the shadow under the hood - his parents’, Dr. Bell’s, Jazz’s. The phrase is one that Danny is intimately familiar with, and he immediately bristles.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “And I still don’t believe you actually want to help.”

Danny can’t see the figure’s face, of course, but somehow, he can tell that the ghost is smiling at him. The kind of smile adults give children who don’t know any better. “And why don’t you believe that?” the ghost asks, unperturbed by his petulance.

Danny throws his arms in the air before crossing them even tighter across his chest. “Because that’s all you ghosts do! You invade my home and start trying to stir up trouble, and then I have to chase you down and shove you back through before you hurt something. Or someone.”

“Such hasty conclusions to draw.” The ghost clucks its tongue disapprovingly. “That won’t do at all.”

Danny’s blood boils cold and the glow from his eyes is bright enough to reflect on the ghost in front of him. He raises his fists. “Go. Now.”

The ghost sighs, as if it’s bored of the conversation already. A hand thrusts out from underneath the cloak, aimed toward the crack. Danny’s eyes widen as a blue glow surrounds the ghost’s hand, then the crack. The crack shudders.

And it begins to mend itself.

Something inside Danny shifts as the crack seals itself. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, like his heart isn’t being pushed against as much. 

But the ghost is still there, in his bathroom. And now that the crack is gone, the full force of the ghost’s presence is surrounding Danny.

Danny sees the glint of sharp teeth as the ghost grins. “I don’t think I will go,” it says.

Danny’s not sure whether to be amazed, terrified, or infuriated. Or maybe some combination of the three. On one hand, this ghost just proved its ability to seal the cracks. Maybe even the ability to teach him how to do it himself. If Danny possesses that ability.

On the other hand, though, Danny doesn’t take too kindly to ghosts intruding in his world and asserting themselves.

He’s the boss here.

That instinct, the instinct to own and possess and keep his territory, wins out easily. It’s too overwhelming, and Danny doesn’t really have the energy to try and fight it. 

Besides, he figures, if he can get himself worked up enough, he can create another crack to shove this ghost back through.

So with a roar of anger, Danny lunges at the ghosts and swings his fists with all his might.

The moment he comes into contact with the ghost, something changes.

And green fire explodes to life around his hands.

____________________________________________________________

The cracks weren’t the only side effect of the portal’s explosion.

Danny never understood what was happening to him. In all honesty, he’s still not sure if he completely understands. What he knew and what he knows, though, is that something within him began to shift.

He began to shift.

Why did the cold winter air seem to embrace him? Why did the night sky whisper to him with offers of belonging? Why did he find himself seeing new colors and new lights out of the corners of his eyes?

He tried to explain it to his friends, his family, his doctors. The former took some interest, but lost it quickly with nothing to back it up. The latter only used it as evidence for his diagnosis.

It didn’t help when things got more serious, after Sam changed the lunch menu and he’d had to beat back the ghost he’d accidentally summoned. He found himself drawn to some of the most random places in town - behind the dumpsters at the Nasty Burger, the top of Lookout Hill, the architecture section in the public library. Why those places, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the air in those places felt… different. Thinner, maybe. Like he could poke through it if he found the right place.

He learned to start staying away from those places.

It was worse when he started to be drawn to places that had a much more sinister aura. Like the time when he found himself standing on the side of the road at the site of a bad car wreck, watching as EMTs soberly placed a sheet over a broken body. Or when he ended up standing in the doorway of the hospice center in town as a family with red eyes and tears aplenty quietly shuffled their way out.

It gave even more reason for people to stay away from him. He smells like death, they’d say. He figured they were probably close enough to being right.

And that wasn’t counting the other side effects.

____________________________________________________________

Danny screams.

In an instant, he’s pushed the ghost back from him and scampered away, staring in horror at his burning hands. Many things have happened to him in the past year and a half, but his hands spontaneously catching on fire has not been one of them.

“Interesting,” he can hear the ghost saying, but he doesn’t truly register it. His focus is entirely on the green fire. 

It’s only after a few seconds that he starts to wonder why it doesn’t hurt. 

He’s heard stories, of course. About how with serious burns, they can destroy nerves before you can register the pain. He himself still has a few destroyed nerves from the explosion. He wonders if that’s what’s happening to him now. It would explain why he’s in such shock, unable to do anything to actually put out the fire.

And then he finally processes three very important things.

One: the fire is green. Not normal fire by any means.

Two: he can’t see any damage to his hands, even as the fire burns. And it doesn’t move any farther than his wrists. 

Three: he can feel something. It’s not heat. His hands tingle, but not painfully. Rather, it feels like he’s dunked his hands into a bowl of ice water. Or like snow has wrapped around them.

His eyes snap up to the ghost. “What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts. His voice shakes with panic.

The ghost is as placid as ever. It holds a gloved hand up towards its chin. Danny hates feeling like the subject of some twisted experiment.

“That power has always been within you, young halfling,” it says. It could be Danny’s imagination, but he thinks he hears something akin to wonder in the ghost’s voice. “It would seem that my presence has simply accelerated your discovery of this power.”

Danny opens his mouth, but words escape him. His eyes drift back down to his hands, still lit up. 

He shouldn’t be quite so stunned. This isn’t the first time something distinctly supernatural has happened to his body. Memories of arms and legs glitching out of sight and feet slipping through the ground swarm him in a rush. 

He still doesn’t know why those things happen, or what they mean. 

They scare him.

But he’ll never admit it. Not that he can. These occurrences would be written off as delusions.

The ghost leans down and approaches Danny. Although he’s already pressed flush against the wall, he tries to sink further into it. “Stay away from me!” As he shouts, the fire around his hands flares brighter.

The ghost’s eyes briefly flick to the fire before settling back on Danny. “Relax,” it says. “You are overreacting.” It tilts its head, and Danny sees the glint of teeth again. “Are all humans this… emotionally fragile?”

“I’m about to show you fragile,” Danny growls.

“Hmm. There’s that attitude again.” The ghost sighs. “In all truthfulness, though, you do need to relax. You will never gain control if you are continually losing it, child.”

“That makes zero sense. And how am I supposed to relax when you’re invading my home?”

“Because you are foolish,” the ghost says plainly. Danny wants to throw another punch, but the idea of another freaky thing happening if he touches the ghost keeps his behavior under control. “You are too focused on the external. You must focus on the internal.”

“Well, maybe I could ‘focus on the internal’ if you’d just leave me alone!”

A rush of that musty energy presses Danny into the wall. “You would be wise to listen to me, halfling. I am one of the very few beings that truly does wish to help you. Without my aid, you will leave yourself vulnerable to every single one of the threats behind the veil.” The ghost pauses. “Yourself… and your haunt.”

Danny’s anger falters.

The ghost continues. “What you have seen thus far is but a taste of the threats that wait for you. Everything you have faced up until this point will seem like child’s play compared to what you will face. Your only hope to defend yourself is to listen to me.”

Danny wants to stay angry. He wants to stay feisty and impudent. This is just another intruder after all. One of the many he’s had to beat back to wherever they came from.

But as he stares helplessly into the ghost’s gaze, he can’t help but feel as though he is being pierced down to his very soul. Embedded within those deep red eyes is the afterimage of every star that’s burned itself to death, from the beginning of time to the end. The infinite void of eternity. The promise of planets yet to be created, cosmic dust yet to settle, things that will happen long after the Earth’s Sun has gone supernova and extinguished any trace of life.

Danny cries out. His head snaps backward, breaking the connection to the ghost’s eyes. He pants for breath he didn’t know he’d been lacking.

He gets the impression that perhaps this isn’t just another intruder.

“Who… are you?” he asks again, this time with caution.

