#i had a migraine the whole time i drew this i hope it’s okay ^^;

[poppybros-jr]

I managed to find Shade Knight this time! And I got my lil bro/super awesome friend Anti to help, too!

Shade Knight is really cool! I don’t know him very well yet, but Anti knows him much better than I do, so between us we’ve made a list of reasons why you should vote for him!

- He’s a brave star warrior who’s part of the GSA! He’s very strong and kind and is always happy to help people! He’s an inspiration to so many people!

- He can shapeshift! Don’t you think that’s the coolest thing ever? I wish I could shapeshift too! I could reach all the high shelves! Not that that’s a problem for Shade, he’s tall already!

- He’s Anti’s big brother! Not mine, just Anti’s. But Anti says he’s a really awesome brother, and I believe him!

- This reason is a bit sillier, but… He was doing this thing a while ago where he was dressing up to look like other contestants, and he was killing it! He looks great in any outfit!

Vote for Shade Knight!

Shade Knight belongs to @rosiegardenlove . Thank you @boa35 for letting me include Anti!

@kirbyoctournament

[dragonsarecool]

June of Doom Day 18 - Headache

A/N: Doc sometimes get too absorbed in his projects. A short piece set a few years prior to Part I.

By some miracle from the heavens, he'd managed to arrive for work early.

For fourteen-year-old Marty, given how often Strickland seemed to bombard him with tardy slips and trips to detention, it was most definitely a rare occasion. He was grateful that even when he was running late, Doc never spoke harshly to him or even acknowledged it half the time.

I just hope he doesn't mind that I am early for once…

The young man rang the doorbell twice before letting himself inside. "Yo, Doc!" Marty placed his skateboard next to the doormat, shuffling his backpack off his shoulders. "You here, Doc?"

Although he still didn't receive a response, he wasn't that concerned. Sometimes Doc was so wrapped up in whatever he was working on that until Marty tapped him on the shoulder, he had no idea he was there. This had resulted in a number of unintentional jumpscares until Doc decided to finally fix his doorbell, giving Marty a tool to announce his arrival. "Doc?..."

What did make him concerned was the sudden appearance of a frantic Einstein, barking and whining as he sprinted towards Marty. The faithful canine jumped towards the teenager, wailing as he tried to grab a piece of his shirt in his mouth.

"Einstein!" Marty attempted to calm the furry companion, failing to dodge the projectiles of spit flying at him. "Einstein, it's alright boy! Where's Doc?"

A sudden clattering from the back of the house made him jump, causing Einstein to abandon his obsession with the teenager and charge down the hallway, barking furiously as he went. Now starting to feel worried, Marty cautiously followed the canine into the depths of the house. "Doc? You okay?"

If the scientist did respond, Marty couldn't hear his reply over Einstein's wails. "Geez, Einy, calm down!" He ducked his head into the kitchen as he passed, though he found himself doing a double take as he realised there was an uneaten bowl of cereal and glass of milk adorning the kitchen bench. One sniff was enough to confirm his suspicions that it'd been out of the fridge for several hours, and he frowned in disgust. Did Doc even have breakfast this morning?…He's always telling me how its bad for you to skip food.

Einstein's yapping drew his attention back to the present, and Marty found himself trailing behind the dog as he led the teenager towards the back living room, and his panic only rose as he noticed the lights were off. "Doc?"

He went to flip the light switch when a strangled noise of protest made him jump. "Doc!"

Squinting through the dim light he managed to make out a familiar shape curled up on Einstein's dog bed, still dressed in a lab coat that desperately needed a run through the wash. Doc's hands were clutching at his hair, his fingers absently massaging his scalp through the strands as he kept his face firmly buried in the depths of a pillow.

It didn't take Marty long to work out what was wrong; he'd seen Doc in this state enough times to know the drill. "Another migraine?"

The scientist could only manage a low hum in response and Marty sighed numbly. That's the second one this month! And it's only the tenth!…

For God's sake, Doc, I told you that you gotta look after yourself! You can't work for twenty-six hours straight!

Marty leaned against the doorframe, glaring at the linoleum floor with He felt guilty for being so frustrated with the situation presented before him. Doc was an adult, after all, and therefore capable of looking after himself.

At the same time though, all he could see in that curled-up profile on the couch was his mother after a couple of bottles of wine.

At least Doc had the decency and humility to thank him after each episode had passed. His own mother usually didn't remember him cleaning up her vomit or placing a damp cloth on her forehead.

I'm getting too good at this whole 'nursing' bullshit.

Deciding to keep his thoughts private, Marty gave Einstein a thankful pat before he turned towards the kitchen. "I'll grab your water, Doc."

[blackcat2907]

A Smoothie: A Camp Half-Blood Story

@lukecastellanshandholder @batgirlgeek @hiraganasakura @off-with-medusas-head @thedaydreamemperor

Sneeze. Okay, Luke did NOT need to be sick today. He was still a camp counselor and wouldn't be leaving until the end of summer. Two whole months laid ahead of him. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover had returned a few days ago. "ACHOO!" Luke jumped, startled by Connor sneezing. "Ow!" Travis yelled as a bow that suspiciously looked liked Chiron'a hit him in the head.

"Okay, why did you steal that?" Luke groaned, feeling a migraine coming on. He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

...He couldn't do this. Turns out, half the Hermes cabin was sick. Connor, Travis, and Chris would summon an item they stole every time they sneezed or coughed which meant room was rapidly running out. Clovis coughed and everyone was hit with severe drowsiness. Lou Ellen sneezed and a camper turned into a cat. Lovely.

"Everyone, stay calm. No one leaves this cabin until I get back, understood?" Luke did his best Camp Mom™ voice. Everyone agreed, most too tired to get out of bed. Luke stormed out of the cabin toward the Apollo cabin to either get Lee or Will. "HEY! OPEN UP!" he yelled, banging on the golden door, narrowing his eyes against the brightness.

"Luke, what do you want?" Lee Fletcher, Apollo cabin counselor, groaned, sounding terrible. He was stuffy, his eyes were red snd puffy, and he could coughed every few minutes.

"Half of my cabin is sick, and I came to get you or Will, but I can see you guys are sick as well?" Luke tilted his head, looking inside. All of the Apollo campers were horribly sick. Some were literally glowing, others made musical instruments play without touching them, and some only spoke in poetry or song. "Nevermind," he sighed. "I'll go check on the other cabins."

Turns out, most of the camp was sick. Just great. The campers who weren't sick were instructed to stay in the Big House. Luke was staying in the Big House. Clarisse, Percy, Nyssa, Malcolm, Miranda, Will, Annabeth, Castor and Drew were all in the Big House. Literally everyone else was sick. Chiron mentioned this sickness was one he hadn't seen in many, many years. It was a virus that only infect demigods (absolutely wonderful. Just perfect! Amazing!) and made their powers go haywire. (Ugh.)

The next few weeks were horrible. Walking around camp was like walking through a live minefield. However, Luke didn't care. He was a son of Hermes who thrived on a little danger. He and Percy were in the arena, sparring. Luke did feel bad. Percy was a good kid, but he stood in Luke's way and needed to be taken out.

"Thank you," Percy smiled, confusing Luke. "For not treating me any differently because I survived," the son of Poseidon clarified. "I don't like all the attention."

"No problem," Luke smiled with all teeth. "I'm glad you sur--ACHOO!" Luke sneezed.

"Gesundheit," Percy said before his eyes widened. "Luke...what do you have there?"

Luke looked down and cursed in Ancient Greek. (Percy was glad he didn't understand what Luke said.) "A Smoothie," Luke deadpanned, coughing again and a blue slushies from 7/11 appeared, dumping all over him and the master bolt currently in his hands. "Dam it," Luke groaned. Now he was caught red handed and sticky.

"You stole the master bolt?" Percy whispered, stepping back.

"I did?" Luke feigned innocence. "Percy, I am sick. My powers are going haywire. That's probably why it's in my hands," he bullshitted, hoping Percy would believe him.

"Okay..." Percy hesitantly replied. Luke sighed. "I should probably get this to Dionysus. Or you should. I must go quarantine with the others." He dropped the bolt. "And shower," he grumbled, shaking a glob of slushies off of his hand.

Luke sneezed again and more items fell tot be ground, a left shoe that belong to Hermes hitting Percy in the head. Next thing he knew, a mountain of left shoes fell on him. "How did you manage to steal all of this!?" Percy shouted at Luke who cackled.

"Let's just say I wanted child support and took something of his," Luke snickered, imagining how confused Hermes would be to see all of his left shoes missing...again. Now that was an adventure Luke would never forget. A year after his quest, Luke, being a petty bitch, stole all of Hermes' left shoes. He even blamed it on Apollo.

"YOU SON OF A--" Lee Fletcher screamed, aiming a bow at the Hermes kids, Luke stood to the side, confused. "What in Hades is going on!?"

"THEY STOLE THE PLUSHIES!" Lee snarled, eyes glowing with rage. "THEY TOOK ALL FIFTY PLUSHIES!"

"The cow ones?" Luke asked.

"YES THE COW ONES!" Lee shouted back.

"Well, simple, keep a better eye on them. I am going to sleep. Settle this yourselves." Luke shrugged, going into the showers before collapsing on his bunk. Maybe things would be better in the morning.

Things were not, and now the entire camp was sick. Luke hated his life.

Bonus scene: if Nico was at camp

Nico coughed and tons of chibi skeletons popped into existence, all following Nico would like lost ducklings. "Not a word," he glared at Will, who was covering his mouth to poorly hide his laughter.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

okay so after i saw the announcement of a stranger things animated show, i looked into it just for more context and found out that this year, a stranger things stage show opens in london, and as a british theatre nerd, i may have fell down a rabbit hole.

to preface, i have not studied drama since i was 16. i did not pursue further it as much as i wish i had. i have, however, seen many many plays and musicals, both amateur and professional. i know at least a little more than the average person.

so if youre remotely interested in hearing amateur analysis of what we know of stranger things: the last shadow, welcome:

"take theatrical storytelling and stagecraft to a whole new dimension"

so in one article, i found this quote. i couldnt find who said it exactly, just someone associated with the play.

i'm hoping, this is just marketing; i really hope its just marketing. because this feels a bit insulting to uh, a lot of people who came before. such as augusto boal who founded theatre of the oppressed or konstantin stanislavski or bertolt brecht or antonin artaud who founded theatre of cruelty.

i mention artaud because im expecting some elements from theatre of cruelty. if you look up any artaud plays or theatre of cruelty plays on youtube, youll probably get why.

but anyway, as you might have gathered, this hasnt inspired confidence in me. and i already wasnt confident because it is very difficult to translate film or tv to theatre, and vice versa. look at phantom 2004. i dont believe the duffers would be able to do this; this isnt even a knock on their writing, i dont think most writers could do this without practice.

and so i went to their website to see who else was involved

now is probably a great time to mention how inaccessible their website is. in the background of their website, there are small flashing lights all over the screen. theres no warning for this.

it literally triggered a migraine in me and i had to take my strongest medication for it. fuck you website designer.

(also, just gonna mention it here, i do like the poster and some of the website design, ignoring the stupid lights, but i cannot find the artist ANYWHERE on the website, which as an artist, fuck you)

anyway, first thing i did was look at who is writing it, and im in two minds about it. there are four writers credited: kate trefry, duffer brother 1, duffer brother 2, and jack thorne.

if you recognise jack thornes name, its probably because he wrote the awful harry potter play.

HOWEVER, hes actually quite a competent writer like 90% of the time. his plays tend to get at least 3 out of 5 stars. looking through the reviews, his best regarded plays are bunny, hope, solid life of sugar water, and his adaptation of let the right one in

that last one is very promising because he drew both on the book and film in adaptation. jack thorne does know how to adapt media into different mediums. he has also won an adaption award for his adaption of a christmas carol. his adaptation of the film after life has also be commended for being a good adaption.

this is not to say his work isnt without criticism. i mean, he wrote cursed child. he also has been criticised for slow pacing, shallow writing and one of his more recent plays, sunday, apparently had a "hello fellow kids" vibe. he is now in his 40s afterall.

so a bit of a mixed bag, but a good sign in terms of it not being simply terrible due to lack of understanding of medium.

i also have to mention that jack thorne is disabled and is an advocate for disabled folks in the dramatic arts. when he wrote the solid life of sugar water, he dictated that one character should always be played by a deaf actor. he does also write many disabled stories. his impact is a net positive.

(hes also frank skinners brother-in-law which is fun)

now, the other three writers have never written for stage, which uh, yeah, no, that does the opposite of inspiring courage in me. it is a very different process than writing for films or tv, and none of them have any writing credits for stage work.

on the poster, kate trefry is credited as the main writer which could go either way. shes not written much for screen. she has at least written stranger things episodes so shes not going into it blind.

honestly, i just hope they use jack thorne and his expertise more than they need to. hes the wise old man in their group and i really hope they listen to him and dont just try and do it all themselves.

now onto the director: stephen daldry. ive never seen his work live, but when i was studying drama, i really wanted to.

to give you an idea as to why, when david hare was working on via dolorosa, he had daldry as a co-director and when daldry responded no to hare asking if something was over the top, hare said "your top is situated some hundred yards above everyone else. ive seen your productions."

do you get why i want to see one of his productions asdfdesd his work tends to be very expressionistic and vivid. his directing style has been described as consistent stylised helming. hes won a lot of awards and he tends to get 4/5 stars at the very least on his works.

hes also helped to adapt the billy elliot movie (which is both fantastic and directed by him) to stage and it was fantastic.

hes also gay <3

the set designer is miriam buether. ive never seen any of her work live so i cant speak for the atmosphere it creates, but her setwork looks fine. shes versatile and doesnt need to go over the top with spectacle for her sets to look good.

in particular, i really enjoy her sets for earthquakes in london. the colour work there is *chef's kiss*

unfortunately, theyve kept it all very under wraps as to the tone the stageshow is going to take so i dont know how either buethers set design of daldrys directing is going to translate.

by combining them, i would expect a very expressionistic, very brightly coloured show, which, theres some cognitive dissonance round the corner.

also the premise is about young!hopper, young!joyce, young!bob and henry creel, with some kind of mystery. id expect a more naturalistic approach with this premise, but daldry isnt exactly known for that. so im in two minds.

however, one of his best regarded shows is his adaption of an inspector calls. ive only seen a naturalistic version of that and it very much reads naturalistic. daldrys was the opposite, even going as far as swapping out the fancy dinner hall for the blitz. so if anyone is gonna make it work, it would be daldry.

in terms of light design, thats jon clark. once again, ive never seen any of his work in person so im going off of photos but oh my fucking god i love his work with shadows. hes won many awards and he fucking deserves them.

sound design is the same. ive never heard a paul arditti sound design show in person and bootlegs dont have the best audio. hes award-winning, however, so it seems like thats in good hands.

one thing i was very interested about was how they were going to translate the upside down and the monsters. the show relies on cgi which obviously, you cant really do cgi on a stage; it would just look kinda shit.

their solution seems to be hiring two illusion designers.

i couldnt find much on the first, chris fisher. hes a member of the magic circle and hes done a lot of work so he seems accomplished.

the second one, im honestly kind of excited about. the second is jamie harrison who is the co-artistic director for a company called vox motus WHO ARE SO FUCKING COOL.

there is no mention of his partner in vox motus, candice edmunds, but that could mean nothing.

instead of trying to explain what vox motus do, im just gonna copy two quotes from their website:

"ours is a theatre of story-telling visuals, transformational design, magic, comedy, music, physical performance, puppetry, multi-media and most importantly thrills."

"we are drawn to stories that explore extremes of behaviour and taboos in the contemporary world: often unbelievable true tales that delve into the bizarre, glorious, exhilarating and macabre."

look up their stuff, its so fucking cool. there is also definitely some elements of artaud in their work. it gives me a lot of confidence for the show being enjoyable even if the writing is bad, because spectacle can go a long way.

i genuinely kinda want to go see this show now because i really want to see their work, and id get a chance to see a daldry play.

so like a tl/dr for this part: im not confident in the writing but i dont necessarily think itll be bad. i think the worst itll be is sufficient and mediocre, if they listen to jack thorne. i do have a lot of confident in the visual aspects and spectacle; even if the writing is shit, it will look good.

now im going to be an annoying disabled person and point out some accessibility stuff:

as i mentioned before, the website has small flashing lights all over the background. theres no warning for this. it triggered a migraine for me which was the best three options considering they could have also triggered visual disturbances in my eyes (aka seeing things that arent there due to my iih) or epileptic symptoms due to brain damage.

the theatre itself does have wheelchair access at the side of the building it also has accessible toilets. there is no onsite parking which does make it more difficult for wheelchair users.

they have said they will present captioned, audio-described and british sign language performances, but the dates are not yet set. they instruct you to keep checking . im a little intrigued about this and a little concerned considering its currently may 9th and it opens 17th november.

if you need accessible tickets, you need to have atg access membership. this is a third party company. to have this, you have to show paperwork or documents to prove that you're disabled which is often not possible for many disabled folks. i dont have a written diagnosis for anything besides my adhd diagnosis because i was diagnosed in person or over the phone. luckily, i receive pip so i qualify but its a ridiculous standard.

in the faq, theres a question about being aware of any potential trigger warnings; the answer to this is copy and pasted from the question above which asked about age rating and parental guidance, apart from them adding that there will be flashing lights in the show.

and finally some extra details:

there is a £3.80 transaction charge on top of ticket purchases

you cannot book over the phone

they are all e-tickets

currently, you cannot buy group tickets or student tickets, and you can only purchase a max of 6 tickets.

they are planning a weekly-lottery for late-release tickets, and this will be announced closer to the first show

there is not a confirmed runtime

they have no current plans to move the show outside of london

the age rating is 12+. this means under 16s must be accompanied by adults and under 5s are just not allowed in. not entirely sure how it works if youre age 6 to 11.

the most common ticket price i saw was starting at £45 (about $57). the second most common was starting at £75 (about $95).

there were some tickets starting at £20 (about $25).

i might actually buy a ticket and see it. i would have to save for it but i could do it and then tell you if its shit or not lmao

[xxdragonwriterxx]

hi! i'm so sorry to hear you haven't been feeling well, i also suffer from migraines and they're the worst. i was hoping to request levi and his s/o (who only recently started dating) and they're playing around, like play fighting/wrestling, and his s/o finds that he's extremely ticklish and a little embarrassed by it bc he had no idea?🥺 (but of course that's how s/o wins the fight hehe) thank you for taking the time to even just read this!

