#is to pop some pills and forget about everything

[maedesculpaeusoubi]

i genuinely think sobriety looks good on me (especially for someone that got addicted at 11 and got sober at 22) but oh god do i miss the destructiveness and the numbness

[hopeful-engineer]

🌞 Self-care vs. self-indulgence vs. avoidance

Sometimes it may be a hard to swallow pill, but there's a difference between self-care and self-indulgence:

🍭 self-indulgence: spending too much money on stuff you want, but don't really need, like clothes you'll wear twice and then leave in your closet, where all they do is take up space, books you'll never read, subscriptions you'll forget about

✨ self-care: saving money; planning your budget; buying less, but better quality; thinking twice, before buying something you want, but don't need: "Will I really use it? Do I have enough money to buy it, without worrying, that I won't have enough to buy something more important? I want it now, but will I still want it tomorrow?" (note: I didn't write "don't buy anything except necessities" anywhere. Buy the stuff you want, but do it consciously, plan it and think before buying.)

🍭 self-indulgence: eating fast food and unhealthy snacks; drinking soda pop, energy drinks, tea with a lot of sugar, or too much coffee; adding sugar to everything; drinking too much alcohol

✨ self-care: eating as healthy as possible; learning to cook; avoiding fast food, sweets, potato chips and other unhealthy snacks; reducing your sugar intake; drinking water, fruit juices, tea without added sugar; planning your meals; buying natural food (note: It doesn't mean "never eat anything unhealthy again, never add sugar to anything, never drink alcohol". You can treat yourself with some pizza, or sweets, or beer sometimes, but it should be a treat, not part of your everyday meals.)

🍭 self-indulgence: staying up until 3 AM to watch films/series, play computer games, browse social media, chat with someone, or even to do something, that doesn't involve technology, for example draw or read books; sleeping until 11 AM, because you went to bed too late; sleeping 12 hours at the weekend, because you slept 4 hours a day during the week; hitting the snooze button; laying in the bed for too long after waking up

✨ self-care: fixing your sleep schedule; waking up earlier; going to bed earlier; sleeping 7 to 9 hours every day; avoiding all-nighters; having a fixed wake up time and a fixed bedtime, the same every day, including weekends; getting out of bed immediately when your alarm clock rings (note: I know there are circumstances, that can mąkę having a fixed sleep schedule is impossible, or next to impossible, I also know in some situations it's totally normal to stay up late, like you don't have to leave a party at 9 PM just because you want to stick to your sleep schedule, that would be unreasonable. Do it the best you can under your current life circumstances, and remember, this is about everyday life, not some rare exceptions.)

There's also a difference between self-care and avoidance:

😨 avoidance: staying home all the time; not going to any events, because meeting new people is stressful; always declinig your friends' invitations

✨ self-care: not going to that big, loud party, because it's too overwhelming, but going to a pub with a few friends instead; inviting your friends to your home, when going out feels too stressful; declinig some invitations, when you don't have time and/or energy, but accepting others, when you feel better and have more time; gradually increasing the number of social interactions you have, to be able to meet new people with less stress

😨 avoidance: having no plans for the future; thinking, that there's no point in having any goals in life; telling yourself, that ambitions are generally pointless and hence you don't have to do anything and be good at anything

✨ self-care: having specific, short-term goals and an overall vision od your long-term future; knowing, what you really want to do and what you're good at, and sticking to these things; consciously choosing, what to learn and what to give up on, based on if it's important to you, not to other people; not distracting yourself with too many side plans, when you have one main goal; knowing, what is your passion and what is your ambition; knowing, that you are ambitious mainly for yourself, and only secondly for the society; believing, that you are capable of achieving your goals

😨 avoidance: not studying at all, because it takes time and energy; procrastinating until the last moment before the exam/test/project deadline; always talking the easiest way possible with no ambition beyond barely passing the exam/test; having no plan, no study schedule; never asking for help, even if you're failing, because you think asking for help is a shame, or you're simply too shy; dropping out of school/college because it's stressful

✨ self-care: knowing that you're studying for yourself, your grades don't define you and that real knowledge and skills are more important, than grades; focusing on these topics, that are important to you for your future studies/career, and being the best you can in these areas; being good enough to pass at everything, that isn't important for your future plans; planning your studying and starting early; taking regular breaks to avoid burnout; asking for help if necessary, but trying to do as much as possible and reasonable on your own; acknowledging that, despite the education system being flawed in so many ways, it also gives you many opportunities;

Of course, self-care includes bubble baths, eating cake, listening to your favourite music and slowly drinking tea, while watching the rain outside through the window and letting your thoughts wander, but these aren't only forms od self-care and definetely not the most important ones. Of course, sometimes it includes staying home with your cat instead of going to the party, sleeping in, instead of studying for an exam, because you're exhausted, or giving up on something, instead of trying again and again, but this should happen in some, specific situations, not be your default response. Real self-care should focus on improving your life, not escaping it or avoiding it.

This post doesn't mean, I'm perfect at all of these things. Actually I struggle a lot with many of them. This is a piece of advice for me, too.

[tac-the-unseen]

COD Random character quirks

Fluff

Ghost:

•Remembers every story somebody tells him, but can't remember where he left his sweater

•Bites the inside of his cheek constantly, to the point of scarring

•If somebody doesn't drag him out of the house he would never leave. Despite this he does love going on a walk from time to time

•Hates talking about his past and will always redirect the conversation

•Extremely fast eater, it's a combination of Trauma and military training. Can finish a whole plate in less than 10 minutes

•Pauses for a long time in between speaking but can't stand it if someone else does the same

Soap:

•Obsessed with swords, but is terrible at wielding them

•Screams “DON'T GO IN THERE!” to the T.V when watching any horror movie

•Wears the ‘I <3 my hot S/O’ shirts unironically, and the loves them because “It's true!”

•Loves to be the best at everything

•Consistently orders the same thing at a restaurant. Has a specific order for every restaurant he goes too

•Learned some magic tricks as a kid and can still do most of them

Price:

•Wears crazy socks, think Spencer and his friend Socko (from iCarly)

•Laughs to jokes no one else laughs at to make the other person not feel bad

•Has one nipple piercing on his left nipple, He doesn't want to get the second one and just likes having the ones.

•Overly Humble, You have to fight him to take a compliment

•Eats while driving and has made adjustments in his car to be able to eat with full effect

•Knows a surprising amount of useless trivia and will bring it up in any conversation he can

Alejandro:

•Screams and runs at the sight of the bee

•Notorious for his eye rolling abilities

•Has a pretty sizable jewelry collection. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, and brooches (and he's willing to share)

•Frequently complements his S/O

•Steals food off of his S/O’s and friends plate

•Great cook and spends most of his time around/in the kitchen

Gaz:

•Secretly wants to be in a boy band

•Can't swallow pills normally

•Make fake scenarios in his head about him being the ultimate hero

•Snorts when he laughs

•Eats healthy snacks and playful shames others for eating unhealthy snacks

•Surprisingly good at impressions specifically impressions of British government officials

Roach:

•Sneak attack hugger

•His all-time favorite book is Dr Seuss's ‘Put me in a zoo’

•Sometimes forget other people don't know sign language/can't read it that fast and signs so fast that others have no clue what he said

•Gets a bad case of the giggles when someone trips (He cannot stop no matter how hard he tries)

•Likes to eat in private and feels weird looking at other people eat (Not a fan of restaurants or Mukbang asmr)

•Squirms in his seat/Can't sit still for that long

Konig:

•Wears a bunch of hair ties around his wrist

•Has to spend hundreds of dollars making custom shoes that actually fit him

•Is an adrenaline junkie on the battle field. He lives for the blood rush

•Has a house shaking laugh and Horangi makes fun of him for it

•Is a very neat eater, he's not overly delicate with his food but just likes to eat in a certain way

•Likes stretching out and popping his joints all the time.

Rudy:

•Sits on the floor rather than the couch

•Will politely remind you how good he's being in the midst of chaos

•Always supports/Roots for the underdog

•Always has Snacks in his pockets/backpack

•Messy eater, somehow always ends up with sauce on his shirt or crumbs in his pockets

•Lean onto the people closest to him

Mace:

•Puts hot sauce on everything

•Tells jokes with a serious face

•Always looking for new adventure, loves exploring, hiking, climbing, and learning about different cultures

•Frequently adjusting his shirt to show off his body modification (traditional tribal scars)

•Likes to eat food with his hand more than with utensils. He'll use forks, spoons, and knives when at restaurants, but when he's at home everything is finger food.

•Gets spontaneous piercing / tattoos

[emberdew]

Be More Ghost Chapter 5: The Squip Enters

Summary:

A Be More Chill AU where Danny gets a Super Quantum Intel Unit Processor (or Squip) to help him become cool and win over Valerie, but things don't really go as planned.

Masterpost | AO3 Link | Word Count: 1,386

Please excuse some mild discomfort.

Sitting at a food court table at the mall, Danny looked down at the gray oblong pill he held in the palm of his hand while Tucker ate his fries. 

“I hope it’s worth four hundred dollars.”

“Four hundred and one.” Tucker slid the bottle of Mountain Dew on the table closer to Danny. “Don’t forget the Mountain Dew.”

“Did you know ectoplasm tastes a bit like Mountain Dew?” Danny took the bottle and shook it a little.

“Dude, I don’t want to know why you know what ectoplasm tastes like.” Tucker looked disgusted as he put another fry in his mouth.

“It tastes kind of good actually.” 

“Please stop.” 

“Okay then. Here goes… everything.” Danny popped the pill in his mouth and gulped down the Mountain Dew. 

“How does it taste?” 

“Minty.” Which wasn’t the flavor he had been expecting from the pill. He assumed it would be metallic or something. 

Tucker looked him in the eyes. “How do you feel?”

Danny waited for a second to check if he felt any different. He didn’t.

“I feel like…” He slumped in his seat. “A chump.”

“Nothing? At all?” Tucker thought for a second, adjusting his beret. “Maybe… Try to say something cool?”