The ghost blinks once. “I can be your greatest ally, or I can be your greatest enemy. I am prepared to be both. Whichever one I am rests in your hands.” He nods down to the green flames still licking Danny’s hands. 

Danny’s breath hitches. The way this ghost talks, the way it carries itself, he can tell the ghost knows far more than he does. Far more. He’s not sure if the threats of dangers yet to come are valid or not.

But while he asserts his ability to take care of anything thrown at him, he knows the fear in his gut says otherwise.

His fists clench. He grits his teeth. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes. Why do there have to be more threats? Why can’t these ghosts just leave him alone? Why him? Why did all this happen to him? Why must he face this alone?

The questions swarm him like angry hornets. They make it hard for him to think clearly. 

His heart begins to race.

“N-no, please,” he gasps. “Not again.”

“You must relax,” the ghost reiterates. “Your abilities are tied to your emotions, as are the abilities of all ghosts. In this case, if you wish to calm the ability, you must first calm yourself, halfling.”

Danny’s stomach turns at the ghost’s words. There’s a hidden implication within them, one that Danny can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure he does not like it, though. 

“I can’t just… calm down,” he says. It’s the truth. Even a year and a half of intense therapy and psychiatric treatment hasn’t taught him how to simply shut off his emotions.

The ghost hums and puts a hand to its chin again. “How is it you humans deal with such strange matters?” He shakes his head before Danny can respond. “No matter. I can assist you by using my power to influence yours, but you must trust me to touch you again.”

Danny’s head whips back and forth wildly. “Because it went so well the last time I touched you?” he says. He hates the note of panic he can hear in his voice.

“That was, as you call it, a fluke. As I said, the power was always within you. My influence has simply brought forth that power early.”

“And how do you know it won’t happen again?”

Teeth flash underneath the hood of the cloak. “I have far more control over my abilities than you, boy. Rest assured I will be able to control something as simple as this.”

Danny’s heart thumps loudly. The ghost extends a hand towards him, and Danny instinctively flinches away from it. He can already feel the ghost’s presence beginning to press up against him again, and it only makes him more anxious.

But…

But.

There’s something different about it now.

Something that reminds him of his mother gently kissing his brow while putting a bandage on his scraped knee. Something that reminds him of his father’s bear hugs that wrap him up in a safe cocoon. Something that reminds him of the weighted blanket Jazz got him last year for Christmas, in an attempt to provide him with something to help with his leftover trauma from the accident.

“Stop it,” he says, but there’s no weight behind his words. “I didn’t… say you could… influence me.” Because as much as he hates to admit it, the ghost’s presence is affecting him. He can feel it in his heartbeat, in his breathing, as they both begin to slow.

He’s lucky he looks up in time to see the ghost’s eyes widen for the briefest of seconds. “You can already feel me?” it asks. Fascination dances behind its words, and Danny feels like he’s a being watched like a zoo animal again. 

“Yes, now can you please… stop it?” Danny chances looking into the ghost’s eyes again. “I-I’ll calm down or whatever, just… please…”

To his surprise, the pressure against his chest lessens, and the vague notions of safety dissipate. The ghost floats backward a foot or two. 

He feels like he can breathe again.

It’s strange, he thinks to himself. How he seems to calm much easier without the ghost’s… influence. Maybe it’s the feeling of regaining some control over the situation. Maybe it’s because he feels less like he has to defend his territory.

He looks up at the ghost. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s surprised to realize he means it.

The flames die out.

____________________________________________________________

Once Danny figured out exactly what was happening within him to trigger the cracks, he tried desperately to keep it from happening at all costs.

Some tactics worked better than others. Timing his breath to the list of Jupiter’s moons was one. His therapist had been thrilled to hear that he’d taken her advice. 

He tried journaling, at the encouragement of another of his therapists and his sister. It worked a bit at first. It gave him a place to vent about the ghosts and everything happening with them without running the risk of being scolded for “giving into his delusions.” It quickly lost whatever effectiveness it had, though.

Eventually, he simply tried to shut his emotions off. He tried to become uncaring, unmoved. Tried not to let everyone’s harsh words get to him as much.

That failed miserably.

Then again, so did every other tactic he tried.

At some point, they all failed. The cracks were inevitable.

They always would be.

____________________________________________________________

The ghost, for what it’s worth, keeps true to its promise to teach him how to close the cracks. 

Ironically, though, it involves traveling through yet another crack.

It’s not Danny who opens it. The ghost waves its hand, and another hole in reality sparks to life inside his bathtub. The ghost’s crack is far neater than Danny’s - smoother, larger, not jagged like the forked branches of lightning. 

Danny watches, and he can’t help but be in awe. The simplicity with which the ghost opened it blows him away.

“Can it really be that easy?” he asks. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Immediately, he regrets it. His goal isn’t to learn how to create the things. He just needs to know how to stop them. 

At the same time, the idea of being able to open the cracks without devolving into near panic, without feeling like his body is being ripped in two…

It’s enticing.

“With patience and precision, yes.” The ghost tilts its head at Danny. “Two things you severely lack, halfling.”

Anger flares in Danny. Somehow, he manages to wrangle it down to a simmer.

“Let’s go,” the ghost says. If it felt Danny’s silent outburst, it does not indicate so. 

“Go where?” Danny asks. Realization hits him a moment later. “Through it?”

“Going above it or around it would hardly do us any good.”

Danny balks. “I - can’t you just show me here? Why do we have to go through?”

The ghost is silent for a long moment. It stares unblinking at Danny. “If you wish to stay here,” it says, low and dark, “the consequences of doing so will rest on your head.”

Danny doesn’t need his sister’s intelligence to understand what the ghost is getting at now. 

“Alright, fine, I get it, it might get messy,” he concedes. “But… do we really have to go through it still?”

“You’re fearful.” It’s not a question.

Danny reflexively puffs his chest up. “I’m not afraid,” he fires back. 

It’s a lie.

He wonders if the ghost knows it.

The ghost hums. “If it helps, this portal simply leads to another location here in your human world. You do not need to enter my world. Not yet.”

Danny’s head snaps towards the crack at hearing the last of the ghost’s words. “Not yet?”

He doesn’t like those implications.

“I grow weary of your refusal to cooperate, child,” the ghost says with a sigh. “You will enter this portal if you wish to learn how to close the cracks and defend yourself. If you do not, I can assure you of the hardships you will try and fail to face.”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop being so… doomer. I get the idea already.”

“Then by all means…” The ghost sweeps an arm out towards the crack with a cheeky bow. 

Reluctantly, Danny steps into the bathtub to stand before the crack. It’s the same vibrant green as the one earlier, as all the ones that had come before it. He can’t see what lies on the other side through the swirling green void.

Slowly, he reaches out and puts his hand through.

The sensation is… surprisingly pleasant. His hand meets empty air on the other side, but at the thin point where his forearm is split between two locations, where the crack touches his skin, he’s met with energy.

It’s pure and it’s raw. It’s electric. It’s invigorating and nothing like Danny has ever felt before. Standing here, in the glow of the crack through reality, he feels like he’s finally on solid ground. Like he’s found the thing that sings to him and his heart, rather than brutalizes it. Fear flushes from his body.

It’s all in such stark contrast to everything the cracks have brought him thus far. For a year and a half, it’s been oppressive. Looming over his head. Threatening to seize his heart and his breath. 

But now?

He feels like he can do anything.

And that’s just with his arm partway through.

Without another thought, Danny leaps through the crack.

It’s every bit as exhilarating as he’d hoped.

____________________________________________________________

In the months after the explosion, Danny often found himself spiraling into existential trains of thought. One does not simply go through a near-death experience without having a bit of existentialism on the side.

His therapists took this to mean he had lost his sense of identity as part of his trauma. It’s okay to feel like you’ve lost yourself, they’d tell him. Like you don’t know who you are anymore.

