#either with a migraine cure or my death

[detentiontrack]

Taylor Swift wrote I can do it with a broken heart about me, but the original title was “I can do it with a 10/10 almost 2 week long migraine”

[infinite-criseas]

Sirius and James were truly inseparable, they did absolutely everything together. Unfortunately, this included getting sick at the same time.

Remus and Lily walk into the kitchen to see a very delirious Sirius Black baking cookies. James sits on the couch, covered in blankets and surrounded by tissues. His nose is rudolf red and eyes watering, he sniffles a sigh of relief as he sees his girlfriend and Remus entering. “Thank Merlin you’re here! I am quite literally dying of the plague and Pads is in complete denial of being ill. He tried to make me this awful soup earlier and now he’s baking cookies.”

“I’m completely fibe, strog as a castle. Picture of health.” Sirius half slurred. His hair was a frizzy mess, and his complexion was paler than usual. “Jabes on the other hand is very sick, he needs cookies”

Remus and Lily, very concerned and confused as to how cookies would solve anything hurried to Sirius to force him to put down the bowl. Remus stroked Sirius’ back, and murmured “Love, you’re sick…” Sirius relaxed a little into Remus’ shoulder, suddenly he became hyper aware of the body aches and pounding migraine.

Lily ran a hand over James’ forehead. “Oh my, you’re burning up James”

“I’m telling you Lils, Death has come for me. The aches, the pain. I’m a goner. Write something memorable on my tombstone” James whined dramatically.

“Ok drama queen. Let’s get you some actual soup and medicine. Remus could you run to the infirmiry and fetch some fever medication?” Lily asked, ready to solve this sickness. Remus nodded, still holding a very frail Sirius in his arms. “I’ll start the soup, and you two go to bed and rest. I don’t want to see either of you up until the soups ready.” Lily scolded.

“Whatever you say my love. Always knew you could fight death itself,” lovesick James replied. James and Remus half carried and half dragged Sirius to their room.

“Nobt sick….” Sirius murmured. His body was failing to agree. His eyes refused to stay open. They laid him in his bed and tucked him in. Remus sat next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

….

Lily was finishing up the soup, a recipe she knew would cure any sickness. Remus walked in with a handful of medicinal herbs and potions and dumped them on the table.

“mmm smells spectacular” Remus remarked.

“It’s a family recipe! It’ll cure absolutely anything.” Lily stated proudly. “and I hope it works fast because if little mrs melodrama says death is coming one more time I might actually lose it” Remus laughed, recalling how James was always this dramatic when he was sick or injured. It’s almost as if he put on an extra big show to hide any actual pain he might’ve felt, and rather replace it with the loving feeling of being cared for. Remus’ thoughts wandered, if only Sirius let people care for him like that instead of always putting up a fight of independence first. “You’re lucky,” Lily commented, “ Sirius isn’t dramatic when he’s sick - he’s just in denial”

To this Remus smirked. “Denial is just the first phase. Sirius becomes very silent and clingy when he’s sick, it’s quite adorable actually. Although, it does make getting stuff to make him feel better nearly impossible” Remus gushed.

Lily’s eyes widened “a quiet Sirius?! This I have to see,” she joked. “Anyways, soups ready want to bring the boys down?”

Remus and Lily went up to see James in a Shakespearean pose, grasping at the air.

“The light, it comes for me. The end is here.” James gasped. “Mayhaps this soup whose elegant aroma which fills the air will answer my prayers. Hark! A goddess, she enters with such grace” He said looking at Lily. Lily giggles, of course James would still be hitting on her in this state. “I am famished! Looks like Pads is still sleeping though.”

On the other bed, Sirius was curled up in a ball not moving. Remus, very concerned, sat at the edge of his bed and rubbed a hand across Sirius. Sirius was shaking softly, perhaps in response to his touch. “Let’s let him sleep, clearly he needs rest.” Remus said and made a motion to get up. Sirius’s hand grasped Remus’s thigh to make him stay. “Actually, why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll stay with Sirius til he wakes”

After James and Lily closed the door, Remus snuggled Sirius into the nook of his arms. He tried to find his boyfriend’s face in the bundle of blankets, and found a Sirius with tears flowing from his eyes. “Siri- what’s wrong babe?” Remus crooned.

“I don’t like being sick.” Sirius responded through sniffles. “I don’t want to have to be taken care of, it’s not fair” Tears poured down his face. When he was younger, he resolved to never be a burden to people like he was at home. And moments like these when he was sick, unable to be useful - all the haunting memories of Grimmauld place came rushing back all at once. All the yelling, the screaming. Reiterating how worthless he was unless he followed exactly what Walburga wanted him to be. He wasn’t even allowed to be sick as a child - just work through it, it will dissipate.

“Love, I want to care for you. You take care of all of us, let me love you back. You quite literally take care of me every full moon, why can’t I take care of you this once - if you ask me that’s not fair” Remus assured. Sirius melted into Remus’ body. He looked up at his boyfriend’s eyes, tears still welling up in his own.

“Thanks Moony” Sirius let out a relieved sigh. He was no longer at his childhood home, this was home now. He finally closed his eyes, while snuggling deeper into Moony and for the first time today was able to properly rest.

[railingsofsorrow]

Epilogue

[peter parker x reader]

summary: harry finds your behaviour slightly suspicious & there's an evening spent between friends.

pairing: p.parker x f!reader; slightly harry osborn x f!reader; mj x felicia hardy.

w.c: 3.3K

warnings/content: jealousy; injuries (mentioned); protective harry osborn; language; migraines (mentioned); clumsy but committed peter parker (yes, he learnt from his mistakes. finally); discussion about the multiverse theory; angst but there's more fluff this time sadly; minor character's death (mentioned).

A/N: this fic has come to an end :( it was fun writing this. my first experience in writing a short spiderman fic, it was so hard to come up with a good ending and it probably still not perfect but I feel like it's a good enough one. I hope you like it too and that you'll come back to read more of my spiderman stuff, cause there will definitely be more! good reading, people <3

navi

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[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

“So they're just gone?”  

You turn your neck to glare at your friend. Ever since you mentioned your migraines to him one day and he saw one of your episodes once or twice — a little bit more than that — he hasn't stopped bugging you about it. He wanted you to go to the doctors to get checked out. Until, well. Until the migraines miraculously vanished. Your head never bothered you anymore and you're even sleeping better, given the lack of dark circles around your eyes.  

Harry wasn’t having it.  

First and foremost, he did not believe continuous migraines were cured just like that. Overnight. Because how come he saw you incapable of watching a lecture one day and you're perfectly fine on the other?  

Either you are popping some pills or someone magically healed you.  

He didn't like any of the options. 

He was still worried, okay? Harry cares. He may not be loud with it, but it's you, so he cares. And he cares a lot. You should know better than to just outright lie to him. 

“Yes. Why does it matter? I'm fine, shouldn't you be happy I'm no longer whining on your shoulder?” 

“You're not taking drugs, are you?” 

A surprised laugh echoed around the room and he almost felt his body melt at the sight of your curled up frame from how much you were laughing.  

“It amazes me,” you said between chuckles. “that you'd think I'd pull that off.” Not without him knowing, at least. You and Harry are side by side for almost the entire day.

“I don't doubt you.” 

“You're losing faith in me.” 

“I never had it.” He huffs out a laugh when you throw a pillow at his face, hitting him right on his nose. He fell on his bed with a groan, you moved his homework out of the way before he could mess it up by laying on top of it.  

“Just... tell me if it gets to that point again, okay? 

You look at him, contemplating something that he can't figure out. With the way you avoid his eyes as you answer, he knows you decided to say something else instead of that first thought. “I will. But it won't.” He found the conviction in your voice strange. You can't know if it will ever get that bad again. Just as the migraines miraculously left, they might come back.  

He didn’t question it further. 

You went back to your homework, sharing some insights on his as he does with yours. It didn’t last long until your phone started blaring beneath the pillow you're perched on, the sound being slightly muffled by the fabric.  

You feel Harry's teasing before he can sputter out a sentence.  

“Shut up.” You hissed, picking up the call without looking at the caller ID.  

“One Direction. Really?” 

“Hello.” You pointedly turn away from his smirky face. You have to take the phone away from your ear due to some loud police sirens that come from the line.  

“Hi, hello!” The distinctive voice of Peter Parker replies. Yelling. That was the only way you would be able to hear him anyway. “There's been a thing and I— Shit!”  

You concluded the phone is thrown away because his voice suddenly sounds very far. 

You offered Harry a lousy excuse to step out into the hallway, frowning at the other voices and the police sirens you could hear.  

“Peter, you—” 

“I'm back!” Again, you take the phone away from your ear with a sigh. “Sorry, I was— I was busy.” You gathered that fact by the way he sounded breathless.  

“Are you running?” 

“No!” The noise proceeded to quieten down and you raise an eyebrow at his blatant lie. “Sorry, was I loud? Feels like I was being loud. Sorry.” A door is closing and he's groaning at the end of the line. Instead of finding it funny, you start to get worried, picturing a dislocated shoulder or maybe a deep gash on his arm like last time.  

You and Peter made an agreement. When you agreed to be friends again — part of that starting over bullshit that was your idea — you and him worked on filling each other out on both of your lives. Just catching up as good friends do. Less than a month later you were patching up his wounds as if you never had stopped doing that in the first place. Sometimes, you'd even think you were back where you started as if it was all back to the start of your story in Queens. Midtown. Making plans with Ned and Peter for the weekends. Sitting with MJ at lunch as much as she claimed she hated company. . .

There was a pull at your chest every time you remembered it wasn't like this. You weren't back at that time. You couldn't go back. You only had the now and it had to be enough. It was enough.  

“Peter, are you hurt?” But you still felt the same agony whenever the idea of Peter being hurt came across your mind. An unsettling fear settling up in your core.  

“No.” he shuffled around, clearing his throat. His voice was back for you to hear it clearly. “I'm fine. Just a bank robbery downtown and I—” he paused to let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry I'm late, I'll be there in a second, okay?” 

You blink, confused. “What? Late for what, Peter?” 

“Hanging out?” He said followed by a tinge of uncertainty. “Uh, you said that after class—” 

Your brows shot up in recognition. “Oh! Yeah, that's—” Then you checked the time on your phone. You were supposed to meet after class to hang out around 5 p.m. It was still 3 in the afternoon. “Peter,” you held in a chuckle. “That's like, two hours away. You're not late.” 

There's silence on his end and you start laughing.  

“Oh,” he mumbled, letting out a breath of relief. “That's— That's good. I was thinking that I was like really really late and—”  

“You're good, webs.” You softly reassured him. Peter has been working really hard to make sure he doesn't mess up with you again. That included arriving early at places. “Are you at home?” 

“Yeah, I just got here.”  

“Mhm. And you're not hurt at all?” 

“Just a few scratches,” Peter answered with hesitancy. You smiled triumphantly. Not because you're happy he's hurt but because you knew you were right. “I'm fine, alright? You don't have to come.” 

“Okay.” You said, stepping back into your dorm room, catching Harry eying your frame from your bed curiously. “No broken limbs though, right?” 

Peter's scoff put a smile on your lips. “Have some faith in me. I can handle a robbery.”  

The joke Spiderman can handle a robbery but Peter Parker is still clumsy almost slips out but, thankfully, you remember you're not alone.  

“Sure. I'll see you later.” 

“Hey,” he called your name before you could hang up so you waited for him to speak. “Do you— are you going— how are you— I mean...” 

“Peter, breathe.” 

You didn’t notice Harry's eye-roll, too busy cracking up at Peter's stuttering mess.  

“Okay. Alright. Are you going by yourself? Cause I can pick you up and we can go, you know, so you don't have to go alone?” He clarified, a strain in his voice as if he's been choking up to say that.  

“Oh. Harry and I are going to head out together, actually. He's here.” 

You patiently waited for his response. “Of course. Yeah. Okay. I'll see you later then. You and— and Harry. And everyone else.” 

“Yeah.” You sat down on the bed, biting the inside of your cheek. A weird feeling of guilt in in your chest. “See you later, then. Bye.” 

You don't know why you feel guilty about turning him down. All of you would meet in the same place anyway so it's not like you weren't gonna see him, right? It's just a matter of logistics.  

“Was that your boyfriend?” 

You gave Harry a blank stare as you threw your phone to the side to go back to your assignment. One of his eyebrows arched up in defiance, he played your game of not looking away for a few minutes before you got sick of it.  

“I wonder if the reason you're bothered by Peter is because you secretly have a crush on him.” 

He looks away first and your lips spread into a satisfied smirk.  

“Parker's not my type.” Harry uttered, leaning over your lap to mark a question that you had gotten wrong. His curls tickling your chin. “And this is wrong. It's not fifteen, it's fifty.” He decided to add for good measure, stepping out of your personal space. “I'm not bothered by him.” 

You hummed quietly, erasing the previous calculation to redo the math.  

“Who is your type anyway?” You asked, trying to cut through the tension. Every time you mention Peter, Harry's mood shifted. He got too quiet. He just didn’t like him for some reason you couldn't yet figure out. Peter and he haven't met before, that much you know. You claim you'll be out of this, because it's none of your business, some people just don't like each other, it happens. But you're curious and if the opportunity to find out the X of the equation comes, you won't run from it. 

“You'll never know.” His mumble is so low that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't sitting so close to each other. He steals the pen you were using, earning a frown from you. “I like this one better.” 

“Buy one for you then,” you complained, not moving to get the pen back from him. You take the one he was using instead, eager to finish the assignment so you can have the rest of the afternoon free with your friends. 