“I think I blew all my bar mitzvah money on a breath mint.” Danny hung his head, defeated. 

“Yeah, not cool.” Tucker scooted his chair closer to Danny and patted him on the back.

“Please leave me alone to mourn in my fries, forever.” Danny appreciated his friend’s support, but he didn’t want to be comforted right now.

“You get five minutes.” Tucker stood up and took a step away.

“Where are you going?”

“You know Spike works at Spencer’s Gifts right?”

“Yeah, he’s Jazz’s friend.” Danny remembered the goth dude who Jazz had tried giving therapy sessions to. He had been surprised when Spike had actually ended up becoming friends with his super preppy sister. 

“He’s hooking me up with a case of Crystal Pepsi! It’s like regular Pepsi, only clear.” 

“Wasn’t that discontinued in the 90s?” Danny couldn’t help but smile a bit at his friend’s enthusiasm. Only Tucker would get excited about old soft drinks like this.

“That’s what makes it awesome!” Tucker waved his hands in excitement and then started fast-walking to the Spencer’s. 

Danny started eating his fries. They were already cold but he was too depressed to care.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the club?” 

Danny perked up as the familiar voice entered the range of his enhanced hearing. At the other end of the food court, he saw Valerie walking next to Dash. What were they doing together? Danny got up and tossed his fries in the trash can on the way to where Valerie was standing.

“Oh, we’re not meeting the rest of the club here.” Dash actually looked sheepish for a second but then resumed his usual bravado. “I figured it was time that we reconnected. Alone. That’s why I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots in the universe. Sbarro-”

“Valerie!” Danny interrupted. He didn’t have a plan but he knew he had to do something. He couldn’t just let Dash hang out with Valerie alone! 

“Danny, I didn’t see you there.” Valerie gave him a warm smile that felt like it melted his insides.

“Yeah, you’re kind of hard to notice.” Dash barely gave Danny a second glance before turning back to Valerie and putting a hand on her shoulder to lead her toward the pizza stall. “The best part, they let you pick whatever you want-”

“Wait!” Danny stepped directly in front of their path. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Now?” Dash looked at Danny like he was an annoying fly he couldn’t get rid of. Danny tried his best not to cower under the bully’s gaze.

“I… I…” Danny started. Then a sharp pain exploded in his brain. “OWWW!”

Target female inaccessible. A voice rang in his head, way too loud for comfort. Danny tried to cover his ears but it didn’t help. The voice was coming from inside his brain.

“Danny?” Valerie’s concern was muffled through whatever was attacking his senses. 

“OW! What the hell?” Danny didn’t know what was happening. Was a ghost attacking him? Some new ghost hunter’s weapon? None of his parents’ or Vlad’s inventions had hurt this badly before. Well, excluding the ghost portal. 

Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort. The voice was just as loud as before. Danny felt himself hyperventilating as the pain shot through his body. He was used to getting hits and even getting shocked sometimes in ghost fights, but this was so much worse.

“MILD???” Danny flailed, not completely in control of his limbs anymore. He felt himself hitting the ground, his body twitching in agony.

“Danny, what’s wrong?” Valerie leaned down over him but didn’t touch him.

“Dude, freaky Fenton’s freaking out!” Dash pointed at him as if it wasn’t obvious who he was talking about.

Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated. The voice was at a much more manageable volume this time. Danny could suddenly think clearly again. 

“No, wait, I’m fine,” Danny rubbed his head. He started to lift himself up. “I just-”

Discomfort level may increase. The searing pain like lightning striking his brain resumed and he fell flat on the floor again.

“AHHHHH!” Danny screamed. Muscles still spasming, he somehow stood up and ran away from Valerie and Dash into a less crowded area of the mall.

Accessing: neural memory. Accessing: muscle memory. Access procedure: complete. Danny Fenton…

Danny gasped in shock as he saw who had materialized in front of him. How was that possible? But it was unmistakably him- snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, and all.

Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor… Your SQUIP.

“You look like… Phantom.” Why did this Squip thing look like his ghost form? Maybe it was set up to mirror yourself? Danny took a step closer and saw a few differences though. Instead of just a black-and-white hazmat, this Phantom was wearing a cool-looking white jacket with black and green accents. He was also wearing designer sunglasses which didn’t quite mask his glowing eyes. 

This is my default mode. You can also set me for: George Clooney, Terminatra, or Hatsune Miku. The Squip morphed into different forms as it listed its options. He thought he recognized the last one from some video Tucker had shown him last week.

“Phantom is fine… weird but fine.” Looking at Phantom like this reminded him of when he had split himself with the Fenton Ghost Catcher. At least he felt like himself right now. 

The Squip squinted at him. I can see by accessing your memories that somehow you ARE Phantom. I was not programmed for that scenario. The Squip seemed to stutter, like a glitch in a video game. It then settled and gave Danny a confident smirk. Rest assured, I will still be able to help you.

It was weird that this technology was pre-programmed to look like him but his life was so weird at this point he didn’t even question it. 

“Can everyone see you?” Danny looked around. He was surprised no one had noticed “Phantom” appearing in the mall yet. Usually, people started cheering or running away when he showed up anywhere in his ghost form. 

I exist only in your mind. All they see is you, having an animated conversation with yourself. “Phantom,” who Danny now noticed was weirdly a few inches taller than him, looked down at him disapprovingly. So don’t do that. Just think at me. Like you’re telepathic.  

“Like in X-men?” Danny said out loud. A stranger nearby gave him a weird look.

I can see this is going to be difficult, the Squip crossed its arms, you want to be more chill.

“You mean cool?”

I do not. You see, human social activity is governed by rules and I have the processing capacity to understand those rules and pass them on to you.

Danny wasn’t sure if this Squip thing was going to work out, but staring at the cooler version of his ghost self, he was starting to become hopeful. 

[kurtmustdie]

i thought about this last night but um

SPOILERS for True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem

i love the kind of symbolism we see with mike milligram of all the older more "childish" items he holds onto, hear me out.

So we see Mike holding this cheesy little vampire ring during the gathering scene where we first meet the rest of the killjoys, particularly when we learn that he's in a relationship with Code Blue and want's to take it a step further with marriage. They're all teenagers in this scene, assumedly maybe at least 16 at most 19 (because thats when you arent a teen anymore lol- after 20 you arent a teen duh). He's hiding it behind his back and seems to be just about to pop the question.

then, Blue dies in a standoff, just because he didn't want to move on and comply to the brainwashing tv. Blue literally jumps in front of him and takes the bullet (laser? whatever) for him. When she dies, he lashes out.

later on in the timeskip we see that Mike is basically hooked to the TV. hes fallen asleep to it and is only waken up by a rat chewing on the chords. this isn't entirely important to my point but I still feel like mentioning it because it tells us one thing: Because of Mike's grieving, he basically had no choice but to run back and give everything up. His grief, in turn, is what led him to actually start going back to how he was before, going against an authoritarian government run by a monopoly.

This leads Mike to realize that everything around him isn't what it seems, not only is he withdrawing from The TV, but he's also withdrawing from the effects of the pills he (and the rest of society) is on. He's hallucinating, but not fully. We know as readers that things aren't right in his life -- in anyone's life -- because of this.

once we reach the scene where he learns about his Ramones records being sanitized and the technician here to fix his tv is actually some kind of plant (overall, everyone trying to uphold the brainwashing system is doing so maliciously). Mike kills this plant, and we get to the next sighting of the vampire ring that we saw in that first scene I mention before. He finds it, remembers Blue (also to note theres a paper that says "SO REAL IT HURTS" on it right next to the ring, like thats so obvious that I looked over it), and holds onto it.

lets skip to the climax, where we're revealed to see "Blue" (this time either her reanimated corpse or some kind of clone, it isn't really specified) again, Mike shuts down. almost instantly. He's so close to giving in and going back to being brainwashed, but he stops for a moment. this is the kind of breaking point where we see his arc hit its breaking point and reach its conclusion.

Mike's individual character arc is about letting go. Letting go of grief. Letting go of the past. Progressing forward, no matter how much it hurts.

When he gets his gun back and shoots the clone of Blue HIMSELF, that is him signifying that he has to move on. for the sake of not only himself but for his son, his friends, everyone.

And in this last moment.

He puts her body in the car. and prepares to light it on fire.

and that is the last time we see the ring. He slips it onto her finger right before the car is set ablaze.

UGH ITS BEAUTIFUL. the ending is BEAUTIFUL.

a perfect illustration of how Mike had to get past his grief for the betterment of himself.

and even in the end, he isn't completely forgetting her. He isn't just tossing her aside, he's just saying "It's time I moved on. I won't let my anger and grief drag me down, but I will remember you."

and it's all made clear with that little ring. THE FUCKING RING DUDE.

It's a little plastic ring, usually associated with youth because it's usually found in gift bags or cereal boxes. something synthetic and cheap. Easy to break, usually thrown away right away. Mike is seen not only getting better from his grief but also maturing. Which is great for him. It's something in his past that he had to move on from, but could still hold the memory of.

also like a little side note but vampirism is sometimes depicted as being a kind of toxic, dependent force. A leech. the ring having a vampire on it is like... really good symbolism for that, MAYBE IM GOING TOO FAR IDK IDK-

[laneysmusings]

At Ease

₊˚.༄ Pairing: Mike Logan x GN reader

₊˚.༄ Synopsis: you get a phone call and suddenly, everything around you is spinning and before you know it, you're calling the only person who knows how to help — or, essentially, the one where Mike comforts you through a panic attack.

₊˚.༄ Warnings: explicit mentioning of a panic attack, medication (assumed sedative or anti-anxiety medication, explained no further beyond a little white pill), talking down and breathing exercises, words and language describing the feeling of a panic attack and the sense of doom (written partially by my own experiences having them, but if there are any flagrant inaccuracies let me know so I can better depict this in the future) use of pet names/terms of endearment such as sweetheart, mentions of food

Everything’s in a haze after that call and suddenly you can’t really breathe. 