They would sit him down and force him through exercise after exercise, trying to identify his sense of self, the traits he felt like he embodied, everything that made Danny, Danny.

Who am I?

It was the question the therapists challenged him to ponder, time after time. Only you can answer that question for yourself, Danny.

He wanted to scream every time he was made to fill out another chart. Or outline who he thought he was. Or draw up things to symbolize himself. The question of who he was wasn’t the cause of his existential spirals. He already knew who he was.

Mostly, anyway.

No, it was a different question that plagued him time after time. After every crack, every encounter with a ghost, every unexplainable sight or sound he came across.

What am I?

A year and a half later, he still doesn’t know.

____________________________________________________________

Danny trips over his feet as he exits the crack. 

He’s still breathless from the sheer euphoria from the experience. His body shakes from the overwhelming feeling of power coursing through his veins. He wants to laugh, or maybe cry. Maybe both. 

Where has this been for the past year and half? How could he have gone so long without experiencing something like this?

He turns around to face the crack. In an instant, he’s up against it once more, trying to savor any last dredges of the energy that he can. 

He realizes that this is the closest he’s ever been to one of the cracks. He’s stayed away from them like a plague, only getting close enough to shove ghosts back through. Their presence has always weighed heavily on him, but now Danny wonders if that’s really the case.

No, something heavy has always accompanied the cracks. But… are the cracks themselves responsible for the pressure in his chest?

For the first time, he’s starting to think he’s had it wrong.

There’s a tingle in his chest, then a push, then pressure. This is the feeling he’s far more familiar with. Knowing what it heralds, he steps to the side. A moment later, the cloaked ghost makes its way through the crack.

“There,” it says once fully on this side of it. “Was that so bad?”

Danny opens his mouth. His instinct is to gush about it, to tell the ghost that it was the farthest thing from “bad.”

Those haunting red eyes turn on him, and the words die on Danny’s tongue. 

He huffs and kicks at the ground. “It wasn’t terrible,” he mutters quietly.

They’re on a dirt road, somewhere rural. Fields dormant for the winter sprawl out on either side of the road. A lone set of electrical lines runs along the side of the road. He can’t see any buildings around.

“Wait, where are we?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. Belatedly, he wonders if blindly trusting a very powerful ghost was smart.

“Not far,” the ghost responds. It does not elaborate. Instead, it seals the crack they’ve just come through with a lazy wave of its hand.

The second time witnessing it is just as mesmerizing as the first.

“Why do we have to come all the way to the middle of nowhere to do this? Seriously, why couldn’t you just show me back home?”

The ghost hums. It stares at the horizon, unfocused. “There are things you have yet to understand, halfling. You will learn in time.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Listen, you said you wanted to help me. So quit being all creepy-cryptic and help me.”

“I do not take well to people making demands of me,” the ghost says sharply. A cold breeze rustles the dead leaves on the road and in the fields. “We will operate on my schedule. A halfling child will not dictate it to me.”

Though he doesn’t know why or how, Danny’s instincts scream at him to rise to meet the challenge. To tell the ghost that it may want to operate on its own schedule, but this is Danny’s territory. That it can’t simply wander in and out of his world as it pleases and act as though it is in charge.

It takes every ounce of self-control he can muster to tamper those instincts.

He’s none too eager for the ghost to get mad at him again.

“What do I do then?” he grumbles.

The ghost floats to Danny’s side. “To learn how to control the cracks, you must first learn to take notice of the world around you.” It sweeps its arm out. “Tell me what you see here.”

“What? I don’t… there’s nothing to notice. What does this have to do with anything?”

“If you do not notice anything by looking, then notice by seeing.”

“That literally makes zero sense!” 

The ghost ignores Danny’s outburst this time. “You can already see more than other humans,” it says tiredly. As though it’s explained this to him hundreds of times already. “But you ignore it. You ignore the world around you to maintain little more than an illusion.”

Danny’s stomach does a little ballet. The ghost… isn’t wrong. The glimpses of colors he has no human words for, the way his eyes are drawn to seemingly invisible movements, the dancing lights always in the corners of his eyes, they are all things he knows he can see that others can’t.

He hates it.

“Maybe ignoring it is better,” he retorts. There’s some fire in his words, but not much. 

“Better for who? For those around you? For you? The answer is neither. How can you wish to protect your haunt when you turn a blind eye to that which supposedly threatens it?”

“As long as it stays on their side of the crack, it’s fine.” Even as he speaks, Danny realizes he’s losing confidence in his words. It’s terrifying. 

“Naive child,” the ghost mutters. Disgust taints its words. Or is that…

… disappointment?

Danny doesn’t have time to figure it out. The ghost continues speaking.

“Nothing is ever black and white. There is never such a thing as two absolute sides.” It picks up a single dry leaf and twirls it in its hand. “Everything begins, and everything ends. What happens in between is in shades of gray.”

Danny’s head is beginning to spin. “In English please?”

The ghost sighs. “You expect life and death to remain two very distinct sides, never touching one another. This is shortsightedness.” It lets the leaf go. It drifts away on a breeze. “Life and death intermingle closer than you can ever imagine.”

Danny’s breath catches in his throat. “Life and… death?”

“Of course.” The ghost’s eyes turn on him. “What did you expect this to be about?”

“I… I don’t…” Danny’s tongue feels thick in his mouth suddenly. Words choke up in his throat, and he can’t get them out.

Before the portal accident, ghosts were a thing of fantasy. Simply his parents’ crackpot ravings. The accident proved those crackpot ravings to be real. As real as anything else. Despite the dozens of people telling him he’s hallucinating, or that he’s psychotic, he knows this is all real.

He can feel it, deep within him.

But for as real as he knows ghosts and their world are, he’s never had to consider why they exist. Where they truly come from.

Something flutters in his chest, and he can’t decide if it’s his heart or something else.

Human. Ghost.

Life. Death.

And him, somehow wrapped up in it all.

He thinks he might throw up for the second time that day.

The ghost is apparently unbothered by Danny’s newest existential crisis. “What you consider to be my world is in constant contact with what you consider to be yours. And yours is in constant contact with mine. They influence each other. They exist within one another. They are inseparable, woven into each other.”

It floats over to one of the electrical poles. There’s nothing remarkable about it. “You must be able to see this coalescence if you ever wish to understand the intricacies of things as complex as portals. So, halfling…” It pauses to run a hand down the pole. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Danny is at a loss. Maybe his brain is finally starting to catch up with everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Maybe he’s finally becoming overwhelmed by all this. Ghosts wanting to help him, a strange awakening of powers slumbering inside him, everything traveling through the crack had fed him…

… talks of life and death…

He wants this to be a nightmare. He wants to wake up. He wants to go back to a few hours ago - no, yesterday - no, last month - no, a year and a half ago, and pretend this doesn’t exist.

His heart beats faster.

Io Europa Ganymede

“I don’t see anything,” Danny insists, even as inhuman colors and glowing lights creep into his vision.

“What do you see, halfling?”

“I think I’m done,” he tries. “I - I can’t…”

Can’t what? Can’t try? Can’t see?

Callisto, Almathea, Himalia

Can’t… breathe?

His heart races.

“You must see.”

“I don’t want to,” he gasps. Static is filling the air, and he doesn’t know if he can catch his breath. Why can’t he catch his breath? He should be able to catch his breath.

What am I?

The dirt road groans, and dust stirs. 

Elara… Pasiphae…

“Please…” His knees shake and the air around him sizzles and the glowing lights are looking at him. 

“You must see, halfling.”

He can feel the crack building inside him. It wants out. It pounds against his chest and strangles his heart.

Where is his pulse?

What am I?

The dirt road groans louder.