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[Pete]: (Picture attached)  

[Pete]: Do you want this back? 

When you opened the text message, your breath hitched. The image Peter had sent you showed the red scarf, the one you never let go of. You hadn't seen it in a while, ever since... Ever since you paid him a visit that night. The night you were set on burning the scarf along with that collection of pictures you found in your room.  

You've been to Peter's place countless times after that, though. You wondered why he never mentioned anything.  

[You]: Keep it. 

You sighed, conflicted with that short answer. You weren't being rude, you didn't meant to be. But you didn't need the scarf anymore. Not when you have him back in your life. You realized the scarf represented everything the two of you lived and everything you didn't.  

You didn't want it back. You weren't ready. 

Not now, at least. You hoped he wouldn't be hurt by it. 

[You]: Maybe one day you can give it back to me.  

Satisfied with your reply, you slipped your phone into your pocket, standing up to help Harry carry five smoothies toward your table. Ned and MJ were on their way, as for Peter, you figured it was the same. His apartment wasn't that far from where you were.  

“I know a loser when I see one.”  

“Hello, MJ.” You greeted after taking the first sip of your smoothie. You offer her hers and she bumps your hip, sitting beside you in the booth as a greeting. “Where's Ned?” You asked, frowning now that you didn't see the boy arriving along with her. They were always together.  

She shrugged, leaning back. “He said he would be ten minutes late. He was gonna get Peter so they could go to this store nearby his place before coming here.”  

You didn't take long to acknowledge which store she was talking about. An eye roll later, you crack out a smile in amusement. 

“The Star Wars one?” 

She nodded and the three of you quickly entered a conversation about a movie that was airing on the local theatre. Ned and Peter arrived in the middle of your discussion, a few bags in their hands that earned your curiosity.  

“Did you buy the whole store?” You joked, the edge of your lips curling up as Peter sat down in front of you, placing two little bags on the corner of his seat.  

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, amusement all over his features. “Did I?” 

“Looks like it.” 

“Oh, this is—!” Ned exclaimed, taking a sip of his smoothie. Harry held back a laugh at the boy's blissed-out state. “You got it right.” He then pointed at Harry accusingly. “I love you.” 

Harry shrugged, “I know.”  

“The one time I got your order wrong—” MJ begins. 

“You never get the right one.” Ned deadpanned, interrupting MJ's speech. The girl kicked his chin under the table and Ned proceeded to kick hers back. Just before the childish fight could escalate, you pull both of their ears and hear whining asking you to stop.  

Peter and Harry were chucking and you have to backtrack because Harry wasn't glaring at Peter for the first time. Is this progress? 

After a mindless walk to the nearest park, all of you silently decided to stick around for a while longer, basking in what was left of the sunset and the hues of orange, pink and blue that mixed together to form the purple sky of the evening.  

You teased MJ at her inability to stop texting her girlfriend while in an evening among friends and she flipped you off immediately, blushing. She's been seeing Felicia Hardy for two months and from what you could see, it was becoming rather serious, even though MJ still cannot admit it. You know your best friend and her hidden smiles and secret joy because of a new person she's interested in. 

“No, no, no. You don't get it. It's like different universes in one— Actually, no. Multiple universes that are currently happening right now. You could be you, but you're, I don't know, a villain in this other universe, while here, you're just Harry.” 

Both of your and Peter's neck snapped as you turned towards the conversation between Harry and Ned.  

Harry carried a crease between his brows, confusion twisting the corner of his lips. 

“So I'm me... but different?” 

Ned nodded vehemently. He'd always get excited whenever the topic of multiverse was brought up.  

You, on the other hand, were tense and you did not have to look at Peter to know his reaction as well. 

“I'm sure in every reality you're an entitled filthy rich bastard the same way. Don't worry.” MJ’s comment was enough you breathe again. Peter’s awkward laugh at your side.

Harry rolls his eyes, “and I'm sure you're sarcastic and bitchy about anything and anyone, Jones.” 

You throw your head back to stare up at the sky. 

“Children.” You mocked. Peter attempted to hide his laugh but he was not successful. You found it endearing how his cheeks slowly turned pink. It reminded you of when you were kids, he'd turn into a tomato every time he tried to hold in his laugh. “Behave.” 

They initiated a bickering about she started it and he started it and Ned made a comment to side with Harry to add fire to the flames.  

Sometimes you thought they could remember and then reality crashed down the moment for what it truly was. It could be good and bad at the same time. Bittersweet might be the right term to name the feeling. Of course you miss everything that was, but what currently is is also good, in a way. You have your people, despite the losses, you have him back and it's all that you could ask for. 

“Peter.”  

He gives you a sheepish smile, looking down at his shoes as he buried his hand in his jacket.  

“Did you like it?” 

You close the small box carefully. “How could I not? It's beautiful. I loved it.” You said, then punched his shoulder playfully. He pretends it hurts, but you know it doesn't. “Don't spend that much money on me, Parker.” 

Peter shrugged, playing the nonchalant part. “I'll do what I want, actually.” 

“You're such an annoying little shit, aren't you?” 

He shrugged again, this time he's got a cocky grin and a little smug attitude you recognized from when he got an answer right and you got one wrong in an assignment. It's a glimpse of the carefree nature of Peter Parker. He's a little bit proud at times, but still clumsy around people, shy between strangers, and wears his heart on his sleeve for the people he truly cares about.  

“You love it.” 

“Help me,” you asked him when everyone stopped by the fountain on your way back to university. You had your back to him and he finally understood what he was supposed to do when he saw your fingers holding the two parts of the necklace behind your neck. He stepped forward, taking both parts from your hands and freezing once your fingers met. Your skin was cold. You shivered as he clasped the necklace, adjusting with a shaky sigh. His throat moved under his hard gulp. “Thank you.” You turned around with the little rose gold maple leaf pendant around your neck.  

Peter blinked at you in a daze. The streetlight illuminated your figure as you moved your hair away from your shoulders so it wasn't curling around the necklace anymore.  

You're beautiful. So beautiful.  

As soon as he saw the maple leaf pendant, you came into his mind. It reminded him of the Fall, your favorite season, which, of course, led him to you. Funny that everything, somehow, lead him to you. He doesn't know what his life would be if it didn't. Nothing would make much sense, honestly. Peter didn't know how the other Peter Parkers handled losing you in their universe. It was such a difficult thought for him to even consider. His initial goal was to protect you and if that meant he had to let you go, then so be it. He would do it. Because you deserved a life without the mess that was his life. You deserved peace and happiness. But that plan backfired when he saw you crossing the street to reach a coffee shop. It was 8pm in the evening and he was on patrol. He had stopped two robberies an hour before so he was getting ready to go home and throw himself into bed, give a rest to his alter ego for the night. Until you showed up, crossing the street so distracted that a car almost hit you. Peter pulled you back in time, a hand on your shoulder to steady you from the scare of the car horn. You had been crying and at the moment Peter's only thought was to comfort you and figure out who had made you feel that way.  

“Myself.” You laughed, tearfully. “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention.” 

He convinced himself that from that point on he had to watch over you, to simply make sure you wouldn't cross the street without looking both ways again, or trip mad and get a severe head injury. He'd watch you from afar, it couldn't do any harm. 

In reality, that was Peter's way of not letting you go and it had not been fair to either one of you. Especially you, who earned headaches and migraines and insomnia because of memories begging to come back, memories that shouldn't have been removed at all.  

Peter disappointed you. He disappointed himself too — and probably Aunt May, who must be shaking her head in disapproval wherever she was watching over him from. He's slowly making peace with himself after everything. He's finally seen that having you close by was better than the heartache of letting you go and trying foolishly to move on. He didn't want to move on from you and if that was selfish. . . that was fine. Peter was never anything besides selfless his entire life. And if you wanted to be in his life, why couldn't he want to be in yours?  

He would acknowledge the past and make the best out of the present. As for the future, well, he wasn't concerned, it would probably lead him to you. As always.  

[pretty-batty]

Whispers in the Dark

Eddie x Original Female Character Pt 1 of Eldath's Priestess 2067 words

Warnings: Eddie's death explored. Grief and mourning. Tag: Angst, bittersweet fluff, whump (but not for long), flashbacks Can be read on ao3 A special thank you to @anakinkshamer and @voyeurmunson for being my eyes in this.

Summary: With Hawkins in the throws of madness, Judy returns on request of her ex's uncle, Wayne Munson. She arrives to a decimated town and a dead Eddie Munson. While her childhood love is dead, his shadow still looms over her every step.

Notes: The Hawkins flu of ’76 only struck children. A few of the children were hit harder than most, including Judy Sondheim, 10 years old. These children experienced high fevers leading to febrile seizures, culminating in total loss of vision. This, however, opened them up to experimental treatment, provided by the local government sponsored bio lab. All subjects were cured through the mysterious treatment, leaving the patients with permanent vision deficits, chronic migraines, and vivid (rumored precognitive) nightmares. These were attributed to the effects of the fever, and not the treatment.

Cold, that’s what she felt, cold. Ash, like snow, floating in the air, glinting in the flashes of silent lightning. The form of her lover and childhood friend, laying on his side, facing her, his brown eyes nearly black in the dark. Like they used to lay, Judy’s back against the wall, Eddie boxing her in, but this was not her reality.

Judy felt a pain in her chest, twisting the words from her lips. “When I wake up, you’ll be gone.”

The corners of her ghostly lover’s lips turned down for a moment, breaking his warm smile. “Yep.” He croaked, tears welling up and glittering in the shadowy glow of the underworld. His long fingers traced across her cheek, as if to savor the sorrow. He chuckled, clearing his throat to avoid another outburst. “But that’s okay. Becau-…Because you’ll be safe. Far away from this hellhole.”

“Please…” She ran her fingers through his hair, guiding him closer, lips an inch apart, “I want to stay.”

His lips scooped hers up into a gentle kiss before releasing and tracing up her nose, kissing her brow.

“Please.” She whimpered.

His voice, soft, buzzed in his chest. “I know, baby. Shh. I know.”

I know… Eddie’s voice echoed through Judy’s head as she opened her eyes. Another haunting dream, a painful dream, a dream of an immaterial love, a love that stings, a regretful love. Edward Munson was dead, swallowed up by the earth along with several other people and much of her hometown of Hawkins. She had come to defend her ex-boyfriend from the false accusations of murder and satanic worship, but a day on the road had brought her to a much more terrifying display.

Smoke from the meeting of four large cracks in the earth billowed into the sky. People, homes, buildings, trees, animals…God knows of the things that melted into the cracks of the earth’s crust. The lake by which she and Eddie had loitered, the banks which she and her brother Joey had combed for interesting rocks was gone, evaporated into pulsating red and orange fumes. The smoke had poisoned even the heartiest of flora from the banks and fields.

She and her aunt Margie had a two-story house in the west, close to the school where Margie presided as English teacher and department head. For so long, Judy had believed it to be cursed, and yet it still stood, untouched by the disaster. Meanwhile the Munson trailer and Lover’s Lake were either destroyed or completely gone. Those were her safe places, a vacation from her mind and the stress around her.

“Is the room ready?” A voice called from the floor below.

“Not quite yet, I need to move some of the wall stuff.” Judy hollered back.

Margie’s steps squeaked up the narrow staircase, her voice growing closer. “Wayne will be here within the hour. You said you’d be up and dressed two hours ago.” She turned the corner to see her niece’s face. “Were you…?” She reached out her petite hand, brushing against Judy’s cheek, “were you crying in your sleep?”

“Guess I was…” Judy said, running her robe’s sleeve across her face.

Her aunt paused, realizing that Judy was not in the space to function. “Well, just move the stuff when you’re ready. Take your time.” She managed a weak, reassuring smile, “it’s okay to grieve, Judy.”

She leaned against her doorframe, “I just need to get over it. Not like we were…” Her leg began to bounce neurotically, “ya know…together…anymore. So…” She took a deep breath in, pushing her heel down as she breathed out, forcing her leg to stop shaking.

“Take your time.” Margie’s hand gave her elbow a comforting squeeze. Pressure always helped Judy in her episodes, brought her back down to earth. Judy watched her aunt turn back down the stairs, pausing for a moment, eyes almost completely out of sight. “He would ask about you whenever he could. I think don’t you give him enough credit.”

I know. Eddie’s voice called back, passing through the back of her skull. Running his ghostly hands through her hair.

Judy took another deep breath. It still wasn’t enough. No amount of deep breathing was enough to release the vice grip her heart was in. She walked across the hall to the bathroom, running the water in the sink, turning on the fan, and closing the door. Carefully, she climbed into the bathtub, fully clothed, and closed the shower curtain.

And. Release.

She opened her mouth and forced her soul from her throat, releasing a bitter string of sobs that grew both quieter and yet more intense as they went on, becoming more of a gag in the end. Her head pulsated with a dull thump, encircling from temple to temple and tightening with each breath. Climbing out from the tub, she sprawled herself out on the bathroom tile to cool down. Tears and sweat had moistened her face, which was now nearly boiling to the touch. The ceiling spun each time her glance turned towards it. After the third time, she resolved herself to gaze at the tub’s grout beside her.

“I heard you have the Princess Bride.” A boy said, his voice echoing in her mind.

“I’m not done with it yet.” she muttered. Her voice was strange, almost floating up into the ether. Judy simply closed her eyes and drew back into her memories, returning to her hospital bed. She was small again, and so was he.