The way your chest feels like it is both being cleaved apart and wedged in a trash compactor makes you reach for that unlabeled orange pill bottle in your bag in desperation, catching the way your hands tremble at unlatching and unzipping and rifling through the junk at the bottom of the bag you didn’t get a chance to clean out to find it and quickly pop the top. Three perfect white little pills are tipped from the bottle onto the lid and then dropped onto your awaiting tongue. They turn to a sticky-tacky feel the second they meet your spit from your slick mouth, clung to your tongue. 

The tip of your tongue presses to your teeth before flicking back those little tacky white pills into your throat and swallowing, followed by deep gulps of water that are more than you need but it's better to feel your throat seize around the water than around nothing. 

Your hands are moving on their own accord, forgetting to lock the doors to your office, pacing and trying to think of what to do as you just sit in the panic as you wait for your medication to kick in and bring ease blanketing over you — you’re calling him before you can stop yourself or even realize that you’re methodically dialing his number, muscle memory and a greater sense of preservation taking over as you continue to shake, nearly misdialing before you put the call through. 

It's not like what they say when the doctors or your friends ask if you feel that you’ll die or that the world is going to end. You feel like everything is disintegrating, like you’re drowning inside yourself while you remain a vessel, a husk. It's all hot but it's all freezing your skin is too warm and you can feel the sweat under your sweater that’s clinging to your skin and you want to peel it off but the second you do you’d freeze and shake even harder and everything hurts but its not pain pain its this weird sense and — 

“Yeah sweetheart?” 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck. 

Barely getting your voice to work, you manage a stuttery hey halfway through him asking what was up and he knows, of course he knows.

He’s seen this go down before and watched as you dissolved before him once about who knows what, and you can hear Mike’s tone change and that he’s going to call you back in just a second, “just one, gotta’ get to a place I can hear you. Hold on, I’ll be right back I’m not goin’ anywhere,” and hangs up. 

You wait, just hovering by the phone and feeling the sense of panic begin to just gnaw at your innards like some weird internal manifestation of a dread-vulture, picking you apart, a weird spin on guilt and the tale of Prometheus but instead of your liver the cursed bird just rips and tears at your stomach and all the soul in you. 

Mike calls back, and you jolt at the shrill noise, forgetting how quiet it was in your office barring your faltering, panting in and out breath before you pick up and he’s softly asking you where you are and if he needs to come get you. You’re shaking your head even though he can’t see it but you know he can just sense it, see it even though it's over the phone and Mike’s miles away and god it hurts. “Got it, ‘kay? I’ll stay on as long as y’need.”  

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he’s immediately carrying on and the tears are welling at your eyes because no it does not feel like anything’s okay, that nothing ever will be okay but you sniff and hum out a note in response so Mike knows you hear him, “you safe and sound right now?” 

“Y-yeah, in my of-office.”

It’s like forcibly pulling teeth to get you to talk right now and not like you don’t want to, it's just like wrenching into yourself to find the ability to even speak, and sure his voice is helping it always does knowing that he’s here for you, that he’s not judging and is just concerned and cares and you get to tell that little voice in your head that sounds louder than normal that no, he does care about you and does not think of a burden. he loves you and that’s real, this isn’t real — but he is. 

“Did’ya take your meds? Water and snack?” 

“Took meds ‘n water, no snack,” you murmur into the phone receiver, the cord wound around your finger until it's tight enough to indent your skin, now feeling the pulse in your digit. It's nearly childish the way Mike phrases it but it's true — your attacks roll through you so much worse when you don’t take care of yourself and run on low energy. 

You know he’s going to ask if you can get one and tell him before he even questions that you’ll grab a spare granola bar from your desk in a second but after sitting by the phone you don’t feel like you can even move let alone get up. 

“Stay put then for a bit,” Mike pauses and you can just picture his furrowed brows and him sitting somewhere quiet or standing out in the hall, away from the casual chaos of the precinct’s bullpen, but you still hear muffled noise. “Want to do that breathin’ thing or the senses exercize you do wit’me when I call you after a nightmare or a panic attack?” 

It's quiet for a beat before you get the words out, your voice soft in a way that hurts his heart through the phone. “Yes please.” 

You hear him inhale into the receiver before shuffling. “Breathin’ first, ‘kay sweetheart?” 

You’ve noted that Mike’s heavy-handed with the terms of endearment and it makes your heart cease from its panicked seizes to flutter every once in a while, bringing a watery smile to your face, eyes still stinging from the tears. “Inhale for me, four seconds, I’ll count you down.” 

He pauses and waits for a moment, and you tilt your head back and feel your throat bob tight. “Four.” 

Inhaling slowly, your breath stutters as you begin to breathe in gradually. 

“Three.” 

The milliseconds pan out and you make it to two and shakily inhale to him saying one. 

“Hold it, counting down.” 

“Four.” 

Your nostrils flare as your lungs start to fight. Mike can hear you through the phone and he’s weaving through people while glancing down at his watch and marking the seconds. 

“Three, y’got this baby.” 

Tuning out, you don’t hear the signal for two or one second left and already start exhaling when he tells you “Exhale.” 

Your head feels more solid compared to the hollow bees-nest feel of earlier and your lungs no longer shake so viscerally, you follow along with the countdown and follow when Mike asks you to repeat and repeat and repeat until he asks “How’re you feeling?” 

“Better,” you blink, still not really present and now regretting not asking him to come and get you but you’re not going to say it, you’d feel worse if you had to ask after assuring him that it was not needed, “not good, but a bit better.” 

“That’s a start, alright, what can you feel? Five things if you can manage.” 

It takes you a second, thumb swiping the plastic of the phone receiver in your hand and you tell him that, following with the desk beneath you that you’re sitting on. The soft itch of your sweater is said next, then you falter when your hand brushes against your skin and you tell him you feel the ring on your finger, the both of you noting the slight lift in your voice when you say it, and you end with the feel of your skin under your hands. 

“Good, taste anything?” 

“The mints I had earlier, my meds slightly. Salt?” 

He laughs a little at the way you question the taste of salt, knowing it's from the frenzied panic tears but the way your voice lifts amuses him. “‘Kay, smell?” 

You sniff, nose upturning. “Must.” 

“C’mon now.” 

“Must and dust,” you mouth back before sighing, “my perfume a lil’bit and my hand lotion.” You’re moving finally into the chair behind your desk and ease into it, scooting close to the desk and toy with the cord on the phone again, curled around your finger just like he is.

“Alright, let me know what you see.” 

You oblige, not noting the sounds in the background on his call and how it muffles at some point but you look around your office, “I see the books on the shelves, the flowers I was given last week,” you list off, tilting in your chair to look away and you hear steps nearing your office. That seize in your chest constricts and you’re now on alert and it feels like you’re about to regress back and before you can tell him that you need to hang up, the door opens. 

Sighing and then grinning, you tell him one last thing before the two of you hang up. 

“And I see you too.”

[berenwrites]

Reborn – Steddie Flashfic – PG

A/N: Took me a while to come up with an idea for this month’s prompt, but it finally popped into my head – yay! Hope you enjoy it. Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.

Written for prompt: HOLE | wc: 404 | PG | cw: none

Reborn: Facing the Unexpected

(also on AO3) (check out my other ST fanfic on Tumblr here)

The new, bandage-covered hole in his neck itched, but Steve resisted the urge to scratch. In the final confrontation with Vecna, a Demogorgon had almost taken his head off, but he’d made a lucky dodge. He’d still needed stitches and the triage nurse at Hawkins Memorial had also apparently found a foreign body in the wound, but it could have been much worse.

They’d given him the little pill shaped thing in a plastic jar to keep. He had no idea what it was, but he was more worried about everyone else than details like that.

The boys were all in one piece.

Max had finally woken up.

El was recovering.

Hopper had a broken leg.

Everyone else was fine.

All except Eddie.

That Eddie was alive was a miracle in itself. Vecna had turned him into some kind of monster, but hadn’t taken into account Eddie’s spirit. In the end Eddie had betrayed his master and helped them take the bastard down.

Only when Vecna died, everything new in Eddie had died, leaving him as injured as before. Luckily, this time, some of Owens’ people had been there to make sure he didn’t die again.

Steve had designated himself Eddie’s babysitter since the moment Eddie had come out of surgery. He was determined to make sure nothing else happened to his friend on his watch.

When he’d seen Eddie alive against all hope, something had shifted inside of him, something he hadn’t acknowledged before. It made him realise what his confusing reactions to Eddie during their first encounter with Vecna might mean. Why seeing Nancy back with Jonathan didn’t hurt as much as he thought it should. Why he couldn’t bring himself to leave Eddie’s bedside.

It had been two days already.

He needed Eddie to wake up. Needed to follow the new thread he could feel.

Holding Eddie’s hand, he closed his eyes. The fluorescent tube in the room was buzzing quietly and he used the sound to push away his overcrowded thoughts. Stressing out would help no one.

Wishing fervently he could do something to bring Eddie back to them, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.

What he saw was darkness. He almost panicked, but one thing stopped him. In the distance he could see a figure, a figure holding a broken guitar like a sword and a shield.

“Eddie,” he said, stepping forward with a splash.

(check out my other ST fanfic on Tumblr here)

[factorialsotherfandoms]

... not attached to my other post-opc stuff (probably), but! some silly nonsense combining 'thunderstorms' prompt from polyship week with just. throwing a couple of my ships that I usually keep to seperate works together into a polycule to see what would happen. A proper exploration of the dynamics sometime might be fun, but for now...

Rather than explaining, have a little diagram. The polycule network if I'm doing this proper is MUCH bigger, but mini one just for this fic specifically. Johnny-Arthur is dotted as they're not really sure where they stand (also Arthur DEFINITELY would have more branches, but they are not appearing in this fic)

The phone ringing wakes Johnny up. He has been feeling a bit off all day, and so decided lying down was the better option; its not surrender to reduce your chances of face planting into the kitchen floor. Somehow he had fallen asleep, and also manage not to stab himself with the cross-point needle.

It's blunter than the full embroidery ones - he knows not to bring those to bed - but if he's feeling too shit for real physio he might as well do something asked of him.