Sinope…

Even without a mirror, Danny can feel the cold burn in his eyes. Knows they are blazing toxic green. The same green as the lights staring at him. 

The… ghosts staring at him.

One of them prods at the pole the ghost floats beside. Like it’s pointing.

Carvings begin to appear on the pole, in the same inhuman colors he can’t name. They’re shoddy, messily carved, and clearly not English. Symbols of lines and swoops and dots.

Danny can read them.

“We see you,” they say.

“No…” he groans. Hands fly up to grip his head, and the glow from his eyes give the illusion of the fire that had consumed those hands not twenty minutes earlier.

He can’t feel his heart anymore.

What am I?

“You see now,” the ghost says. It is unblinking and stoic in the face of Danny’s crisis. 

In a last fit of desperation, as he claws for anything to pull him out of this, Danny latches on to the fleeting thrill of crossing through the crack. He tries to remember how it felt. How wonderful it was to feel empowered for once. How the energy seemed to embrace him, not work against him.

How he felt like he could do anything.

He latches on, expecting it to offer relief to his crying body. He wants it to bring him back down to Earth, ground him where cracks and seemingly invisible ghosts and strange words and life and death cannot get to him.

Much to his dismay, it seems to have the opposite effect. His body remembers how it felt to hold that energy. 

And now…

What am I?

… it wants more.

The ghost is in front of him once more. When did it get there?

Danny can’t scream as the ghost lifts a hand towards his chest. He’s long since lost the ability to breathe.

“And now, the final touch,” the ghost murmurs. It presses a single finger in the center of Danny’s chest.

And everything explodes in a blinding white light.

____________________________________________________________

At one of his follow-up appointments, shortly after the explosion, Danny finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up in the hospital.

How bad was it? he had asked the doctor. How close was I to…

The doctor had refused to look him in the eye. You’re a very lucky boy, Danny, was all she would say.

He never did find out how close he came to death’s door that day.

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

When the light clears, Danny opens his eyes.

Something has changed. Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

He clutches his chest, trying to feel his heart, but it feels as though a snowball has taken residence where it should be. It pulses, but not at a frequency he is familiar with. It’s almost as though he can hear it pulse rather than feel it.

It’s unnaturally bright. He looks down and chokes back a sob of surprise to see his body wrapped in a gentle glow. 

What am I?

Trembling, he raises his left arm. How he remembers that it’s that one, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.

He pulls back the sleeve of the black hoodie (why is it black, he’s never owned a black hoodie) and stares in silent horror at the grotesque display of lightning that runs up his arm and disappears back into the hoodie.

It’s when bangs of snow white fall in front of his eyes that he collapses to the ground.

“No,” he whimpers. His voice echoes with static stronger than it ever has. “Please, God, no.”

What am I?

“Astounding.”

Danny’s head snaps up to look at the ghost. He falters when he realizes he can see the ghost’s features now, clear as day even though its face remains partially shrouded in shadow. Those damning red eyes - one marred by a scar - twinkle at him with fascination.

“What did you do to me?” he croaks. “I can’t… I’m not…”

“As I told you, halfling,” the ghost says. Its gentle, knowing smile sends chills down Danny’s spine and sets alarm bells ringing in his head. “Life and death must meet somewhere.”

It bends down to Danny’s level. “As it would seem, you are that somewhere.”

A strangled sob escapes Danny’s throat.

“Congratulations, Danny.” It sweeps its arm out, a staff in hand. Another crack spirals into existence, accompanied by the haunting echoes of ticking clocks. “You have learned all you need to from me.”

Without another word, it disappears into the crack. The crack closes with the toll of a bell.

Tears prickle at Danny’s eyes. He can only turn and look down the dirt road, at the product of his creation.

A green crack splits the road in two, as far as Danny can see.

Danny falls against the ground and cries.

[liviawildrose]

𝐞𝐠𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞

hey loves, let’s talk about one of my favorite energy-cleansing rituals: egg cleansing. it’s a practice rooted in ancient traditions (think mexican curanderismo, filipino spiritual beliefs, and other cultures) and is all about removing negative energy, bad vibes, or even spiritual blockages. i’m obsessed with how simple, yet powerful it is. if you’re feeling drained, stuck, or like something just isn’t right, this might be exactly what you need.

here’s a step-by-step guide to help you try it out:

ingredients

• 1 fresh egg (organic if possible—keep that energy pure!)

• a glass of water, salt, (chilly flakes and black salt)

how to perform an egg cleansing

1. set your intention:

• before starting, center yourself. light a candle, burn some incense, or say a quick prayer/affirmation like:

“i release all negativity and invite peace and clarity into my life.”

2. prepare the egg:

• rub some salt on the egg (massage the egg with salt) hold the egg in your hands and infuse it with your intention. visualize it absorbing all the bad vibes, negativity, and heavy energy that’s been lingering

3. cleanse your aura:

• starting at the crown of your head, gently roll the egg over your body. move downward head, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, stomach, legs, and finally your feet. don’t forget your back and sides if possible.

• as you do this, visualize the egg soaking up all the negativity. you can say something like:

“this egg absorbs all that does not serve me.” “this egg is absorbing all the negative energy” “i can finally start on a clean slate now”

4. crack the egg into water:

• once you’re done, carefully crack the egg into a glass of water (add some salt too in the water). be gentle; you don’t want to break the yolk right away.

• look at the egg and water for any patterns, bubbles, or shapes. these can symbolize the energy it picked up:

bubbles or spikes: negativity or tension.

cloudy whites: emotional heaviness.

cloudy water: signifies confusion, stress, or emotional overwhelm.

blood spots in the yolk: can indicate psychic attacks, curses, or unresolved trauma.

multiple bubbles in the yolk: represents people or situations contributing to your stress.

floating yolk or egg white: suggests unresolved emotions or health concerns.

a clear yolk and water: you’re in the clear, babe!

5. dispose of it properly:

• pour the chilly flakes and black salt mixture in it and flush it down the toilet or bury it far from your home. never keep the egg it’s carried away the energy you want to be free from.

pro tips for the best results

• perform this ritual during the waxing moon or full moon for heightened power.

• try doing this while in showers (naked) i did it like that

why it works/ why i did it

it’s not just about the egg. the act of intentionally focusing on your energy, visualizing negativity leaving your body, and creating sacred time for yourself is powerful af. combine that with the natural spiritual conductivity of an egg, and you’ve got a low-key yet magical ritual.

if you’ve ever tried this or plan to, let me know your experience! spiritual hygiene is just as important as physical hygiene, and rituals like this remind us to check in with ourselves.

so, yesterday something huge happened in the cosmos—pluto shifted into aquarius. if you know anything about astrology, you know this is massive energy. like, i felt it immediately. this shift brought this overwhelming urge to reinvent myself, release the old, and just become. but before stepping into this new chapter, i knew i had to cleanse myself energetically, spiritually, emotionally. i needed to clear all the stuck energy weighing me down. that’s why today, i pulled out one of my favorite rituals: the egg cleanse. it felt symbolic, like cracking open a whole new version of me. with Pluto entering Aquarius, this is the time to embrace transformation, growth, and that next-level glow up.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming a higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.