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you for the kind words, I’m feeling better now! Thankfully, my migraines don’t happen very often, but when they do, they are really bad. But I haven’t had one for a little while so that’s good! I’m sorry you suffer from them too, they really are the worst 🙄. Thank you for requesting! This was a really sweet, fluffy request and I really enjoyed writing it. Embarrassed Levi is cutest Levi. I hope this was what you were looking for! Enjoy! ❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “A Closeness” By: Dermot Kennedy 🐉

Word Count: ~2.9k

~~~

🔥Unexpected Sensitivity🔥

“Asshole.”

(Y/N) barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as she tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting on the opposite end of the couch and turned back to her book. She was able to get through another two sentences before a loud huff and a low grumble of annoyance once again drew her away from the story.

(Y/N) threw him a glare, “Levi, I told you, I am four fucking chapters away from finishing this book, can you please just entertain yourself until then? It won’t be much longer.” 

She gritted her teeth when Levi made no attempt to keep from rolling his eyes, sending a scowl right back at her, “I’m bored.”

“Well that’s too bad. Last time I checked, I was not your babysitter.”

Normally, (Y/N) enjoyed when Levi was needy for her attention. She loved how she was the only one who got to see that side of him. Their relationship was relatively new, so she had had to work hard to get him to open up around her. She was proud that she had finally managed to get him to relax around her, of how far he’d come, and it made her heart melt when he craved her affection, like a cat begging to be petted.

But recently, Levi had been begging for her attention a lot. She had no idea what had made these past few days so different, but it was starting to wear her out. Now, whenever he wasn’t working, he wanted to be at the center of her attention, no matter if she was already busy, and it was starting to grate on her nerves a little. 

Was it really too much to ask to let her finish her book? She was known to be a very quick reader, it shouldn’t have taken long, but she had barely made a dent in the last few chapters because she was constantly being distracted.

Levi frowned at her and crossed his arms. He really was acting like a petulant child, and while it was annoying as hell, a part of (Y/N) couldn’t deny that she found it a little cute. Especially since she knew his behavior was coming from a place of love. She hadn’t forgotten how lucky she was to even have him acting like this with her, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it every time. Especially when he was being this intense about it.

“Asshole.”

“Levi, for the love of god!” (Y/N) snapped, slamming her book shut and tossing it to the side. “How hard is it for you to just let me read four bloody chapters? I told you I would give you attention as soon as I was done! I just wanted to know the ending, you know this is a book I’ve been looking forward to finishing for days.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at her, “Is some boring old book more interesting to you than me?”

Oh my god. She was going to kill him.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm, “Of course not, Levi. But that doesn’t mean I have to be with you every second of every day. I just wanted to know what happened in the end, that’s all. Why is that such a big deal?”

“Because I want you to cuddle me, damn it,” he mumbled, his eyes averted from her face and a light tinge of pink on his cheeks.

(Y/N) immediately felt her anger wash away. She could still feel a little bit of irritation prickling in her chest but she ignored it, choosing to focus more on the warm feeling that blossomed throughout her whole body at his words. Yes, her boyfriend could be annoying as hell sometimes, but she couldn’t deny how adorable he was, wanting affection but embarrassed by the fact. She didn’t show it, but she was proud of him for even gaining the courage to say something. While they had only been dating for two months, she had never heard him directly ask for anything, it was always buried beneath a mask of sarcasm or annoyance.

Levi watched her features soften and felt the corners of his lips curl upwards as she sighed, knowing he had finally won. He knew that when she sighed like that, she was going to give in. His heart warmed at the thought that she found him difficult to resist, even when she was clearly annoyed with him.

He knew he was being shitty, but he just couldn’t help it. Not with her anyway. She was not his first girlfriend by any means, but she was the first girl he felt he had a genuine connection with. The first girl he genuinely loved. His past girlfriends had been nothing but trials, mostly set up by his friends, trying to show him that dating could be fun. He hadn’t believed them until he met (Y/N).

Now, he couldn’t get enough. He knew it was partially unfair to her, even if he knew she  secretly loved it. He knew he was being invasive and annoying but at the moment, he just didn’t care. He was aching to feel her pressed against him, her arms wrapped lovingly around his waist and her head on his shoulder. His arms itched to pull her close and relish in the way she fit perfectly against him, as if they had been made for each other. He had never felt this way with anyone else, but now that he had, he craved it. He had never realized just how touch-starved he was until (Y/N) entered his life, and now he burned to be by her side, even if she didn’t always want him there.

“Alright, fine. But you have to promise to let me finish my book later, okay?”

(Y/N)’s words snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded too quickly for it to be as nonchalant as he wanted it to look. (Y/N) rolled her eyes affectionately and gave him a warm smile that had his heart beating a swift tattoo against his chest.

Levi moved his legs from where they had been laying lengthwise on the sofa cushions as (Y/N) approached, turning his body so he was seated normally, giving her the room to settle down beside him. He immediately felt himself relax as soon as she curled up against him, a satisfied sigh leaving his parted lips.

“Relieved are you?” (Y/N) teased.

Levi thought about teasing her back, but suddenly found himself too sleepy to engage in their usual banter, her comforting presence making him feel drowsy. “Yes.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated, not expecting the straightforward answer, “I’m still mad at you for being so obnoxious.”

“Mm.”

“And you’re not sorry for it at all, are you?”

“Mm, no.”

“Pain in the ass,” (Y/N) mumbled affectionately, nuzzling her face into his chest.

(Y/N) was just about to drift off, enjoying the comfort of cuddling with her boyfriend despite her earlier reluctance, when a sudden sharp jab in her side made her jolt up with a yelp.

“Ow! What the hell, Levi!?”

“You called me a pain in the ass,” Levi grumped.

“Yeah, so? You called me an asshole. Twice!” (Y/N) said, leaning over to give him a hard poke in the shoulder.

“Tch,” Levi said, giving her another poke, this time on her thigh.

(Y/N)’s retaliation quickly led to a fierce battle between the two, annoyed huffs devolving into genuine chuckles and shrieks of joy as the two fought, the war only growing more intense when (Y/N) straddled Levi’s thighs to better reach him.

“Brat, stop poking me!”

“You stop poking me, then!”

“Fine,” Levi said, the mischievous look on his face making (Y/N) nervous.

Before she could react, Levi pushed her off of him and pinned her to the couch, hovering over her. (Y/N) laughed, her eyes sparkling, “Oh, how romantic, Levi.”

Levi snorted at her as he moved lower, slinking down her body, his own eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

“Levi? What are you doing?”

“You told me to stop poking you, so I stopped. But that doesn’t mean this is over.”

“What the fuck does that mean- AH!” (Y/N) cried out in surprise as Levi’s fingers ran up the bottoms of her feet. “LEVI!”

Levi merely chuckled in response, reaching down to tickle her feet again. He smirked when she writhed and squirmed beneath his strong grip, tears of desperation spilling from the corners of her eyes as her loud laughter filled the apartment.

“Levi! Levi, stop! I can’t- I can’t breathe!”

Levi thought about letting up, but he was having too much fun. He quickly doubled down on his efforts, laughing quietly at the loud squeal she let out in response, trying to jerk her feet from his touch.

(Y/N) was getting desperate. He had her pinned by the hips to the couch with his incredible strength and he wasn’t stopping his assault on her poor feet. She tried to wrench them  from his grip to no avail, his cocky smile and bright silver hues making her want to slap that look of smugness off of his face. 

Frantically looking for a way to escape, (Y/N) suddenly remembered that her hands weren’t being held down. She had her own fingers she could use. She knew it would be no use trying to pry his fingers off, he was much too strong for that, so she did the next best thing.

She blindly latched onto him, her fingers flying over his skin as she searched for a weak point, a tender spot, anything. Levi was finally starting to slow down his attack, his fingers only lightly brushing her skin to watch her jump while she caught her breath, but she was determined to get back at him.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?” Levi asked, finally taking his fingers away from her sensitive skin and leaning back on his haunches. His eyebrow rose when she followed him, her hands still moving all over his body.

“What do you think I’m doing, idiot?”

Levi smirked down at the woman that was now back in his lap, her brow furrowed in concentration as she poked and prodded beneath his shirt, practically feeling him up as she tried to find where he was the most sensitive.

“Nice try, brat. But unfortunately for you, I’m not tickLISH-!”

(Y/N) and Levi both froze.

Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide and his hands loosened from where they had been holding onto (Y/N)’s waist. He had never, in his entire life, made a noise like that before. It sounded like the cross between a yelp of surprise and a barked out laugh. He was still uncertain if it had indeed been him that had made the noise, it sounded so unlike him, so foreign to his ears he couldn’t be sure.

(Y/N) was just as shocked. Had Levi really just squawked? That was probably the only way you could describe the noise that had just come from her boyfriend’s mouth, even though it seemed like the kind of word you would never in a million years associate with Levi Ackerman.

While she was certainly surprised, she recuperated faster than Levi, a deviant smile spreading across her face as she suddenly realized the power she held. She noticed Levi’s eyes narrow on her borderline evil expression, but his dazed state made his reaction time slower than normal. Before he knew it, he was on his back, her legs straddled over his hips, his wrists held in one of her hands while the other was snaking back beneath his shirt, aiming for the spot along his upper ribs.

He tried to squirm away, but he underestimated her strength as she pressed her full weight into him and tightened her grip on his wrists, holding him there as she brushed her fingers along the spot that he hadn’t even known would make him go crazy.

To his horror, another loud cry was ripped from his throat, quickly turning into loud, rich laughter that rang out and bounced off the walls as she tickled him. He tried to flash her a warning glare but she only smiled wider, followed by a slight shake of her head.

Fuck, she was going to show no mercy.

Tears gathered in his eyes as she continued to attack the sensitive flesh in the same way he did to her, his body losing all control. He wriggled and arched, trying to escape her torturous fingers, until he was finally able to free one of his hands. (Y/N) tried to hold on, but as soon as one of his hands was free, she was quickly shoved off of him, her own laughter joining his as she was pushed from the couch to land with a satisfying thump on the carpet below.

Levi’s laughter was quick to quiet into soft chuckles before finally fading into heavy breathing, the apartment thick with silence as the pair fought to catch their breath, unwilling to move for a while.

“Whew,” (Y/N) said, eventually breaking the silence. “Who knew the fearsome Levi Ackerman was ticklish, huh?”

(Y/N) was smiling, a hand coming up to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles that tried to filter into the room at her teasing, but when he didn’t respond, (Y/N) grew worried.

“Levi?”

(Y/N) sat up, and quickly lost all feelings of giddiness at the sight of Levi, turned away from her with his knees brought up to his chest, his hands covering his face, and his back hunched slightly, so different from how he normally was it almost made her panic.

“Levi! Are you alright?”

It took him a moment, but Levi eventually nodded once, refusing to remove his hands from his face. His response calmed (Y/N) down somewhat, but concern still coursed through her as she gently eased onto the couch beside him, her palm reaching out to rest on his back.

“Levi, what’s wrong?”

A quiet mumble reached her ears, but his hands were muffling most of the words. Even when she strained her ears she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she did notice his face get a tinge more pink, especially on the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, babe, I couldn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

Levi huffed in annoyance, and it was enough to bring another small smile back onto (Y/N)’s face. He then shifted his hands, uncovering only enough to free his mouth.

“I said, I’m… embarrassed…” He trailed off at the end, the last word much quieter than the others, but (Y/N) heard him loud and clear. She immediately felt a wave of relief and guilt wash over her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Levi. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you like that, I thought we were just having fun. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, ever. I’m sorry, I never should’ve pushed your boundaries like that.”

Levi finally removed his hands from his face and turned around to look at her. His face was still red and his eyes were slightly swollen from the tears he had shed during their intense battle but his expression was soft. He reached up and brushed his fingers along her jaw, affectionately stroking her skin.

“It’s not your fault. I attacked you first,” Levi said. “I didn’t even mind it that much at first, I just didn’t expect to react… like that.”

“Levi, it’s okay! Everyone reacts like that, that’s why nobody likes to be tickled. I mean, you heard me! I didn’t sound any better.”

Levi smirked, the beginnings of a sparkle coming back into his eye, “Yeah, you sounded like a donkey with a sore throat. Or maybe a dying bird.”

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slapping his shoulder playfully with a false pout. “That’s mean!”

“But true.”

“Oh, do we want to go back to what you sounded like?”

“Oi, watch it, brat.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Levi gave (Y/N) a light-hearted shove before standing up to stretch, his shirt riding up to show off a bit of his muscular back as he brought his arms above his head. (Y/N) followed him with a large grin on her face when he moved into the kitchen, intent on making tea and forgetting the whole experience. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Levi heated the water and (Y/N) grabbed the tea leaves, the pair working together seamlessly despite their short time spent as a couple.

When the tea was finally finished, Levi offered a cup to (Y/N), who took it gratefully, before leaning against the counter and taking a sip. (Y/N) watched as Levi closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure at the taste, his body finally starting to unwind again. Her eyes swept over him, her heart beating a steady drum for the man beside her. She loved him so much, felt so lucky to have him, and while the tickle fight had certainly been an experience, she couldn’t wait to have many more adventures just like that with him by her side.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah brat?”

“For the record, I think your laugh is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.”

[whumping-to-conclusions]

Howdy there! Thanks for tagging me on the post. Could I get number 20 please? [voice trails off as I vanish behind a corner in awkward slinkiness]

This snippet introduces a couple of my OCs, Eleanor and Jesse, two definitely-not-in-love programmers in their mid-20s who you'll be seeing on here every now and then. They're a pair of cuties; I hope you like them.

----

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Eleanor was typing away at her computer when it started.

It was early afternoon at the office and she was editing a line of code, nose practically pressed to the screen, when suddenly, her vision went fuzzy at the edges. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking that maybe she had gotten something in them, but her periphery remained fuzzy. Lights and blobs of nameless colors started popping in front of her eyes.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

Then came the pain.

A sharp, clear stroke of pain cleaved her forehead, like someone had driven a searing nail into her brain.

“Agh!” Eleanor took her glasses off and pressed her hands to her head, but it did nothing to abate the throbbing, aching pulse, the nail driving in further second after second.

“Eleanor? You okay?” Jesse’s voice floated out to her from the neighboring cubicle. Eleanor couldn’t even answer.

She heard footsteps approaching. Jesse’s hand touched her shoulder, the brush of a bird’s wing.

“Eleanor? What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” she gasped. “Really bad headache.”

More footsteps.

“What’s going on?” Mia’s voice. A pause. “Is… she okay?”

“I don’t know. She says her head hurts.”

Eleanor heard Mia bend down beside her, felt her feel her forehead.

“Eleanor, can you hear me? Look at me.”

Eleanor lifted her head from her hands and winced at the radiance from the fluorescent light above her. It was much too bright.

Mia was kneeling beside her, and Jesse and a few of her other coworkers were standing around her. She groaned a little. “Nothing―just―the head―and I can’t really see―it’s too bright in here.” She shivered and closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her head again.

“I think she has a migraine,” Mia said to Jesse. “She’s probably going to have to take the day off, especially if she’s got no meds for it.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jesse said immediately.

“You sure? I can take her if you’re busy with something.”

“No, I―I got it.” The others murmured their assent. Jesse’s hand touched Eleanor’s shoulder again. “Can you stand up?”

Eleanor nodded. Woozy from pain, she rose from the desk. It felt like she was underwater, her movements thick and slow. She opened her eyes a crack, looking down at the floor to avoid the fluorescent lights. Mia handed Eleanor her bag and glasses. Jesse offered his hand, and Eleanor took it, grabbing at the walls of the cubicle for support as he led her out of the office.

Jesse stopped and turned to face Mia again. “Uh, tell Ben I’m taking the day off.”

Twenty minutes later, Eleanor was huddled on Jesse’s couch as he brought her a cup of tea. The room was darkened, the lamps turned off to keep from hurting her head. The apartment was cluttered, but cozy--movie posters on the walls, CDs and books piled up around the coffee table and couches, not to mention the wealth of electronics scattered around.

Jesse handed her the cup and tried not to wince. He hated seeing Eleanor like this―her skin too grey, her hands shaking, her beautiful dark eyes dull with pain. He handed her the cup. “Drink this--my mother always made it when I was sick.” Eleanor took a sip, and Jesse glanced at her for her reaction. “You like it?”

Eleanor swallowed. “Yeah, it’s―it’s good. I just….”

Jesse knew that voice―she always had a little hesitation to her speech when she was afraid of inconveniencing someone. “What is it?”

Eleanor set down the cup on the end table. “Something cold sounds better, actually.”

Jesse nodded. “No worries, I’ll get you some ice water. Anything else?”