Delicate movements, visible progress, try to tame shaking and janky hands.

Now he looks the entire ring is missing; Rubens must have checked on him, and set it to one side.

A buzz breaks his attention and - right. Phone.

Ideas slipping. He hates it, but its new.

It is not his phone ringing but Rubens', having been abandoned on the bedside table. Johnny reaches for it anyway - everyone who they want to talk to understands its not Johnny's phone and Rubens' phone, but Johnny and Rubens' phones.

"Hey," he thinks he says, groggy from the interrupted nap. "Who is it?"

"'Sup Johnny" sure enough, Balu takes the swapped phones in his stride. "You two doing alright?"

"I think so?" The question alone banishes… less grogginess than it once would have, but certainly some. "What's wrong? Is everything fine with you?"

"I'm good," Balu hastens to reassure. "Just, there's a storm warning out."

"And?" Why would… that matter? They're not near any waterways, and far enough from sewer grates to not need to worry about them overflowing.

"Migraine pills?" Balu does at least sound amused.

Three years ago, Johnny would have slapped his own head for forgetting that. As it is, he settles on swearing and rummaging around in the drawer.

And if he needs his pills…

"Oi Rubens!" He yells, pretty sure he'll be heard. "You got a minute?"

Balu laughs on the other end of the line, and Johnny pretends to ignore them as he reminds himself which - and how many - pills to take. The box has its own instructions, but inside is a handwritten note from all their experiments before.

Storm, storm, storm…

Remind Rubens to take his anxiety meds, too; Johnny's pills knock him even more sideways, it's just better than without them. Rubens... The lightning tends to bring flashbacks, and with those panic attacks, and Johnny is not going to have the fortitude to help him through it.

He's still reading the note and still being laughed at when Rubens pops his head around the door.

"Johnny?"

"Balu's on the phone for you," Johnny starts with, handing it over and taking the laughter from his hearing. "Says there's a storm coming; could you grab me some water? And you might want your meds too?"

Rubens hums, but does pluck the correct sheet from the drawer. Only once he has done that does he take the phone, putting it to his ear with a "Balu?"

A moment, and then.

"No."

"No."

"Okay?"

"Bye."

Rubens hangs up, and passes the phone back to Johnny. Johnny puts it on the counter while Rubens goes to get water.

It takes longer than Johnny would expect for Rubens to return. He is just starting to worry when Rubens creaks open the door, two glasses in hand. Johnny takes one as Rubens sits down, and together they take their medication.

Only after he's swallowed it does Balu realise that Rubens has changed into his pyjamas and, yeah okay, the pressure changes are already definitely getting to his head. He gives the water a few moments to go down, before flopping onto the pillows.

A few seconds later, Rubens joins him. Half sprawled over him, half tucked into his side, and with a hand over Johnny's eyes.

They both know how this goes by now; Johnny gets comfortable, and places his own hands over Rubens' eyes.

There is little point in speaking as they wait for the storm, so they just tuck into one another. Johnny, on consideration, thinks the best use of time is to fall asleep.

---

It is a little while later Johnny wakes to his bedroom door cracking open. Immediately he is on high alert - no matter the pain, no matter the blurred vision, Rubens is in his arms and nothing should be at the door. It has not been long enough for his meds to properly kick in, but he can push aside the pounding to assess a potential threat. He lies, and he waits, and pretends to be asleep.

And yet, it doesn't come in.

"Hey," a familiar, non-threatening voice says instead. "Balu, Ivete, and I came over. They're making some food, if you're feeling up to it."

Mother Mary, no, he cannot think of anything worse than eating right now - except, perhaps, movement.

And yet, from the kitchen, Johnny can hear the sounds of both cooking and messing around. Laughter and clashing pans, and it's not much good for his head but… he can handle it, far away as the kitchen is.

Wait who is it, he knows them, he's just…

Answer the question.

"We're fine," Johnny says, careful not to wake Rubens as he keeps sleeping on - the lightning hurts Johnny physically, but his memories are far less intense. "just come in, Arthur; I can see your pyjamas from here."

And he can; those trousers are definitely designed for sleeping in, even if hidden by the long coat.

They all know how storms go by now.

And sure enough, Arthur barely waits for the offer. He discards his coat to reveal no shirt at all, and kicks off borrowed slippers as he scrambles into the bed. He squirms into place, pressing against Rubens' back - looping his arm over him and to touch Johnny's shoulder. Johnny shuffles to move it somewhere better, but lets him do what he wants.

Rubens also adjusts, not nearly awake enough to truly understand what is happening, but clinging to Johnny with one hand, and now Arthur's arm with the other.

Johnny shushes him back to sleep, and sees Arthur doing the same.

Their eyes meet, and up close... It gives Johnny a chance to actually assess his condition.

It doesn't look like Arthur's been sleeping enough; his eyes are dark, and movements a little slow. Johnny won't be having that, especially if he can get him to also sleep and so avoid conversation with this headache. He reaches around, pulling at the blankets until they cover him. Once he is done he pulls his arm back, wrapping it back into place around Rubens. Arthur's stays where it was, resting on his shoulder.

Arthur says something, but the movement caused the migraine to spike. Johnny has no idea what he said, and knows that asking for clarification will never work.

"Pyjamas mean sleep," Johnny tells him instead, deciding to avoid it entirely. "Shush."

He does recognise the mouthed apology, and how Arthur tucks himself tighter into Rubens' back. Content this will solve at least two problems, Johnny curls a little more around them in turn.

Arthur clutches at his shoulder.

Johnny… He does not know Arthur as well as he knows Rubens, or Balu, or even Ivete. But he does know that Arthur is a tactile young man, and one who has known the worst of consequences at that. If he's clinging…

Well, Johnny untangles one of his arms from Rubens, using the other to pull him a little closer. He takes that arm and reaches across himself, over to touch Arthur…

He doesn't know how to hold him, is only used to Rubens and his preferences, and so settles for cupping the back of his head.

It seems to get the point across; Arthur relaxes under Johnny's arm, falling almost into putty as he idly tangles fingers into his hair.

Johnny forces himself to stay awake another few moments, just to make sure. But Johnny does not hear more words - sense-making or otherwise - and neither Arthur nor Rubens indicate any distress. At this distance the surely loud laughter in the kitchen is a quiet reassurance, barely audible over the thunder and the rain.

And so, he allows pain and medication to drag him back under, and to sleep.

[aurum-rays]

Meeta is the only reason why I go back to watching Hasee Toh Phasee, even though it has some problematic elements. Meeta and the music of the film, to be precise, but more particularly Zehnaseeb and Ishq Bulava, but that's another post.

Meeta, played by Parineeti Chopra, is shown as an intelligent girl right from childhood, along with Nikhil, played by Siddharth Malhotra. When the film opens with both our protagonists’ childhood counterparts, it's very interesting to see a young Meeta closing the door while a young Nikhil tries to open a closed door. While he does this to watch his favorite film, Agneepath, 14 years later Nikhil breaks out of his room by unscrewing the room’s windows to attend a wedding where he meets Meeta hanging by a barbed wire fence, trying to run away.

After their brief conversation, we understand that both of them have similar ideas and are alike, which we already established from the opening scene. As they say their goodbyes, Meeta asks Nikhil, whom she just met, to come to Goa with her. He doesn't, unfortunately. (He later in the film realizes how big of a mistake it was.) But this post is not about the “swooning” chemistry Nikhil and Meeta had. This post is only about Meeta as a character and how much we need more of her in the movies.

First, let me put aside a few things by saying that I absolutely despised the bade pappa who loves slapping Meeta, and the rest of her family who are at any given time passing sexist comments on the sisters. They always want their girls to wear “dhang k kapde.” Meeta’s dad is the only one who has encouraged her smarts since childhood, and I am glad that he finally takes her side during the climax. I also hated that Meeta takes all the pills at the airport (which she later pukes), which made her look like she has forgotten her goal, her lab, her colleagues, working on the project, everything basically everything she went through, all the family trauma, and the reason she came home for. It just felt extremely out of character for her. Yes, she's in love with a guy who is going to get married to her sister. I get it! But that one scene just felt… I mean… She did her PhD on her own, started her lab, her thesis and her project all without any support from family and her forgetting all of that instantly just felt out of place. But then again, “the things love makes you do,” I guess.

Now that all that's out of the way, here's why I loved watching Meeta.

Meeta is a scientist. She casually starts explaining physics concepts during conversations (the hiccup scene). She comes from a science background and all her bits and her dialogues are just straight-up facts. She's extremely intelligent and a little bit quirky and does weird stuff sometimes, although most of it is due to her medicines. But I don't blame her for it. If I had a family who constantly called me crazy, disowned me, abused me, and behaved like I didn't exist, I would be popping some pills too. The scene with her singing “Ek garam chai ki pyali ho” or even the confusion that ensues with the twin relatives at the bazaar is a laugh riot.

Meeta deserved better treatment from everyone in her family. But just Meeta as a character deserved better.

I cannot remember any other female character in Indian cinema that was showcased as a highly intellectual, nerdy protagonist. Even though Hasee Toh Phasee isn't a Meeta-centric movie (it should've been) and doesn't talk sensitively about Meeta’s conditions (most of her behavior from the meds is shown comedically), this was the only film where I was rooting for the female lead and wanted to put up Meeta’s poster in my room. I mean, where in movies do we have a female scientist protagonist, and that too in a rom-com?

Even after being raised in an extremely orthodox family, she dares to dream, and with her dad’s support, she fulfills her dreams and makes a crazy invention. She knows what she wants, and she goes to extremes to fulfill her goals. The only unfortunate part of her life is her unsupportive, misogynist family who will spend money on lavish weddings but won't fund their daughter's educational needs. This is why Meeta runs away with the money.

As a physics nerd, I would've loved to see more about Meeta’s life in China, her friends, her colleagues, and her work, Or just her growing years as a science enthusiast that made her a scientist. Because Meeta, for me, felt like “finally a nerdy female character who is not shown as one of the bros or an introverted thick-rimmed glass-wearing geek or even a stereotypical tomboy.” Meeta, in my books, will always remain a superhero scientist, creator of the perpetual motion machine polymer ball whose story still needs to be told.