[methed-up-marxist]

I found out im not an interested person today. They said I could be an interested person if i thought my conduct in the days leading up to your death might be called into question by the investigation of the coroner. I knew the coroner was too narrow-minded to see all the ways in which my conduct needs to be called into question. If they weren’t that narrow minded they wouldnt work for an organsiation that sees your dad as the best person to pass these details onto. I don’t want to fight over the official record, I don’t give a fuck about the official record if it is managed by beucracts who cant see all the ways i failled you. Why did i give you gear? Because i wanted you to be high with me instead of high with some shit head who breaks into your apartment when you dont give him what you want. But then I took 3 weeksto tell you thats why i gave it to you and now ill never get to tell you why i gave it you. Maybe i am an interested person. Maybe the brutality i unleash isnt actualy so complicated and nuanced. I’m definitely glad I’m mentioning it was 3 weeks before hand not 1 week. Whenever I talk about you I seem only unable to talk about myself. You were so multi-faceted i think like i collapse you everytime i go to say something about you. You were so fucking brave and yet you hardly left your apartment out of fear. You were so fucking clever and yet you didnt seem to get why you really cant keep flushing wet wipes down the toilet. I said to Lucy that you were a materialist through and through but you never quite got to be dialectical. I always exist one-sidedly, you always existed so one-sidedly but we both moved so fast through the sides. I like to think we trusted ourselves to exist in time, to know that we’d be the other parts of ourselves soon enough so why not be the part of us who we feel like know to the best of our abilities. The last part of you I knew was angry and paranoid. The last part I knew of me in relation to you was tired and out of patience. I don’t know if this is an injunction to move faster - to have got the bit of me that throws love and forgiveness to everyone who will take it as soon as possible or an injunction towards multi-sided patience. I want to prove that the way we lived is a way that humans can live, that if the material guardrails were there you wouldnt have to had of died, wouldnt have had to of been killed. I don’t know if I trust myself enough to make that claim. People loved the way we lived, everyone thought it was amazing how intense you were. Sometimes I think they wanted to cage you, I realise the spatial metaphor of a cage and of guardrails is the same except the second is lacking a dimension. A cage is a safety net you arent allowed to crawl onto the other side of. If I was as good at chemistry as you were I would say something about chirality. If I was as good at maths as I could’ve been I would say something about chirality. I guess i did put my right hand ontop of your left hand once and we were both excited to be talking about chirality.

[alaskan-wallflower]

hihi! for the prompts, I really like the caretaker asking, "are you gonna get sick?" and was wondering if you could do something like that with pony and darry? no pressure whatsoever! :)

Yeah, sure!!

4.) “Are you going to be sick?”

Pony was…anxious, to say the least. Nobody in his group wanted to do their part in the group project, and because he was “the smart kid who skipped fourth grade”, he was seen as “the kid who can handle everyone else’s workload”. Which…he couldn’t. Obviously. He had been tearing himself up since he had gotten home from school, falling into a rhythm of sketching, erasing, sketching, inking, erasing, coloring…god, he hated this. Still he went. Sketching, erasing, sketching, inking, writing, knocking…knocking?

“Pooony?” a singongy voice called out. Soda must’ve been home from work. “Pony, it’s time to eat.”

Eating? God, no. Not right now. His stomach twisted at the thought.

“I uh…I’ll be down in a sec!”

“Well, be down quick, or I might eat your portion too!”

Go ahead, he thought. He didn’t plan on eating anyway. Some time went by when a different knock came from outside. “Pony, come on, it’s time for dinner!” Darry was a lot more gruff than Sods, and didn’t have a problem letting himself into the room. Pony looked up like a deer in the headlights. He didn’t even realize how bad this looked. Here he was, surrounded by pencils, poster board, glue that had dripped onyo the ground, art supplies strewn across the floor…god, it was a mess.

“What are you doing?” the brunet asked, leaning against the doorframe. That was all it took for Pony to crack.

“What’s it look like In doin’?! I’m doin’ this dang group project all by myself lonesome and how come? ‘Cause everyone thinks I hafta have an Einstein level IQ, and I get stuck doin’ everyone’s dirty work!” his stomach was churning, on the verge of emptying itself. It usually got like that when he got anxious. His belly would become a war zone, and he’d either throw up violently…or the other option, which he didn’t wanna think about.

“Pony-“ Dary tried to step in, but he wasn’t done.

“An’…an’ they dump all this on me all cause I skipped the fourth grade, and it just ain’t fair!” his stomach groaned audibly and he clutched his mouth, sitting down. Darry immediately stepped in, all too acquainted with Pony’s…tummy troubles.

“Pony? Are you gonna be sick?”

All the teen could do was nod as his stomach started to slosh, and a sickly burp slipped up. Darry was quick to act, and immediately stood Pony up and practically dragged him to the bathroom as he held his long, still somewhat bleached bangs out of his face. Pony didn’t have much in him to begin with, so he didn’t get much up, save for some dry heaving and burping, but eventually he finished, tears of effort pooling in his eyes. He blinked them back soon enough though. Darry flushed the toilet and sat Pony against the wall.

“Breathe with me, kiddo. Can ya do that? In for seven…” he inhaled deeply, putting Pony’s hand on his chest for good measure. “Hold for four…and out for eight. Can you do that?” he wasn’t the greatest at comforting, but he had seen Soda do this with Pony, and even himself when he was panicking. When Pony was calm enough, he let his hands go and gave him a cup of water to swish and rinse.

“How about this. How’s about we go downstairs to eat, then we can come back upstairs and work on this together. Okay?”

Pony shook his head. spitting out his water. “The teachers will know I got help from you…”

“And if they ask, you can tell ‘em your ‘partners’ didn’t do jack to help ya. Got it?”

Pony killed it over. Sounded just fine to him.

“Okay. Thank you, Darry…”

“You’re welcome Pone. Now, how about we go eat?”

Prompts here!!

[violetmuses]

Roman Reigns + Correspondent!Reader 💫

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Author's Note: Hi! Here's another request. Thank you so much for reading my work. - V. 💜

@episodes-ff 🏷

=====

2024

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” Working around the tunnel, one smooth voice reached your attention this morning and you looked over to see Roman stand near his private room.

“Make it quick. I'm busy…” Your heels clicked, but Roman nearly spun you around to close the door.

______

“I missed you. Had to wake up by myself this morning.” After locking down entry, Roman dwindled space for both paths and smiled against your lips, chuckling.

“I missed you too, but…” You tried moving away, but lovely kisses stopped your words.

“You're so pretty. Look.” Turning your body, Roman faced this mirror and lifted your chin using calloused yet gentle fingers. “See that?”

“What do you want?” Despite leaning against him, you played games.

“Too busy?” His Southern accent teased while Ro started loosening your clothes.

Glancing down, you realized that this man slowly unfastened your shirt and left the bra exposed, giving one peek to that mirror while kisses warmed your neck.

You can't think straight, especially when his front meets your ass to veil the clothed erection. Even those large palms would circle your breasts.

“Baby…” You ignored so many names and leaned against him once more just to stop your knees from buckling.

Just when your husband considered taking off sweatpants, someone rattled the doorknob and began knocking.

Shit!

“Open the door.” Jimmy and Jey Uso started fooling around.

“Hold on.” Fighting the urge to kiss you again, Roman nearly scrambled to help with your clothes.

Gathering essentials, you “tried” to look busy while staying in this room, but Jimmy caught everything.

“Ooh!” Jimmy covered his mouth first before Jey noticed what happened.

“What?” Jey turned the corner and gasped upon realization. “Oh, damn! Uh, you missed a few buttons.”

“Fuck.” Looking down, you realized the mistake of dressing quickly and turned away from your brothers, trying to look presentable. “Well, see you later.”

Given no other choice, you pulled yourself together and left the room without even saying goodbye.

Dramatic as you leave, Roman used his back-end strength just to slide down this rear wall and laid out on his back, watching that fluorescent ceiling.

“What's wrong with you?” Humored, Jimmy almost knelt in return.

“She's perfect.” Roman's Southern accent pulled forward again.

Good God! Roman thought.

*****

Sometime later, you woke up on the road and rushed away from bed, immediately vomiting in bathroom.

“I'm here. That sounded rough. You okay?” Ro's voice offered kindness as dim lights helped your situation.