“And… a cool rag for my head sounds pretty good right now,” she admitted.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jesse dashed out to the apartment’s kitchen and poured a glass of ice water for Eleanor, then took a clean dish rag out of the cupboard and ran it under the faucet. He started wringing it out with more force than what was strictly necessary. The worst part of this whole thing was that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help Eleanor but keep her comfortable. His job as a programmer was all about fixing―tweaking the code, eliminating bugs, changing the programs to function exactly as intended. But this was a bug he couldn’t fix. He hated it.

Jesse returned to the living room along with the glass and cold rag. “Here you go, El.”

Eleanor took a sip and draped the rag on her head, brushing her dark bangs aside. Jesse took a seat on the other end of the couch and tried to let his mind wander. But he was still too fixated on Eleanor’s pain. He found himself looking back at her every minute or so, just to make sure that she was okay.

“You can go do something else if you want,” Eleanor said softly, after a while.

Taking care of you is what I want. “I’m staying here.”

Eleanor nodded.

The afternoon passed by and slowly changed into night, and Jesse’s stomach started to rumble. “I… kinda need some food,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor gave a listless shrug. “Still hurts. And I feel a little sick to my stomach.”

Jesse took her hand and rubbed at her knuckles gently. “I’m sorry. Does food sound good or no?”

“I don’t really feel like eating.”

“Okay. Let me know if you want something later, though, yeah?”

“I will.”

Jesse turned on some classical music and thirty minutes later he sauntered out of the kitchen with a bowl of tomato soup.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said as he sat down on the couch again.

Jesse’s brows drew together. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“I... didn’t want to put you through this whole mess. I… I don’t want to be a burden on you.” She picked at the hem of her blouse.

Jesse set down the soup and looked her straight in the eyes. “Now, I want you to listen to me, El. You are not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

“Okay.” Eleanor nodded, then rubbed at her temples. “It just hurts so bad.”

“I know.” Jesse gave a sympathetic grimace. “Is there anything that can help take your mind off the pain? Any movies you like, or music? Or maybe… no, that’s a bit silly.”

“What?”

Jesse felt his ears getting hot. “I was going to suggest I could read a book to you, but, you know, if that’s childish or whatever―”

“No, that sounds nice. Really,” Eleanor added, leaning forward earnestly. “You seem like you’d have a good reading voice.”

“Okay. What sounds good?” Jesse got up and walked over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and started running his index finger down the spines of some of the books. “I have all kinds of novels--mystery, fantasy, a little horror but you probably don’t want that right now….”

“Any fairy tales?”

Her voice was so soft, a bird’s wing brush, that Jesse wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Sorry, what was that?”

Eleanor blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I, uh, asked if you had any fairy tales.”

Jesse smiled. Look at her, all embarrassed about it. “I think I do, actually. Give me a moment.”

Jesse darted through the door on the opposite side of the living room and into his bedroom. It took a few minutes to locate the book, but eventually he found it stashed under his bed.

He walked back into the living room toting the huge volume and flopped down on the couch beside Eleanor. The cover was dusty, faded pink and green, and embossed with curly gold letters. Jesse rubbed the dust off the cover. “Hans Christian Andersen’s Compendium of Fairy Tales. My favorite as a kid, actually. Here we go.” He flipped to the first page and cleared his throat. “Once upon a time….”

Jesse had no idea how much time passed as he read tale after tale, keeping his voice lilting and soft as to not aggravate Eleanor’s migraine. Eleanor watched the pages turn with her lovely eyes, which seemed to grow just a bit brighter as he read. Eventually, Jesse realized that it was very silent, and looked over. Eleanor had fallen asleep against his arm, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even.

Jesse didn’t want to disturb her, so he simply stayed like that for a while, listening to the sounds of the night, until the book slipped from his hands and he, too, drifted off with a head full of dreams.

[operation-619]

Satan’s Angel

Johnny Storm x WOC!Reader

Summary: She was hidden from the world at the age of 16 when something within her awoke. Something demonic. But she has her brother to hold onto when things start to get worse, because he’s there for her. Right?

warnings: language, blood, violence, mentions of medical problems. mentions of needles, abuse and torture. 18+

WC: 2.2K

masterlist I Chapter 2

So I wrote this ack in my Quotev days, and I decided to edit it - because it was atrociously written. And I’m now posting it on here so I hope you enjoy my loves 

-619x

The world has never been in my favour, I realise that now.

I should’ve realised it years ago.

But standing here looking my estranged brother in the eyes; I finally realise that the world has led me on a path that had to end this way, no matter how hard I tried to swerve and dodge the upcoming circumstance, I would always end up staring at my brothers empty eyes, with my hand deep in his chest.

Killing him. Killing my brother.

She sat there, waiting for the pain to embrace her like a long-lost cousin. She knew it was time; her heart was spasming, she could hardly breathe. Her eyes were watery, tears sliding down her face.

Yet she sat there at the edge of her bed staring out the window that occupied the whole wall opposite her bed. She could see the mountains from her bed so clearly. It was as if she was there.

If she was there.

Her chest moved erratically, her cheeks soaked with tears, yet she sat calmly; pondering, wondering, daydreaming about a life outside these four walls that kept her trapped in her own mind.

A mind that kept her sane and crazy all at the same time. She would dream up stories of a handsome young prince saving her with a fiery kiss. Or most times it was a nightmare, a world made of purple skies and vibrant green grass, set aflame; with bodies lying across the ground as she ran with some man, her hand in his so he wouldn’t lose her, the other hand on her belly housing a precious creature. She never got the end of the nightmare because she would wake up just before a monster jumped on top of her.

She would always jolt up, sweat weighing heavy on her skin, a scream rising up her throat along with bile and the feeling on nostalgia. She hated how she knew the place she was dreaming of yet couldn’t place a finger on it.

Before she could ponder anymore, she felt the first flicker of pain, it started at the bottom of her spine, and oh-so painfully started to spread across the rest of her rigid body. She drew in a ragged breath as the pain wrapped a hand around her heart and squeezed. She clenched her eyes shut tight and tried soothe her breathing, but the hand around her heart squeezed harder. She gasped out in pain and rolled forward; landing on the floor on her knees as her hand started to scrape at her chest, desperately trying to remove the hand off of her heart. It was as if it was laughing at her attempts because next thing she knew, the hand squeezed so hard she fell forward onto her hand and screamed.

She screamed so loudly, black dots clouded her vision and danced around her. Her throat felt sore, but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Her body shook as sobs replaced the screaming in a matter of seconds. She hated this, for the past eight years it just seems to be getting worse. Ever since she surpassed her sixteenth birthday, all it has ever been was pain, pain and pain. It was tenfold as worse as it used to be. Before her sixteenth birthday it was like a build up to the pain she was feeling now. Minor headaches, to migraines, to temperatures either too hot or too cold. No one knew what was wrong with her. Not even the best doctors’ money could buy. And if it wasn’t for Victor she wouldn’t be here, with round the clock care to make sure she is okay, she knew that he loved her even though he wasn’t around as much as he used to be. She knew.

Of course, he loves you. Your all he’s got, and vice-versa.

The thoughts echoed around her head, bouncing painfully off her head.

The vibrations of the floor let her know that the people were on their way.  Moments later she felt her body being lifted from the floor, she felt herself slump against the broad chest of some man, she given up fighting against the pain and just let it take over her system. She couldn’t stop the tears, the echoed the lack of control she had over her own body as the gushed down her paling face.

“Hush now, close your eyes. I’ve got you.” The deep voice vibrated through her body, it felt oddly familiar and through all the pain she managed to look up into the familiar blue eyes of her brother.

“Vic- “her words fell short as she lost the energy to speak, instead she used all her energy to place her hand onto his smooth cheek.

“Hush, it’s okay. I’m here now.” With that statement she let her eyes roll to the back of her head, as the pain drowned her in its last tidal wave.

  Victor released a long ‘huff’ as he stopped at another traffic light. He regretted coming back to New-York at 14:00 pm when the streets would be busy with the afternoon rush. He rhythmically tapped his fingers against the arms rest and looked on through the divider, he smirks as he saw his driver’s hand gripping the wheel tightly out of frustration too.

His attention was quickly drawn to his phone when he heard the ringtone brake through the silence in the car; reaching into his jacket he removed his phone from the inside pocket of his black Louis Vuitton suit jacket.

‘Her vitals are erratic again; she’s going to go into Comatose. But I think it’s best if you came over. You can get the samples you need.’

The text message was all he needed for him to clear his throat and say;

“Michael, turn back around to the airport, please. We’re going to visit my sister.” With a nod from Michael, the car was swiftly turned around and quickly driven back to the airport. He sent a text to his pilot, telling him to ready the helicopter that will bring him to the facility he has in the Alps, which is coincidentally where he is keeping his sister.

Victors blue eyes grew stormy as he remembered how much pain his sister has been through in the past few years, the undiagnosed tantrums her body would throw sent his sister into an unbreakable cycle of pain and then unconsciousness. He knew deep down that one day she’ll have an episode that she won’t concur.

He remembers the first time it happened; he was stepping through his front door. He barley even had time to take his jacket off before he heard a scream that made his blood curl, rushing upstairs he was met with a sight that had the breath taken out of him, there hunched on the bed was his sister.

Head clasped between her hands, nails digging into her skin as if she was trying to peel her own skin off, her lower face was covered in blood from her nose, and her eyes were screaming for help, for an escape that she was so desperately seeking.

Victor rushed forward and attempted to prise her hands off her head. But was met with a force that had him crashing into wall next to the door. He looked up and saw his sister looking at him with unnatural black eyes and a hand pointed towards him with her palm open. Her eyelids fluttered before they were back to their normal hue.

“Help me…” her voice came out hoarse and timid before she convulsed onto the ground.

Surging forward Victor managed to catch her head just in time before it hit the corner of the bed frame. His vision was blurry as he looked at his sister, her head cradled in his lap as he tried to steady her from the excessive shaking.

His ears picked up the sirens and then the sound of the door getting thrown open as paramedics came rushing upstairs.

Yet he couldn’t move, his body wasn’t registering what was actually happening.  

Their voices all became mumbled as he watched them pry her out of his grip, he tried to speak but his mouth wouldn’t move it just stayed there, hanging open like a fool.

He continued to stare at the group of paramedics struggling to hold his sister still as he felt two pairs of hands under his arms to haul him up.

‘Come on son.’ The voice sounded so distant and foreign to him as he let the two strangers support his weight as it appeared his own legs couldn’t do that. He hazily watched as the world around him moved without some much of a struggle. Next thing he knew he was sat on the curb with a blanket wrapped around him. Apparently for the shock.

Fuck that.

His head snapped to the side as he heard the shouting of the paramedics as the rushed his unconscious sister out of the house; one split off from the group and came over to him.

“Are you the boyfriend?” Victor shook his head, eyes trained on his sisters’ body being hauled into the back of the ambulance.

“Brother,” he managed to rasp out.

“Okay then that’s even better. Can you tell me anything about her?” His eyes stayed trained on his sister as the paramedics sorted her out in the back, the doors were wide open so he could see what they were doing.

“Yeah, yeah.” He numbly nodded. Half listening to what the man was saying.

“Any mental illness, inherited disorders from the family?” Victor continued to shake his head; the man continued asking questions, but they all had the same answer. A shake of the head from Victor Von-Doom.

“Okay can you tell me how old she is?” Victor looked down at his Rolex, his eyebrows furrowed in sadness when he realised what day it was. The watch read back 03:45am.

“October 31st, she turned sixteen forty-five minutes ago.” He finally looked over at the paramedic and noticed how young he really was, said paramedics face contorted into a look of unease. Victor sent him a look of confusion which lead to the boy looking away.

“Sorry sir, it’s just three am is considered the ‘witching hour’ in my religion, and it clashes with it being Halloween today as well- ‘the paramedic turned around and noticed the look on Victors face and cleared his throat- ‘Sorry sir. Happy birthday to her, you can ride with her if you wish.”

And with that the young boy scurried off.

Looking out the window, Victor noticed they were about to touch down on the landing pad. Exhaling unsteadily, he rolled his shoulders back preparing himself what was to come.

If only he knew.

  The steady, rhythmic beeping of the EKG machine soothed Victors heart as he stood by the window and looked out onto the scenery that was suspiciously calming. Now he understood why his sister made him replace the tiny window for this huge one. It was once a wall, but with the extra light and the view it made the room less constricting, less likely of a panic attack for her.

“Hey.” The soft voice barley reached his ears, but he heard it and he couldn’t be happier. Spinning around he marched to her side and plonked himself down onto the chair that he’d been sat in for the past fourteen hours.

“Name?”

“(Y/N) Von-Doom. Victor?”

“No, Birthday?” “Monday, October Thirty-first, three am. Victor please.”

“Favourite person in the world?”

“Steve Harvey.”

“Hey, what happened to it being me”

“You wouldn’t shut up. Your making my head hurt Victor.” She raised a hand to rub her temple, only to hiss in pain as her muscles burned. Tears clouded her vison as she remembered what happened.

“Did anyone get hurt?” She was met with a ‘no’ from her brother. She mumbled a response that Victor couldn’t hear. He watched her as she looked out the window; eyes glassed over and distant, like she was somewhere else.

“I can’t do this anymore,” her voice was quiet, lacking emotion. It caused Victors heart to beat faster. He couldn’t let her go. Not now.

“(Y/N)?”

“I mean, here. Here in this room. Because these episodes are getting stronger, I can feel it. I probably won’t survive the next one. Or fuck, the one after that. Who knows Victor. I need to leave, get out of here. I don’t care where, I just need to leave.” Her sobs grew louder as did the EKG machine, he tried to soothe her, but it only grew worse.

Doctors and nurse appeared in a matter of minutes, they checked the vitals and the machine only to see her hysterically crying.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down for me please.” The nurse’s voice was sweet, almost taunting to (Y/N). She sighed when the girls crying grew louder. Nodding towards the older man in a pair of grey scrubs she quickly caught (Y/N)’s attention as the Doctor came forward and injected her with a mild sedative.

With in seconds the room grew quite as they all watched (Y/N)’s eyes close slowly.

Just before she went completely under; Victor cupped her cheek.

“I need you. So, I promise I’ll find out what’s going on. You’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

He watched her eyes close completely and looked out of the window, leaning back against the chair he spoke one last time before closing his eyes:

“I promise.”

——

Chapter 2

[zeetasposts]

May I ask an HC of the warlords taking care of MC who has been suffering from migraines and overall pain for over a week? TY.

Hi, there love! I just wanted to say HAPPY, EASTER! And I hope you have been feeling better! Let me know if you want me to do a write up for the rest of the boys as well! I hope you enjoy it, dear! O.O

Migraine Headcanon: Oda Forces <3

Nobunaga

It has been a whole week since he has seen his precious fireball.

He has been busy too with work and hasn’t seen you since.

While he was busy dealing with a dispute in the council room, a maid burst through the door and rushed to whispers something in his ear.

Moments later he stood up and rushed to your shared room, when he didn’t see you there he sprinted his way to your old room.

He knew you had a bad habit of not wanting him to worry about you

He walked into your darkroom; he felt his way around the room until he found you in your futon

The maid had told him you hadn’t eaten cause of nausea 

And that you had been cooped up in your room for a few days now

Your arm was over your eyes, and the pain was evident on your face

His heart broke when he saw the dried tear stains on your cheek; you must have cried yourself to sleep

He then gently picked you up careful as not to disturb your sleep and moved you to rest more comfortably on your shares futon in his room where he can tend to you himself

He called for Ieyasu to make some pain medicine for you

When you woke up you were in so much pain, Nobunaga simply crouched down beside you and gave you some pain medication

He looked at you with eyes full of love, worry, and affection

He drew you into his arms so that your head was resting comfortably on his chest, he then squeezed out and placed a cold cloth over your eyes to shield them from the light.

He rubbed your back until you fell back into dreamland. It truly broke his heart that you were in such pain more so that he had not been there for you from the start.

Nobunaga refused to leave your side, canceling all his meetings and handing everything over to Hideyoshi.

You were his life and he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were well and happy

He found out that warm toasty feet could help soothe some of the pain and discomfort, so he gives you a relaxing foot massage and once done place your feet in the warmest fluffiest socks possible - cause we all know this boy loves feet. Plus he knows all the feet pressure points that are connected to the head, and he makes sure to give special attention to those points

He ensured that you had the best medicine, he kept the room dark, and he would bring you whatever your heart desired. Only the best for his lucky charm.

Hideyoshi

You woke up that morning with the worst headache you had ever felt

Hideyoshi woke up to the sight of your face contorted in pain.

He was so worried; he immediately called for Ieyasu to come to check you out

He would come and check in on you every 30 minutes during his breaks

During that time, he would make you some tea and check to make sure you were doing okay.