Meeta is not a manic pixie dream girl who's here to save the male protagonist from his depressed life and show him the “world through a different lens,” nor is she a damsel in distress who needs saving. She's here for herself. She comes home from China for her lab, her project, and her passion. Meeta is an extremely intelligent, career-driven woman who also knows that “Do half mein ek full se zyada milta hai”! 😉

[headfullofpresley]

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,6K

Summary: You and Elvis were complete opposites and far from friends, but sometimes death brings people closer together.

Warnings: vampire!Elvis, 50s!Elvis, small mention of cheating, mention of death, small mention of dub-con, consumption of alcohol and blood, usage of drugs, inaccurate timelines in Elvis' life etc, Elvis is not famous, strong language, use of the word nerd/geek (?), platonic soulmates.

A/N: hi, it's me, back on my vampire obsession shit. what's new? :)

masterlist

Elvis Presley had everything he wanted in life.

He was at the height of his popularity, Humes High number one football player and he was dating his equally as popular female counterpart, Betty Nelson.

Life was good, perfect he’d even dare to say, until it wasn’t.

Until everything came crashing down.

He should’ve known that the pit in his stomach he got as soon as he walked through the doors of some random house party Red took him to indicated something wasn’t quite right. He should’ve known that his subconscious mind was trying to tell him something, warn him about the danger that laid ahead, but he ignored it. He never turned down a good party or the opportunity to let loose and forget about his tight practice schedule that was overworking his body; it was just a party, what could go wrong?

It turned out a lot could go wrong. He had no idea who the party was thrown by or who’s house he was even in, but as he gradually got more intoxicated, the uneasy feeling he had only intensified. Things got out of hand when a bunch of college students showed up and drugs got involved; still, he tried to ignore the part of his brain that was screaming at him to leave.

He popped one of the pills he was offered by a random party go-er, not knowing what it was or what it did. One thing led to another and he found himself in one of the bedrooms of the house, heavily making out with an older girl that belonged to the college crowd. He was hyperaware of his surroundings, yet at the same time his limbs felt heavy and his head was spinning.

Betty was in the back of his mind, but he didn’t stop the girl in front of him from undressing him. The last thing he remembered from that entire night was the way his body was entangled with hers and an excrutiating pain when she hid her face in his neck. Due to the drugs in his system, he lacked the strength to get out of the situation he found himself in. It didn’t take him long to black out, the world around him disappearing into nothingness.

The momented he opened his eyes again he looked right up at the dark night sky. It felt like he had been out for hours, days even, and as he looked at his surroundings he could see he just on the outskirts of town. A long dark road was outstretched in front of him, surrounded by long tall trees and he knew his journey back home was going to be a long one; there was not one car in sight and he felt absolutely miserable.

His head was throbbing and for whatever reason, his gums were sensitive as well as every muscle in his body. He figured it were the effects of the drugs he took and the fact that he mixed them with alcohol wouldn’t do his body any good either. He wanted to go home, take a hot shower and get in his bed to sleep the upcoming day away but as he started walking at the side of the road, he knew it would take him hours to get home.

As a car pulled up next to him after a little while, he thought it was a miracle until he got in the passenger’s seat to acccompany the friendly middle aged man who seemed to be on his way home from a graveyard shift. For whatever freakish reason, he could hear the man’s heartbeat like it was his own and when he looked at him and saw the blood literally running through his veins underneath his skin, he quickly looked away and rubbed his eyes a little.

It had to be the drugs. There was no other explanation.

But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at it again; now he couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s neck and the pulsating veins in it. He didn’t know what came over him as he got closer and closer, the scent radiating off the man making the voice in his head urge him to do what he was planning to; the driver screamed bloody murder as Elvis lunged forward and bit his neck.

The newborn vampire groaned loudly in pain as his fangs came through, the pain extremely uncomfortable but it disappeared as soon he tasted his first drop of blood.

 

You were aware of who Elvis Presley was. Most popular boy in school and unfortunately, your neighbor since you were both babies. You used to liked Elvis; when you were young, you’d play outside together with the other kids but as you grew older the both of you started to develop other interests and grew apart.

You and Elvis were like day and night. While you’d rather stick your nose in a good book and actually handed in assignments on time, he’d prefer to waste his weekends away at parties and throw a ball around.

It was typical, really; he was the popular jog with bad grades and you were the perfect student who had never been to a party, let alone had a sip of alcohol. You and Elvis were far from friends and you were perfectly happy with that – unfortunately, the universe had other plans for the both of you.

Awakening out of your sleep with fear because of the doorbell ringing at this ungodly hour, you rushed down the stairs and peeked through the window at the side of the door. You lived with your father, a cop who worked nightshifts mostly, so thankfully he wasn’t here to question the Presley boy who stood in front of the door.

But you were and when you opened the door and immediately noticed the blood on his face, you were nailed to the ground. You’d be surprised as to why the boy you hadn’t spoken more than two words to in years was standing in front of your door at this hour, but seeing the state he was in, you were completely flabbergasted.

“I think I need your help,” he blurted out, scratching the back of his head before he wiped some blood from his chin with the back of his hand.

Two things popped into your mind – either he got into a nasty fight, or he killed someone.

The way a vampire would kill someone.

You had always been a believer of the supernatural; in fact, you were a big fan. While it was fiction to most people and everyone you knew thought you were crazy, you refused to be convinced that it wasn’t real.

There was more out there.

Vampires, witches, werewolves, ghouls… All real. They had to be.

Where else would those stories and their rich history come from?

“What happened to you?”

“I.. I don’t know.. I was at this party and then I took- I drank too much, blacked out and woke up in the middle of nowhere. Then I got picked up by a truck and I.. well..” he pointed at the blood stains on the lower half of his face and you widened your eyes, holding onto the door firmly.

He would’ve been a little more careful with his explanation if it would’ve been anyone else he was talking to, but this was you. He knew you had some weird vampire kink and actually believed they were real; hell, he taunted you with it plenty of times before in the past. Like many other people, he had always thought it was nothing but fiction, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

You took a step aside, signing for him to come in with a nod of your head. While you were excited about your neighbor having possibly turned into a vampire, your brain needed confirmation.

As he took a step forward, wanting to get into the house, he was stopped by some invisible force and you gasped softly.

Elvis frowned, looking like some kind of mime artist as he placed his hands flat against the force; no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t get in.

“Y/N, stop this bullshit and let me in,” he urged, trying to step over the threshold again. The sight in front of you was pretty funny, but seeing how serious the situation was, you told him to come in and he squinted his eyes in suspicion for a second before he stepped inside – without any problems this time.

“Can you please get one of your monster books and tell me what the hell is going on with me and how to fix it? I have an important game in a week!” he exclaimed with a mix of frustration and panic on his tongue. “And stop breathing so loudly, it’s very distracting,”

You scoffed softly as you watched him stand there with his hands on his hips, looking at you impatiently.

He either didn’t realise the situation he was in, or he pretended not to as a coping mechanism.

“First of all, they’re Occult books and second, I’m not breathing loud. Your senses are heightened, which include your hearing,” you pointed out to him and he rolled his eyes.

“What does that even mean? See, you know about this geeky stuff. Tell me everything you know,”

You could easily turn him down and let him find out what he had become and everything that came along with it on his own, but this was kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity for you as well; teaching a real vampire everything about vampirism. If he was going to use you, you figured there was no harm in doing the same.

 

Elvis didn’t realise the seriousness of the situation until you told him more about it. His entire world was flipped upside down as you told him he couldn’t go outside in the sun anymore; therefor it was goodbye popularity, goodbye football and goodbye Betty.

For the past two weeks, he had been cooped up inside of your bedroom. He couldn’t go home anymore, because he had no excuse to tell his parents for not going to school anymore or leaving the house at all; people were getting suspicious and his parents had officially reported him as ‘missing’. He hated knowing that his mother was just next door, worrying and wondering where her son was and if he was even still alive. He came up with a suggestion that you thought was pretty extreme, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to change his mind.

“It’s the only option. According to you, I’m already dead,” he shrugged as he laid on your bed, tugging on the ears of your teddy bear that was sitting on his stomach. “There might not be a body to bury, but at least I get a headstone,”

“Elvis, do you know what you’re saying right now? If you do this, you’ll never see your family or your friends again,”

“I won’t see them anymore anyways, Y/N,” he snapped as he threw the stuffed animal to the foot of the bed, sitting up as he placed his feet on the ground and looked at you. “I’m a fucking vampire, I can’t go outside because I’ll burn to freakin’ ashes. Do you know what I think about all day long when I sit here in the dark like a damn prisoner? Do you?”

You could take a wild guess, but you could see he was steadily getting more frustrated, so you wisely kept your mouth shut.

“Blood. Your blood. Anyone’s blood, really! Even when you’re downstairs, I can literally hear the thumping of your heart and the sound of your blood pulsating through your veins,” he was raising his voice now, his hands animatedly expressing the frustrated and frantic state he was in. “The birds you bring me do the trick for a minute, yeah, but I’m hungry. I’m starving, but I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I hurt you or if I hurt my parents. I need to.. I.. I need to go, I need to get out of Memphis,”

He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the locks as he got up and paced back and forth in front of you. You looked up at him as you sat at your desk, sighing deeply before you got up. He watched with a frown as you walked out of the room and thundered down the stairs; he didn’t follow. He rarely went downstairs, not wanting to face your father if he was home even though that was rarely the case since the man was always working.

You were back in less than a minute, knife and glass in your hand. Without a word, you placed the glass on your desk and braced yourself for the sting as you sucked in a breath and sliced the knife across your palm, letting the crimson liquid drip into the glass.

“What are you doin’? Are you crazy?” he gasped softly, walking over to you to grab your wrist and pull it away from the glass.