                                                            =

His hair was cropped, almost buzzed. And his brown eyes stared her down as she lay motionless in her bed. The flu that had overtaken Hawkins targeted children more than other demographics. The children’s ward was almost full to bursting with the infected, coughing with open mouths and sneezing, uninterrupted by rags, hands, or elbows.

Head throbbing and tight, it took all her might to turn her head and face this boy.

“Nuh-uh.” He reached over her body, taking the book from under her hand. “You can’t even move. How can you read if you can’t move?”

Judy could feel the tears well up in her eyes, croaking out, “please…I…I’m not done. I…haven’t gotten to the cliffs yet.” Her head felt so hot, her skin burned two inches below the surface.

“How do you know the book if you haven’t finished it yet?” he asked, narrowing his gaze in suspicion.

“My brother reads it to me all the time. And if I have it, he can read it to me when he comes to visit.” She blinked, allowing the tears to run down her temples and into her hair. “Have you…read it?”

He nodded, looking that the hardcover novel in his hands. “I’m good at reading.”

“I can’t read too good anymore.”

“How old are you?” The boy asked.

“I’m ten.”

“Me too.” He shifted his weight, wobbling his boredom away. “And you can’t read? That’s dumb.”

She turned her head away from him, tears falling on her pillow as she grew quiet.

“Don’t cry. I didn’t say you were dumb, just that you not reading is dumb.” He seemed worried, as if he realized he had made a mistake. “Hey.” He tugged at her shoulder, immediately causing Judy to whimper in pain. Her skin was hot, like the sidewalk in the summer. The boy drew his hand back and ran out of the ward.

She heard him run to the nurses’ station, and the boy shouting. “She’s real hot! Something’s wrong with her!”

“Who Eddie? Wrong with who?” Asked one of the women.

With urgency he simply yelled, “Come on!” Before two sets of shoes began running down the hall to the children’s ward.

Judy’s vision began to blur as her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness. “She’s seizing.” The nurse muttered to herself before screaming for her coworkers to join her.

Judy returned to her body over an hour later, opening her eyes slowly, the pulsating consciousness seeping back into her in waves. But where she had expected to see the children’s ward, all she saw was white. “Mom…” She mumbled, “mom…”

A nurse’s beautiful voice broke through the silence, “It’s okay, Judy. You’re okay.”

Judy reached out a hand to touch where the voice came from, “mom?”

“No, honey, it’s Miss Harriet. Your nurse. Remember?”

“Everything’s white. I can’t see.” The little girl shifted in her bed. “What happened?”

“You had a seizure.” The nurse took Judy’s hand and held it, “But you’re okay now. Your friend came and got us.” Judy felt the nurse gently hold her eyelids open. “Now you said something about not being able to see?”

“Everything is white. I can’t.” Judy began to cry again.

“Shh, you’re alright, baby. I’ll go get the doctor. Don’t try to get up. Just stay here.” The nurse left briskly, as Judy could hear her footsteps.

The nurse returned with the doctor. They continued the examination. All the while the boy stood by his bed and waited. Obscured by the curtain that had been thrown around her bed, he could not see the girl who he had made cry.

But the girl, Judy, was quiet. She didn’t scream or cry loudly like the other children when the curtain was around them. Once they were done, she was left alone.

Judy heard another pair of feet approach, “Thanks…Eddie…” She spoke. She had guessed that was his name since that was what the nurse had called him earlier.

“Are you okay?” he asked sheepishly.

She nodded, “I think so. I just…I can’t see.”

“I heard if your fever gets too high, it happens. But maybe it won’t stay that way.” He paused, searching in his mouth for the right words to say, “since you can’t see, and you haven’t finished the book... If you want to, I can read to you.” He paused, before reiterating, “If you want to.”

“I’d like that a lot.” She smiled. There was a moment where a buzz traveled from the side of herself closest to him that only increased when she invited him to sit beside her. She could have asked him to sit on the stool used by the nurse during observation, but there was a part of her that wanted him close.

Eddie picked up where Judy had left off, as Fezzik had the princess on his back, preparing to climb the cliffs to the trap which would be planted for the mysterious stranger that followed them, who Judy already knew was the Dread Pirate Roberts.

                                                            =

If only she could be there again.

How long she had been in the bathroom, she did not know. But by the time she exited the room, now clean but still pale and drained from grief, Wayne Munson was standing in the hall.

“Shit, the room.” Judy scrambled to her brother Joey’s old room, a place that pained her to enter. Wayne’s footsteps gently followed behind her. Judy began reaching for the multitude of posters from the walls, blurting apologies before feeling a hand on her shoulder.

“You can leave them up, kiddo. It’s okay.” His voice was always soft, yet the strong rural drawl would always a certain strength she couldn’t quite place. It was a father’s voice.

She sighed, “it’s not. Your home is gone, and I didn’t even bother to prepare ours for you.” Judy turned, still in her robe, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s noon and I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.”

“You go ahead and get dressed. I can take care of myself.” Wayne squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

Judy thanked him, leaving the room as it was, half redecorated into a suitable room for an adult guest and not an angsty young man with a drug habit. She returned to the seclusion of her room, closing the door behind her.

She joined the two adults an hour later, sitting on the couch, watching the television set. General Hospital, it was already 3pm. That meant she had taken three hours to do something that used to take 45 minutes. And yet, it took even more effort to make it down the steps and grab a pop from the fridge. Her aunt smiled at her. Wayne nodded. Judy only nodded back as she sat in the wingback chair in front of the window, joining the pair in consuming the television rays in silence.

Thank you for reading! This is a passion project of mine, and it means a lot that you are taking time out of your life to read this. Next chapter next week?

[takeachillpillshawty]

Overblot Abnormalis

By: take_a_chill_pill_shawty

It was quiet, too quiet for Heartslabyul as everyone gathered around in the lounge. “ Three months….we are stuck here…for three….more months.” Riddle's voice reverberated across the room where all four members sat. “That’s what headmage said…" Believe me, the others aren't happy either, but there really is nothing we can really do but hope and wait…”

Everyone was at a loss now, not knowing what the next plan of action was. Needing a change of topic, Deuce spoke up.“Cater, what about Ace? Is he alright? Is he going to come back?” Deuce's tone was one of worry but hope that his friend would be alright, but Cater's face betrayed that thought. “I really didn't get to see him. They had separate areas depending on how bad the infection was…”, Deuce nodded at the new information, “well…where is Ace?”. Cater took a minute to remember when he saw Ace during his stay in the infirmary, the memory of other students injured from different attacks, some looking like they're nearing death’s door.

Trey could see Cater's face slowly conforming as he went deeper in thought. Seeing his distress, Trey placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as if to say ‘take your time.’ Despite the lack of communication, he could see Cater appreciating the gesture. A long, drawn-out breath came from him as he finally gathered his thoughts, “It was blurry to say the least. There were different students being carted in. There were so many people being brought in that they had to bring in tents for the time being…But I'm going off track. ”Cater hunched forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his folded hands holding his chin. “Ace was brought in while I was being treated. They had freshly amputated my arm, and I was under some serious pain killer. I was lucky I could even see what was going on. ”

“I saw Ace when he was brought in. The medics needed to go through the tent where me and other people were staying. Ace was thrashing about, like some exorcist type shit. I didn't think anything of it. Other people were feeling similar side effects from the infection…but… he looked at me.” A cold shiver was sent by the way Cater said it that last part, his breathing was getting harder as he continued on. “Despite the heavy medication I was on…. My brain jolted me out of whatever daze I was in as we both locked eyes. His pupils…No, his eyes itself dilated like-like a cat! He stayed like that…for a solid. five. Minutes.” Cater made sure to make emphasis on each word as his hands started shaking, as if he's forcing himself to continue.

“And do you know what he did? He laughed at me. As if he was mocking what he did to me…what he did to others…but it was a gutteral one. The kind of laugh that would shake your core, that's all he did. He laughed. And laughed. AND. LAUGHED. ” Cater stopped himself as he took a breath, not realizing that he stopped breathing for a time, he also didn't notice the tears threatening to leave his eyes… but his expression was different, his face was disgusted remembering how Ace looked, how grotesque his features shift to that of an unreasonable being.

“Cater, breathe…ok? Just breathe…” Trey brought Cater down back to zero, “Sorry…sorry…it's just..” Cater listened this time and actually took a minute to breathe. From everything Cater has said, this infection isn't a joke, “Did Idia say anything about a cure..o..or a vaccine for this?” Trey was afraid Riddle would ask that question, “No…he's still working on it. In the meantime, we're stuck here until we get the ok from S.T.Y.X.”

Riddle groaned as he got up from where he was sitting and paced around for a bit. “They can't expect us to stay here for another 3 months... especially with those…those things on campus with us…” The thought of staying any longer on campus was migraine inducing.

“Father, Yes….yes I know, I'm just as angry as you, but I'll keep you updated on any more information regarding the situation…Alright…I "I love you too.” Vil hung up the phone as he stared at the contact photo he had of his father. He wanted nothing more than to head home and not worry him. Another call startled him back. He recognized the caller ID. Was it Epel?

“Epel? Why are you calling me? Aren't you in the dorm?”

“I'm in Heartslabyul with Deuce and the others, I'm fine. I just wanted to give you a call.”

Vil paused, what was Epel doing at Heartslabyul of all places… “Why are you in Heartslabyul? How are you in Heartslabyul? Didn't I….” Epel could practically feel the realization on Vil's face and prepared himself. “YOU WENT TO THAT POOL PARTY! WITHOUT MY PERMISSION?!” Epel, on the other line, tried to shush him, trying not to garner too much attention, “I know! I know! I'm stupid. Let's yell at me later, ok?”

Vil was seething in silent rage as he got out of his room and into the lounge, “Stay there. I'm coming to get you. Tell Riddle to activate the mirror, I'm coming shortly. When I get there, I swear there will be hell to pay. ” Before Epel could respond, Vil hung up.

Epel sat with the four Heartslabyul members, knowing when Vil arrives, he'll get a stern talking to. Trey walked over to Epel placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I'm sure Vil is just as worried about you as everyone else….with what happened earlier, i wouldn't blame him for being paranoid about your safety.” Epel took in his words. He knew Trey was right. He remembered sneaking off to that pool party without Vil's permission. He knew if it wasn't for Deuce and Cater, he would've been dead. He couldn’t have that on Vil's conscience or his family.

“I don't know why he's worryin’ I'm fine, aren't I? All that matters is that I'm here in one piece.” Epel’s word is more like a huff than a retort, despite knowing Vil means well, he can't help but hate how he just treats him like some weak kid. Soon enough, the clicking of heels filled the halls, notifying everyone of Vil's arrival.

Deuce went over to open the door but nearly fell over as Vil came in on his own accord. Everyone noticed how Vil was doing these past few months as his hair grew past his shoulders, similar to Cater. The purple highlights in his hair became less pronounced as his natural blond grew out over the quarantine. Vil didn't bother putting on his school or dorm uniform as he settled for a casual look, nothing too fancy.

“I came here as soon as I could. Is Epel alright?” Riddle set down the tea cup that was in his hand as he went over to Vil, going in for a greeting after a long time seeing his fellow Housewarden. “Yes, yes. Epel is quite fine, it's good to see you again-” Riddle felt a spray on his hand as he went to shake Vil's hand. “is…is that alcohol?” Vil didn't respond as he sprayed his own hands with the rubbing alcohol.

“It's better to be safe than sorry. I can't risk getting infected. Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if I have to, since Idia hasn't told us how this thing is spread. I suggest you and your dorm start sanitizing as well.” Riddle had to agree with Vil on that, it's been months hell a year at best and nothing has come from it, no cure, no explanation on what this is and how it can be avoided. “Right, I assure you that the dorm is properly kept at all times.”

Vil raised an eyebrow unimpressed by Riddle's words, only muttering a “I hope so.” He finally called Epel along to head back for the dorm. Epel quickly gathered himself as he walked alongside Vil on their way back to the dorm, not before saying his goodbyes to the others.

[the-marvelous-mabby]

Pulse [Fiction Piece]

{Content Warning: Discussions of Death}

The human body enters rigor mortis after 3 hours. Maybe more, sometimes less. But the process is interesting. The joints lock and go stiff, the muscles harden, and the body can't move. Learned all that in health class, and I got freaked out at the concept of a stiff zombie waddling towards me. Growing out of that fear yielded nothing but comforting thoughts at the time. But it's not like I knew it would hurt so much. They don't tell you how dry your mouth gets, and how cold the world begins feeling. No one tells you how stiff your neck feels, and how you can almost feel the segments of your spine sliding against one another in a grating, violent action. They don't tell you that you can hear them slowly stiffening, like rust accumulating on door hinges. Or that as your pulse slows down, the blood in your veins screams for oxygen, and your entire body wails at the idea it won't get anymore. 

They know it's coming, that locking,They’re fighting it with everything they have. Because after locking, the rest of this process comes. And they don’t want that process to begin. I don’t either, Alas, my entire body begins to cool, possibly the processes of algor mortis, my body beginning to match the temperatures around me. It’s icy, and if I could breathe, maybe I’d be trembling and shivering. Maybe I’d be clutching my arms, vying for warmth in any significant way. Like it’d work, I haven’t got much heat to work with as it stands. Sadly, the locking takes, and even though I couldn’t move before, this is far more frightening. Knowing that even if I’d been able to move, I’d have felt their grinding, my joints powdering themselves with the friction, rusting that their movement against one another causes.  I’ve been laying here for hours, getting colder and colder. Would you still consider me fresh or…frozen?

 My, puns at a time like this, it’s insufferable. 