He hated that he felt so powerless, he had no idea what to do to help you, other than giving you some pain medication

When you complain of a sore, fatigued body, he finally feels like he can do something for you, he would gently massage your back neck, arms, and hands.

He will also give you a gentle scalp and head massage in hopes to alleviate the throbbing pain

He draws you a nice warm bubble bath; he had heard from Ieyasu that magnesium salts in a bath could actually soothe the body and help with alleviating some so the symptoms

Mama bird will make sure you have more than enough food, and drink to keep you hydrated

He is so happy when you are finally feeling a bit better after about a week. 

Masamune

Masamune was on the hunt for his kitten; he had to most fantastic day planned.

He finally spotted you sweeping the floor

He ran up to you and gave you the biggest hug

The two of you were chatting away merrily when all of a sudden you were hit by a dizzy spell

You shrugged off the dizziness and slight headache, not wanting to ruin Masa’s day off when all of a sudden, you started to fall. The room was spinning, and you felt incredibly sick

Masamune caught you in his arms and cradled you in his muscular arms, while he brought you back to his room

Your eyes were so light-sensitive at this point, and your headache was now throbbing in pain.

It broke Masamune’s heart to see his kitten in pain

He wrapped you up with the fluffiest softest blankie into a little burrito

He then drew the curtains and made sure your shared room was pitch black

Finally, he told all the castle staff to keep down the noise levels as he could see you were incredibly sensitive to noise

Masa would make you all your favorite dishes; he would take special care to pack as many nutrients as possible in them while making sure there was nothing in them to trigger your nausea

Will shower you in sweet kisses.

He would pull you to lie on top of him while he gently rubbed your back. 

He would slowly but surely nurse his little lass back to full health.

Ieyasu

Ieyasu, basically being the castle doctor will notice your symptoms before you even do. He knows there is nothing you can do to prevent a migraine from happening once it starts.

Your migraine hasn’t even fully hit yet, and this sweet boi has already prepared to the futon for you

He made sure to make it as comfortable as possible for you, with all the softest pillows and blankies

He knows he has to move quick cause when the migraine hits he wants to be by your side

He makes you some pain medicine and something for the nausea

When he sees you walking into your shared room holding onto Wasabi for support, he knows it has started.

He will darken the room and lead you to the futon that he has prepared for you.

He sits beside you and places a cold cloth over your eyes; he helps you to sit up and sits behind you so you can lean on his chest for support while he feeds you the medicine he had prepared.

He had recently read in a western medicine book that certain essential oils can act as aromatherapy, so he makes use of that newfound knowledge and gently rubs your temples with some peppermint oil.

He will also defuse the aroma in your room.

He makes sure to give his maids and palace staff strict orders to keep noise levels down especially near your shared room

Ieyasu will simply sit by your bedside the whole time, gently massaging your hands, caressing your face, and gently rubbing small circles around your temples. He will locate all your pressure points on your face and scalp and gives you a gentle massage to help soothe that throbbing pain

Ieyasu will fall asleep in the crook of your neck, and Wasabi will be cuddled up by your legs, resting her head on your thigh.

The two of them are so worried about you, and they would do anything to ensure that you are comfortable and pain-free

Mitsunari

Is so confused at what is happening to you

Thinks you had been poisoned

He will call for Ieyasu to examine you, that is when he finds out you were having migraines

He will read up all about them, even borrowing some of Yasu medical journals to get tips and tricks to help you best he can

He will warp you up in a blankie and hold you tight while gently rubbing your back

Sweet boi will try and take your mind off the throbbing pain of your headache by softly reading to you

He also read the tip about the role of aromatherapy in helping with symptoms of migraines and will defuse some lavender aroma around your room

Will coax you to sleep by gently rubbing circles on your hands

Softi boi tries his best to make you tea, but we all know how that goes, lucky Hideyoshi quietly made his way in your room just on time to see Mitsunari attempt to make tea.

Mitsunari will bring you freshly picked lavender flowers every day and give you little gifts you brighten your day ever so slightly

He will make sure to keep you hydrated by helping you sit up and drink some water every now and then

Mostly this softi boy will just hold you in his arms and making sure you are comfortable and well cared for

Mitsuhide

Comes back from his secret spy missions ready to shower his sweet with all his love and affection

After giving in his report to Nobunaga, he heard a few maids gossiping about you

Apparently, none of them have seen you for a few days, and they were starting to get worried

This kitsune sprinted back home

He quietly entered into your shared room to see that every possible light source was blacked out

He slowly walked towards you only to see your pale figure, messy hair, and tiny hands gripping your head in pain

He is by your side in a split second asking if you need anything

He is so mad at himself for being away so long, and it breaks his heart to know you were in pain all this time

You run to the bathroom and Mitsuhide is right by your side, holding your hair and gently rubbing your back.

He can tell you hadn’t had a bath in a while, so he draws you a warm bath with some magnesium salts and essential oils in it.

He will jump in the bath with you, sitting behind you and gently massaging your neck and shoulders. He will also wash your hair for you, smoothly working out all the knots that had formed while massaging your scalp.

Once done with your baths, he will dry your hair and style it in a loose braid for maximum comfort

He lets you wear one of his old pj’s, cause he knows you secretly love to wear his clothes plus nothing screams warm and comfortable quite like wearing an oversized piece of clothing

You look so weak and frail

He carries you back to the futon and has the maids prepare you a meal that won’t upset your nausea

He will hold you in his lap, feeding you some soup and tea to get you rehydrated.

He will pull you to lay on top of him in the futon

He will cover your eyes with a cold pack and gently massage your scalp and hair. He will lightly caress the contours of your face fining all the pressure points to help with your headache.

Sneki boy will light some scented candles

Will kiss away all your tears and stay by your side the entire time getting anything you could possibly need.

He takes some time off so that he can spend every minute by your side to nurse you back to health

He had read that stress and over exhaustion can often trigger migraines so when you are feeling better, he will take a trip with you to the nearest hot spring for some rest and relaxation

Bonus Kenshin

Kenshin had been missing you the whole day

He had been stuck in a boring meeting the entire day, and all he could think about is how he just wanted to cuddle with his sweet little bunny

You walked to your shared room with the softest smile on his face only to see you unmoved from the position you were in this morning when he had left

His blood turned to ice as he rushed to your side

He cradled you in his arms; you looked so pale and fragile

You tried to open your eyes to welcome him back they were way too light-sensitive, and everything was just so bright

He immediately called for a doctor to examine you, refusing to let go of you

The doctor has left some medicine and advice, and said there is not much one can do about migraines

Kenshin summoned his fluffy army to your room before he could even order them to cuddle with you, they immediately sensed that you weren’t feeling well and started nestling your body

The bunnies love you just as much as they loved Kenshin

They kept you company while Kenshin went to get everything he needed to care for his Goddess of war

He blacked out all the windows, made some ginger and honey tea, and fetched a bucket filled with cold water

He was now back at your side, bringing your body to lean on his as he places the cool cloth over your eyes. The bunnies snuggled closer to the two of you. Nuzzling you as a reminder of their support and affection

Some rabbits came back carrying some lavender and placed it beside the two of you. The lavender filled your room with a sweet aroma.

Kenshin caressed the contours of your face, and gently massaged your scalp as he played with your hair

He insisted on hand feeding you; he would also make sure you stayed well hydrated by bringing a cup of water to your mouth for you to drink every now and then

He was so scared; he didn’t want to lose you

He wished at that moment that the migraine was a physical enemy that he could fight and kill, cause he can’t stand the thought of his beloved in pain.

He will refuse to leave your side until you are well and hands over all his meetings and official duties to Sasuke to handle

[detectivedreameater]

Headspace || Erin and Marley

TIMING: Current (Immediately after this) PARTIES: @corpse--diem and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Erin is Marley’s emergency contact and this is definitely an emergency. CONTENT: Head injury, head trauma, memory loss, car accident mention, medical blood mention 

It didn’t even occur to Erin that she had been the one contacted by the hospital until she was nearly there. At some point, probably after the accident at the warehouse, Marley had made her an emergency contact. Her brain rattled too fiercely in her skull to let that thought do anything but settle at the top of her consciousness. There’d been an accident. The woman on the other line had vaguely explained more but she only half heard it on her way out the door. Marley was in the hospital. She was stable, she remembered the woman saying, and while that did offer some comfort, another anxiety was dredging up her insides. Under no circumstance should Marley Stryder be in a hospital right now.

“Why is the blood blue?”

“Couldn’t say. I’ve never seen anything like it. When she wakes up, we’ll take some tests--”

Erin whizzed by the small group of doctors circling the nurse’s station, noses buried in files. Marley’s files. Her feet moved faster, so focused that she nearly missed her room entirely. Her heart dropped and her legs grew heavy after a moment. She was stable, she reminded herself. It looked worse than it was. Probably. “Marley,” she whispered, closing the door behind her. Her throat tightened as she drew closer and she had to clear it to speak again. “Marley, hey--can you hear me? It’s Erin,” she whispered louder, retaining it’s softness even as she touched a gentle hand to her hair, brushing it away from her eyes so she could get a better look at the bruise beneath it. She swallowed hard. “You’ve got to wake up. We have to go.”

The last thing Marley remembered was blue sky. It must’ve been a nice day out. A voice whispered to her through the haze of beeps and whirrs. When her eyes opened, she was staring at Erin. What was Erin doing here? Wasn’t she supposed to be at work? This wasn’t the precinct. She tried to sit up, brushing Erin’s hand away, but fell back immediately as she cringed in pain. “Oh, shit,” she hissed, grasping her ribs. “Oh, fuck...what-- where am I?” She’d lost time again. She couldn’t remember what happened. She needed to remember. Why was that thought familiar? “What-- is this the hospital?” She wheezed and her head throbbed and when she touched it, pain spiked. The world shifted once, fog filled, eerie-- then the hospital room was back. She blinked, looking at Erin. There were voices outside. “Shit…” her face paled in realization. “Help me up. Get-- get this stupid IV out of my arm.” 

Guilt washed over Erin, rushing her like this felt wrong, and there were a thousand questions she wanted to ask. How the hell did this happen? Was she okay? Where did it hurt? There wasn’t time for that. “Stay still,” she murmured, carefully slipping the needle out of her before unplugging the machines she’d been hooked up to altogether. “Can you walk?” she asked instead of the dozen other ones she wanted to, gingerly helping her as much as she could. Guess she didn’t have a choice, huh? Her eyes were glued to the bandage on her head, dreading the worst. She’d had the brief foresight to grab some clothes before she left--just a t-shirt and sweatpants--for this exact reason. Her clothes were nowhere in sight, likely damaged or cut off in the ambulance on the way over. “Do you need help?” She asked, grabbing her medical file. Some of the words she recognized, but the others she had a feeling Queenie would better understand. She unclipped the files and put the whole thing into her bag. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course I can--” but Marley was proven wrong when her feet slipped underneath her and she felt her legs wobble. “Fuck.” What had happened? She couldn’t remember. She needed to remember. A flash of something behind her eyes. A tree. Several trees. A voice from a speaker. She grabbed her head again. “Just-- lemme lean on you.” She looked around the room, too, for her belongings. Keys and wallet on the table in the corner, but no clothes. No gun. No badge. Had someone taken them? She leaned hard against Erin, squeezing her ribs painfully. “Fuck, how are we gonna get by the doctors?” She glanced at Erin with a look of worry, annoyance, then down to the clothes she was holding out to her now. “Right..” she grabbed the pants and tugged them on, before reaching down to try and pull the gown off. She groaned in pain as she pulled it from her torso, breathing heavily. At least she still had a bra on. “They better now have...cut my jacket…” she grumbled. It was also nowhere in the room. She waved Erin over. “Help me get this hoodie on.” 

Erin’s attention jumped to Marley again, her little groans of pain searing through her. “We’ll get you a new jacket,” she tried to lightly tease over the worry in her voice. Winced at the bruising along her ribcage. Matched up with the broken ribs she saw noted in her file. “Take it slow, here,” she murmured, doing as much of the work as she could in pulling the hoodie over her. Slow but not too slow. She glanced at the door, knowing they only had a few more minutes at max before someone would be checking in. Marley was moving slow though. Too slow. She took the liberty of helping her get her shoes on while she was at it. “Uh, just--wait here. One second,” she nodded at her once she was about ready to go. She slipped out of the room quickly, closing the door behind her. An alarm went off--code something or other--and the doctors’ and nurses' attentions were all scrambling down the hall to assist. Erin poked her head back in, reaching for Marley’s hand. “Time to go,” she hurried her, pulling her along gingerly out of the room and opposite of the hall.

Marley was semi-relieved when Erin took the liberty of sliding her shoes on for her. She hadn’t looked forward to bending down like that, knowing the pain in ribs. Erin really was trying her best to cover up her worry and move them along, but Marley made a mental note to point that out later. When they were far, far away from the hospital. She moved as fast as she could, leaning into Erin and clutching her ribs. As they limped down the hallway, Marley reached up and pulled the bandages from her head. She couldn’t look like a patient, they could catch on. Dumped the bloody remains in a trashcan. She hoped no one checked that trash. She didn’t need more people knowing about her blue blood. “How’d you know?” she asked once they were away from the room and nearing the front doors. “That I was here?”

Erin didn’t let go of her or even slow down until they were stepping outside of the hospital doors. She gave her a small smile. “I’m your emergency contact,” she stated matter of factly, leading her through the parking lot. There were no eyes on them, no one following them. They’d made it out and were pulling out once Erin had managed to toss her into the car. Quiet for a few moments, though her hand had found Marley’s again, her throat too tight to express herself properly but the squeeze of her hand did it for her. They weren’t out of the woods yet. “What happened?” She finally asked, glancing over quickly, turning down the road that led back to the funeral home. 

When had they gotten to the car? Marley remembered windows passing by, the bright sunlight as they slunk through the shadows. That must’ve been the parking lot. She rubbed her eyes again, wincing at the pain. Touched her brow. It must’ve been bruised. “Don’t get smug,” she grumbled, leaning back in the chair. When she opened them again, her vision flickered. There was a steering wheel in front of her. The sound of tires screeching. She’d lost control of her body, her hands. The sound of Erin’s voice brought her back and she blinked, dazed. “I--” she started, stopped. She knew but she didn’t. What had happened? “I think I...crashed my car.” That would make sense, wouldn’t it? The pain in her ribs, the bruise on her head. “I was talking to someone. I don’t remember who.”

“You think?” Blurted out of Erin’s mouth before she could stop herself. “Did you--” she started, glancing over at her, mindful enough to calm her tone. “Did you have another one? A seizure?” She asked, concern filling her voice. She should have thought about that. Should have better prepared them both. The ride back was short, the hospital only a street over, and she was pulling into the driveway before she could ask more questions. She had so many more. A heavy breath left her and she was hopping out and over to Marley’s side of the car before she could even open the door. “You’re staying here tonight. No arguments,” she told her plainly. Worry crept back up her throat. Marley’s doctor was going to love this. She’d call her as soon as she had the other woman settled and comfortable. “Come on. We’re not fleeing out of a building anymore. Easy does it. As slow as you need,” she nodded. “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t know,” Marley snapped back, putting her head in her hands. It was beginning to burn, ache, like a migraine. She shook her head. “I-- I can’t remember. I did hit my head, after all.” Again. She needed to stop doing that. They pulled up to the house and Marley pressed her palms into her eyes while she waited for Erin to open the door, letting her help her out of the car, basically falling into her grasp as she did so. “Nice bedside manner,” she teased quietly, “much more improved since the last time.” Not that she really wanted to think about that. Last time had been stitches in her face. At least this time, she didn’t have to do that. As she watched her feet, they seemed to swirl with fog. You shouldn’t be here. Her head snapped up. “Did-- did you hear that?” 

No matter how often Marley joked about it, those comments about her head never ceased to make Erin’s body tense. She’d humor her, knowing it was one of the best ways the other woman knew how to cope. Not today. “I’m aware,” she shot back with barely concern-fueled annoyance. Still, she clutched her tightly, guiding her towards the front door. Narrowed her eyes, grumbling. “My bedside manner is fine. You’re just annoying.” Suddenly though, Marley was on alert, and considering everything about this town, she stopped in her tracks. Quiet as she listened for something. Nothing but the usually small town buzzing in the background. The chirp of birds, cars driving past the house, the wind rustling through the trees. “No?” She said after a moment, raising a brow at her. “Hear what?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not hearing a ringing, are you? Because if you are, your doctor’s going to need to know. I’ll tell her even if you won’t.”