“You’re right, Elvis,” you told him, ignoring the shiver that threatened to travel down your spine as you saw the vampiric state of his face. You pulled your arm out of his loose grip and held it above the glass again, putting the knife down. “You need blood, the birds aren’t enough. But you can control yourself.. the way you feed, I mean. You don’t have to kill every time,”

He swallowed as he looked at the blood in the glass, his eyes following your movements as you picked it up and held it in front of his face. He didn’t know if you were right or not, he could barely think straight as the scent of your blood overwhelmed all his senses. Snatching the glass out of your hand, he downed the contents of it in less than a few seconds – still, it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more. He needed more.

“More,” he sighed out breathlessly, licking his lips as he looked at you with darkened eyes. “I want more,”

You nodded, taking the glass out of his hand to give him another fill, but it slipped from your grip as he suddenly grabbed your shoulders and firmly held you in your place as he lunged forward and sank his teeth into your skin.

The same way it happened to him, your limbs went numb and the world around you disappeared.

 

Elvis didn’t want this to happen, but the taste of your blood was so good that he didn’t have the strength to pull back. Being a new vampire, he greatly lacked self control because despite you having taught him a lot of information, there were things that he couldn’t learn from a human. You weren’t strong enough to train him in combat nor could you teach him how to properly feed, but he knew you were too stubborn to admit you were in way over your head.

He didn’t pull back until he heard the rate of your heart going down alarmingly fast and he immediately did what you taught him; he fed you his blood, but as he put you on your bed and your heart stopped, he had no idea if he made it in time or if he killed you.

He had been pacing a hole in the floor without pause. He even considered calling your father for help, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that would end well. Before he could do anything irrational, you scared the crap out of him as you awakened with a loud gasp.

He was at the side of the bed in a second, sitting on his knees as he grabbed your hands.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I c-couldn’t stop and when you passed out, I didn’t know what else to do so I gave you my blood but now you’re just like me and-“

“Elvis!” you interrupted him, pulling your hands out of his grip and pressing your finger against his lips. As you slowly sat up, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and looked at him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,”

He watched you get up and walk over to the desk, lifting up the knife that still had your own blood on it. You sighed deeply and he gawked at you in both disbelief and interest as you licked the blood off the blade, completing your transition.

“You wanted this?” he raised an eyebrow as he got up from the floor and walked over to you, looking at the cut you made earlier vanishing from the palm of your hand.

Closing your hand, you shrugged and looked at him. “Maybe. You might be happy in this town but I’m miserable and I needed a way out. Besides, spending an eternity alone sounds kinda boring, doesn’t it?”

“You used me and now I have to spend an eternity with you? This just keeps on getting better,” he flashed you a sarcastic smile as he let himself fall on the chair by your desk, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling as he leaned his head back.

“Excuse you. You used me just as much. If I hadn’t helped you, you would’ve been a pile of ashes right now,” you reminded him, walking over to your wardrobe to throw some clothes in a bag.

Your relationship with your father barely existed and maybe one day you’d come back, but right now, you wanted out. There was nothing here for you and you doubted there ever would be.

You had nothing to lose, but Elvis had everything to lose. Still, he agreed to your idea of leaving as soon as the sun went down, leaving his old self behind in Memphis.

 

As a year had gone by, the authorities gave up on searching for you and Elvis; much to both your parents’ dismay. Nobody could find your bodies anywhere and two empty caskets were buried to at least give the people some closure. This bothered Elvis more than it did you, but he was smart enough to realise his life would never be the same again, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

Due to the high population of supernatural creatures, you and Elvis settled in New Orleans. While it was easy to compel yourself an apartment and everything else you wanted and needed, Elvis worked as a bartender on Bourbon Street while you worked as a nightly tour guide – it seemed like you hadn’t been the only human to believe in the occult and it was actually the reason why so many tourists came to the city.

They wanted to be spooked and New Orleans was the perfect place for it.

It wasn’t difficult to befriend a couple of witches; you quickly learned that as long as you were friendly and didn’t rip into anyone’s throat whenever you pleased, that the witches didn’t have much problems with the vampires. You and Elvis were granted a daylight ring, making life seem somewhat more normal again.

While you and your former neighbor and current house mate had very little in common, your newfound immortality brought you closer together and a friendship blossomed between you again. You even considered the former jog to be your best friend, but you figured for his ego's sake it was best not to tell him that.

He knew it though, as he felt the same but just like you, he’d rather leave that conversation for another time. Or… never.

You trained with Elvis every day and you also learned a lot from other vampires that you became friends with. While the witches were very loyal to their covens and werewolves to their packs, you were aware vampires could be somewhat considered loners. They didn’t like to run in groups and if they were part of a clan, you learned it was very hard to get accepted into one. Most of the older vampires weren’t very fond of the younger ones because of their lack of self control which was something you understood; you lived with one of them.

Elvis was growing into his vampirism every day and while he’d feel guilty every time he took things a little too far, he enjoyed the hunt, the feed and the kill. Living in a city full of vampires, it was hard not to get swept up in the heat of the moment and it became a coping mechanism for him. The blood took his mind off of the life he used to live and everything in it that he had to leave behind.

Both you and Elvis decided it was best to stay in New Orleans and leave Memphis in the past, but on the anniversary of your actual death, the both of you found your way onto Memphis’ cemetery where your caskets were buried.

You knew it was a dangerous thing to do since the possibility of running into someone you knew was big, but you were both curious. Curious if people were still thinking of you, still bringing flowers, or if they had forgotten.

His headstone had more flowers surrounding it than yours and while that tugged at your heartstrings uncomfortably, you didn’t show it.

“Weird, isn’t it?” he mumbled as he dug his hands a little deeper in the pockets of his jacket, staring at his name written in the stone in front of him.

You nodded, looking at him. You couldn’t read the emotion on his face; he was just staring, his face relaxed, as if he wasn’t looking at his own empty resting place.

“You wanted a headstone, didn’t you?” you joked with a soft laugh, making him look at you and chuckle softly. Want was a big word, but he realised this was for the best. Not only for him, but for the people he loved.

“Why did you want one? I mean, why did you want to become a vampire?” he suddenly asked, looking at you with curiosity swimming in his eyes.

If he would’ve had a choice, he never would’ve given up his humanity. His mortality. It wasn’t like he absolutely despised being a vampire, but he was perfectly fine with being human and he missed it.

You looked away from him, focusing your attention on the colorful flowers. “My life.. wasn’t as good as yours, Elvis. After my mother passed, I didn’t have much to live for,” you spoke softly, knowing he could hear you crystal clear. “I had no plans for college, no bright future ahead of me, no… nothing. I figured by becoming a vampire I’d still be an outcast but at least I wouldn’t be alone anymore,”

His heart broke upon hearing your words. It made him feel guilty for dropping the friendship he had with you in the past like it was nothing.

And for what?

Popularity? To be part of the cool kids and be considered ‘the man’?

It didn’t mean anything.

Everything he did and everything he considered to be important in high school had been a lie. It wasn’t real.

“You’re not alone,” he said, smiling as you looked at him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You have me. I’m yours – I-I mean.. as a friend. This ain’t some over the top love confession or me trying to work my way into your heart, but we’re friends and I’m grateful for that. I’m here whenever you need me to.. and I would move the earth to be right here,”

You blinked away a few tears, nodding as you wrapped your other arm around his waist as well. He chuckled softly as you squeezed him in your embrace and he didn’t hesitate to hug you back.

 

You were more than ready to leave and go back to New Orleans, but Elvis insisted to go back to your headstone once more. You protested, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer so you had no choice but to follow.

“Elvis, you can’t do that!” you whispered to him with a soft laugh as you watched him gather some flowers from other people’s spots. He ignored you and gently pulled the elastic out of your hair that kept your ponytail together, wrapping it around the stems of the flowers to create a small bouquet.

“Here lies Y/N,” he grinned at you before turning to your headstone and bending through his knees, continuing his little speech. “Loving daughter, neighbor, nerd, vampire freak… you name it. She can be anythin’ you want her to be really,” he laughed softly as you kicked the side of his thigh, laying the flowers in front of the stone. “But above all that, she’s a friend, my friend. The best friend I could’ve ever asked for,”

You looked down at him, swallowing the lump in your throat as your eyes followed him when he stood up again and smiled at you.

“I’m your best friend?”

“N-No, I meant like.. a good friend. You’re a good friend!” he stammered, quickly turning around to walk away. He didn’t mean to get so sappy earlier and neither did he want it now.

Laughing, you ran after him and linked your arm through his, walking with him as you smiled from ear to ear. “I’m totally your best friend,”

“Good friend,”

“Whatever you say, best friend,”

“Okay, fine!” he stopped walking, looking down at you with a playful roll of his eyes. “You’re my nerdy little vampire soulmate who I’m stuck with for the rest of eternity. Happy now?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, letting go of his arm as he shook his head in amusement and started walking to the car. You jogged after him, getting in the passenger’s seat.

“You really think we’re soulmates?” you questioned as he started driving.

You never realised how eager you were to actually have someone call you a best friend, let alone soulmate.

He shrugged a little, looking at you for a second before returning his focus back on the road.

“I-I don’t know.. Maybe. I mean, the universe brought us back together for a reason, don’t you think?”

You nodded your head a little, looking at the road ahead of you. “The universe is sick and twisted,”

“Tell me about it,” he grinned, the both of you falling into a fit of laughter as you exchanged a look.

Neither you or Elvis ever expected for you to become friends again. You figured he’d eventually move away to college and you’d never see him again and that would be that. But you were happy things turned out differently.

Your life might have been something not worth fighting for, but you were positive that your eternity would be a hell of a lot better.

And while Elvis knew the future wouldn’t exactly be without mistakes and regrets, he was happy he didn’t have to face it all alone.

Because you’d be there, every step along the way.

“Hey,” he said as your laughter died down, a smile spreading across his face as he held up his open hand. You took it, lacing your fingers together as you looked at him. “We’ll be alright, kid,”

“I’m two months older than you,”

“Don’t ruin it,” he rolled his eyes and you laughed, squeezing his hand softly.