The next stage is starting before I can catch up. You’d think eight hours would have been enough for that, but alas, it was a shock to feel my body growing colder. The feeling of every cell that had previously coursed rapidly through my veins, pumped vigorously by my heart in its attempt to keep me breathing, all sliding, crawling, creeping down to my back. To the back of my skull, and the grinding pain in my spine, to the back of my thighs, to the back of my legs, and in the heels of my feet. Slowly. Sliding. Crawling, Trickling through me like a leaky tap pouring tar. Nothing flows, Nothing beats, or gushes, or spews like a fountain when it’s sliced into. It all seeps, and collects to my back, surrounding each of my muscles in an inky black liquid. 

They’ll know how I died, which way. How long I was made to lie in this position. And when that parts over, when do I think I’ve finally been allowed to rest? There’s that smell. That god awful smell, in all of its sickening entirety. I can’t think of anything but the smell, knowing it's coming from me, that the bacteria have finally found a gracious meal, that they’re finally ready to devour me. I wonder if they know I’m still here, that I can feel them gnawing. The itch comes first, and it’s like fire. I want to scratch it, to rip away at it until the burn is gone, I want to remove everything that itches, and it’s everywhere. My neck, my chest, the small of my back, behind my kneecaps and earlobes, there’s that itch. I can’t move, even if I could, the pain from that locking remains, no itch is worth that rusting feeling, or the idea that the tar in my veins will begin creeping, and sliding again. This itch, as awful as it feels, as much as I want nothing more than to claw away at the parts of me that fester, even if I had the ability to do so, I wouldn’t. I can’t go through the rest of it, not again. The itching is in my eyes, behind my lids, I can feel it behind them. Like a migraine for which there is no cure. It’s in my mouth next, in between my teeth, against my tongue, in my cheeks. The smell hasn’t stopped. 

I still smell it all, and as the smell worsens, so does the itching. The burning. The pain. Yes, the pain. Because it hurts now, my body that cried out for rough fingertips to stir away the bacteria, has now given up on crying for release, and has taken to screaming out its trauma. It hurts as my body begins to bloat. My tongue feels fat and puffy, my eyes feel like they're bulging, and my mouth feels like it’s feeling with air. Like I’m exhaling a foul order from the very pit of my stomach. I’m sure it’s been a while by now. I can feel my organs giving away under the weight of time. It feels like they’re being liquified by their lack of use, into a thick sludge, a mass that is incomprehensible from anything else.

 It all begins to fade soon. The pain, and the itching, and the grinding of my bones. This horrible trip has finally begun to come to a close. The fear, and the aching I’d felt up to this point are subsiding, and now all that remains is the stillness. The quiet. The darkness. It’s a peace I hadn’t realized I wanted before now, a peace I had failed to recognize. In the cold, quiet still of death, I’ve begun to become one with the Earth, without worry of what stage follows suit. Not disturbed, unmoved, unbroken. Not downtrodden by my previous life. I am free of pain, and fear. I am free of worry, and want. I am free. My mind begins to fade with the rest of me, as if my stream of consciousness has finally run dry. My body becomes one with the abyss. With my thoughts that continued on without my pulse.

[la-colette]

Okay can we stop for a minute and think back to episode 51 of Naruto Shippuden!!!!

My guy was pissed asf when Sai disturbed his sleep and we had to see the sexy demon stare down at us for the remainder of the episode. My inner fangirl couldn't bear it and I must say, the migraine I got from screaming both internally and outward could only be cured by his voice!!! I friggin' mean it >.<

Now let's not overlook the Narusasu drama that played out here. Not enough for me to support the fandom- because they were nothing but tight bros in my eyes- but it's hard to ignore the fact that his attention was solely on Naruto at that moment.

Being a girl who has crushed on a number on guys in the history of my failed relationships, I can say if someone I get mixed feelings for were to appear in the same room with me, I'd try my very best to not look at the person. Or rather, to not be caught staring or glancing at that person. I got that whole vibe from Sasuke who tried his possible best to spit venom at Naruto while ignoring the lot of the team.

The fact that Sakura didn't seem pushy with herself and her feelings in this episode earns her a thumbs up, if you ask me. I mean, why didn't she see herself as someone who could convince Sasuke like she did before he left the village? Why didn't she plead or confess or try something verbal to shake him? I love her courage even when it made me proud and somewhat shy for her considering where she stood on the plains of strength amongst those teammates of hers... she made genuine effort- physically.

Little Sakura would've been quick to voice out her feelings, cry and try to form beast tamer by either running senselessly at him or riling him up with words like she did in the Forest of Death. Little Sakura would've sulked at the end of the whole ordeal because Sasuke paid little attention to her and claimed to have severed the bond they once shared. But none of these happened. Instead, she cried and encouraged Naruto, as well as herself, to get stronger and try again. Now that's growth right there!!!

[aftgficrec]

hello!! so ever since i read that fic where neil gets migraines and aaron helps him, ive been really wanting to read more migraine/ headache fics. So could you recommend some like that? Sick fics in general would be good too!

Here’s the hurt/comfort you’re looking for! - A

Also see:

Sick Andrew here

Nicky takes care of sick Aaron here

‘on quietness and the refuge found within it’ here

‘Until We Go Down’ here

‘Those That Broke Us’ here’

‘Paper Cut Hearts’ here

‘Fake it ‘til you make it’ here

‘Let's make things interesting’ here (since updated)

‘Home’ here

‘The Way We Are’ (kevaaron) here

‘Pause and Restart my Heart’ series here

‘Wrecked’ here

‘My name is Alex’ series here

‘It’s always yes, until it’s no’ here

‘your love is the cure’ here

‘Crash Course in Feelings’ here

‘Crash course in feelings…remix’ and ‘Hospitals and Anesthesia’ here

‘Ebb and Flow’ here (since updated)

‘We'll Be Okay’ here

‘N for nebulous’ here (since updated)

Becoming Friends by love_in_the_city [Rated G, 10108 Words, Complete, 2021]

Five times Aaron helped Neil with his headaches and one time he didnt have to

or an AU where Aaron realises he doesnt hate Neil and helps him.

I am soft for Aaron and Neil friendship alright, and I do really believe them becoming friends.

Medical misunderstandings by CamilleDuDemon [Rated T, 4115 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew thinks he's having a heart attack. Aaron thinks it shouldn't be his problem. Neither of them is right and, apparently, performing an emergency auscultation on your twin brother makes up for a good therapy session.

tw: panic attacks

constants by sqacey [Rated G, 1063 Words, Complete, 2020, Locked]

Constant (adjective) regularly recurrent; continual; persistent.

Medicine And A Little Bit Of Love by andreilinlove [Rated G, 3986 Words, Complete, 2020]

Cough, cough, cough.

Well shit.

When the realization settled in, Neil knew he was fucked. He knew from the moment he forced his eyes open and felt like death itself.

flood on the floor by conniptionns [Rated T, 4311 Words, Complete, 2017]

Neil is injured in the playoffs. He gets hurt (but doesn't die).

tw: major character injury, tw: blood

Aches by Allfourthefoxes [Rated T, 1557 Words, Complete, 2021]

Aaron has a migraine and Kevin helps him

i heard your voice by nightquills [Rated T, 3471 Words, Complete, AFTG Spring Exchange 2020]

Andrew didn’t believe in soulmates, and he sure as hell didn’t believe that there was one out there for him. He may have been a bit hasty in jumping to that conclusion.

Trying Hard not to Fall by Aleekae [Not rated, 2,366 words, complete 2016]

Mary’s hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel. “Symptoms?”

Neil thought about it for a minute, but he knew he couldn’t lie to his mother. She would just find out anyways, given how they never left each other’s side. “Runny nose, scratchy throat. No fever.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.”

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Overheating by irls_goaway [Rated T, 2933 Words, Complete, 2020]

“For someone who just passed out from heatstroke, you look awfully smug,” Andrew says. Neil’s smile only widens.

or

Neil vlogs his life which consists of Andrew and Exy. Not even a heatwave can keep Neil away from either one of those things.

on tenderness; a guide to taking better care of yourself by puddingcatbeans [Rated G (we say T), 6149 Words, Complete, 2019]

Neil is a finger on a trigger, pedal to metal, a breath away from launching himself off the edge of the roof at all times. He’s a rabbit heart, always ready to run off at a second’s notice—except when he’s looking at Andrew like that.

a series of moments on andrew learning to be gentle with himself; or, alternatively, andrew waxing poetic about one neil josten and realizing that his life maybe isn't so bad after all.

tw: depression

[cherry-draws]

[Yiga Husband Fanfic] Poisonus plan

I am super happy to see people liking my previous story "Fantasy Night" so here's an other one featuring our dear Master Kohga.

Kohga woke up with a severe headache and felt as though he had just come out of a long sleep. Although he spent most of his time napping, this was the first time it happened to him. Just curling his fingers hurt him. Despite the pain, the leader of the yiga clan managed to sit up and open his eyes. Looking around the room, his heart skipped a beat.

"Kohga: Where am I ? This is not my room. "

A bitter taste in his throat made the pronunciation of the words unbearable. Kohga sank down heavily on the mattress, breathing heavily. A smell of sweat reached his nostrils, indicating that he had sweated a lot during the night, something that didn't happen often either. Someone suddenly entered the room, which made him jump, but his aching body prevented him from turning around.

"? : Hello, Master Kohga, how are you feeling?

Kohga: Who are you?

? : What, you don't recognize me ? Lord, this is more serious than I thought.

Kohga: What are you talking about?

? : Master, you have fallen terribly ill and it seems that the moments of lucidity are scarce.

Kohga: Wait, are you saying that I'm going insane ?

? : But not at all, no. You are in pain, Master. You have a fever, an excruciating cough, you don't want to eat any more, not even a piece of banana. For the safety of our colleagues we have preferred to isolate you in this makeshift infirmary, to “quarantine” you, if you prefer. I understand that you may not like it, but we are afraid that the disease is contagious. I was formerly a practitioner of medicine before joining the clan, and you allowed me to practice my practices in case anyone get sick. It wasn't what I wanted at first, but the circumstances required my intervention.

Kohga: I can't believe it, I don't remember anything! I just feel very tired. Besides, if you could let me sleep, that would suit me.

Doctor: I have come to take you to the consultation room. My colleague needs to examine you to see the state of your health and give you your treatment. Come on, please. "

Kohga stood up painfully, feeling stiff in his muscles. The doctor helped him to walk by taking his arm. Even though the drive to the office was relatively short, it was enough to intensify the yiga's feeling of fatigue, who found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Once there, Kohga stretched out painfully on the table as a second doctor appeared before him. He was wearing a large white overall over his suit.

“Doctor 2: Hello Master Kohga. I apologize for forcing you to move in your state, but this is where we store all the required equipment. Describe to me your health state.

Kohga: Well ... "

No other word could come out of his mouth. His mind sank into a deep sleep.

Later that he woke up, and this time he forced himself to keep his eyes open behind his mask. Listening, he managed to hear the doctors talking to each other.

"Doctor 1: Are you sure this will work? He still looks sharp enough to ask questions.

Doctor 2: But you saw him go into a coma, right? In a short time, it will be just a half-alive vegetable, it will no longer be a problem!

Doctor 1: Don't speak that loud, you fool, he will hear us!

Doctor 2: So you do ! There is no risk, I tell you, with the doses that he was injected it should prevent him from moving. Once we're done with him ... "

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. His face received a violent punch and his body fell to the ground under the astonished eyes of his teammate.

“Doctor 1: Ah, I was right!

Kohga: WHO ARE YOU? And why do you want to poison me ?!

Doctor 1: Master Kohga, please, you are starting to lose your mind again! Go back to bed, I beg you, you will hurt yourself!

Kohga: No! I'm not crazy, on the other hand you two, you really think I'm a fool! I heard all your little conversation and I know you want to kill me! I don't know why you are after me, but I know what I heard!

Doctor 1: No, you are wrong! It is the fever that makes you hear voices, we do not want any harm, we are not ...

Kohga: My soldiers! You are not my soldiers, you are impostors! Now prepare yourselves ! "

Kohga raised his arms above his head to generate a giant ball. No matter how hard he was concentrated, nothing happened.

"Doctor 2: Don't use your powers, it will tire you out!"

Kohga resigned himself to use magic and decided to strike his opponents directly with his fists. Once the two individuals were on the ground, he fled. His chubby legs hurt him, but he refused to slow down, he had to flee, find refuge, but where? The place did not look like the hideout at all. It was not the hidehout. It was a place made of corridors, a sort of labyrinthine dojo.

"Kohga: But where am I going to go? I'm lost, I'm alone, but where are my soldiers when I need them? If I call for help, they will find me ... "

The leader of the yiga clan then attempted to teleport, but each of his attempts ended in failure. Due to his condition, he could no longer use his powers. He ran, feeling his breath diminish, until he came to a closed room where he rushed into it, pressing his back against the door.

"Kohga: I can't stay here forever, I have to ..."

The migraine suddenly erupts, forcing him to hold his head in his hands. The pain felt gave him the impression that each of his neurons was bursting one after the other. His body stiffened, and fell heavily to the ground.

When Kohga regained consciousness, he was unable to move, and his limbs were still numb. His body seemed to rock on its own, but he realized that someone was holding him in his arms. Although unaware of the identity of its wearer, his body emanated a familiar kind of warmth, inspiring a sense of security. When the individual looked up at him, Kohga recognized him immediately behind his mask.

"? : Shhh, don't be afraid. It's me, Sooga.