“Yeah. I probably ate too fast or something tonight.” Calming down, you tried to settle whatever prompted sickness.

“All right.” Roman eased once more. “I bought a thermometer and our First-Aid kit just in case, though.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, feeling more exhausted than beforehand.

“We'll go back to sleep.” Ro just pointed backward for amoment. "If it happens again, I'm calling for help.”

“I'm fine, don't worry. We have work to do.” You're stubborn this time.

“Sweetheart?” Roman lifted his brow and crossed both tattooed arms.

“I'm fine.” You repeated this sentence and went back to sleep, keeping water by the nightstand.

Just like me.

*******

“What happened?” Wrestler Naomi picked up trouble.

Soon enough, you ended up feeling sick again and hid in the tunnel's bathroom space.

“I'm fine.” Calling to Naomi, you flushed the toilet and thoroughly washed both hands, checking the mirror as exhaustion would lined your face again.

“Uh-uh.” Dressed in some classic neon wardrobe to kick ass on screen, Naomi quickly shook her head while facing you. “That's just counting number 2. Don't lie.”

“Food poisoning?” You pulled emotions together once more.

“Can't be.” Naomi refused. “I'm definitely telling Roman.”

“No!” You gritted. “The show starts soon.”

"Stay aware. If anything goes wrong, come find us.” Naomi promised.

Nodding by your friend, you understood the emergency plan and headed out, ready to work.

*****

Everything jumbled out of nowhere during one of the first segments.

You fainted while observing Roman and quietly laughing over your brothers. The production team hurried, but Ro, Jimmy and Jey yelled for privacy.

“Stop filming!”

“Don't touch my sister, man!”

You only “remember” how Roman carried you out of that building.

******

You were pregnant.

Reality grounded everyone as the ultrasound beeped when your senses brightened once more.

“That's crazy.” Almost laughing, Jey watched imagery with professionals and Jimmy teared up from silent happiness in the corner.

Chairing your bedside, Roman just turned his head down and dodged feelings in public.

“Get out.” Roman stood from his place and warned both cousins.

“What? No.” Jimmy scrunched up his face in response.

“Hey, Jim. Not now.” Jey would signal their problems again. “Let's go. I found the vending machine anyway.”

______

“Why didn't you tell me this time?” Roman pulled the question once medical staff turned away.

“Y'all got enough problems to deal with. Even if I left, the show would keep moving.” You sat in bed to keep answering.

“We've talked about everything. You think I'll just wear this ring to look good?” Roman lifted his wedding ring on purpose. “I'd make anything happen for you.”

“I know, but…” You struggled.

“I love you, but lyin’ to me will never work.” Ro grounded the truth.

“Of course. I'm sorry.” Tears reached your face as Roman kissed your forehead.

“I forgive you. Ready?” Roman finally smiled toward the monitor.

“Always.” No matter what happens, you'll join parenthood with your best friend.

‘Princess’ Anoa'i would arrive soon.

[shelbgrey]

Code baby(Lance Sweets) Part 1

Paring: Lance Sweets x Wife!Reader, Angela Montenegro x Sister-in-law!Reader, Cam Saroyan x Best friend!Reader

Summary: Lance's wife gets unexpected suprise at work and word travels faster than she thinks

MasterList

“Can you pull the security footage from two weeks ago?” Cam asked. “sure..” Angela said and started typing on her iPad. The footage popped up on the screen and the three of us studied it.

Without really realizing it I slowly started to tune out Cam and Angela by mistake, as they continued to talk about the case my stomach started to turn like it did early this morning and the. I cleared my throat and picked up the hot tea I was drinking, hoping all I needed was a drink. As soon as I sipped it tasted awful and smelled horrible. I forced myself to swallow it and set it back down on the table.

I took a deep and swayed slightly as I moved, I tried to focus on the surveillance footage on Angela's screen.

“N/n…” Cam asked softly and turned towards me. Angela stopped talking and looked at me with a concerned look. The two women watched me like I was about to combust.

My stomach started to turn more and I felt nauseous. “I think I'm gonna be sick…” I looked over at Cam and Angela then nodded. “Yup definitely gonna be sick” I covered my mouth and ran to the nearby bathroom, not caring who in the Lab saw me.

I sprinted through the bathroom door and ripped the biggest stall open making it fly backwards and banging up against the one next door. The noise stung my ears but I was glad it was masking the nauseating sounds of me emptying my sorry excuse of a stomach.

As I took a deep breath there was a soft knock on the door of the stall. “y/n? Can we come in? Are you okay?”

“Yeah... Everything is cool” I groaned to my two best friends from the closed bathroom stall, I screwed my eyes shut then finished emptying out my stomach then flushed the toilet.

“Do you think she's pregnant?” Angela mumbled quietly to Cam as the toilet went through its cycle.

As I unlocked the door of the stall, both Cam and Angela stared at me. Angela crossed her arms and had a slight smirk on her face.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you Pregnant?” Angela said, ripping the bandaid off so to speak.

“Cutting right to the cash aren't you Angie” I chuckled awkwardly.

Cam shrugged. "hey we're just worried is all... You've been acting weird lately and then you puked at just the sight of your tea and now you were in there puking.. just seems like all the signs ya know”

“Honestly I don't know…” I then started counting the days since my last period in my head, then I thought about last week when me and Lance had sex. “Maybe I am” my eyes widened as I chuckled in both happiness and nervousness.

Cam and Angela both looked shocked, but also had small smiles on their faces. Then Cam cleared her throat and looked down awkwardly. “how recently have you ummm.... you know...?”

“What?” chuckled and purposely played dumb. Cam wasn't one to be dirty minded...Nor talk about her sex life. But me being me I just wanted to hear her say it.

Cam sighed trying to not be awkward and stay her serious self. “How recently have you and Lance...You know…”

Angela rolled her eyes and cutted to the chase.“When was the last time you jumped Lance's bones?” Angela asked me, Cam elbows her.

“Umm...this weekend…” I trailed off then mumbled the last part. “In his office…”

Cam and Angela shared a look and busted up laughing. “You did it in his office?” Cam asked, raising an eyebrow, she almost looked impressed.

“huh… Didn't know Lance had it in him” Angela nodded, she looked completely impressed.

My cheeks started to turn red and hid my face in my hands as I laughed. “yeah…”

Cam and Angela kept laughing. “how did it happen?” Angela asked, laughing. “Com’on, details Sweetie”

The three of us never really hid anything about our relationships with our husbands. But Cam was a little less… Detailed then Angela. “mm... So I went to drop off some lunch for him... He was stressed from the case... Then ya know…” I trailed off.

The girls kept laughing. “So you did it right there?” Cam asked, laughing and Angela laughed even harder.

“I mean... The door was locked” I shrugged.

“So just on his desk?” Angela asked, trying not to laugh.

“You girls want a play by play?” I laughed and shook my head.

Cam and Angela kept laughing. “I mean your pregnant after what we just heard it seems like we might as well get the full story and enjoy the fact that you're not the first woman to get pregnant on your husband's desk” Cam said.

I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing she's probably right. “I still think I need to take a test”

“You're probably right,” Cam nodded, looking over at Angela.

I mean... We can use the Dna test again” Angela shrugged. When Angela was pregnant with Michel-Vincent she used a DNA test from the lab as a pregnancy test, then Temperance did the same thing. I haven't done it yet, but I know it as accurately as they come.

Cam nodded. “I can go quick to grab just one if you want”

“Yeah... Let's try it” I nodded.

Cam nods, with a smile on her face. “Okay I'll be right back” She walked out to go get the test, She came back about two minutes later. “all right we have get some blood and I'll test it”

I nodded and the three of us left the bathroom and went into Cam's office to do the test. We sat at her desk as she took a sterile needle and poked the tip of my finger,taking some blood. She put a drop of blood on the test then put it in a container so the test could do its job.