“Thank you, El, for being here and being kind. But you’re wrong,” you grinned as you let go of his hand, which he placed back on the wheel. “We’ll be more than alright. We’re going to be legendary,”

He let out a laugh as he shook his head, playfully pushing your head. “You’re an idiot,”

“That I am, but I’m also your best friend slash soulmate,”

“Nerdy soulmate,” he corrected as he pointed a finger at you, grinning as he kept his eyes on the road.

You squinted your eyes at him before you shrugged and smiled happily, grabbing a bloodbag out of the glove compartment.

“I’ll take what I can get,”

[eddysocs]

Under Her Influence — Dusty Jackson x OC

Summary: Allegra knows what she’s gotten herself into with Dusty, but that doesn’t mean that Dusty doesn’t know exactly how to keep Allegra in line when she has doubts.

Word Count: 655

Warnings: Medication Bribery, Munchausen by Proxy

Allegra’s fingers trembled as she held the small white pill between her thumb and forefinger, staring at it like it was poison. In a way, it was. But she wasn’t concerned about what it might do to her body. Her real drug was sitting across from her, eyes soft and syrupy, lips curved in a knowing smile. Dusty Jackson, the woman who claimed to care, to nurture. But Allegra knew better.

Still, knowing didn’t stop her from wanting it. Wanting her.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Dusty crooned, voice like a lullaby as she nudged a glass of water toward Allegra. “You need this. You’re not feeling well, are you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Allegra’s gaze flickered to Dusty’s hand, which was now gently brushing against hers. That brief touch sent a shiver through her, a rush of warmth curling low in her stomach. She hated how much she craved it, craved her. But she couldn’t resist, not really. Dusty was everything she had been searching for, belonging, purpose, affection. But all of it came with strings.

“I don’t need it,” Allegra whispered, more to herself than to Dusty. The medication wasn’t something she needed at all. She was perfectly healthy. Yet, it had become a twisted game between them, one she was allowing herself to lose.

Dusty’s smile turned saccharine sweet as she leaned closer, her tone positively dripping with concern. “Oh, honey, you do. You’re so fragile, so delicate. Without it, I can’t bear to think what might happen to you.”

She knew what she was doing, pushing Allegra’s buttons with just the right words. She always did. And Allegra hated how much it worked, how much she wanted Dusty to keep caring, keep treating her like something precious. So she sighed, defeated, and popped the pill into her mouth, chasing it down with the glass of water Dusty provided. The bitterness lingered on her tongue, but Dusty’s expression softened, lighting up like Allegra had done something truly good.

“There’s my good girl,” Dusty murmured, slipping an arm around Allegra’s shoulders and pulling her in close. The warmth of her embrace wrapped around Allegra like a blanket. “I’m so proud of you.”

This— this was what Allegra wanted more than anything. It was the way Dusty’s fingers threaded through her hair, the way her voice dipped low, soothing like honeyed tea. For this, Allegra could forget the nagging voice in her mind telling her to run, to escape the grasp that was tightening around her with each passing day.

“Thank you,” Allegra murmured into Dusty’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she leaned into the touch. She wished she could stay in this moment forever, basking in the attention and affection she so desperately craved. But a dark part of her knew that this, too, would be fleeting. Dusty’s care wasn’t unconditional. It came at a price.

“You know I just want what’s best for you, Allegra,” Dusty whispered, her breath warm against Allegra’s ear. “You need someone to take care of you. You’re so lucky I’m here.”

Allegra swallowed hard, tears prickling at the edges of her eyes as she was reminded of that price she was always so willing to pay for these moments. Lucky. That’s what Dusty always said, and in some twisted way, maybe she was right. Allegra had drifted for so long, searching for someone who made her feel like she mattered, even if it came wrapped in manipulation and conditions.

And so she stayed, took the pills, and clung to the affection she was offered. She couldn’t ever be certain if it was real or not, but it felt like it, and wasn’t that good enough? The truth was, Allegra was weak for Dusty, addicted to both the physical affection and the adoring words she received in exchange for her compliance. Dusty’s affection, for all its poison, was the only thing keeping her from feeling completely empty.

For @sicktember

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @kenjioharashotspot, @immyowndefender

[omegaremix]

Rosie’s Vintage shopping list, 2018.

Two more stops to go before the music shopping spree is history. Whatever locations are on the list seems to be further away each time. Today’s theme is the record annex which is picking up on Long Island. It started a year-and-a-half ago when Hideaway Vinyl set shop in Rosie’s Vintage in Huntington. Looks like they have an online presence still despite nothing being updated in a few months, so why not take the trip to see what it’s all about?

It’s been quite a while since being in Huntington. I do have some personal history there. My ex- Yenny brought me over to work there (our second job working together) for several years and it’s where she used to live. And let’s try to forget a dreaded miserable summer post-rain day out with former friend and staffer Molina, who took me through a cemetery, burger place, and an isolated park in an attempt to get close to me. No dice.

I walk in to Rosie’s and it’s bonafide vintage. Looks like the owners took over a small Fifties-style house in white-bread suburbia. Walk in and you’ll certainly feel the loud creaking of the all-wood floors. Its’ living room, dens, bedrooms, and many closets are filled with tons of kitsch, knick-knacks, and collectibles from the mid-century. Street signs, old threads, compasses, jewelry, board games, wardrobes, dolls, salt-shakers…I can go on. There’s many stories and tales to be told by each and every object that survived its’ era; all neatly organized, piled, and sorted. As an added touch, there’s the classics played on the overheads. Collections were posted on its page and testimonials from its customers recall their purchases: old vials and medicine jars, pill and spice tins, matchbook collections, sports pennants, dishes, and the occasional naughty glassware. I can still go on if you want me to.

The guy behind the register greets me and asks what he could do for me. I’m here for Hideaway Vinyl, I say. He tells me that they left shop a few months ago. Could’ve fooled me. They no longer exist. They’re still present online on social media but it all made sense why the lack of updates. Had Hideaway stayed, there’d be a presence of punk, hardcore, surf, ska, and rockabilly. He did show me where all the vinyl is now deposited by Vinyl Paradise. Remember them? There were twelve shelves top and bottom of pre-owned vinyl, four of the same across from those bins of newly-pressed and Record Store Day releases. 

Of the first twelve were plenty of rock, pop, dance, and 12″ dee-jay singles most for $10.00 and less with the occasional new hardcore pressing. I found a lot of 12″ hip-hop and dance singles; Nice & Wild and Harold Faltermeyer were two hits New York’s Z100 played growing up during my single-digit Eighties youth. Everything else in Shabba Ranks, Mad Skillz, Boogiemonsters, and Blahzay Blahzay were all summer hits going to Brentwood. WBLS, Hot 97, and Kiss FM played them all. As always, there’s the pop-rock quotient from Genesis and Dire Straits. Hello, nice to meet you again. Also relieved to find was the complete Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team’s “Buffalo Gals” in a die-cut label sleeve.

In comes Thea, co-owner of Rosie’s Vintage in her rockabilly / Rosie The Riveter motif. She says hello and sees the stack in my hand. She offers to put it aside for me which I obliged. I kindly ask if there would be more vinyl and does tell me there might be some upstairs. That’s where I’m going. Heading up is possibly one of the steepest set of steps I experienced walking. I also had to dodge a heavy-set punk couple decked with gauges, tattoos, low-cut tank tops and tees coming from downstairs. I walk up and there’s a closet with a secret crate of records on the floor containing The Talking Heads’ 77 for $20.00 and its’ sister Tom Tom Club’s Close To The Bone for $15.00. Shucks. I scour the upstairs to find many more antiques. Compasses, typewriters, old magazines, books, brochures in one room with very little traces of 7″ records in one crate. The kitchen was full of dishes, glasses, and silverware stacked in the sink and on its’ counter but no records to be found.

Thea rings me up and I’m golden. This became the shortest time spent in any store with the smallest stack and the least amount of money paid. 45 minutes to look through 16 bins of records for a total of $29.00 and I say good-bye to Rosie’s Vintage and Huntington until next time. Only two more stores are on the list to go before calling it quits on record-shopping for a while: Sunday Records in Riverhead and Innersleeve Records in Amagansett.

Genesis Abacab

Nice & Wild “Diamond Girl” 12″

Shabba Ranks “Mr. Loverman” 12″

Dire Straits self-titled

Mad Skillz “Nod Factor” 12“

Boogiemonsters “Recognized Thresholds Of Negative Stress 12″

Blahzay Blahzay “Danger!” 12″

Harold Faltermeyer “Axel F” 12“

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team “Buffalo Gals” 12″

[blckbarbiedoll]

Ghost Of You (M.B.)-Chapter 16

Red Sox, Red Roses

2017-Chicago, Illinois

"Congratulations." Tina grinned.

Angie turned from her locker and looked at Tina with a puzzled face. "What?"

"It's your anniversary, right? Ten years?"

"Oh, yeah. It is. Thanks."

"You don't seem too excited about it."

"Uh, I gotta go prep, T."

"Wait a minute." She sat down on the bench. "Talk to me."

Angie sighed and sat next to the older woman. "Yeah?"

"Is everything okay? With you and Mikey, I mean?"

"Yeah. We're fine."

"I heard you arguing yesterday. That didn't sound fine."

"Every couple argues, Tina."

"Not like that."

"Tina, drop it!"

"Relax, mama. Look, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you."

"Well, I don't need you to worry about me. I'm fine. My marriage is fine."

"You tryna convince me or yourself?"

"Motherfucker." She sighed, turning her head so she could wipe her eyes.

"It's okay." Tina placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can talk to me."

"Tina, I love you. I do. Mikey and I are doing great. You don't have to worry."

She took a deep breath and stood up. "Okay. Family's up in ten."

After Tina walked away, Angie rested her elbows on her knees and sobbed with her head in her hands.

🤍

Michael's shaking hands opened the small orange bottle before dumping a pill into his hand. He popped it into his mouth and quickly swallowed it when he heard footsteps.

"Hey." Angie leaned against the doorway of his office.

"Hey."

"More pain?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go home."

"I got some stuff to work on."