Kohga: Finally you're here! But what the hell happened !? I ... Get me out of this hell!

Sooga: I beg you, calm down, I'll tell you everything. You have been the victim of a kidnapping. I and the other soldiers searched for you for days, we get up early in the morning and come home exhausted at night. We entered this abandoned place and it is there that I found you. Don't be afraid, I will warn the others and we will go home.

? : I don't think so ! "

Sooga distraught, turned and faced the two individuals in white overall, both holding a syringe in their hand. Three other doctors also appeared.

“Sooga: You ... You will pay for what you dared to do!

Doctor 1: I advise you to return your boss to us immediately, otherwise we'll make you regret your decision ! You are alone, you cannot defend yourself, no one can help you! "

The enemies advanced until they surrounded the two yigas. Sooga hugged his master as tightly as he could in his muscular arms, like a mother seeking to protect her newborn baby.

"Kohga: Sooga, do something!"

Doctor 2: If you try anything ... "

The chief suddenly stiffened, his face froze and he fell, lifeless. A sturdy figure appeared behind him. The yiga blademaster who had knocked him out stabbed his sword into the medic's body, leaving the others in shock.

"Blademaster: Who told you he came by himself eh? Who do you thinks we are? "

Three other blademasters and five footsoldiers appeared simultaneously in a bunch of smoke, around the medics, helpless in front of the sharp blades which pointed in their direction. In an instant, they were all dead. Only one was spared. It was the one Kohga had first met.

"Footsoldier : Now you'll listen to me, you scumbag.You better tell us what your plan was, why you attacked our boss. Otherwise, it's not death that awaits you, it's worse. We will harass you until you crack, burn your stuff, kill your family like we killed your friends, torture you until you speak ...

Doctor 1: I surrender! I am going to tell you ! We wanted to get rid of you once and for all. But we knew that with so many soldiers we couldn't reach you so we devised a strategic plan: thanks to our science, Sheikah technology and a poison specially made by us, we were able to kidnap and drugging your boss, which wasn't difficult given his great weakness. We suspected that you would flip every pebble back to Hyrule to find it, and patiently waited for one of you to be stupid enough to come here alone, but we didn't expect you all to come !

Footsoldier: It's the proof that you don't know anything about the yiga clan, and if you had been a little more cooperative you could have gotten to know us. It's a shame, but hey that's how it is. Goodbye ! "

The edge of a blade against the flesh of was heard. The man fell to the ground, his throat was bleeding.

A few days later.

Life began to turn back to normal in the yiga hideout. Kohga, extremely weakened, had spent several days reclusive in his room, his rare moments of awakening were when Sooga brought him his treatment against the poison. Thanks to the knowledge in medicinal plants of certain members, the effects of the poison could be definitively eradicated. After a week, the leader of the yigas was almost cured, and continued to gain strength.

Sooga silently entered his master's bedroom, who had just opened his eyes.

"Sooga: Didn't I wake you up?

Kohga: No, not at all. Come closer. Sit on the bed. "

Sooga was surprised by thoses words, and, despite the embarrassment he felt, he could not refuse his proposal and ended up sitting down.

"Kohga: Sooga ... How could I thank you, while without you, I wouldn't be here? You risked your life, our soldiers too.

Sooga: I never would have done it without their help. Alone, I would have failed. But this is all over now. The main thing is that we are safe and sound. The blademasters will tighten up security so any infiltration incidents will happen again.

Kohga: Sooga ...

Sooga: Something wrong?

Kohga: Sooga, lie down for a moment.

Suppa: But I can't...

Kohga: I don't want to be alone anymore and the bed is big enough for both of us. Come on, don't make me say it twice. "

Sooga finally accepted and lay down, hiding the fact that he was blushing behind his mask. His heartbeat quickened as Kohga snuggled up against him.

"Kohga: You deserve to take some rest too.

Sooga: Yes, Master. "

[wowheadquarters]

don't be shy, drop ALL your Kel'Thuzad headcanons~

All of them? Hm. I don’t know if I remember all of them. Also, I stopped keeping track of WoW some time in the middle of the Battle for Azeroth, because it can either be WoW whcih I enjoy or shitwreck, and I chose WoW, which isn’t what Blizzard/Activision is currently serving- I meant to say that most likely my headcanons aren’t Shadowlands compatibile.

Anyway. Kel’thuzad headcanons of various importance as I remember them.

Kel’thuzad is his actual given name, it’s not a pseudonym or anything.

In Thalassian “kel’thuzad” mean “seeker of the truth”. (In Darnassian the same phrase is “keil tassad” and in Zandali “kel’ta sad”.)

Kel’thuzad speaks Common and Thalassian fluently. Before the Dark Portal opened he knew some phrases in Dwarven (conversational) and Gnomish (related to transport industry and mathematic). He can also speak Zandali with varying accents (mostly Amani), but he knows only five or six Zandali signs (he can sign his name, but that’s it).

After the Dark Portal opened, Kel’thuzad tried and failed to learn Orcish. He gained the skill later when it was a trial-and-error learning by communicating with Ner’zhul. Due to that Kel’thuzad’s accent when speaking Orcish is not “Human,” but distinctly Shadowmoon.

He also learned Nerubian from... well, the dead Nerubians. He can now both speak and write fluently even with encryption.

(There are 3 ways of Nerubian ecryptions and they can be simultaneously applied. This way there exist 7 versions of encryption plus 1 unencrypted text. These are known as the Eight Webs of writing. Plain text is written in the First Web, triple encryptin is the Eighth Web.)

He can read (but not speak) Nathrezim, and somewhat read and speak Shath’Yar, the language of the Old Gods. He would understand Quiraji if he ever encountered it, because it is very close to Nerubian (like Czech and Slovakian, I imagine).

The Language of Death, by the Scourge usually referred to as Deathspeak, is an artificial language created by Kel’thuzad. It is based on all languages he knew at the point of creating it, and is fairly easy to learn if you find a willing teacher. It was created for the members of the Cult of the Damned to understand ach other without them feeling like one language/race is put above the other, and to partially control their thoughts, as the language specifically hasn’t got some words or phrases (such as “rebellion”). Orwell would be proud.

He was brownhaired, but he greyed out fairly quickly when Ner’zhul settled in his head without paying any rent.

He was from Kul’Tiras. (I still want him to necromance a sunken ship. And a chalk cliff.)

His family name is Naxrierre. There is a theory that Naxrierres were a witch coven that became civilized with years, which is mostly spread by naysayers to explain the family’s talent towards magic. Another theory claims that they are a part-elven bastards which would besides the magic explain the name.

Kel’thuzad took the elf-Naxrierr theory to heart and in his ambition for one of his sons to make it somewhere else than the navy agve him a Quel’dorei name.

The suffix -ramas in Nerubian signifies not encessarily a necropolis but any place to permanently home dead bodies. “Naxxramas” is basically “Nax(rierre)’s tomb” but in Nerubian. 

As a mage in Dalaran Kel’thuzad studied arcanophysic, a way to describe and measure magic. This field is where all the calibration of spells or even negating spells comes from. He became the sole teacher of it in Dalaran, because he was the only one enthusiastic enough about it to bother.

He was that type of teacher who didn’t give homeworks, he hated correcting them. He also had his classes in the most unreasonable hours, such as 3 AM, because he had a busy schedule and non-existent sleep pattern.

Since Kel’thuzad’s banishment the knowledge of arcanophysics among the Dalaran mages has drasticaly declined and is nearly nonexistent nowadays. All books Kel’thuzad had written on it have been sealed away, which removed nearly all reliable sources from the public access.

Kel’thuzad actually had good relationships with his colleagues. He helped Alonda with her fild research on Trolls (hence his speaking Zandali).

His closest friend was Anthonidas. They used to be classmates once upon the time.

What really undermined Kel’thuzad’s trust and belief in Kirin Tor was what happened to Khadgar. He realized that Kirin Tor is not going to act if given a warning, and not going to help if hearing a plea.

He still tried to warn Kirin Tor before what he didn’t know was the Scourge. He had noticed the Amani “moving out of the way”. “Whatever will happen, and I believe that this time it will be the dead, because the demons haven’t tried that yet, it will happen in a single line from Lordareon to Quel’Danas. We know the Amani can see into the future, and they are clearing out of this path.” Dismissed as a doomsayer, he wasn’t really persistent in his warnins.

Ner’zhul’s talks to Kel’thuzad began as especially persistent migraines. Whenever Kel’thuzad tried to tell Anthonidas that his condition is serious, he was sent off with a mug of peacebloom tea and an advice not to stay up so late, and maybe lay off some stress.

The teacher who taught Thrall in his early years such stuff as writing, that was Kel’thuzad in disguise when he was rectuiting in and around Durnholde Keep.

No, Kel’thuzad has no idea the little pet-orc he was trying to groom and later kidnap for the Cult of the Damned (What a better liteunant than the one you raise yourself?) is Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde.

Kel’thuzad was tasked with finding and preparing the perfect new host for Ner’zhul. He was trying to overthrow the Lich King, so he picked Arthas as a paladin of Light whom he believed strong willed enough to handle it. And at the start of the story Arthas was.

His second choice for Lich King would have been Kael’thas.

He shuffled his cards in the deck of “Scourge politics” so that Bolvar Fordragon would take the Helm of Domination after Arthas. Players greta victory? Just according to keikaku.

He had (and still has) a “wanted poster” for Garrosh Hellscream. He really wanted him into the Scourge army. The reward was a whole necropolis with units.

Naxxramas had a dedicated “catkeeper” tasked with taking care of Mr. Bigglesworth and cleaning the acid/slime vats. Her name was Gwendoline, usually called Gwen, she is now one of Garrosh’s ghost children. Gwen died during the attack on Theramore where she was working as a spy for the Scourge.

Liches feed off people emotions and minds. The Lich Kign keeps it secret (even from Kel’thuzad) to keep them starved and obedient. The passive “nibbling” causes that people around liches start to be unfeeling.

Kel’thuzad has developed the Cure for the Plague quite early on. Ner’zhul made him test the plagues seeds on himself.

Speakig of that, Ner’zhul (and later Arthas as the Lich King) had a complete control over Kel’thuzad’s body, so if he refused to carry out an order, Ner’zhul could just make him do it anyway.

Additionally, the Lich King could kep him going despite injuries, exhaustion &c. Arthas fancied himself thinking that h killed Kel’thuzad, but the truth is that the cumulative injuries (several broken bones, stab wounds, a concussion, frostbites, poisonings), exhaustion and starvation were enough to kill Kel’thuzad twice over, no hammer needed. Ner’zhul just in that moment let Kel’thuzad die, because that was what he needed.

He used to play Hearthstone a lot when he was alive. He had a very good Hunter Murlock tribal deck.

He is asexual, and quite possibly aromantic too. In his words: “I believe in love on the first sight. And I am probably blind or something, as it seems.”

His favourite colour is purple.

Shortly before the capture of Bolvar Fordragon Kel’thuzad re-bound his phylactery from the whole urn to a single shard. The shard was sold by a cult of the Damned agent in Kul’Tiras to Taelia Fordragon as a lucky amulet.

Whenever as a lich Kel’thuzad regained his form, he always found himself knee-deep in water due to some fucking coincidences, starting with the Sunwell.

Speaking of Sunwell, he carries in himself  “a spark of Sunwell”. this has many benefits, such as power or not giving a fuck about Light being super-effective against the undead. It is a thing to be revealed out of the blue without prior warning when we need to reset the Sunwell (again).

He has enough knowledge of Troll and Orc shamanism to be considered a shaman, and too analytical and scientific mind to be actually good at it.

He also had made an oath to the Amani tribe that everything he’s learned from them would never be used to harm any Troll. It is why Kel’thuzad was not responsible for the havoc wrought in Zul’drak.

Naxxrams “responds” to Kel’thuzads emotions and feelings and even physical state. When he gets discorporated (killed), Naxxramas enters “save battery” mode. Naxxramas’ usual is “cold and static” and “cold and slightly shaking” which is Kelthuzad’s “bored” and “irritated” respectively.

He doesn’t like sweets, but he enjoyes crunchy stuff, be it cookies or fried potato slices. He craves the crunch.

He ate the flesh of several sapient beings. In several cases he knows it and the memory of ti makes him retch, even now when he is dead.

He likes dragons. He wants his own dreagonflight. (I have a headcanon abbout Sapphiron’s “Ivory” dragonflight of undead dragons.)

He has a saronite armour to match with the Bloodsurge. It decorates a ziggurat somewhere in Plaguelands. el’thuzad honestly doesn’t care. The armour has spikes on the inside, so if you put it on as a living being, you can’t take it off without bleeding out. A very emo move.

And I am tired now, so this will have to do for now. It’s not all of them, I am sure I haven’t thought of some area. But here we go.

[cienie-isengardu]

K, O, P?

Thank you for the lovely ask, it was fun to write! :D

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Hard to pick the one character, even more since the best of character development I love so much are not tied to one arc but happens through the whole story. But since I’m on OP kick lately, Roronoa Zoro gets all the honor. 