After a few minutes Cam looked at the test because I was too nervous to look myself. She looked at me with a big smile. “it's positive… You're pregnant!”

“Really?!” my eyes lit up as I smiled ear to ear.

Cam smiles, nodding. “You are in fact pregnant!”

Happy tears pricked my eyes and hugged both girls tightly.

--------(3rd pov)--------

Lance was in Seeley's office discussing the case and going through files. It was going slower than usual, but other than that it felt like a normal day for them. What they didn't expect was for Jack to knock on Booth's office door.

“Hodgins, what's up?” Seeley asked, Lance looked surprised to see his brother-in-law. Jack always stayed at the lab with y/n.

“So umm... I'm only bringing this up because the girls have done it before” by the girls he means Temperance, Angela, and y/n. “but umm…” Jack hesitated because in the end it was an odd thing to bring up.

Seeley crosses his arms. “Just spit it out, Bug Boy. What is it?”

“So, the girls have used DNA tests from the Lab as a pregnancy test in the past and when I was taking evidence to Cam's office I saw an unlabeled DNA test…” Jack Cringed now wondering why he even came all the way down the Beauro to bring it up.

Seeley blinks, processing this information, Lance did the same thing but with a more psychological sense to it. “So what? You're saying the unlabelled DNA test from the Jeffersonian was a pregnancy test?” Seeley asked.

“Probably” Jack nodded. “because if it was evidence for a case it would be labeled and with the remains”

Lance thinks through this, trying to process which of the female scientists may be pregnant. Booth snapped his fingers, making Jack and Lance look up. “Wait a second- Hodgins, do you know if the unlabelled test was positive or negative?”

“P-positive…” Jack looked at Seeley and Lance. “One of our wives are pregnant”

Lance raises a brow, but still wanted to hear what Jack had to say. “So wait... you're saying that one of our wives is pregnant but you have no clue which one?”

“It wasn't labeled!” Jack shrugged.

“That's fantastic, just fantastic Hodgins” Seeley rolls his eyes as he says this. “So we have the entire day ahead of us, going nuts trying to figure out who is pregnant, is that correct Hodgins?”

“Would you rather me not tell you guys?”

“Probably” Lance shrugged, closing the file he was reading.

Seeley sighs. “It's fine. So who do you think it is?”

Jack shrugged. “How should I know? I don't your your sex lives” Jack then looked at Lance. “and I rather not know his because he married my sister”

Seeley and Lance both snicker. “Alright then, we need some more information. When exactly did you find the test?”

“about an hour before I came here”

“I think we should keep this to ourselves…Especially if it is one of our wives, they should be the ones to tell us when they are ready,” Lance added.

“Now I think about it… All three of them have been acting kinda strange” Jack said.

Lance was staring off into space, counting in his head. Seeley looked over at him with a questioning look. “Something on your mind, Sweets?”

Lance ignored him and continued counting on his head. Seeley raises his brow “Okay... what the hell are you doing?”

“it's regarding y/n, Do you really want to know?” Lance asked bluntly. Dispite y/n being Seeley's best friend he indeed didn't want to know.

“nope... I'm good”

“It's gonna be a long day” Jack sighed, regretting what he found and just wanted to know who it was.

[im-leaking]

NSFW Omorashi

Holding until 12am challenge. It is 10:23pm and I kinda have to go. I’ll drink water at 11pm to make it harder but I don’t think I’m gonna make it until 12 because I’m at maybe 4/10, it’s not bad but it’s a little distracting.

11:00pm: I don’t have to go that badly maybe at a 5/10 but drinking water… I don’t know if I can hold much longer after that…

11:10pm: finished my drink. I do kinda have to go potty.. it’s not bad but pressing on my bladder is starting to… you know.

11:18pm: I tied myself up into a harness. I’m now naked, nearly leaked a tiny bit on the bed when tying it on myself. I tried to get the one rope around my bladder as tight as possible. It’s so embarrassing, I kinda have a wedgie and my pussy is already so wet and these ropes aren’t helping.. 😣

11:24pm: my pussy looks so cute squished between the rope. My little dick is so hard too and I’m playing with myself to make it harder. Still not bursting, just really excited. If I don’t get desperate I’ll extend the time and wait.

11:30pm: watching videos of people able to get relief while playing with myself.. I nearly had a little potty accident because I’m also spreading my legs wide… I might leak even though I don’t have to pee to bad. It’s maybe a 6/10 but masturbating makes it hard… 😣😣

11:38pm: MPH! I leaked a little.. I’m at a 7/10 and pressing my bladder is really starting to take affect. This video was so hot but when the girl started going (oh it looked like she had to potty so badly) I just let out a leak as if it was time for me to start going too! I need to hold. Not much longer.

11:41pm: this video is so hot. The girls are getting vibrators on them and they’re exploding in their pants… I really wanna go tinkle.. it’s only getting worse and worse… I’m so close to cumming too but I really cannot let myself.

11:47pm: listening to water noises and doing some omo challenges. I have to lay with my legs spread for a minute and not squirm and I feel like I’m about to piss the bed. It’s at a 9/10 now easily and pressing my bladder will probably make me explode, which is the next part of the challenge. The rope on my abdomen is making it so hard.. massaging my bladder now and I leaked a tiny bit. I don’t know if I can make it.. MPH.. leaked. BIG LEAK.

11:53pm: moved to the bathroom because I am about to SOAK.. still listening to water sounds. Now I’m sitting on the toilet still naked with my harness on listening to these noises and I’m trying to not let go right now. When it hits 11:59 I’m gonna flush and wash my hands with warm water the rest of the time. Touching my bladder is making my pussy leak and mmm I have to potty so so so bad… 😣 I’m spreading my legs now and my goodness these are the longest minutes ever. It’s 11:58 now and I only have a little longer. I keep dripping and… I don’t think I’m gonna hold when washing my hands..

11:59pm: DRIPPING ON THE FLOOR BUT MY RULE IS I HAVE TO WIPE IT CROUCHED WITH MY LEGS SPREAD. WERE GONNA HVAE A REPEAT OF THAT ONE TIME..

12:07pm: I didn’t take that long cleaning up. Had a few leaks and ended up grabbing my pussy to make it stop 😣 after I cleaned it up I jumped in the tub, laid down, spread my legs and started gushing when rubbing my dick. I was squirting all over and came so good 🤤

Mission: success! I made it to 12:00am!!

[projectbluearcadia]

I Am and Always Will Be

(Coping) Lucifer x GN!MC

[ Story Premise - Lucifer gets upset because you don't value yourself. ]

TW: SELF-HARM, SUICIDAL IDEATION

Note: The reason I have not marked this as mature is because everyone, including those who are underage, should know that they should seek help. If tumblr decides to give me a slap on the wrist for this, then so be it.

Wordcount: 1652

You don’t really remember how it first started.

  A heartbreaking comment from a cherished friend, and suddenly you’re in the nearest bathroom with your hands on the sink. You look at yourself in the mirror, and all you can think is that there is something less than human staring back at you. Something cruel and hideous and malformed. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it so much that it makes your skin crawl. It makes your eyes water and your teeth clench. 

You can’t escape it. You can’t run away. You can’t even scream, because what would be the point? You’d only attract attention to yourself in the most awkward place possible, where at least one person was trying to take a shit in peace. You can’t stand yourself. My personality is the problem. Every single time I try to make things work, it just turns to nothing. I overreact, and then it all falls apart. I’m so sick of myself. 

You’re sick of it.

And that’s when you finally turn to it. To the only thing that stopped you from feeling like this, even temporarily. A blade, one that had broken free of your cheap shaving razor after you threw it one too many times. I want to see this horrid blood spill. I want it. I need it. 