Marley furrowed her brow. “Not a ringing,” she mumbled, leaning back against Erin as they started back up towards the house. She really wanted to sit down. Turns out getting in a car accident made you tired. She slumped for a moment before readjusting herself. “No. It was…” But Erin was looking at her in concern again and Marley had no idea what to say to her. She couldn’t just tell her she’d heard a voice, that would make her more worried and that was the last thing she wanted. “Nothing. Must just be...my head.” She put her hand back up to the bruise that was surely sprouting-- she’d need to look at that later-- and breathed in deep. “Can we please just get inside? I really need to sit down.” Whatever was going on with her, she’d have to figure that out later. It had to do with whatever she saw in that place, whatever that place was. She had to know. She had to figure it out. She had to go back.

“Don’t like the sound of that either,” Erin mumbled, watching her warily for a few moments. She wasn’t sure exactly what to look for when it came to concussions or otherwise--she didn’t remember seeing that mentioned in her chart--but her eyes were glued on her nonetheless. “Yeah,” she answered more softly, letting go of her only to unlock the front door as quickly as she could. “Come on,” she said, ushering her inside, an arm firmly around her waist as she led her up the stairs. Like if she let go again, for even a moment, she’d break. Which was silly, and not true. Marley was one of the strongest people she knew. That gash along her forehead was glaring at her, reminding her how truly fragile she could be. When she finally settled her upstairs and helped her into her bed, her fussing continued. “What did you hear? And, uh--water? Are you hungry? What do you need?”

“And you think I do?” Marley mumbled. If her head didn’t hurt so much, she would’ve rolled her eyes. But as it turned out, it hurt just to move her head, or her eyes. She stayed standing-- barely-- as Erin opened the door and ushered her inside. She leaned gratefully back onto her as they made their way up the stairs and Marley collapsed into the bed. Her head was killing her. “I didn’t hear anything. Maybe that’s the problem,” she muttered back, rubbing her head. “Ice would be nice. My head is killing me.” She didn’t see the way Erin was looking at her, that deep concern that made her brow furrow and her eyes wrinkle. Marley had noticed it so many times before, but she didn’t notice it now, as her vision blurred and she felt a pounding behind her eyes. “Erin--” she said suddenly, sitting up enough to at least see her. Reached out for her hand to stop her before she left. “I-- thank you,” was all she managed to get out.

Fuck. The second Erin left this room, she calling Dr. Lin-King. “But you did hear something.” That’s why she stopped. That’s why she asked. But Erin didn’t push, not with the pained look on Marley’s face. They’d figure it out. They’d call the doctor and get her fixed and that dread building in her gut would go away. This could all be fixed. She would be fine. She had to be fine. “Ice, yeah,” she nodded, jumping into action. Stopped only when Marley tugged her back and her heart leapt again like something else had happened. She seemed almost surprised by her words, nodding her head, taking a second to sit on the side of the bed and squeeze her hand back. “You’re going to be just fine, okay?” She gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she meant what she said. Felt like there was more, like the words were getting jammed in her throat and her brain. She just smiled a little wider, shaking her head. “Do you need anything else?” She said instead. 

Something felt off. Not bad, just off. Aside from her head. Marley blinked in mild confusion, but let the thought rest. Her body was growing too tired. She chuckled and gave a shrug. “Yeah, seems to be the uh...theme.” She was right, though. Probably. Maybe. Definitely. Marley would just bounce back like she always did, and then everything would be fine. Right? There was a feeling in her gut that seemed to be trying to refute that notion, but she ignored it. Like she always did. Her eyes fell to their hands when Erin squeezed hers and she wondered when she’d grabbed Erin’s hand. She barely remembered reaching out to stop her. Her head was spinning again and she covered her eyes with her free hand, scrubbing her palm across them. “Sorry. No, just-- just ice. And sleep, I guess. Think I can just go to sleep and wake up fine? That’s how it works, right?” Even though she knew it wasn’t. That wasn’t at all how it worked. A girl could hope.

Erin nodded with an air of confidence she didn’t actually have. “That’s absolutely how it works,” she insisted, funneling all of the positive thoughts, whether they were denial or otherwise. Her eyes jumped to the cut on her forehead again, raising a hand to gently brush the hair from her face. Blue blood was starting to weep from it again, likely from the exertion of leaving the hospital. From one wound to another, she briefly glanced along the long healed claw marks marring her skin, before even more briefly finding her eyes. “I’ll see if we can’t clean that up a little bit too,” she added, pulling her hand away when it lingered. That tightness in her chest hadn’t loosened even a little since she took that call but there was a small comfort having her here, safe--as safe and secure as she could be outside of a hospital. “Just don’t think too hard. I know I’m not technically a doctor but I’m pretty sure that’ll make it worse,” she teased lightly, rising up slowly from the bed so as not to jostle her further. “Maybe don’t sleep until Dr. Lin-King can look at your head though. Just to be sure?”

“Ah, I knew it,” Marley said matter of factly. She watched Erin raise her hand and brush away some hair from her face and suddenly felt like her head was on fire. No, not her head. Her whole body. Huh, strange. Must’ve been an injury thing. Yeah, that was definitely it. She turned her head away when Erin withdrew her hand. “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” she lied, knowing it was a lie and that Erin knew it was. She just...didn’t like the look on her face. Like she was reliving the moments right before Roy had crushed Marley’s skull. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure Queenie will patch it up just fine and it’ll be healed in no time. Maybe it’ll just end up matching the other scars on my face,” she tried to tease, but Erin didn’t seem amused. She was standing up from the bed now and Marley wondered if she’d said something wrong, but then she remembered she’d asked Erin to get her some ice. Right. She nodded stiffly, scooting back on the bed, suddenly remembering the sharp pain in her ribs as well. Wincing, she added, “Maybe bring a couple packs of ice, actually.”

[one-leaf-grimoire]

crocodile tears

Chapter 1: in which marina has the worst day of her life

Hi! And welcome! Yes, I am publishing the first chapter of this fic on my Black Clover blog, I know it’s a little bizarre. Ahem. Anyway- I hope you guys will read this and enjoy it if you like jojo! I know there’s plenty of overlap between these two fandoms. DM or inbox me if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

Synopsis: Marina considers herself to be a normal teenager, despite both being the daughter of a senator and the center of many bizarre happenings throughout her life. However, everything gets turned upside down when her whole family is kidnapped. In that moment of fear, something within her awakens. Little does she know, this power is called a Stand, and she has caught the eye of the worst person imaginable. Marina must learn to master her stand, and decide where her loyalties lie: with the man who saved her life or with her newfound friends?

Warnings: Violence, frightening scenes, language, and Dio being toxic lol

March 6th, 1988

Cool water enveloped her body. Everything was cloaked in a sea green haze.

She was laying on the bottom of the riverbed, staring up at the muted sun. A crocodile swam by, almost lazily. It did not notice her, and she didn't feel scared.

It was just a crocodile.

"Marina... Marina, wake up already!"

Something cold and clammy grasped the 17-year-old girl's foot. Marina let out a scream and quickly recoiled under the soft white linens on her bed. "Five more minutes, mom!"

Marina’s mother scowled at her only daughter. She was already dressed in long, light pants and a tropical looking shirt. An over-sized hat adorned her head atop dark brown hair, a few shades lighter than her only daughter's. "Marina, we have five minutes before the ship docks. Dad's already gone up to eat."

"Well, that's just Dad," the girl grumbled back, pulling the covers more tightly around her shoulders, as if this cocoon would keep her safe from her mother's impending wrath. "He gets up early every day, that shouldn't mean that we also have to be up at the crack of dawn."

"It's not the crack of dawn, it's nearly ten o'clock already. The ship is running a little early, so we'll have more time to explore Alexandria."

Marina's only reply was a grunt. Her mother sighed. "What is it with you this morning?" She shook her head and swung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll be up on the top deck watching us dock. It's nice and warm outside, so dress accordingly. We'll see you in five minutes, or it's going to be a very long time before you get to go on another cruise, young lady." A few moments later, and the door shut.

Marina groaned and finally blinked her eyes open, immediately feeling the pounding pain of a migraine wash over her temple. Ouch... did I have a nightmare last night? Usually I sleep like a baby on these cruises.

Marina and her family had been on numerous cruises throughout her life. Her father, Mitchell Porosus was a state senator, and earned a comfortable paycheck, so the Porosus family was able to go on trips whenever congress was on a break. Marina wished her dad was around more, but overall the family dynamic was happy and harmonious. Marina had her 17th birthday recently, and this cruise was supposed to be a celebration of that. 

“You know what that means?” her father had told her that day. “You’re the same age as the Dancing Queen! You know, the song? Dancing Queeeen, young and sweeet, only seventeeen-”

Of course they were in public when they said that, so Marina was horribly embarrassed by her father’s terrible singing voice. For someone with a public reputation, he sure didn’t mind ruining it!

But in the end, it was sweet. Her father loved ABBA and Elton John, and Marina imagined that the two of them would dance to Dancing Queen or Tiny Dancer at her wedding.

Marina loved her dad and mom, and that was the reason why she finally dragged herself down from the bunkbed. From their room on the second level, she could see the dock inching closer and closer. With a yawn, Marina turned and walked into the bathroom, where she finally was able to look upon her tired face in the mirror. Her short, black hair was frizzled, but a few brush strokes later reverted it to its usual sleek form. Marina stretched her arms above her head, wincing a little as she heard her shoulders pop. Jeez, good thing I don’t have a swim meet today, my joints are all out of whack. Her blue-grey eyes, still bloodshot from a fitful sleep, harbored a major case of the dark circles. Nothing a little makeup couldn't fix.

A few minutes later, Marina was finally dressed in some high waisted jeans and a non-descript tank top. She had her trusty mirrored sunglasses on, yet the sunlight from the window was enough to make her eyes water. Leaving her room, she walked down the hallway, strutting with her hands deep in her pockets, her fingers running over the ID card given to her upon embarkation. Marina Porosus.

"Finally, there you are," her father greeted when she made it down to the gangway. "Ready to see Egypt?"

Her father was a tall man, with jet black hair like Marina's. While her mother's eyes were a warm brown, his were blue. He looked like your stereotypical senator, even if he didn’t act like it.”

"Do they even have any pyramids in this town?" Marina asked, a bit apathetically.

Her mother shook her head. "No pyramids, but there used to be a library here, the library of Alexandria!"

Marina raised an eyebrow. "Used to be? Well, what's here now?"

Her parents were at a loss for words. "Well, why don't we go see!" her father exclaimed optimistically, throwing his arms around his daughter and wife. 

For the first time that morning, Marina smiled. Even if it was just her parents and her, the three of them would have a good time.

Alexandria was lively place, full of noise and life. Most of it was centered around the port, where the single cruise ship was docked. It was like any other port Marina had visited, except the air was much more dry than the Caribbean. Even Italy was more humid. Marina walked behind her parents as they made their way farther inland. “There’s some ancient ruins I want to check out,” her father said excitedly. “And are you still curious about the Library of Alexandria, Marina?”

Marina shrugged. “Was I curious to begin with?”

“Yes!” her father asserted. “Anyway, there’s a museum all about it farther inland. The walk is a little long, but it’ll be fun!”

Marina sighed, shaking her head a little. She knew her father had enough money to rent a cab, but he was stubborn and insisted that walking “built character.” 

“Tarot card readings! Have your fortune told by the Tarot!”

For some reason, Marina’s feet stalled. Slowly, she stopped, then turned her head towards the source of the voice.

No... it wasn’t the voice that drew her there.

It was... something else.

Like magnetism. Gravity. Marina’s gaze fell upon a short, clocked figure, sitting at the mouth of an alley. The voice was feminine, wracked with age, but Marina couldn’t be sure. For a moment, she almost kept walking, but a moment of hesitation was all it took.

“Dad! Can I get my fortune told?”

Her parents stopped and looked back at her. Her father eyed the fortune teller suspiciously. “Ah, Marina, you don’t believe that stuff, do you?”

“So? It’ll still be fun.” Marina looked back over at the fortune teller. She still had that weird feeling, like that person was someone she knew. “Anyway, Tarot Card readings originated in ancient Egypt, so isn’t this a good experience to have while here?”

Well, her father couldn’t deny that. “Here-” He handed the cloaked figure a twenty dollar bill. “Will this suffice?”

“Certainly.” A deck of cards appeared from under the sleeve of their cloak, and instantly shuffled itself. They spread out across the makeshift table. A wrinkled hand gestured at the line. “Go ahead... pick three, my dear.”

Slowly, Marina reached down. With one finger, she slid one card forward, then another, and then a third. The fortune teller swept them up immediately and placed them face up. Marina’s eyes narrowed as she saw the pictures on the cards, but couldn’t read the writing on them. “So? What does it mean?”

With a soft chuckle, a withered finger pointed at the first. “This card represents your past... This is the Six of Wands card! Confidence, recognition, and success... you’ve known all three throughout your life.”

Marina gulped, shrugging a little. Maybe... but everyone’s had some sort of success in their life! That seems a little too broad.

“And this is the present-” They gestured at the middle card. “This is the Tower Card... it represents catastrophic change, and... awakening.”

Awakening? That’s interesting... I don’t know what that could be.

“Tell me...” Marina looked up to see an eye peering out from behind the hood. It narrowed curiously. “This card is one of the Major Arcana... it represents a milestone in your life. You must have noticed, then... even if you don’t know quite yet...”

Marina wasn’t sure she liked the way the fortune teller was spinning this. I haven’t noticed anything like that! “Okay... and the last card is the future?”

“Yes, yes...”

The fortune teller’s finger fell upon the face of the last card. Unlike the first two, it was reversed, facing away from Marina. “This card, when reversed, represents dissatisfaction, delays, and... an endless, fruitless search for closure.”

Marina felt a chill go down her neck.

“The World.”

The family left the fortune teller behind after that. Even as they searched farther inland, visiting temples and museums, Marina could not shake the slowly growing pit of dread in her stomach. 

A few hours later, it was almost time to get back on the ship. The problem was that the small family had made their way a little too far inland and were now in real danger of being left behind. 

"This is all your fault, dad!" Marina scolded as she jogged behind her parents. There was a taxi station nearby where they could get transport to the port. "You always geek out over this historical stuff and make us late to things!"

"Well, your mother wanted to get that hat from that store back there, too, so I'm not the only one to blame," he yelled back. "In any case, we can just hop on a taxi and-" His face fell, and the family skidded to a halt. The entire plaza was slammed, bumper to bumper traffic as far as they could see. "Mitchell, we're definitely going to miss the boat," her mom said quietly. Of course, Senator Porosus stayed enthusiastic, shaking his head. "No, we'll make it if we run."

Marina groaned as her father and mother started to run again. "Seriously?" It wasn't that Marina couldn't keep up; she had been swimming her entire life and had great stamina. It was just so damn hot out.

"If you hurry, we'll make it back in time for dinner," her mother encouraged, spurring Marina on into a true run.

With her dad leading the way, the trio raced down the street towards where they thought the port was. There were a lot of people walking on the sidewalks, but it wasn't hard to weave between them without disturbance. Marina craned her neck and, with a ton of relief, spied the top of their ship up ahead. "I can see it, Dad!" she exclaimed, already thinking about what she was going to eat for dinner tonight. "We're going to make it!"

"Here, let's cut through this road." He pointed at an alley that seemingly cut over to where the embarkation area was. "We can beat some of the line as well."

"Perfect!" Marina changed course and ran ahead of her parents and into the alleyway.

For a moment, the sounds of the busy streets died away, leaving only three pairs of footsteps slapping their way down the stone path. The buildings on either side were tall enough to block out the afternoon sun, leaving them in a comfortable chill.

Up ahead was a corner. Marina quickened her pace and turned into...

A dead end.

"Shit," her dad exclaimed, earning him a sharp kick in the shin from his wife. "Ah, excuse my french. Back luck, huh." He shrugged, ever optimistic. "Well, I guess we can double back and keep running."

"Yeah," Marina’s mom agreed.

Marina sighed. What a let down! Well, it wouldn't take too long to get back, at least, at this rate we’ll make in in time-

Marina turned around to see that five men, all armed with guns, had cornered them in the dead end.

"Look at this, just the man we were looking for!” one of them pointed at Marina’s dad. “This is the senator we were told to capture? He doesn’t look like much.”

“Don’t worry, this is him... Senator Porosus, a friend of yours sends this message:” one of the men grinned. “You’ve been in my way for too long, Mitch. It’s time for me to put the fear of God in you. Enjoy your extended stay in Egypt!”

“What? Who hired you?” Mitchell gulped and pulled his wife and daughter behind him. Marina felt her mom's cold hand clutch her arm. This time, she didn't try to shrug it off. “I’ve done nothing but get along with everyone. They all want to see me reach the top! I’m gonna be President one day-”

“We’ll see about that.” The man in charge raised his gun. “For now, come to our truck. We’ll make you and your family comfortable until someone generous pays your ransom.”

Oh no, they had a truck somewhere.

"Look... I don’t care what you do to me.” Senator Porosus said, his voice shaking a little. For someone in so much danger, he was staying pretty composed. “But leave my family out of it!”

“Mitchell-” Marina’s mother whispered, her grip on Marina loosening slightly. “Just do what they say, and-” She was cut off with a scream as one of the men yanked her away from her family.

Marina's eyes widened. Shit! This is actually happening- It was like a scene from a movie, some horrible, scary movie, and panic spiked through Marina’s veins. "MOM! DAD!" Someone grabbed Senator Porous as well, and now two more were advancing towards Marina.

"Don’t even try, you’re just going to get hurt!” one of the guys said with a twisted grin. Marina screamed and struggled anyway as her arms were twisted behind her body. 