I love how at first he promised to follow Luffy as long as the rubber-man didn't get in the way of his goal (and threatened him with death otherwise) but took his commitment very seriously from day one. And somehow through the relatively short journey, Zoro literally threw away his ambitions, pride, life, everything for Luffy’s sake. And not only for Luffy, but for the crew as a whole, because  Roronoa is always ready to stay behind, to be left behind, to protect nakama at all cost. And the best part of this development is that, Zoro’s priorities changed from carrying the burden of promise and shared ambition with a dead friend being the best to giving everything to Luffy, while it does not change what Zoro is at the core. It doesn’t make him a better man in the sense of an improved attitude or outlook on life. Hell, I would say it makes him more workaholic with the need to get stronger, pushing himself harder than before once he gets to know the wider world better, but Zoro is ruthless and rude as he was. He is born killer and monster in human form that don’t give a fuck about the world, politics, what society thinks while his own moral sense does not budge at all. He was and is willing to kill, he enjoys fighting and drinking, has this ambitious as hell goal of being the best. The development does not change who Zoro is, but what matters to him the most and this growing loyalty and trust can be seen through the whole story and I don’t know what would need to happen for such dedication falter even for a bit.

And like I said, this is not something that happened in one arc, but was happening through the whole story, from earlier little occasional clashes with Luffy to being of one mind with his captain while always ready to carry the burden when Luffy can’t do it, ready to stay behind and protect nakama. What makes the final of Thriller Bark one of the coolest pledge of loyalty but not the best development arc itself, really, because Zoro’s character develops in that direction from day one and the decision made in Thriller Bark is just a result of all the previous adventures.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

I’m going to cheat with that and instead of a random song, I will give you two I have on loop already for several days: Broken Crown and I gave you all by Mumford & Sons, because both suit Donquixote Brothers so well and could tell the same events from two different perspectives. In advance sorry for ranting but these two songs kill me emotionally so much, I must talk in length about them!

Broken Crown is all about Rosi rejecting the “crown” given to him by brother (“I'll never be your chosen one”) and yet… still caring and sadly, knowing it too well he wouldn’t pull the trigger (“but oh my heart, was flawed I knew my weakness. So hold my hand consign me not to darkness“) and the final lines, gosh:

So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down

I'll never wear your broken crown 

I took the road and I fucked it all away 

Now in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace 

So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down 

I'll never wear your broken crown 

I can take the road and I can fuck it all away 

But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate

And then, I gave you all is just so Doffy about Rosinante, it hurts. Seriously. Like, I really believe he never meant to hurt his brother (and maybe never understood he did), and the whole last lines are just so on spot:

But I gave you all 

But you rip it from my hands 

And you swear it's all gone 

And you rip out all I have

Just to say that you've won 

Well now you've won

It’s just so, so about Rosi stealing Law and Opi Opi no Mi even though Doffy already “gave [him] all” what he could. And the most ironic thing? When people usually think about their last meeting, we remember that Doffy killed his younger brother, but in fact, Rosi DID WIN in the long run. He cured Law and saved him from Doffy, he stole Opi Opi no Mi and took away from brother a chance for immortality, even if just for a while. Which is like three main victories in one strike and he did sort of say it to Doffy’s face (“[Law] is already free!!”). 

Just… so many feelings from two songs that fit well two brothers so different from each other. And the regrets and hate, and lack of understanding and spite. Seriously, it makes me think about their last meeting so much :(

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

I have three major growing ideas, but since I’m in a good mood, I will share the happiest AU in which Donquixote Rosinante never played the role of spy and confronted Doflamingo in the open sea as a Marine Officer. 

Or more like: Doffy found out his bro is alive but part of Marine, so of course he couldn’t leave him in peace and like the maniac he is, chased after Rosinante across all the sea to recruit him into the Family - to no avail. So Doffy’s main reason to become Shichibukai was just so he could jump on Rosi’s warship and annoy the fuck of him, like an older brother should. And Rosi can’t kick him overboat, since as a Warlord Doflamingo is untouchable by Marines. Or at least in theory, because Rosi serves under Garp’s command*, and the old Vice-Admiral does not mind to punch some sense into Doffy (and Rosi) with fist of love, cause no punk like Doffy will tell Monkey D. Garp  what he should or shouldn’t do on his own ship and if bros are lucky, Tsuru may save them from this madman… or not). Despite that causing ruckus between sailors is much better than boredom, and Doffy seeks out his younger brother under all excuses and more often than not, visits just to rant about all annoying people and bitching on Kaido or Sengoku or Nobles or really, everything and maybe for a drink or two and napping between one and another business meeting, because there is no better nap than under Rosi’s silencing powers. It is worth, no matter that more often than not Garp is kicking his ass, even when in fact he acts as a good boy should. And maybe, just maybe Doffy is so bored with all his underground business going well that he is actually doing “government dog” work of hunting down random pirates. Or more likely, slaughtering every asshole who dare insult his clumsy brother.

Because no matter what, Rosi is his baby bro and he belongs to Doffy even if the dumbass stubbornly refuses to join the Family. Which is fine, one day Doflamingo will find a way to change his brother's mind and until that day comes, he will mess with Marines as much as he can. Which is all fair, because Rosi too does mess with Doffy’s underground business whenever he has a chance and the klutz set on fire accidentally himself AND so many Doffy’s stuff one may wonder if he really is that clumsy or does he do that on purpose. Trebol thinks the latter, cause somehow Rosi always drops things on him by stumbling or spilt hot tea in his face. Doffy finds that amusing as hell, even more when his little bro uses his devil fruit powers to mute half of the Family just to piss them off. At least, as long as Rosi remembers to unmute them before leaving (sometimes the lil shit does not unmute them on purpose and Doffy is forced to chase him around the sea to undo the damage. Younger brothers can be a really pain in the ass).

So Doffy & Rosi kinda have this I-hate-you-but-I-love-you-dumbass relationship over the years until Law comes into picture and of course, Law stab the younger Donquixote and of course, Rosinante kidnap the kid to find a cure and maybe, just maybe, kidnap his brother along the way, and drag Law and Doffy on forced family vacation that involves burning a few dozens of hospitals, a lot screaming at each other and some terapeutic honest talks that no one really wants but everyone needs. Law gets the Ope Ope Mi, Doffy and Rosi kinda explain to each other all the traumatic shit from childhood and made sort of peace.

So, in the end, Doffy does not take over Dressrosa but is still doing his shady business and just being himself, just with better mental stability (cause Rosi keeps muting Trebol and all his shitty talk about what king can or cannot do on every occasion). Rosi has a brother that is not complete monster but not the good man either, but he isn’t ordered to kill him or lie to, and even though they are on opposite side, Rosinante can always call Doffy on den den mushi and shout at him for hours for all the stupid shit he pulled without any regrets or fear (and sometimes, Doffy does listen). Law is saved but still decides to sail and causing havoc as pirate captain while both Donquixote brothers are doting on him and of course, allying himself with Monkey D. Luffy, while the poor Sengoku just gets constant migraine for dealing with all the nonsense of Monkey D. and Donquixote family drama (but secretly feeling relieved that his son is finally doing fine). Garp on other hand, find it hilarious as hell. The World Government does not find it hilarious at all.

 *Sengoku doesn’t like putting his precious Rosinante under Garp’s command because the Hero of Marines of course drags the poor kid into all possible troubles and chaos, but since Rosi is brother of Doflamingo and Doffy is hated by Nobles, Garp is the best protector for younger Donquixote. He will punch everyone who would dare to hurt the kid of his closest friend, including World Nobles and their armies. The side effect is that Rosi is looking after Ace and Luffy, once they set sails, because they are uncle Garp’s grandkids and he will happily save Ace’s ass before Blackbeard get his hand on him and be even kind enough to give the kid a choice: either he comes back to Whitebeard or Rosi takes him straight to grandpa Garp and so Ace ends safe under pop’s watchful eyes once and for good.

Here, a happy Donquixote Bros AU. You’re welcome!

ask meme

[spoocyshrub]

To Dr. Cornelius or Dokk, Out of curiosity do Mudokons and other species are prone to the same disorders/disabilities and diseases/Illnesses as us ‘Gray faced’ people? Like for example Migraines (I’m prone to them and those are the WORSE)

Dokk: “Actually we do suffer some disabilities or disorders as you do. Mental and physical ones.

My caretaker is really prone to migranes himself. A lot of those migranes are set off by stress, or sometimes he gets bad ones when he is near places with really loud noises. Like the sound of a train horn constantly going off.

it's one of the reasons he's so grumpy all the time. he has them constantly. guess you could consider it chronic for him.

We have illnesses that you guys might be familiar with, such as cancer, but they work differently depending on the species.

Some Diseases are unique to the certain races and species of oddworld.

We also have unique versions of Food-borne illnesses.

You ever heard of Gorman Disenza? The Disease that only affects the extremely rich? The disease is contained within Gabbit Blood. Gabbits lived with this disease and it does no harm on their own bodies. But when you consume either parts of them… or gabbit eggs, it passes the disease onto those that consume these items…

We might have found the source of it, but we currently have no cure for Gorman Disenza. And once you get it, you are stuck with it.

Gorman Disenza is a death sentence, and glukkons have tried to avoid dying by cryogenically freezing themselves until a cure is found.

As of now: Gabbits are considered a protected species, but that doesn’t stop some greedy vykkers or glukkons from wanting to experiment with oddworld’s creatures despite them being on the verge of extinction.”

[d-noona]

Some days are good...some not so... well. Some days literally feels like death 😂🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️

There are days I look normal

But I feel tired emotionally and physically

I can go on days without sleep

Or sleep only to wake up with the entire room spinning

Im sensitive to light

Sensitive to sound which sucks dick ass cause i love music

I speak too loud cause I cant hear well

Or maybe ask you to repeat what you said around 3 to 5x

Im sensitive to the words thrown at me

Though i dont really show it

Some days are a little painful literally

There are days i would use ice as my pillow

Or drink an excessive amount of pain killers

I have days when I feel numb that you can seriously slap my face and I'd probably laugh cause I wont feel a thing.

I have days that I'd wake up and I cant even recognize myself

Or to hear either my mom or bf panic cause my face has changed literally

I have days I can't hear anything aside from the constant drilling in my ears

There are days that I have either this ringing thing on my ear.

Or like some sort of a frequency noise that i cant shut off

I dont know what quiet means sometimes

Normally i'd lock my ass in my room

Being anti social is something i have grown accustomed to.

I have lost most of my hair

Gained back some... (i look like Alfalfa btw)

Then am losing them again?! Like WTF?

I got weird skin rashes. Like mini boils. Sometimes red spots.

I tend to lose weight in less than a month just like magic

Then go bloat and be as big as a whale

I get drop attacks and kiss the floor because Im a loving person

There are days Im incoherent. I cant read well or type well.

I have days that going to the bathroom to pee is just a hassle

I need to constantly hold on to someone to not fall

Dropping things on the floor scare me to death cause im scared of reaching down only to have my world spin around. The anxiety!

I have days when the attacks go as long days to weeks.

Sometimes I go to work only to be fetched by my Bf from the emergency room.

I have days I dont tell my mom about cause she's a big worry wart 🤫🤫🤫

Hmmmm...I miss showering and being able to tilt my head back

I have severe attacks of asthma that its fucking painful to breathe

Times when im shaking cause im high from ventolin and seretide 😂

Days I cant tell if im off pitch, sometimes its painful to sing cause i have pressure in my ears

Migraines and vertigo are like my left and right boobies theyre just there.

I have days that Im thankful to be able to sit up from my bed without feeling like death.

I dont think people understand how stressful and frustrating it is to explain how horribly sick you feel on the inside when you dont always look sick on the outside. It never occured to me that one day, i would wake up. I'd get sick and never get better. (Because MD has no cure).

When you're frustrated at me because of the things I cannot do, just imagine how frustrated I must be because I am not able.

So I will do my best not to judge anyone about any ignorant comments that i may hear. Cause I am a strong person. I will wish everyone the best and hope that you may never have to go through this kind of chronic illness.

Oh and yes KPOP SAVED MY LIFE more times than I can count. #SpreadingHope #benicetopeople #chronicillness #MenieresDiseaseAwareness #alopeciaawareness

[empanator]

Countess Care

A fic I’ve been rushing to get out into the world since the Nadia is baby discussion (started by @prakranwomanswh0re) arose the other day. I don’t normally write stuff of this nature, but it had to be done! Nadia lovers, please enjoy taking care of the lovely Countess while she has a bad migraine :( (Brief guest appearances by Portia and Asra). 

Nadia x Apprentice; 2,187 words (4 full pages)

It’s the middle of the morning, and Nadia still hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She insisted that she wanted to carry on with her daily responsibilities, but after a long struggle getting out of bed and freshened up, I was able to convince her to consider her health first and take the day off.

She has been nursing a migraine that just won’t seem to quit. These intermittent migraines, the ones that have been plaguing her since she awoke from years of sleep, tend to subside within minutes. However, as we’ve grown so much closer to unraveling the mysteries surrounding the late Count’s death, they have been growing stronger and lasting longer. Last night into this morning has been the worst we’ve seen yet. And we’ve tried every tea, every medicine, and every therapy in the palace, but to no avail.

Thankfully, Portia is already making her rounds ensuring all of Nadia’s appointments are rescheduled or canceled. She made sure to check in several times throughout the night, fetching water and other assorted things as needed while I remained in Nadia’s quarters to keep her company and assist her however she needed. Nadia didn’t ask me for anything, though; she said that just having me around was enough.

We are sitting side by side now on the chaise lounge before our half-eaten breakfasts and tea when she takes my hand into her own. She takes a deep breath and speaks.

“Are you not tired? You haven’t slept at all.” Her confident tone shines through the darkness as usual, but I can hear an undercurrent of something uncertain or feeble trying to break free. She pulls out one hundred percent of her strength one hundred percent of the time; it’s a wonder how she does it. It’s a wonder how she can bear so much and not waver. But her voice did waver.