You drew a thin line. A thicker line. A deep line. 

Your skin, already scarred in some places, was quickly smearing with blood. Drenched. The toilet flushes, and in hindsight, you vaguely realize that doing this in a public bathroom was a dreadful idea, and you leave, adrenaline pounding through your veins—

  No one can know. No one should know. I don’t want them to know. 

—Despite the fact that your blood is leaving a trail behind you, leaving you weaker and weaker with every step. It’s practically gushing from your wounds, and you start to sniffle. It doesn’t really hurt; no, the rush is still too strong. But for some reason, you can’t stop yourself from crying. 

“Hey, someone spilled their Koolaid Ja… Holy SHIT!?” the person, likely from the bathroom screamed, and they fumbled at their phone as you ran further, further, further. “Why are you running away?! You’re bleeding!” Maybe I want to be bleeding, you have the time to think before a sudden bout of dizziness floods your brain. You collapse. You fall. 

And fall. 

<><><>

Surprisingly, you wake up. Funny; you wished you didn’t. Was this it? Was this your first (or was it second?) commitment to the hospital? 

“Lucifer, they’re awake,” came a soft man’s voice, and no sooner had it come than was a man by your side. One with jet-black hair and tragically garnet eyes. 

“MC,” he whispers, his hand caressing your cheek with shuddering fingers, and you find yourself realizing that was a dream. Or, rather, the reliving of how you came to live in the Devildom. You’ve been living here for months now, with Lucifer and his brothers in the House of Lamentation. You’ve been… enjoying living here. How could I wish that I wasn’t alive here? 

“We took away their dagger,” Barbatos said gently as Lucifer shook, holding onto you. “They are okay.” 

“MC, why did you do something like that?” Lucifer whispered, leaning his head into the pillow, right next to your head. His voice agonizingly shuddering, and your body wracks itself with guilt. “MC, MC, MC…” I should have finished the job so he wouldn’t have to feel like this. 

“...I thought I hurt you,” you mumble. You expect him to yell, but the voice that comes from his mouth is soft and excruciatingly slow as he struggles not to sob. 

“And you thought this would hurt me less?” 

“Over time… yeah.” 

“MC…” he whispers, and he sharply sniffles. It hurts to hear—the avatar of pride, breaking down and starting to cry because of you. Because of what you did. I should have eaten the rat poison. “How could you think that leaving a hole in my heart would hurt me less over time? What have I done to make you think that you’re not important to me? I haven’t been able to think for the past three days.”

“...I’m sorry.” You look away from his shoulder, shortly finding that Barbatos has quietly left so that you’re permitted privacy. “I just… I don’t know…” Your eyes prickle. “I-I just… I hate myself so much for what I put you through, and I… I can’t take it anymore.” 

“And you think the best way to put me out of my misery is to rip out half my soul?” Lucifer gasps, and his tears hit your cheek as he finally brings his face up from the pillow to look at you. To show you the tears streaking down his pale, beautiful face. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? I already knew that you hurt yourself in the past, so why did you have to do it again, after all this time? What did I do to make you feel like that?” 

“It’s not you…” 

“It must be!” Lucifer retorts hoarsely, his hot tears splashing your forehead. “You’re supposed to be my partner, and I’m supposed to protect you! I couldn’t do that, so tell me why you couldn’t trust me! Please!” 

“I…” Your voice is breaking up. From one hellish scene to another, you’re not sure how much your heart can take. “I’m sorry. I-I thought… I thought…you would hate me.” The mere thought sends your lacrimal glands into a frenzy as you realize he might hate you now. “I-I couldn’t bear to… lose someone else… so I…” 

“Shhhh,” Lucifer hushes with anxious shudders, and he hugs you so tightly you wonder if he might be trying to break your ribcage. You can feel his ragged breathing, his racing pulse. You almost break into an incomprehensible mess right then and there, unable to speak a single word. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he murmurs, rocking you with him as you sniffle and try your damndest to get ahold of yourself. “I will always love you.”

“What if I kill one of your brothers?” 

“You would never do that,” Lucifer murmurs, trying his hardest not to let his voice tremble.  

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes, I do. I know you, MC.” 

“No, you don’t. There are parts of me you’ll never know. There are parts of me you shouldn’t know.”

“I want to know.” 

You shake your head. 

“You can’t just keep hiding everything. I hate it when you do. Don’t you think I’m strong enough of a person to talk to you when you want to kill yourself?” 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” you whisper. 

“That’s irrelevant,” he says, recovering some of his usual sternness as he sniffles. “I don’t need to know how exactly it feels. I just need to know that you’re in pain. I just need to know if there’s anything I can do, anything I can’t do. Please, MC, I can’t just watch. That’s the only thing I’m not strong enough to do. Just indulge my selfishness and just… just lean on me. I don’t care if I have to take the entire burden myself.” 

“You’re already carrying too much…” 

“Me?!” Lucifer growled as he pulled away from you. “I’m not the one in agony! It’s true that I’m stressed, and I usually have a lot on my plate. But it stresses me infinitely more that my own lover won’t tell me about their problems! How hard do I have to drill it into your head that you come first?!” 

“...sorry.” 

Lucifer sighs deeply and heavily before he leans his head against yours, his fingers nestling into your hair, massaging your scalp. 

“Please… don’t ever do that again,” he murmurs. “If you’re scared of losing me, then don’t eliminate any possibility of ever seeing me again. I don’t know where you’ll go when you die, but it won’t be here.” 

“I get it, and I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

“Do you get it?” 

“I get that you’re mad at me…” 

“Did you listen to a damn word I said?!” Lucifer snaps, his voice breaking again, and you flinch in his arms before he squeezes you again. “I’m not angry with you. I’m upset and scared. Do you have any idea what it feels like to not be able to protect someone that matters to you? That the person you love doesn’t even think they’re worth protecting? That I can’t help you through the monstrosities that plague your mind?

You can’t find it in yourself to answer. It’s painful to try. 

“I’m begging you, MC…promise me. Promise me you’ll help me help you. I could live knowing that you are happy even if it’s in the human world. All I want is for you to live a full, happy life. I know you, and I know that you deserve that.” 

“Do I? I’ve done so many things…”

“I let my own sister die,” Lucifer replies somberly. “I brought Satan into the world, confused and angry. I didn’t know that the only reason Asmo thought I kept him around was because of his beauty. I let Levi feel inferior. I locked away Belphie when we could have just talked… there are so many things I’ve done wrong, before and after falling from Heaven, and I hated myself for it. But I was the only one who kept hating myself after Belphie forgave me, after Satan accepted me. Anger is brief, MC. I, and everyone else, care about you so much more than all of the bad things that might make up your mistakes in life. I am, and always will, feel that way. I am, and always will, be there for you. Even on the occasions where I am not physically there, I am still there for you.” 

“Always?” 

“Always. So promise me… okay?” 

From the author: As fans of my work may have guessed, I have been on both sides of this conversation many times. Talking about it was the best thing I, and people I knew, ever did. And, believe it or not, Lucifer has genuinely comforted me in both scenarios. I hope to have imparted some of that onto the audience regardless of whether or not they are struggling with depression, self-harm, or suicidal urges. The storm may rage, but I believe that we can be stronger than it if we stop trying to weather it alone. Thank you for reading my two cents, and I hope that both I and you can spread life and love rather than hatred and death.

Obligatory Suicide Hotline Information

(Seriously, PLEASE CALL THESE IF YOU'RE STRUGGLING)

U.S. 988

Canada 833-456-4566

Australia 13114

U.K. 0800-689-5652

For other countries and counseling services that may be available in your country -> OpenCounseling