No... NO!

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was supposed to be their last stop before flying home, where Marina would finish up the year and enjoy the summer with her friends. But now-

Catastrophic change... and-

With one last burst of strength, Marina wrenched her arm away, freeing herself for a moment. She turned around, her eyes wide and crazed with adrenaline.

Awakening.

The gun leveled at her head was suddenly crunched into a flat piece of scrap metal. The man holding it didn’t have a moment to realize what had happened, because numerous spots of his arm suddenly burst with blood.

He opened his mouth to scream, stumbling back, but it was as if something was clamped down on his arm, hard. Bones crunched as he was suddenly wrenched to the side, and the movement sent him flying into the nearby brick wall.

Marina froze.

What- what on earth-

But then something hit her in the back of the head, hard, and she fell back down to the bottom of the river.

The crocodile continued to circle high above.

And that’s chapter one!!!! I hope you guys are intrigued 0.0 Please comment/inbox/etc if you have any theories or thoughts, I always appreciate them! I’ll probably post the next chapter on Friday. I changed a couple things to make the story flow better than it did when I first released it. Anyway, see you next time!

Also, did anyone catch the meaning of Marina’s last name? hehe...

[logicalbookthief]

ʌ: for clown movie

^: comfort after a nightmare

Wow this took a lot longer than I thought, I apologize! Work has been blegh lately and my writer’s block was strong. Nevertheless, I thank you for the prompt and hope you enjoy!

It’s a sort of sequel to my fic “Placebo” that isn’t necessary to read before this but would definitely help. All you really need to know is that it takes place in a universe where Eddie is Carrie White’s cousin and has the same telekinetic powers. 

*

*

"I'm not afraid." 

For once, it’s the truth. Eddie has never felt more powerful than he does here, among the ruins of It’s hiding place, where It lurked for centuries, millennia, gnawing on the bones of children, biding its time for the day It would feed again. The memory of this place terrified him for years-- even when he couldn’t remember, the fear was embedded in his mind. 

Now it’s shattering under the strength of Eddie’s will, destroyed by the sheer force of his mind, and the feeling is-- he can’t describe--

The weak, shriveled form of the clown tries to rally. Eddie squares his jaw, focuses on pinning It down, harder, merciless, refusing to give an inch. "I’m not afraid,” he repeats, the taste of blood in his mouth, hot as it slips down his face. “Not of you." 

The clown laughs-- it’s a raspy, death rattle. Still, Eddie tenses, a sense of doubt creeping past the smolder of anger, the self-righteous flaring through his whole body. 

"Even now I can feel it, that delicious reek of fear,” It smirks, a lopsided grimace turned smug. “Not of me, no. I already know what you are.” 

Gulping, Eddie falters. Only for a moment, the flare dousing to a mere spark. 

"I’ve always known,” It croaks, hoarse and almost unheard above the sound of the cavern as it crumbles. “But do they know, Eddie?” 

Carrie, her hair a tangled mass of flames, her dress a flowing wave of red. Her eyes are nearly electric, a frenzied flash of light that-- and, suddenly, Eddie’s staring at a reflection of himself, manic and panting, bathed in the blood of his tormentor.

“Do they know what you are?”

Eddie springs up, dislodging the sheets curled around his body, gasping for the air caught in his throat. His heart jackhammers against his ribcage, trying to claw out from under the heavy weight atop his chest.

Beside of him in bed, Richie stirs with a low, drowsy groan. Ridiculously long legs disentangle under the blanket. He’s amazed they manage to fit together most nights, what with how much of Richie there is to fit, and how Eddie tends to sprawl if not contained by his boyfriend's octopus-like embrace.

His boyfriend. Now there’s a word he never thought he’d be able to use sincerely. However, there’s no mistaking the realness of Richie as he shifts closer in search of Eddie, even in his half-asleep state.  

"Eds?" he calls in that scratchy voice reserved for the early hours of the morning. Frankly, a freshly-woken Richie is a sight to behold. Even as kids waking up in the Denbroughs’ den, Eddie’s guilty pleasure was waking before his best friend so as to catch a glimpse of Richie as he roused. 

With his glasses askew, his tousled hair a mess, his mouth slightly parted in the memory of a snore. As an adult, the sight’s no less appealing -- if anything, that half-lidded gaze staggers him more, now that he’s aware of the soft, unguarded affection that lingers behind it.

"You okay?" Richie persists, squinting without his glasses.

"Mhm," Eddie replies, muffled by his fingers as they scrub at his face, clearing the remnants of the nightmare.

Unconvinced, Richie struggles into a sitting position. Propped against the headboard, he sizes up Eddie far too easily for someone who can barely see. "Bad dream?" 

Too exhausted to form an answer, Eddie slumps backwards, colliding with Richie’s chest. Flush against each other, he can hear Richie’s breath stutter over the shell of his ear. Six months since Eddie moved in to Richie’s sunny LA apartment, the Derry hospital discharge band still around his wrist and Bev’s divorce lawyer saved to his phone, and sometimes they forget that this is allowed -- this closeness. This idea they can finally have what they want and not be hurt by it, by anyone.

Loving Richie is muscle memory, so natural it may as well be encoded in his DNA. Knowing that he has Richie, and can love Richie freely without hiding who he is, well-- that’s still a wonder, no matter how often Richie whispers the words against his skin. 

Eddie knows this, not only in his mind but in his heart, and yet... He’s perplexed. Besides the Losers, he’s never known a love without conditions. A love that wasn’t dependent on his willingness, his obedience. It’s easy with Richie and harder for the same reason. 

Once it registers that he’s got an lapful of a boyfriend, Richie winds an arm around Eddie and crushes him to the broad expanse of his chest. Hooks his chin over his shoulder and nuzzles his cheek like an over-excited dog. 

“Baby, you’re kind of warm,” he murmurs, two-days worth of stubble scraping fondly over Eddie’s cheek.

The attention sends a shiver down his spine, but it ends in a shudder as Eddie remembers the heat of the flames as they licked his face, smoke curling into his lungs. Was it his face -- or hers? -- the fire a distant heat compared to the warm blood soaking her dress, her clothes, eyes listless as they carnage rages around her, the destruction she -- or he, was it him? -- the cavern collapsing around him as It huffed out its last, dismal breath--

His lungs expand, vainly searching for space to breathe. Eddie wriggles out of Richie’s hold, trying to hide the desperate beat of his pulse. “Fucking California heat,” he mumbles, evasively. “Has me all.. Sweaty.”

New York contains many, many years worth of bad memories, but if there’s one thing he misses, it’s the cold nights. Though if he had to choose between the lonely dark of the guestroom where he slept instead of aside his wife or the comfort of Richie’s bed -- well, that’s hardly even a question.

“Did you wanna, ah..."  Flummoxed, Richie wavers over his next words. "Talk?"

It's a song and dance they've done before. A sliver of guilt pierces Eddie through the shields he’s barricaded around this particular issue. How many times has he startled awake and dragged Richie out of sleep -- and then, to add insult to injury, decline the invitation to talk?  

After Richie barred his soul and revealed the initials he carved into the Kissing Bridge, despite the threat of bullies and rejection, it seems hypocritical to keeps his darkest secrets under lock and key. 

Not for the first time, Eddie aches for his pills. He’s kicked the habit, endured the worst of the withdrawal, bears the occasional migraine with no complaint. But in moments like these the urge is almost too much to ignore. 

You’ll feel better, Dr. Silas cajoles, a venomous promise in his ear. Don’t you want to be normal?

It triggers a memory-- the pills in his palm, his mouth parted to swallow, but the desperation of Richie’s screams, the horror in the eyes of his friends. No, Eddie snaps. Of course he wants to be normal. Wants to have a normal life with his boyfriend. 

But he wants it to be real. No more placebos.

"Oh-kay. If you’re sure," Richie sounds uncertain, but he’s unwilling to cross the boundaries Eddie has firmly set. Eddie falls a little bit more in love with him for that. "Then it’s back to bed with you, guvnah!”

Usually the British voice anywhere near the vicinity of their bed drew a protest from Eddie -- it catches in his throat when Richie him swings him flat on his back, the bulk of his body sprawled between Eddie’s legs. He blushes to the roots of his hair, clutching at the wide expanse of Richie’s shoulders, fingers digging into soft skin and the tendons of muscle underneath. 

If he scowls, it’s a dismal attempt to hide how hopelessly turned on he is by every aspect of this ridiculous man.

"Otherwise, you'll be bitchy as fuck for the flight tomorrow.” His sigh blows against Eddie's hair. "And you know how much that turns me on."

Eddie sputters.

"God, you ever travel for upwards of six hours with a boner? Would not recommend, 0/10."

"Rich!" he scolds, which is hard to do when you're spasming with laughter.

"Unless," Richie continues, slyly, "Eds, you minx. You want to join the Mile-High club with me?"

"Richie," Eddie coughs, truly on his way to a ruptured lung. Hopelessly fond as he orders, "Shut up and go to sleep."

He waits until the chuckles peter out, eventually replaced by soft, even breaths. Carefully, Eddie twists out of Richie’s embrace. The soles of his slippers drag along the carpet as he shuffles to the kitchen.

The piles of dishes Richie convinced him to leave for later in favor of more amorous activities -- and to be perfectly honest, Eddie was easy to convince -- sits in the sink. Picking up the dish soap, Eddie figures he may as well be proactive in his insomnia.

Aunt Margaret used to say, Idle hands are the devil’s playthings. It was maybe the single coherent, non-hateful advice she ever gave. 

He’s halfway through the mess and elbow deep in sudsy water when Richie wanders in, stretching. “I thought we had an agreement,” he yawns. “Whoever isn’t accosted by trauma-fueled nightmares gets to make breakfast.”

Ducking his head around a smile, Eddie shrugs. “Too restless to sleep. The thought of you forgetting to pack underwear on this trip haunted my dreams.”

"Ooh, say that again," Richie moans, slotting their hips together from behind. Despite his playful tone, Eddie feels the half-stir of morning wood. "Slower this time."

Eddie shoves playfully at his chin. "Seriously," he huffs. "Our flight's only in a couple of hours and I know you haven't finished packing!"

"Our flight's in eight hours," Richie points out, which is met by a dubious eyebrow raise. "That is plenty of--"

"How many pairs of underwear do you currently have in your suitcase?"

There’s a long, unconscionable pause. 

"Fuck!" Richie snaps his fingers. "Knew there was something I forgot."

One of those rare instances where he isn't joking.

"You're pushing me toward an asthma attack," Eddie deadpans. "Please go pack."

Richie leaves a wet, slobbering kiss on his cheek that Eddie only half-pretends to hate. “Anything you say, darling."

Once he’s gone, Eddie can focus at the task at hand. He glances sidelong at a coffee mug that’s slightly out of reach. Retrieving it isn’t a hassle so much as an inconvenience, since his hands are damp with dishwater and the closest rag is across the room. 

You could do it another way, reminds the quiet voice in back of his head that Eddie’s spent the last twenty-years trying to suppress. Long before that, really. Since the day his mother told him what his cousin-- what Eddie was. 

Do you know what you are?

Eddie bristles. Fuck that clown. Fuck the idea that It has any lingering sway over his life. His mother, too. And those doctors, all those doctors and their tests, their experiments, their pills. Nobody can choose for him anymore. He’s in control of his life. 

Despite this conviction, Eddie dawdles. Strains his ears. He can hear Richie clunking around in their bedroom, a safe distance away. I’m alone, he thinks bracingly. I’m alone, so there’s no harm in...

He shuts his eyes, concentrating. The mug rattles, as though gently prodded by an unseen force. Slowly, carefully, Eddie relinquishes the vice-like grip of the leash wrapped tight around his mind, bit by bit. 

The mug slides along the counter, until it hovers over the edge. It does not fall. Eddie feels a prick of satisfaction tingle at the base of his neck.

I’m not afraid, Eddie thinks with a rush of spite. Remembering his dream, the clown’s laughter a fresh in his memory, he pushes the mug faster. I am not--

"Hey, Eds, did you-?"

The mug smashes against the ground, shattering. Pieces fly out, scattering across the floor. All sharp edges.

"Shit!" Eddie panics. "Don't step over here, the shards–"

Hastily, he reaches for a handful of glass, as if cleaning up the evidence will hide what he’s done.

What were you thinking, you freak? You could've hurt him or--

"Eddie.” That’s Richie's voice calling to him, soft and urgent. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll--” He’s babbling, the words choked, constricted, while sweat pools at the base of his neck and his hands shake with the effort to shove it all down, deep, deep down where nobody can see-- 

"Eddie!" Richie shouts. His face comes into focus near inches from his, eyes, wild with worry. "Calm down, it's okay. It's okay, see? Just a stupid mess.”

A mess you made, Eddie thinks viciously. Now he's seen, he's seen and he'll run, he'll leave, because you're a–

"C'mon, Eds,” Richie murmurs, both a plea and a demand. Trembling fingers tangle with his own, the bite of Richie’s knuckles as he presses their palms against his ribcage steadying Eddie in the present. “You've got to breathe for me.”

Only then does Eddie realize how rapidly it’s rising, and how difficult it is to inhale. Buoyed by the constant stream of Richie’s assurances, Eddie begins to count his breaths, focuses on the movement of his and Richie’s hands as he breathes once twice, in and out. He judges his success by the tightness of Richie’s frown. 

"Sorry," Eddie croaks once he can speak again. It feels as if the shards are lodged in his throat.

"Don't apologize," says Richie, a furrow nestling between his brows. He keeps his tone level, likely more worried than he lets on, but the lack of panic is what’s grounding Eddie and he’s appreciates it more than words will convey. "Do you need me to-- What do you need?”

Eddie shakes his head. Tears prick at his eyes and he bites down on the tide of pleas that threaten to overwhelm him. You, I need you. I need you not to leave me once you figure out what I am.

"You know I don't care if you use your Matilda whammy." Richie makes a show of squinting his eyes. Eddie chokes on a stilted laugh. Richie seems to sag in relief 

"It doesn’t change a thing for me,” he reminds, nudging Eddie softly. “You understand, right?" 

Eddie swallows, thickly. He doesn't trust his voice, so he nods, the reply burrowed into Richie's chest. He kisses his clavicle once, twice in gratitude.

"What were you going to ask before?"

"Uh," Richie hedges. "Do you know where all my clean underwear is?"

Again, Eddie laughs. Helplessly. "Fucking Christ, Rich, I told you: a man needs more than seven pairs of underwear."

"I resent that. I have more," Richie sniffs. "They're just not as sexy as my gluteus maximoose pair. Which, as you know, I reserve for all special occasions."

"You're fucking ridiculous, is what you are," Eddie chuckles. "I'll fold the laundry after I clean this up."

"Let me do that,” Richie insists, shooing him toward the bedroom. “You can shower first.”

Chewing his lip, Eddie hesitates.

"Are you wearing shoes?" Richie gestures impatiently at his moccasins. "Alright... Just be careful with the glass."

“Like you were?” Catching Eddie by the wrist, Richie frowns down at his palm. A thin slice below his thumb, the blood a steady ooze. 

"Oh," says Eddie, woozily. The prick of pain didn't even register. "I'll go, um. Wash this in the bathroom."

He ignores the feeling of Richie’s eyes on his back as he hustles the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He’s ignored a lot of things, lately. 

The familiar yet nameless numbers on the cellphone he ultimately chucked. The decreasing amount of frantic calls from his ex-wife. The urge to tell Richie and the Losers every awful truth Eddie’s spent his entire adult life burying so deep that not even he has to confront it, ever.

At the sink, Eddie avoids his own reflection. Under the spray of water, the blood washes off effortlessly. As if it never happened. Wash your hands, Eddie. Like a good boy. His mother always repeated the order, ad nauseam. Like if he scrubbed hard enough, it would be as if the all the dirty, unclean parts of him she feared had never existed. 

For all her lies, Eddie wishes it was that easy. 

[kawaiijellymonster]

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.  

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head. 

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

[gumnut-logic]

okay so i have been having bad brain lately and struggling with life but i just took a deep dive into your ao3 to catch up on all your wonderful words and needed to let you know how brilliant you are (again) bc it’s been a while. thank you for writing the dentist. it’s such a beautiful heartbreaking story and you handled the mental health stuff so very tenderly and carefully and the way virgil’s brothers care so much and so differently, my heart just !!!! (1)

i know we’ll be home for christmas wasn’t my secret santa gift but it truly feels like it when you bless us with injured virgil and beautiful scenery and pure unadulterated fluff. what a beautiful world you have created. sotto voce is just. phenomenal. there are no words for how much it blows me away every time i reread. the prince who would be king?? i don’t normally read medieval stuff but this???? is everything!!! (2)             

shooting star hurts so much but in the best way, you are TOO GOOD to us. finally. i will stop soon dw, but listen, live, lie, laugh, learn & love??? honestly probably my favourite fic ever. i come back to it often and just weep every time because it’s a masterpiece and virgil is so perfect in it, i am just so in love with your writing style. every time you post i get a happy leap in my chest & i get inspired to write my own so thank you for making me love writing again. you’re the best xoxo (3)        

-o-o-o-

I woke up to these this morning and oh my god, I have just reread this so many times trying to work out how to do justice and answer such lovely words ::hugs you so much::

I really couldn’t have written what I have without this wonderful fandom to keep me going. You, in particular, have always been so encouraging and amazing to me, how can I not keep writing?  I stumble across your comments from time to time while rereading fic and they are just so encouraging ::hugs you madly::

I’m sorry to hear that life is being nasty to you ::offers you a Virgil to hug:: I hope things improve as soon as possible. ::more hugs:: I’m glad my fic helps just a little bit. I know I’ve used fanfic in the past to get through rough patches, so I’m really just returning the favour.

Regarding the fics you mention: (wherein Nutty babbles about behind the scenes of her fics)

The Dentist - My most recent actually started out as supposed to be funny, but I’m never in control of these things. I drew from my own phobic experiences (though not of dentists and certainly not caused like Virgil’s). I grew up in a, shall we say, unsympathetic environment to a sensitive child (I am sensitive to a whole bunch of things - side effect of my artistic abilities, I guess, has it’s up and down sides) and developed at least two phobias that messed with my life. The only thing I ask is if someone says they are scared of something, please respect that and assist them in working with it rather than mocking them. It may seem stupid, but the fear is real and terrifying. And yes, Scott Tracy, I’m looking at you - treat Brains with a little more respect, you arrogant flyboy. Not everyone has the same talents. Thank you so much for your kind words and for reading through what turned out to be a very emotional fic ::hugs you lots::