“What about you?”

Nadia seems shocked. “What about me?”

“Well, you haven’t slept either.” I sweep a stray lock of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger. She closes her eyes and tilts into my touch. I continue, “Of course I’m tired… But I need to make sure you’re okay and taken care of.”

“You don’t need to take care of me.” She is looking away now, a hint of shame held within her red eyes. “I wouldn’t like to make a fuss and have you spend your time and energy in this way. If you’d like to get some rest, please do not worry about me.”

“But I want to, Nadia. Right now, this is how I want to spend my time and energy. You’ve offered me a break several times since the migraine started last night, but I will continue to stay by your side until we figure this out.” My fingers caress the back of her neck under a purple waterfall of luscious, long hair. “I care about you, Nadia. So much. Do you not believe that? That I would willingly—no, gladly not rest until I know you’re safe and healthy?”

Nadia looks up to meet my eyes, slowly so as not to further aggravate the pain and dizziness. “I… I suppose it’s not something I am used to. Accepting such a personal level of support from someone, that is.” She sighs with relief. “I do believe you. And thank you for being so patient with me in this time of distress.”

“Good, I’m glad you believe me. You deserve to have someone looking out for you. You are allowed to ask for help or accept it when it is offered.”

Softness and gratitude overcome her expression, but they are quickly replaced by doubt. Finally, the worries she has been holding in spill out. “I’ve tried all my usual remedies,” she begins with defeated frustration. “I’ve spent countless hours awake, enduring this cursed malady that I have no control over. I managed on my own all the other times, but I never could have expected it to get this consuming. I feel as though nothing is going to lift this pain.”

I gaze into her worried eyes as I hang onto to every word. When she is done speaking, I wrap my arms around her, guiding her to nest into my embrace. She leans into me, and I try not to put too much pressure on her head with my chin. I can only hold her and rub her back as I, too, am uncertain about how to help. For what feels like several minutes, I scan the room. I’m searching for anything that we might have missed, anything to give me an idea of how to help when, suddenly, something outside the window catches my eye. There, out in the garden, is a thriving rosa chinensis hedge. My heart skips as I recall all the flowers and herbs Asra and I have collected for our shop, each one passing through my mind’s eye like a roulette until, finally, I see the one that might save the day.

“Nadia. I… think I know of something that can help. But I’ll have to go into town to get it.”

Her head is no longer tucked into my neck as she now holds my face in her hands. Deep-red eyes once again meet mine, and she forces a smile. “I trust you.”

“You stay here, okay?”

I take her hand into mine and kiss the back of it before getting up to leave. As I walk away, she is slow to let go. I look back at her somber eyes and put on a brave face for her, smile and all.

“Don’t worry, Nadia. I’ll be back before you know it.”

~~~~~~~

Asra is startled by the shop door flinging open as I briskly cross the entryway with a quick, out of breath “Hi, Asra.” I rummage through the various shelves, cabinets, and boxes of magical supplies.

“Hey! Is there something wrong—are you in any trouble?”

“I just… need to find…” I can’t seem to think straight as I leaf through pages of pressed-herb books and checking rows of specimen bottles before finally letting my brain slow its roll to examine the situation clearly. “Sorry, Asra,” I take a deep breath and sigh. “I’m in a hurry to bring Nadia some bonica leaf tea. She’s been suffering through a seemingly endless migraine, and I thought we kept the dried petals over… here?”

Asra laughs, “You’ve been away working in the palace for a while; I guess you haven’t been here since I did a bit of reorganizing. Here,” he reaches to pluck a few petals hanging overhead. An assortment of flowers and herbs are strung between the ceiling beams, drying and curing in preparation for rituals that enhance their inherent magical properties.

He places three leaves of the bonica rose into a pouch. “Take these. But they haven’t been treated yet, so they won’t clear the migraine on their own.” He snaps off some bits of yucca root he has laid out in strips by the window and places them into the pouch as well.

“Are you sure you want me to use this? Yucca is one of our rarest items.” Asra and I use the yucca root as an accelerant—or rather a way to bypass the ritual aspect involved in elevating an ingredient’s magic. It is compatible with most magical plants, and it is not the easiest to come by. I guess it makes sense for something so powerful to be so sparse.

“Of course I’m sure! I trust that it won’t go to waste in your hands.” He smiles with soft sincerity. “And Nadia needs this. She needs you.”

Relief washes over me. “Thank you so much, Asra. You’re a lifesaver. I’ve got to hurry back, but maybe we can all catch up sometime soon?”

“I’d love that!” Asra smiled wide.

~~~~~~~

Slowly, I open the door to Nadia’s room, sliding in and shutting the door behind me with barely a sound. I have with me a steaming kettle from the kitchen, thanks to Portia who spotted me in the hall, and the bonica leaf and yucca root from Asra in my satchel. Sitting on the chaise just as before, now with her head in her hands, it looks like Nadia hardly moved from when I left her. She lifts her head to glance in my direction, but quickly sniffs and wipes under her eyes with a small cloth. Had she been crying?

“…Nadia?” I rush to her, setting the kettle on the tea table and kneeling before her.

“This is unbearable.” Of course she is talking about the pain, but it seems as though she’s also dreading showing me this side of her. Yet here she is. Nadia, a pillar of strength and power, vulnerable in the honesty of pain, opening up to my care, admitting that her condition is more than she can handle. Maybe more than anyone could handle. But I have confidence that we can overcome this.

“Nadia, look… it’s okay.” I wipe away a fresh tear from her cheek with my thumb and kiss the skin. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I brought something that should put an end to this.”

I lay the ingredients on a saucer that was on the tea table. I begin arranging the yucca root into a core and, with a thread I pulled from the pouch Asra gave me earlier, I tie the bonica leaves around that core. This is to ensure that the leaves fully envelop the bits of root and absorb all of its power when steeped in hot water. I place the completed ball in the center of an empty teacup and pour just enough steaming water from the kettle to submerge it. After a few seconds, the steam acquires a light pink hue, and the sweet scent of roses dances through the air.

“Come, let’s get you comfortable while the tea is finishing up.” I stand in front of her and extend my hands for her to grab onto. I feel a surprising amount of force as she pulls herself up, and I have to adjust myself to support her more than I expected. She does not look to be very steady, so I walk her to the bed and help her sit there. I can tell that the tea is ready now, so I bring her the cup and saucer.

Before she takes a sip, she hesitates. “Would you come into bed with me?” She looks almost afraid to ask this of me; perhaps pushing past her feelings of self-reliance to request more attention from me is still not easy for her to do, but I am all in.

I don’t even blush at the thought of joining the countess in her bed. Instead, I pull some curtains closed to block out the sun high in the sky and crawl in to sit with my back against the headboard. I offer to let her cozy up to me, and she accepts.

Nadia is here in my arms, leaning into my chest and taking one little sip of tea at a time. I loosen and remove whatever jewelry and other adornments from her hair that I can find, brushing close to her scalp with my fingertips to relieve any tension. I know the effects of the tea are not instant, so I wait a few minutes before checking in.

“How are you feeling?”

Nadia, with about half of the cup empty now, said flatly, “Sickened from exhaustion.” She took another sip and mustered up a more positive tone. “But the dreaded migraine… it is now but a twinge. And I have you to thank for that.”

“It should disappear completely by the time you finish your tea. But you may not notice until you sleep off the exhaustion. Even I’ve got a bit of a headache from being awake for so long.” I massage her shoulders and upper back. “If you don’t mind, maybe I could stay here with you for some much-needed rest.”

“Is that so?”  Nadia grins and gulps down the rest of her tea. “Tea’s done. Shall we get on with it?”

I laugh and take her dishes to place them on the bedside table. “I’m glad to hear your humor again. Come here.” I fluff some pillows and lie down on my back, patting my chest as an invitation for her to lie with—or on—me.

Turning to face me, she lies down and rolls into my arms. Her chest presses against my stomach and her head rests on my chest.

I ask, “Are you comfortable?” I feel her head nodding in approval, and I can see that her eyes are already closed. With one hand, I comb my fingers through her hair, and hold her hand with the other. I can feel myself dozing, comforted by the serenity that has risen in the room between our steady breaths and the silence of oncoming slumber.

She calls my name, barely above a whisper. “Thank you. For everything.”

And with that, we drift off to sleep.

[poorlittleangels]

Spared the pain

Hi all, here's a little something I've been working on lately. It's about my OC Calen, a young man who works as a teacher at a boarding school alongside his friend Daniel. One night he returns from dinner with Daniel and his wife Eline feeling less than well. And so ...

Content warning: hospital, medicine (pills, injections), mentions of death/wanting to die, extreme pain, vomit

---

He lifted his shirt to look at his stomach. It was very slender and pale, a soft, smooth underbelly marked only by a trail of light hair leading between his legs and a vaguely heart-shaped birthmark on the right side. He rubbed at his stomach gently in an attempt to soothe the pain, wondering what could be causing it. He had eaten quite a heavy dinner at Daniel and Eline's home, and perhaps the cream sauce and spices weren't agreeing with him. That, or he had overindulged on desserts and a cup too much of wine, and was paying his due penance for it. How could you blame him, anyway? It wasn't his fault Eline made such a rich coconut cake, and he hasn't drank in months. He sighed and pushed himself off the bed, clutching at his abdomen. He would be alright, he supposed, if he used the bathroom, washed up, and had a good long rest. Very little couldn't be made better with a hot bath and a good night's sleep.

After he'd taken his bath, he dressed in clean white pajamas and warm socks. He made himself a cup of mint tea, hoping it would settle his stomach, and took some stomach medicine as well, just for good measure. The two little pink pills didn't go down easily, though. He felt nauseated putting anything in his mouth.

Finally, he drained the last sip of his mug and settled into bed for the night, content but still feeling a nagging ache in his midsection. Lying on his side, he could hear it making gurgling noises, feel it squeezing gases around, working extra hard to digest his meal. Sweating slightly, shaking a bit when the pain grew, he tried to ignore the pain and distract himself to fall asleep.

He eventually succeeded, since he found himself awake the next day with light pouring in through the curtains. The very first thing he noticed was the pain. Oh, gods, please, the pain! It was worse than anything he'd felt in his life, somehow worse than when he'd broken his arm as a child, or the migraine that left him immobile for two days. This was a different breed of dragon. His organs felt like they'd been twisted inside out and set afire. His stomach, especially, right under his ribs, was cramping so furiously it brought the first tears to his eyes. His intestines writhed like angry snakes and his whole belly felt uncomfortably full and heavy, gurgling and blooming with new pain as his guts shifted around.

The more aware he became, the worse the pain became as well. Never being one to tolerate pain well, now Calen was unsure if he could stay conscious. Tears leaked down his cheeks and chin and pooled on his pillow, making his cheeks and nose sticky. He cried out into the dim room, whimpering and moaning. He could barely move, let alone speak a coherent sentence, and screaming was his only distraction and relief.

The second thing he became aware of was a tightness in his throat. His mouth had started to fill with a metallic saliva and his hands were shaking. Something felt like it was threatening to come up. He managed to lean over the edge of the bed and reach his wastebasket under his chair, dragging it to the edge of the bed. Unable to sit up, he leaned his face over the bin and sighed shallow, shaking breaths until he coughed and finally vomited.

A torrent of puke hit the plastic liner of the bin, white and sticky like porridge and with soft chunks of half-digested food. A little trail of pink in there, too- some red wine making its way back up. Calen's stomach squeezed in on itself, driving the liquid up his gullet and past his lips violently. The pain seized him even more, and he was feeling faint. He hung his head over the bin, sobbing in between vomiting, gagging at the horrible smell. He begged the gods for the pain to stop, to pass out, to die. It was simply too much to bear. He eventually must've exhausted himself, or been in so much pain, that he fell unconscious, head on his arm, facing a basket of his own puke.

The next hours passed in misery. Once in a while Calen would awaken, get sick again, and be unable to escape the pain tearing his stomach up. He no longer was aware of the room around him, of anything but his own blinding pain. He screamed and cried without deciding to; it was simply all he could do, to survive moment to moment. Sweat poured down his brow and his throat had gone hoarse from his crying and the bitter dregs of bile he spit up. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even lay a hand on his stomach without it cramping even more horribly. And then, his pleading and prayers would come true for a few minutes, and he'd succumb to the pain and mercifully black out, going limp, only for things to start back up in due time, even when his body had nothing at all left to give.

He awoke later to a soft, gentle noise. The voice was familiar, deep and a bit rough, but spoke barely above a whisper. It took some concentration to understand it.

"Calen? Calen, are you awake? Oh, dear..."

He heard plastic crinkling and then someone's footsteps in the kitchen. His visitor must have tied up the bag of vomit and thrown it out for him. They returned to his bedside.

His body was completely exhausted. He didn't have the strength to open his eyes. He felt a warm touch on his shoulder, a hand rubbing his back.

"Calen, it's Daniel. Can you hear me? Gods, you look awful..."

With some effort he managed to open his eyes. Daniel was sitting on the edge of his bed, face sunk with concern. The room was pale gray and smelled of sick. He could make out the clock; it was a little past noon.

"There you are. I've been so worried. When you didn't show up today the main office called you three times, but when you didn't pick up they asked me to come check on you. My, I'm glad I did... You look like you've been suffering..."

He pressed the back of his hand to Calen's forehead. "Hm, you don't feel warm... But you've been vomiting, yes?"

Calen nodded. Suddenly he curled in on himself, attacked by a sudden cramp. Tears stung his dry eyes and a gasp escapes his lips. The pain refused to relent. He tried to scream, but his throat was raw. Daniel's eyes widened in shock.