We’ll Be Home For Christmas - I feel Secret Santa is really a gift to everyone. We all enjoy reading each other’s fics and I’m so glad you are enjoying this one. This one has been magical for me. I have learnt so much researching it and I feel I’ve been on the voyage with the boys. Poor Virg, though, I had to injure him just to get the plot moving. I am so mean to him :D I will finish this fic. It has to be finished. I’m enjoying it far too much for it not to be finished. As to the world, I didn’t create it ::hugs:: The beauty of it is that it actually exists just north of New Zealand. I have watched so many videos of this amazing place, I will have to share when the fic is finished :D

Tales of Sotto Voce - This series will always have a big place in my heart as it impacted on my writing like no fic before it. I learnt so much and enjoyed it so much. I really need to finish The Price because John needs to have the last say in this saga and boy, does he have a lot to say. Thank you so much for rereading it. It is always wonderful to hear that my archived words are still being read ::hugs::

The Prince Who Would Not Be King - I’m a little scared of this one. It could essentially become a novel and it would be a steep learning curve for my writing skills. The amount of work involved is daunting and honestly it is tempting :D But not until I finish Shooting Star, We’ll Be Home For Christmas and The Hero :D It seems I can write things at the drop of a hat, in fifteen minutes, at lunch, before work, early in the writing piece, but each story gets to about the three-quarter mark and then I really have to start thinking hard to make sure I tie up all the loose ends and deliver what the story demands - this can’t be done at odd minutes, so gets relegated to time off work where I can focus, hence the delays. Plus my frickin’ muse often refuses to behave ::glares at it:: I’ll wrangle with it and will win eventually ::glares at it some more::

Shooting Star - I was looking at this one yesterday. I have the conclusion worked out, I’m just trying to segway into it. Muse wouldn’t co-operate so I wrote Together instead. This was supposed to be a simple Virgil-John chat fic. It blew up in my face. The emotions in this one just hurt. But I feel it is a conversation the boys had to have. Scott would not just leave his brother up there with a potentially murderous AI. There has to be a reason why it all worked out...and some how or other I now have to illustrate exactly that ::headdesk:: How do I get myself into these situations? But anyway, some more is written, I just have to make it work properly. Thank you for sticking with me as I stumble through my brain working things out :D

Listen, Live, Lie, Laugh, Learn & Love - I have always loved the 5 + 1 fic format, but had never written one. At this point I wasn’t sure I could finish such a challenging format (yeah, look at my long fics now, but back then I was terrified I didn’t have it in me). I also had no idea where the fic was going until about halfway through, was totally new to the fandom and to Virgil’s character and to this day still worry I bent his character oddly with the choir boy bit. It is true that canon Virgil has never sung on screen (that I’ve been able to discover) so this fic is possible, but I’ve never been entirely confident I pulled it off well. So yeah, lots of doubt hovering around this early piece, so your words mean ever so much to me, particularly about this fic ::hugs you lots::

But most of all, the best thing you’ve said in all this is that you are inspired to write. I couldn’t ask for more. There is never anything more wonderful than knowing I have helped another artist pick up a pen or brush or take that step to push their ideas out into the world. The world is so much better the more art and creativity unleashed upon it. The world is crazy about science and technology, but the truth of the matter is that art and creativity and innovation underpin everything our species has ever achieved. That and art can offer such relief from a crazy world that does not lend itself to the natural rhythms of life.

::grin:: I’m not a coffee drinker like the Virg, but you wanna see Nutty devolve into a similar bearhead to the sans coffee Virgil, just see what happens when I’m denied my creative time. You get fic cos Nutty needs to exercise her creativity everyday. It keeps me healthy. It comes in many forms and media, but at the moment it is writing and TAG and yay, lots of fic :D

Aaaand, I’m babbling. Apparently I like to talk about myself ::ducks head shyly:: Sorry :D

But thank you ever, ever so much for all your support. It means ever so much to me and the only way I can really express it is to write more fic. :D

Which reminds me - I do take prompts, do you have something in particular you would like me to write? I’ve just come up on my 100th TAG fic on Ao3 and I should celebrate. I don’t think I’ve written you a special fic. Would you like to make a request?

::Hugs you ever so madly and sticks marshmallows down your shirt::

Thank you so much for reading and being so kind and putting up with my crazy.

Nutty

(off the edge, learning to fly, ignoring that damned migraine I had this morning and worshipping the almighty paracetamol)

[thatsdemko]

Get better-S.Knight

Requested: yes|no

A/N: I wrote this on wattpad and forgot to publish it on here...

Let me know your thoughts if you have any!

It had been two weeks. Two weeks too long since you've seen Spencer and you were starting to get lonely. You had missed him so much and you were excited for when he would finally arrive home from Sweden. One of the things that didn't help was getting into an argument two days before he had left so you both didn't talk at all the whole time. You missed his voice and his comfort. The past two weeks were not friendly to you. For two days you had a horrific migraine which resulted in going to get an MRI done, and missing school from those days which caused you to fall behind on school work and having to catch up and prepare for three tests, and you really had needed Spencer's voice to calm you and help you get through this week, but you were still so mad at him for what had happened before he left.

It was a Tuesday evening when you started getting snapchats from the guys about being home, while you were studying for your multiple tests when you couldn't take it any longer. You were missing material from not being there, the work you had to learn by yourself was not enough to answer any questions, and your migraine was starting to come back after being resolved for almost two weeks. You had went down to your mother in tears when she just decided to tell you to not go to school tomorrow and give yourself an extra day to get caught up even if it meant missing new material tomorrow. You went back up to your room taking your medication as you decided to try and sleep it off when you got a phone call seeing it was Spencer as you quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, are you okay? Jack said you were crying in your recent snap to him? Look I'm sorry for what happened before Sweden I shouldn't have been a jerk but I'm concerned about you. What's going on?"

You told him everything that had happened while he was away and he apologized again and again as your migraine was now starting to get worse for you. The medication was no good and listening to Spencer ramble on as it had gotten worse feeling like you were going to throw up now.

"Spencer, I'm not feeling too well I really need to get some rest." You apologized starting to get even more sick as you rushed out of the room and your phone fell onto the floor.

"Y/n? Y/n, are you there?" Spencer asked removing the phone from his ear seeing you were still there before pressing it back up against his ear as he got into the Uber telling the driver your address wanting to come see you now.

"Spence, I'm going to get some rest I just threw up I'm really sorry."

"That's okay, love, I hope you feel better."

—

When you had woke up it was because the hallway light shining into your room for a minute before the door quickly closed as you looked over to see a big slightly bulky figure moving closer to your bed as they approached you made out that it was Spencer and he had a few things in his hands.

"Spence," you whispered and he shushed you, "ssh go back to sleep, love I'm not here." He set the things down on your nightstand about to walk out of your room when you called for him, "please stay, I missed you." You said and he couldn't say no. He missed you too and wanted to be with you, but he also needed to unpack and he was exhausted from the flight home.

"I missed you too." He sighed laying down in bed next to you now as you moved closer and he began to stroke your hair lightly, "how are you feeling?"

"Still have a migraine it's not as bad though." You whispered pulling yourself closer to him as he drew circled on your back with his fingers as your head rested on his chest.

"Your mom made me bring you food up here in case if you were hungry."

"Oh god I probably look like a mess." You muttered to yourself trying to fix your hair as much as you could in the dark and Spencer laughed, "your room is so dark, love, I can't even see you."

You sighed about to adjust next to Spencer with your eyes closed listening to him talk for a few until you started to feel nauseous again which resulted in you rushing up out of bed and Spencer following behind you into the bathroom closing the door behind him and turning on the lights before coming up from behind you grabbing a hold of your hair for you.

"You really don't feel well huh?" He asked as you flushed the toilet getting up now from where you were standing wiping your mouth shaking your head gently.

You looked up at him running your hand over the beard that was now on his face that wasn't there when he had left. "When did this happen?" You asked and he shrugged blushing now, "oh uh I just grew it out, you know?"

You nodded your head, again gently, as you even noticed his hair was a bit longer and starting to curl. You had always wanted to see what his hair would look like a bit out grown than what it normally was.

"You look really handsome," you said running your fingers through the one curl with a bright smile on your face as he laughed, "it's getting a bit long though–"

"No no I like it come on two weeks I haven't seen you and you're not changing for another week please?" You begged walking out of the bathroom now feeling a lot better after having thrown up that you were able to turn one of your lamps on next to your bed.

"I'll think about it, but you just need to get better, okay?" He asked closing your bedroom door now as you laid down on your bed. You had put your phone away not even wanting to be on it to cause anymore problems so it was just you and Spencer with nothing in between you two.

"I will, but tell me about Sweden? How was it?"

"It was beautiful you would have loved it." He said as you laid down in between his legs as he wrapped his arms around you, "yeah? What was your favorite part?"

"Besides playing it was the food for sure. I brought you back a shirt, although I think it's with my hockey equipment."

"Oh lovely that means I'll have to wash it five times before I get to wear it."

"Hmmm I don't know," Spencer mumbled as his eyes became heavier laying there with you. He wanted so badly to stay awake, and talk with you but jet lag was catching up to him. You were also getting a bit tired feeling a lot more comfortable and relaxed with him being there. You sighed resting your head on his chest reaching over and turning the lamp off as you snuggled in close to him as his head now rested on top of yours hearing him mumble words, "I hope you feel better tomorrow."

"Me too, goodnight, Spence."

"Night, y/n."

[iamthegaysmurf]

SMURF!!! Hi :) Prompt: “I’m seriously not that drunk.”

Both of these prompts were pretty similar, so I worked them into the same story together.

So, uh…  This one sort of got away from me.  It’s…  a lot longer than these little prompt fills are supposed to be.  >.>

Also, I know this probably isn’t what @haught0pocket and anon might have originally had in mind when they gave me these prompts, but I hope it’s still okay…  : /  

And, uh…  there might accidentally be some Feelings™ involved.  #whoops

((Set roughly a month after the events of 3x03, but before the beginning of 3x04.))

———-

Dolls has been gone for almost a month.  Alice has been gone for nearly six.  They haven’t seen hide nor hair of Bulshar since that day up on the cliff.  Everyone is on edge, and they’re all dealing with it in their own ways.

Some of them more predictably than others.

“Can you get that for me, Nic?” Waverly mumbles when her phone rings, not even looking up from the dusty tome she’s been squinting at for the past three hours.

“Sure, baby.”  Nicole rubs at the back of her neck as she pushes away from the table where she’s finishing up the day’s reports, rolling it until it cracks.  “Waverly’s phone,” she answers, unable to keep the weariness out of her voice.

“…Officer Haught?”  Doc sounds confused on the other end of the line.  “I was not expecting to speak with you this evening.”

“I’m here with Waverly, Doc,” Nicole says, slightly amused at how the new technology still trips him up sometimes.  “Is everything okay?” she asks, concern slipping back into her voice.

“Ahhh…  Well… I believe that might depend on your definition of ‘okay’.”

“What did she do now?”  Nicole groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to fight off the migraine that’s been building all day.

“I am afraid to say that it might be time for Miss Waverly to come and collect her sister.”

Nicole glances over at Waverly, who’s still hunched over the grimoire, scribbling furiously in her notebook every few seconds.  Looks like she just drew the short straw for the babysitting tonight.

“Gimme ten minutes, Doc.”

“Officer Haught?”  Doc pauses, and Nicole can hear shouting in the background.  “I think it would be best if you made that five.”

Nicole ends the call and slumps back against the table.  It’s been a long fucking day and this is definitely not what she had in mind for tonight, but after watching Waverly for another minute, it’s pretty clear they won’t be heading home any time soon anyway, so she guesses a rowdy Wynonna it is.

“Hey, baby,” she says quietly, not wanting to startle Waverly.  She leans forward and presses a kiss to her temple, waiting for any indication that Waverly has heard her.  After rubbing a few soothing circles along her back, Waverly finally turns, fully focusing on Nicole for the first time in over an hour.

“Hey,” she says, almost like she forgot Nicole was even there.  Her eyes crinkle up around the edges as she smiles and leans into another kiss.  “What did I miss?” she asks, rubbing at her tired eyes.

“That was Doc on the phone,” Nicole says, rolling her eyes.  “Looks like I’ve gotta go and pour your sister into my backseat before she ends up in my holding cell again.”

“Oh…”  She glances back at the book and her notes, chewing on the end of her pencil for a moment.  “I guess I can work on this again later…”

“No, baby.  Don’t worry about it,” Nicole says, rubbing her back again.  “You keep doing…  whatever it is you’re doing.  I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” Waverly asks, plainly feeling guilty that Nicole is shouldering the burden of Wynonna for her.

“Of course,” Nicole answers simply.  “We all have our parts to play in this thing together, and this is something I can do.”  She leans forward and kisses Waverly’s forehead.  “Maybe I can stop by Mama Lou’s on my way back and pick us up something for Dark Lunch.  How does that sound?”

Waverly giggles at their nickname for middle-of-the-night meals when they can’t afford to sleep, but her eyes go wide when her stomach growls loudly enough to echo in the empty office.

“Uhh… yeah.  I guess that sounds pretty good,” she admits sheepishly.

“Done.”  Nicole grins and steals a proper kiss this time, then gathers up her jacket and gloves and secures the door behind her, locking Waverly safely in and the rest of the world out.

There’s no snow at the moment, but a thick layer of frost covers the ground, normally undisturbed at an hour like this, and it crunches loudly under Nicole’s boots as she makes her way across to her cruiser.  She knows that this is hitting Wynonna the hardest out of any of them, but watching her sink back into the whiskey-soaked recklessness from before, after having been sober for so long, makes the piece of her heart that’s now permanently reserved for her reluctant new sister ache like someone’s squeezing it just a little too tightly.

She wishes there was something more she could do.  But if routinely picking her up from the various local bars and making sure she gets home safe is what she needs right now, then that’s what Nicole will do.  Anything to prove that she’s here for her, and that she’s not going anywhere.

The commotion is already spilling out into the parking lot when Nicole pulls up outside Shorty’s.  Luckily, the regulars don’t seem to be in the mood for much trouble tonight, and the majority of them scatter as soon as she steps out of the cruiser and they catch sight of her uniform.  She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she heads for the door.  In a small town like this, some things will never change.

“Ossifer Haughtie!” Wynonna slurs from atop one of the tables in the corner the second Nicole sets foot inside the saloon.  “Getchyer Haughtpants up here an’ help me show ‘em how it’s done!”

Oh, boy.  So it’s gonna be like that tonight.

Nicole glances over at Doc, who raises an eyebrow and shrugs a shoulder and tips his hat like she’s your problem now.  Nicole massages her temples against the inbound migraine, but nods at him and starts shuffling toward Wynonna’s makeshift stage.

“Time to go, Wynonna,” she says calmly, holding out a hand to help Wynonna down off the table.  Wynonna bats it away and continues to dance with her whiskey bottle in hand.  She keeps going until she stumbles, nearly toppling off the table altogether if Nicole hadn’t been there to catch her.

“I might be slightly drunk…” she admits with a snort as Nicole takes the whiskey bottle from her hand and throws Wynonna’s arm around her own shoulders so she can hold Wynonna up.  Her other arm goes around Wynonna’s waist, trying to keep her on her feet.

“Understatement of the year,” Nicole mumbles as she begins half-dragging Wynonna toward the door.

“It’s gettin’ Haught in herre…  so take off all your clothes!” Wynonna starts singing at the top of her lungs, drawing forth a round of cheers from the patrons still remaining in the bar.

Nicole looks back over her shoulder and nods at Doc as she pulls Wynonna out into the street.  The rabble from earlier has completely cleared out, and they have the entire sidewalk to themselves now.

“I am gettin’ so Haught,” Wynonna continues singing, her voice ringing out through the empty streets.  “I wanna take my clothes off!”  She starts trying to shed her leather jacket.

“If you do that,” Nicole interrupts, grabbing the jacket and sliding it back up over Wynonna’s shoulders, “you’re just going to give yourself pneumonia.”

“So what?” Wynonna mutters darkly, pulling free from Nicole’s grasp.  “It already hurts to breathe.”

That hits Nicole like a knife to the ribs, and Wynonna stomps away a few paces into the alley next to Shorty’s, suddenly much more steady on her feet.  She takes out her frustration on the nearby dumpster and then leans back against the cold bricks that line the side of the building.

“Come on, Wynonna,” Nicole says, her brow furrowed as she follows after her.  “You’re drunk.  Let’s get you out of here.”

“I’m not drunk!” Wynonna bites back, punching the dumpster again, and Nicole is surprised to see a slight dent left behind in the metal from the impact.

“Wynonna…” Nicole admonishes.  “You smell like a distillery.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t have a few drinks, Officer Fun Police.”  She lays the sarcasm on thicker than usual, but Nicole notes that the slur is completely gone from her speech.  “But most of that,” she gestures at herself, “is from Cecil Wright spilling a bottle of Varmint all over me when I was trying to get to the jukebox.”

Nicole folds her arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow.  To her credit, Wynonna doesn’t flinch under the inspection.

“I’m seriously not that drunk, Nicole,” she says, her tone serious as she straightens up.

The use of her first name rather than another Haught pun drops some of the tension out of Nicole’s stance.  She thinks Wynonna might be telling the truth.  Which makes this whole thing even more confusing.

“Then…  then why?” she asks, waving her hand and gesturing from Wynonna to the bar and back.  “Why the big show?”

Wynonna’s shoulders drop and she slumps back against the bricks.  She’s silent for a moment, but then she looks back up at Nicole, and Nicole can see the cracks spreading across Wynonna’s carefully constructed façade.

“Sometimes it’s just easier that way,” Wynonna shrugs.  “If people think I’m shitfaced, then they don’t try to talk to me about…  about…”

She can visibly see the lump forming in Wynonna’s throat.  Wynonna wipes hastily at her eyes and turns away, picking at the cut on the back of her knuckles from when she punched the dumpster a minute ago.

Nicole reaches out and takes Wynonna’s hand in her own.  Wynonna starts to jerk away, but Nicole doesn’t let her.  She turns her hand over and examines the cut and the bruise that’s quickly forming around it.  Reaching into one of the cargo pockets of her uniform pants, Nicole pulls out an antiseptic wipe and some gauze and begins cleaning up the laceration.

Wynonna hisses at the sting, but she doesn’t pull away, and together they stand there in silence, alone in the alley while Nicole shows off her first-aid skills.  It’s the way their friendship has always been.  A little unorthodox, but it works for them, and Nicole would never give up this strange bond they share.

“I’m still giving you a ride home,” Nicole finally says when she finishes, tossing the used gauze in the dumpster.  “I believe you,” she adds quickly, before Wynonna can argue again.  “But you still don’t need to be driving tonight.  Especially on your bike.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Wynonna protests.

“Wynonna…” Nicole sighs.  “You can’t go back in there.”

“I didn’t say that,” Wynonna snaps.  It comes out a bit sharper than perhaps shemeant for it to.  “I just…”  She kicks an empty beer bottle and they both watch as it skitters down the alleyway before shattering against the far wall.  “I just don’t want to go home.”

“Did something happen, Wynonna?” Nicole frowns, wondering if she needs to gather up the crew for some demon ass-kicking.

“No…” Wynonna mutters, looking anywhere but at Nicole.

“Hey.”  She reaches out and places a hand on Wynonna’s shoulder.  “Talk to me, Earp,” she adds softly, with a gentle squeeze.

“The ghosts,” is all Wynonna says.  

It’s non-sequitur, to say the least, but it’s the thread that Wynonna has chosen to pick up, and Nicole is patient enough to wait and see where it will lead them.

“Sometimes they’re louder than the voices in my own head.”  She looks down at her boots awkwardly.  “Sometimes even the whiskey can’t drown them out.   Daddy and Willa.  Curtis and Shorty.  Fish.  …Dolls.”  She nearly chokes on a sob, and Nicole feels the pieces of her heart shattering, the shards slicing into her lungs and stealing her breath.  “Alice.”

“Oh, Wynonna…”  Nicole can’t help but pull Wynonna into a hug, and to her surprise, Wynonna doesn’t fight it.  Instead she collapses into her arms, here in this dirty alley with no one else around to see her.  “Alice isn’t…  She’s safe, Wynonna.”

“She isn’t dead, Nicole.  But she’s gone.  And it’s all my fault.  Just like the rest of them.”

Nicole doesn’t know what to say, so she just stands there, holding Wynonna in her moment of vulnerability, until the sobs die out into sniffles and she suddenly pulls away like she’s just been burnt.

“Haught, I swear to god if you—”

“I know nothing,” Nicole cuts her off, holding up her hands in mock surrender.  Wynonna narrows her eyes, but Nicole doesn’t shrink away from the scrutiny.  “You can trust me,” she says, pouring every ounce of earnesty she has into the simple statement.  She’s surprised when Wynonna nods once in her direction.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”  That was not the response she was expecting.

“Okay.”

“So, uh…”  Nicole clears her throat as they both start pretending like none of that ever happened.  “Why don’t you stay with us at my place tonight?  The guest bedroom is already made up.  You’re welcome to it.”

She’s half expecting an argument, but Wynonna seems to mull it over for a few seconds and then shrugs.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone keep an eye on you two.”  She pats Peacemaker where it’s nestled against her hip and dares Nicole to tease her about any of this.

Nicole snorts, but slings an arm around Wynonna’s shoulder anyway.

“Sure, Earp.  Whatever you say.”

They head back to the cruiser, the banter flowing freely between them now, and Nicole is rather relieved that she can open the front passenger-side door for Wynonna rather than having to wrestle her into the back seat.

“Oh.  I, uh…  I promised Waverly some Dark Lunch from Mama Lou’s before I left to come and get you,” she says as she climbs into the driver’s seat.  “That alright with you?”

“Shit, Haughtshot.  I could murder a stack of pancakes right now.”

[writeanapocalae]

Alii Inspiriti

Read on Ao3 | Inspired by Art

Getting a rise out of Nines was hard. It happened, but it was usually when he was on low battery, when he couldn’t waste processing power on preconstructing and scanning and being a smart ass. It happened when he was vulnerable and quiet, when he tried to stay in stasis but couldn’t.

Gavin had noticed it, the way that he was a bit more sluggish than he used to be, that there were days in which his LED fluctuated between red and nothing, battery saver in full effect. He didn’t know an android could get tired but the lower his battery went the less of his programs he ran.

It was cute, in a way that Gavin wasn’t interested in reflecting on. He was big and intimidating but when he was tired he got outright dopey, he would touch more, he would lean his head on Gavin’s shoulder, he would rest with his eyes closed and his chin in his hand.

He didn’t ask why Nines wasn’t getting all of his charge in. That felt too personal. Once he’d stayed in the bullpen overnight, working on some paperwork. He and the other few officers that worked the graveyard shift tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t understand it at first, but Nines and the three other androids that resided at the station were in their charging pods. While Kevin, Laney, and Bliss were all dead to the world when they charged, Nines woke up at the slightest sound. Gavin noticed it when he dropped a pen and the sound was enough to rouse his partner. When he picked his pen back up he saw Nines just standing there, in his pod, staring at him, LED pulsing.

They didn’t talk about it. Gavin tried not to talk about anything that was personal, unless it was something that he could make fun of. Like how Nines’ smile looked like :] instead of a real expression or how he ran like a horse that had a base understanding of what would happen if it got caught lame.

He should have talked to him about it though. He should have figured out why Nines didn’t stay in stasis like the other androids.

They’d gone on a case and Nines’ LED was doing that blinking thing, in and out of red. He was slow and quiet, sticking to himself. He looked at the crime scene with his eyes but he wasn’t investigating. Gavin made a joke about pouring a cup of coffee over Nines’ head to wake him up. It was simple really, it wasn’t like Gavin needed Nines for this one. The guy made investigations a lot easier and faster and enjoyable but Gavin could still do the basics on his own.

One shooter, small, two victims, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. There was a gun licensed in Mrs. Jones’ name that was now missing. There were scuff marks of luggage being dragged in by the front door and a neighbor said that their son, Michael, had just moved home after a fallout with his boyfriend. There had been a lot of arguing and, from the cross on the wall and the bible on the coffee table, Gavin could guess what they were about. Gavin’s gut and experience both said that Michael was the shooter.

They didn’t have to go far to find him though.

Michael had been hiding in the house when they arrived and, when they drew too close, Michael did what he could to protect himself. He shot Nines, twice, before the android even caught on that he was there. That wasn’t all though, he pounced on Gavin, whipped him against the forehead with the gun, punched with his right, whipped against his lip with the gun. Gavin brought up a hand, trying to fight back, trying to get Michael off of him, but then the kid bit him of all things. They’d fought for a while but, with so many blows to the head, there was no way Gavin was going to win it.

He woke up a few hours later in a hospital bed, stitched and drugged and bandaged up. Nines had apparently kicked into gear once Gavin was unconscious and apprehended Michael, read him his rights, before he also passed out. Passed out was the human word for it, for androids it was hibernation, which was only a step above powered down. He could stay in hibernation for a while but he would run out of battery even in that mode.

Gavin had the rest of the day off. He could go back to work the next day, as long as he took his medication as instructed. He would. He was good at taking his pills on time. People thought that he was looking for shortcuts, that he didn’t care about the rules, but that was just because he didn’t follow those pertaining to etiquette. If it was for the job, for his health, he’d do it without question.

He came in bright and early, an extra shot in his coffee because he deserved it, whole milk too, in hand. Everyone was working, everything was normal, even Nines was back at his desk with his perfect posture. Tina though, she came by and clasped Gavin on the shoulder, teasing him. Chris gave him a wave. Even Hank gave him a little nod though his attention was on Nines, even while talking to Connor his attention was on Nines.

When he got closer he could see why. While Nines’ LED wasn’t blank as often, it was still cycling from red to nothing, and he wasn’t interfacing with the screen. He was typing, the old fashioned way, and while he was typing far more words per minute than Gavin could try to count it was still strange because he had no need to type.

He glanced up at Gavin for only a second.

Then he looked up at Gavin again, eyes big, and he was getting out of his chair and over to Gavin, putting his hands in Gavin’s cheeks, looking him over. The blinking stopped as the red went solid for a moment and Gavin knew that he was being scanned. There was no emotion on Nines’ face, just those big blue eyes, and those hands mussing up Gavin’s hair.

Those hands that were shaking.

Gavin had seen Nines shake before. It always started at his hands. Gavin didn’t know what it meant, had never seen it go up past his arms before. Nines always left when it happened. Gavin just assumed it was some android thing.

“Hey relax, Tin can,” Gavin tried to smirk but his cheeks were in the way from the pressure of Nines’ shaky palms. He set his coffee down on his desk. “I’m okay, see?”

That broke Nines’ stupid plastic face, making it crack into that :] smile. His LED, for the first time in hat must have been a month, spun into blue. Gavin could only catch a glimpse of it though because Nines was wrapping his arms around Gavin’s shoulders, one hand cradling the back of his head, and he was being crushed against android chest. Right there, in the bullpen, in front of everyone, Nines had given Gavin a hug and it didn’t feel like he had any mind to let go of him.

His whole body was shaking.

“I’m okay,” Gavin repeated.

Nines just held him tighter.

It took a moment for sound to reach them, for the whooping and hollering to become apparent. Nines pulled away, LED back to red and nothing, his eyes down. He was still shaking.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice that crushed velvet of gravel that he kept hidden away most of the time. It was like that stupid smile of his, not quite right, not what he wanted people to know about him, but it was quiet enough that he could speak to Gavin and know that the others wouldn’t hear.

Gavin slapped him on the shoulder, “If you’re not careful there, Plastic, people are going to think you’ve got a heart in there or something.”

He started to go back to his own desk, but Nines gripped his arm, just for a moment. “After work?” he asked and Gavin had to strain to hear him. “I want to. talk to you.”

Gavin paused, just for a moment, before nodding his consent.

The rest of the workday went over alright, just paperwork for most of the cases and a bit of a migraine. Nines did have to leave though, twice, once for the shaking and another time for a quick attempt at charging that didn’t seem to go anywhere. With all these people around, it was hard for him to do so much as close his eyes. It was at this second moment when Connor came up to Gavin’s desk.

“I’m glad to see you alright, Detective,” he stated, “most wouldn’t be back to work after such head injuries.”

“And here comes the headache,” Gavin groaned, leaning back in his seat, hands clasped behind his head. “What do you want Plastic Prick?”

Connor tapped his fingers on Gavin’s desk, all in a row. “Nines does not want me to interfere with his affairs. I am, however, worried about him. While he may not want me to intrude, you may have an easier time of it.”

The time for petty jabs was over and Gavin leaned forward, lowering his volume. “Any idea what’s going on with him?”

“He’s a highly advanced android, far more than I am. He’s also very sensitive. I fear that his inability to charge may stem from more than just hypersensitivity though. If he keeps going as he does, it won’t just be your face being rearranged and a short hibernation.”

Gavin gave him a nod, he hoped that was what this talk was meant to be about. Connor went back to his desk and, by the time Nines returned there was no sign that they’d even spoken. They went back to their uneventful workdays and Gavin took his pills on time. When it was time to leave they did so together, got to Gavin’s little beater of a car, and Nines didn’t try to advocate that Gavin should sit in the passenger seat and let him drive.

Nines was unfocused on the ride, staring straight ahead at nothing. He didn’t speak. He just sat there like a big human shaped doll, shaking every once in a while. Gavin didn’t ask him about it. They’d get home first, then the could talk as much as they needed, get all of this sorted out.

When they got to the apartment though, Nines didn’t move. He just sat there in the passenger. Gavin had to put a hand in front of his face, snap his fingers a few times, to get Nines’ attention. Only then did he get out of the car but, even then he had that glassy look to his eyes and leaned on the side of the car. Gavin took him by the elbow and lead him up the stairs, up to his apartment, and by then the shaking had settled all the way to Nines’ shoulders. Almost time for him to do his vanishing act.

Gavin let him into the apartment and lead him to the couch, where he sat heavy and tired, bone tired, more tired than Gavin had been since college probably. He reached up, brushed that one purposefully imperfect lock of hair away from his face, and asked him the question he should have asked weeks ago.

“Why the phck aren’t you charging?”

Nines leaned his face against Gavin’s hand and he spoke louder now that he knew no one but Gavin could hear him. “Can’t stay in stasis.”

“It’s the noise, right?” Gavin asked, actually letting Nines rest against him. It felt good in a way that Gavin didn’t want to think about. “You keep getting woken up? God, you’re dummy thicc in the head, there are noise canceling headphones out there, they’re not going to mess with your ‘do.”

Nines bit his lip then and that was something Gavin had never seen him do before. He’d never seen Nines wrap his arms around himself and start to rock, start to have what could only be a panic attack. Gavin put his other hand out, the bandage of it making it so he couldn’t feel how smooth Nines’ skin was on that hand.

“Don’t want. to talk. about it,” Nines admitted. “I want you to. know though. I wish I could just. touch you and. you’d know.”

“Yeah well I’m not a plastic boy like you, Pinocchio, you’re going to use your big words.”

Nines put a hand on Gavin’s thigh, his grip tight and vibrating. Gavin started to do his breathing exercises. He knew that Nines didn’t need to breathe, but he did the rhythm that he’d learned online in the middle of a week long panic attack back when he was new to the force. It helped, he was sure of it. The grip loosened at least.

“I dream. Whenever I’m in. stasis I dream the. worst things, I. I dream of you dying. of me. being the one to. kill you or you dying. from my negligence. and there’s. Nothing. I can do. Nothing. Any sound that wakes me. is a. blessing.”

Of course. Nines had deviated on his own, hadn’t let another deviant help him with this and he was working for the DPD, where all of their lives where in danger at all times. Gavin had gotten hurt so many times in their partnership, Nines always getting it far worse than he did, but with how Nines hadn’t been charging there was a now very obvious fear that he could get himself killed out there.

“That’s normal. We all have nightmares from work. Hell, some of us have nightmares from things worse than work. But you not resting is going to shut you down.”

Nines squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. I know.”

Gavin leaned forward more, resting his forehead against Nines’ own cold one. He could feel the way that Nines inhales unnecessary breaths, trying to mimic Gavin’s pattern, how much they shuddered.

“I know I’m an asshole and I know you’ve got no reason to think I wouldn’t judge you for this but just, know that I’m not, okay? I have nightmares too. But this is killing you. I need to know what I can do.”

Nines closed his eyes. Gavin noted that there was hardly any red in his LED. “Just be alive. Convince me. that you’ll stay alive.”

Gavin didn’t know how to do that. But he did. It was just a lot more intimate than what he’d ever thought he could do with someone, it was something he would do with a friend. Was Nines his friend? He didn’t know. But Nines was confiding in him and he wouldn’t even confide in Connor so that had to mean something.

“I’ve got an idea. A phone charger would work, right?”

Nines nodded, though it was slow. Gavin pulled his forehead away, looking him over. Nines looked like he was about to fall asleep or, more likely, into hibernation, at any moment.

“You trust me?”

Nines opened his eyes and he stared at Gavin and it was about the most cognitive that he’d seen him in ages.

“Of course.”

Gavin moved his hands down, took Nines’ elbows in his palms and stood up, pulling Nines up with him. He walked Nines to his bedroom, which was in a constant state of disarray, and sat him down on the bed. Carefully he unwound his phone cord and, upon showing it to Nines the android pulled off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and folded it over the elbow. Gavin did his best not to blush or, even look at it because there was no way he was going to get flustered over his android partner’s bicep. A panel slid open and out of the way though and he held it out, let Gavin insert the plug.

“Okay, you know what sleeping is, right?” Gavin teased, “Like, how humans sleep? Get on your side, you’re doing that tonight.”

Nines did as he was told but not without looking at him with confusion. “I don’t sleep.”

“You do too. I said so.”

Nines lay down on his side, eyes closing, eyelashes against his cheeks. He didn’t argue. He didn’t even move when Gavin climbed in beside him, pulling off his hoodie and undoing his pants for a bit more comfort as he tried to spoon the gigantic android before him. It was a bit early for him and he was going to wake up starving, but that was fine. This was more important. He needed more rest anyway.

“Can you feel me breathing?”

Nines nodded.

“Then you’ll know I’m hear and that I’m safe. You don’t have to worry about me.”

That stupid smile crossed Nines’ lips one more time before he did, finally, enter stasis.