"Calen? Calen, what's wrong? Is your stomach okay?"

"H-hurts..." He whined. "Hurts so bad... Please, please make it stop, just make it stop, I can't take it anymore, it won't stop..."

Daniel's tone dropped to a grave note. "Calen, I think we ought to get you to the hospital."

Calen didn't reply. Really, he couldn't articulate himself because of the pain. He continued whimpering, wailing, begging for mercy.

Daniel had taken his telephone and called for a doctor, his hand rubbing between Calen's shoulderblades, trying desperately to soothe him even a bit. Calen was barely aware of what was happening. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, new voices. He felt cool, gloved hands on his arms, and something prickly pushed into the inside of his elbow. After that, the world grew dimmer and dimmer. The pain dulled to a low throb, and his eyes grew very heavy. Before he knew it he was in a heavy, dresmless sleep.

He awoke, eyes shut, in a bright room. It smelled of cleaning products and something slightly sour. People were walking in and out and in a hall outside. He must be in a hospital. For some reason his limbs were leaden and even to move was an enormous effort. He couldn't think properly either.

"Sir?" someone said "Calen Callophan?"

He pried his eyes open with a massive effort. A nurse was standing over his bed, some kind of monitor in his hand.

"You're finally awake. That's good. Don't be alarmed. You're on some pretty heavy painkillers right now and you might be feeling a little loopy."

"W-what happened?" He coughed, his throat feeling very dry. The nurse handed him a glass of water, which he graciously accepted. The nurse took his temperature and blood pressure and counted his heartbeats, and, satisfied with the results, put away his instruments.

"You've contracted a rare stomach infection and you'll need to be on pain medicine for a few days before you can go home and work. We don't have a cure for it, so you'll just need to wait it out."

"Am I going to be okay? How long was I out?" Calen was beginning to feel quite tired already, and his eyes had trouble focusing.

"You've been sedated for about five hours. It's almost dinnertime. We'll have you try some broth and juice, if you feel up to it."

So the days passed, Calen awake for little of the day, the medicine in his veins needing to be so strong to spare him the pain that he could only manage an hour or so of wakefulness at a time. It wasn't all bad, though. He drank hot broth and cool juice and, when he could manage that, a bit of porridge. Daniel or Eline stopped by a few times to see him, Daniel brining him a few yellow chrysanthemums in a vase, Eline brining some of her homemade clear soup, which he found delicious and nourishing. She fretted now more than ever about how thin he was and how she wouldn't stand to see him lose any weight. He was grateful, and with their best efforts he actually managed to put on a pound or two, owing to how little activity he was doing. By the time he could return to work he felt far better, though still recovering strength and needing plenty of rest at nights. Slowly he recovered fully, though, not meaning to offend Eline, he did swear off coconut cake for a while after.

[turnaboutimagines]

Hi! Can I get an imagine for either Miles Edgeworth or Phoenix Wright with an S/O that has the Hanahaki Disease and they are trying to confess their love to them but each day is becoming painful and you can decide how it ends! If that is ok?

Content Warning: This is ANGST, pals.  Major canon character death in the first one.  Reader death in both.  Not a pleasant way to go either, for that matter.  I tried to prevent this from being too graphic, but there is some.  Please read with care if any of that may be sensitive for you.  💚  I wrote for both of them because I personally really enjoy this trope for angst.For those who may not be familiar with it, Hanahaki Disease is a trope where one’s unrequited love manifests itself as coughing up flower petals and progressively worsens until it’s fatal—unless the love ends up being reciprocated!  In which case it’s cured.  (Spoiler alert: that’s not the case here.)

Miles Edgeworth.

It started after the two of you started growing close, when the ice around his heart finally began to thaw.  You saw a side of him that was… endearing and sweet.  A side of him that you’d wanted to see more of because it always made your heart flutter in your chest.

You’d just left his office with a stupid smile on your face when a coughing fit overtook you.  A rose petal.  Stark white against your palm.  It shape and color reminded you of the cravat he often wore.  The thought pooled like lead in your stomach, knowing that it was precisely thoughts like that which led you there.

“I must admit that romantic entanglements seem like a waste of time to me.  I don’t see the appeal…”

He’d said that to you a couple of weeks ago over some tea and you’d agreed in spite of yourself.  Hearing it had stung for a reason you didn’t quite understand then and you hadn’t been able to place it at the time, but that insidious little petal made it all far too clear as to why.

Those words continued to coil around your heart like the thorned stems of roses, digging in each time you tried to confess over the ensuing months.  And with each time you failed, the harder it became to breathe as more rose petals—both red and white—began to erupt from your lungs with greater frequency.  Because the love you held for him never wilted, it only grew more vivid.

You’d coughed up a full rose head that morning—white and stained with your blood that you knew your time was almost up.  So, you might as well tell him and you come up with an excuse to head up to his office in order to do just that.

But the words die in your throat once again because as you looked at him… you realize just how fragile he suddenly seems.  The look in his eyes mirrored your own, pained and exhausted and with it, your resolve turned to ash on your tongue.  It was selfish, wasn’t it?  To burden him with it when you were already on death’s door. 

He didn’t love you, but he didn’t deserve that kind of guilt weighing down on his shoulders.  You just wanted him to be happy… he deserved it after all he’s been through.

Miles waited a few moments, giving you a chance to speak up before he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a spark of hope in his eyes?  At least, you thought that was what it was, you’d seen that look before whenever you were about to make a spectacularly stupid move while playing chess with him.  It was charming.

“You said that there was something you needed to tell me, yes?”

It took you a moment to swallow the petals that began to unfurl in your throat.  Thankfully they were small enough that it wasn’t too painful… or maybe you were just getting too used to the discomfort.

“Right.  I…just… wanted to say thank you.”

The furrow between his brows deepened, confused but that little glimmer was still in his gaze.  “For what, precisely?”

You wanted to tell him, then.  That look on his face made you want to… but you couldn’t, the petals rising in your throat like aromatic bile.

“For being such a good friend to me lately,” you said, trying to sound like you meant it.  That you didn’t want more than that with him.  “And I was hoping that maybe I could treat you to some dinner tonight, if work allows?”

At the word ‘friend’ he looked away, always shy around your sentimentality.  “Ah, yes…I believe I’d like that very much, my friend.”

There was a sorrow to it that you didn’t expect.  One that you didn’t question, because you knew he likely just had something troubling on his mind, perhaps there was a memory on his mind.  Your hand flexed at your side, wanting to comfort him.  But perhaps he’d tell you about it tonight?  It was always better when he came to you with things, but in the meantime… you could at least take his mind off of it for a final time.

“Great!  The usual time and place, then?”

He let out a small sigh and looked at you with a ghost of a fond smile on his face.  “Yes, that will work just fine.”

But the light was gone, cold resignation in its place.  You really hoped he’d talk with you about it.

Neither of you seemed to know what to say next, but you don’t have to.  He leaned forward with his shoulders hunched up, expression contorted with pain pain as he seemed to battle against something.

“E-Edgeworth!?”  You lurch forward with a hand reached out to him, wanting to help—

He held a hand up to tell you to not come any closer, keeping his eyes focused on his desk—face away from yours as he tried to recompose himself.  You didn’t want to, but you stopped.

“I’m sorry… it’s a migraine.” Miles’s voice came out strained, painful to listen to because you could hear how much agony he was in.  “But could you please leave?  I… need the quiet.”

“Of course…”

He’d been having more of them lately, likely just a side effect from his work.  But you couldn’t say that you’d been upset about it, because it gave you a proper excuse to leave the office and go have a coughing fit in the bathroom.

You just hoped that he’d forgive you for what was likely one last act of selfishness… just one more evening together.  That’s all you could ask for.

It was a lovely, bittersweet evening, you couldn’t have asked for a better night… even if you had to come up with some ridiculous excuses to get away to the bathroom to shield him from the ugly truth of the matter.  You caught him staring at you more than once, as if he was tempted to say something about whatever was on his mind but ultimately never did.

Perhaps it was for the best, it wasn’t like you could really do anything about it aside from offer him a sympathetic ear…

And the following morning, you rushed to the toilet like usual, nauseous and choking as the flowers began to block your airways.  But unlike usual, too many were blooming too quickly and you crumpled to your knees before you could even make it halfway across your bedroom.

Too much…  It was too much…  You loved him too much…!

…

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth is found dead the same morning, lily roots tangled in his lungs—having choked on the slender petals like the words he never said.

Phoenix Wright.

It was hard not to fall in love with Phoenix, although you resisted it for as long as you possibly could.  He was witty and sharp, yet simultaneously incredibly unlucky and silly at times.  There was never a boring moment with him and… you always felt cared for in his presence.  He made you feel like how the sunshine feels against your skin a beautiful summer’s day.

But you didn’t inspire such feelings in him, did you?  He looked at you like he looked at all his other friends—not like the way you looked at him.

The yellow petal that came from your throat confirmed as much to you: a brilliant representation of your darkest thoughts.  And you knew then that you were going to take these feelings to your early grave.

Yet you remained by his side far later into your illness than you should have, unable to stay away from him in the past.  You knew it’d only make it all hurt more… and so you started to force yourself to pull away from him.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”  A famous adage and one you didn’t know the truth of until.  As much as you tried to stop thinking of him, the long yellow petals that forced themselves up your throat were a constant reminder of the man you were trying so hard to forget.  Even as they started coming out in clumps with drops of blood splattered across them, the thoughts of him were still sweet and comforting through your agony.

You missed his jokes, the ones that always made you feel better when you were feeling down, but you missed his smile most of all.  And with those memories, came more petals.  It was a vicious cycle.

However, you didn’t account for how perceptive Nick could be, especially when it came to his friends.  Which you just so happened to be, still.

Friends.

That’s all you were and yet, you found yourself seated on the sofa as soft sunlight filtered through the blinds.  You knew that going there was likely a mistake, but you’d taken great care to make yourself look presentable and not on the verge of death.

One last visit… just to say goodbye.

“So, what’s going on?”  He asked you as he sat down beside you on the couch in his office.  Maya wasn’t there, just the two of you.  “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Nothing…?”  You shifted awkwardly on the sofa, refusing to meet his eyes as you shrugged.  “It’s nothing major, anyways.  I’ve just… been busy.“

Even as you said it, you could feel how unconvincing it sounded, something that would not be lost on your lawyer friend.

“Aha, so you are hiding something from me!”  His finger was in your face, a force of habit, one that you’d always found quite endearing.

You started at that, giving him as severe of a look as you could muster,  “Y-You were just bluffing?!”

“I mean,” he started with an abashed grin, rubbing the back of his neck in that way you adored.  “Not entirely?  You’ve been avoiding me as of late, so I just kinda figured… that something’s been going on.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“So, what’s going on?”

“…”

“…You know you can come to me for anything, right?” he asked as the very same hand came to rest on your shoulder.

“I know I can but… it really is nothing, Phoenix.  Just been too busy with work, you know?  It happens sometimes.  Don’t worry about it.”

A bluff.  Something you’d learned to do by observing him, but maybe that’s why his eyes narrowed.  Or maybe he’d just done this song and dance before.

“I don’t believe that.  You wouldn’t just avoid me for no reason.”

The tension is unbearable because you knew that he’s doing this because he cares.  It’s why you felt this way toward him to begin with.

“Phoenix… I’m fine, really!”  You let out a laugh at that, more nervous than you liked as you stood up.  “Why do you insist on this?  I haven’t done anything but ignore you, that doesn’t exactly warrant this type of interrogation.”

“Because I just—I know that something’s wrong and I want to help.”  He stood up then, frowning.  “I want to help you.  Please.”

It must’ve been a gut instinct thing, then.  Damn his intuition… 

“You can’t save everybody, Wright.”  His last name came out more spite than intended, but it wasn’t directed at him.  “Maybe I’ve backed off because I want to help you?  Did you ever think of that?”

“Why would I?  You’re my friend!  Of course I want to spend time with you and help you, there isn’t a situation where I wouldn’t…”

You’ve said too much already.  You couldn’t answer his question, although knowing him… he’d figure things out after you’d leave.  He was always smart like that.  So, you turned on your heel and left.  Or tried to, at least.

He called out your name, but you kept heading toward the door.  It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist, voice stormy with exasperation and dripping with concern.  “Please, stop being so stubborn and just talk with me.  You’re worrying me.”

You didn’t look behind you.  You couldn’t.  The feeling of his fingers clinging desperately your wrist was enough to bring tears to your eyes.  He cared so much about you, but not in the way that you needed him to.

It was hard to breathe for a moment, choking on the petals rising in your throat before you managed to swallow them back down to borrow some more time.  Just enough…

“I…I’m sorry, but I can’t.  There’s really nothing you can do and talking won’t help.”  You yanked your hand from his wrist before grabbing the handle of the door and pushing it open. “Thank you for everything.”

“What is that supposed to—”

You slammed the door shut behind you and ran as far as you could before hacking up the petals and seeds from your lungs.  It was hurting too much, your throat felt raw and breathing was getting harder and harder, ears ringing with the tinny sound of your cellphone’s ringtone.  You needed to get home.

Everything was a blur by the time you got back, something large was obstructing your airway, moving up through it.  You’d barely made it through the door before you fell to your knees, unable to breathe through all the pain. And your phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing—

…

Phoenix Wright started carrying his badge in his pocket after that incident, unable to look at the symbolic sunflower without thinking of you and remembering his failure.

Why had he been so blind…?