"You can't stop for the night?"

"I gotta get some shit together."

"I can stay."

"No. I'll be here late. You go ahead."

"Should I give you your present now then?"

"What present?"

"Babe." She walked deeper into the room. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Tuesday."

"Mikey." She sighed.

"What?"

"Ten years."

He ran his hands over his face and leaned back in his chair. "Fuck."

"You forgot."

"I didn't forget. I remembered. I was gonna make you dinner, but I was just so busy today."

"Today." She chuckled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna go home."

"Angie." He stood up and grabbed her hand. "Baby, I'm sorry."

"I don't wanna fight with you, Michael. Just let me go home."

"Let me go with you. We'll get dinner somewhere and celebrate."

"Stop." She raised her hands and placed them on her temples. "I can't."

"Baby." He pulled her in close, holding her tight against his body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She reached into her purse and handed him two pieces of paper. "Tickets to the Red Sox." She pulled away from him and walked out of the room.

🤍

"The end." Angie whispered into the sleeping child's ear. She stood up and quietly walked out.

The doorknob turned and she stepped into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. Mikey stepped into the apartment with a bouquet of roses and an apologetic smile.

"Hi." He shyly said.

"Hi."

"I fucked up."

"Yeah."

He set the flowers down on the counter and hugged her. "I don't wanna fight with you."

"So let's not."

"Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary."

"I got you these." He handed her the roses.

"They're beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

She smirked and kissed him softly. "I love you."

"I love you too." He whispered, caressing her cheek. "More than anything."

[bogbees]

Oh oh shit oh damn

6:57 AM · Jun 17, 2017

I WOULD LIKE TO NOTE THIS ONE IS KINDA WONKY BC I GAVE IRUKA A TON OF DIFFERENT FLOWERS INSTEAD OF JUST ONE!!

Imagine how fucked up it'd be with Kakashi. His mask just ruins it. He can't exist around Iruka while trying to keep his face covered

But to save the man from that kind of suffering, it'll be Iruka who has it. It happens suddenly one morning after he realises he's in love

And at first its easy to deal with, just petals at first and it happens when he's alone usually. Sakura catches him once and knows

The chunin exams don't deter Iruka but after the funeral he finds himself coughing up full peonies. And it hurts

When Kakashi lies there, just ab dead, Naruto goes off to find Tsunade, Sakura has been studying up on medicine in Kakashi's room

Iruka drops by - with peonies to leave - Sakura catches him and tells him that there's a cure, he says he knows but it's not - she stops him

She says there's a medicine that can suppress the seeds, keep them from never blooming in his stomach. She respects his desire to shy away

But Iruka knows she doesn't know who. Who grows the garden in his gut, whose conversations tickle his throat as flowers bloom in his voice

So he tells her he will consider it. When Kakashi wakes up, Iruka coughs up a boquet of sunflowers, lavenders, iris', and forget-me-not's

And he keeps the flowers in a vase, and starts taking the medication. He pops a pill, eyeing the bouquet, saying he'd trash them later

A couple nights after Naruto has left, Iruka sits in his apartment reading over his students feild essays when there's a short knock

Kakashi is there to talk about how he's bored. Iruka smiles and invites him for tea. They talk, reminss about the kids, he smiles too warmly

He puts the dishes in the sink, sees the dry bouquet and panics. It's one sided, never to be, too weird. He can't and he should stop no or

He starts hacking violently and Kakashi is there worry over his brow, and from his mouth spills red spider lilies and Kakashi "understands"

He gives him water and leaves. Iruka cries, starring back at the door and wonders if he could make it better. He knows Kakashi doesn't know

He spends the next couple days hiccuping rose petals, his students catch them and collect them, they cheer him on, presenting the petals

he accepts the petals he thinks he can do something about it. It wouldn't be good for his students to see him choke n die on yellow tulips

He thinks about everything he loves about Kakashi and coughs up peonies, sunflowers, and roses and ties them with a red thread and cries

He finds the man later, much later, at midnight and presents the jounin with his flowers. Kakashi's eye is wide in surprise

Iruka begins, yellow tulip petals spilling with each word. "I really, really like you." Shoves the flowers into kakashi's arms and bails

He hides himself away in one of the hide aways he found when he was younger. He coughs up more sunny tulips that contrast his mood

In his panic he doesn't notice the flowers become red roses nor the voice calling his name. He's waiting to suffocate on his mistakes

Ok Kakashi pov: he saw Iruka cough up flower petals once before the exams. He's like "oh," sad in a way he can't explain and keeps quiet

The peonies he finds by his bed side he thinks to be some random strangers thanks, and hopes their crushes die, bc he can't reciprocate ever

He likes Iruka. He likes being around him and it's fine and dandy and funny and wait a second Iruka is hacking and oh no there's a flower

He's like "this man is going to die" and reads the flower on the floor as "never to be" and bails bc he can't watch him fucking die

Like petals mean "small" and can be stopped but full flowers mean "rooted" and the count down to death starts.

When Iruka throws a bouquet of flowers in his arms and flees, he remembers the vase in Iruka's kitchen and he's like "these are the same..?"

They are the same and it hits him. Iruka is in love with /him/ of all people. He would have been the reason for Iruka's death. Oh shit oh oh

He realises that he's in love. But because he's dumb ab these things, he only realised it now as he's using the sharingan to find Iruka

(Maybe idk)

Back to Iruka who's just throwing up red roses in this alcove in this alley in the middle of the night at this deserted street, crYING

I really have no idea how to fix this fuck me gently with my regrets 1:00 AM · Jun 18, 2017

[sea-salted-wolverine]

P, Q, T 👀

*insert grumble mumble while I hunt down which questions those are*

P- invent random AU for a fandom.

Uhhh... Klondike gold rush era Alaska. 1890s and there's money coming out of the ground at the ends of the earth. The corners of the map have all been filled in but there is one last frontier to explore. The mounties are making your characters carry 3 years worth of supplies up the chilkoot pass. They have more money than God in a place where there is nothing to buy. Wump opportunities galore. The only people actually turning a profit are the outfitters and the whores. The closest version of western civilization is a tent city in a swamp run by gangs stealing luggage. (Anchorage mention) Robert Service is writing poetry about a frozen zombie mailman. Jack London is writing about murder dogs.

Yeah.

I am not optimistic about the quality of a gold rush AU written for fan fic purposes because its a super niche thing that would require assloads of research, but its an incredibly rich setting and frankly a fucking insane period of history. Go read the Cremation of Sam Mcgee and slot in whoever you feel would fit. Tag it as #wouldn't it be fucked up if

Q- i don't so much abandon ships as I put them in drydock and forget about them. I have a habit of latching onto underdeveloped characters in mediocre media that are never going to get any more fleshed out than "cute naive love interest" or "comic relief character #2" and then I'm vaguely dissapointed when the mediocre media wraps up and is content to leave them as accessories of the plot. I have a handful of fics that started as ships, and I did so much work extrapolating personalities and fleshing out the characters that it just became original fiction. The worst offenders are usually Shonen Manga and action movies because while there is a solid chunk of my media taste that is a 9 year old boy who wants to see explosions and superpowers and giant rock-em sock-em robots, those are generally not the kinds of stories that have much in the way of character depth.

Though, sometimes I am surprised and a ship I had thought was moldering away in the back, ready to be scuttled for artificial reef building, comes charging up to the forefront guns blazing and colors flying. Usually when someone has an opinion about Christopher Eccleston. NineRose doesn't so much live in my head rent free as it chewed a hole in the wall and pops out at random moments.

T- do I have any headcannons i will die defending?

I have a bit of a unique approach to head cannons. If it makes the story work better If it makes the story work better then everything is fair even if its contradictory. Senshi is the equivalent of a 20-year-old with a full beard and a 1000 yd stare is supported by canon and contradicted by the supplemental material, but thats not the thing that makes or breaks the headcannon. Its hilarious and fits the themes, despite the fact its not the authors intent.

I do get protective over intentional allegory especially unstated intentional allegory. Just because there isn't a great big banner stating that Pacific Rim, the movie about giant monsters from the ocean, rated on a 1 to 5 category system, showing up specifically because of rising CO2 levels and a warming atmosphere, that the goverment decides to fight for a little bit and then ignore and slap an in effective seawall on it and just let everyone on the coast get fucked, is about hurricanes, doesn't mean that I'm making things up when I say it's about hurricanes. The same with reading the Matrix as a trans allegory. The Wachowski Brothers were the Wachowski Sisters by the time they finished making a trilogy about taking a pill to remain comfortable in the status quo or taking a different pill to make some difficult changes and see the world as it is. So denying any queer interpretation of those movies is somewhere between willful ignorance and illiteracy, especially when the pills are color coded to zanax and oral estrogen.

[riahlynn101]

Day Twenty-Four: "Goodbye Note."

Trigger warnings: SUICIDE warning, major character death, guilt, grief, and misuse of medication.

This one gets a little heavy. So, I recommend not reading it if you're in a poor mental space. (I'd be more than happy to provide a TL/DR that avoids certain topics if you really want to know what happens)

Suicide helpline through chat and text (available for the US and some territories): https://988lifeline.org/chat/

And here's a link to other countries emergency numbers/suicide hotlines (if available). Just scroll down to your country and click it: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/suicide/suicide-prevention-hotlines-resources-worldwide

--

Mike slams the front door closed. 

She had won. 

It had taken years of complaints and doing everything in her power to make him look bad, but Aunt Jane has finally won. 

When Abby was first taken from him, Mike did everything in his power to bring her home. He did everything the case workers said he needed to do: classes, visitations, court cases, and even therapy appointments to address his “underlying issues.” 

None of it mattered. 

Aunt Jane had her claws too deep in too many people, and by time Mike finished all the necessary steps to get Abby back, the court decided that his sister was better off with their aunt. 

His little sister wouldn’t look at him. Mike doesn’t blame her but it hurts just the same. He can’t get her disappointed expression out of his head, it reminded him so much of Garrett. 

That makes two siblings you couldn’t protect. 

His tie is suffocating him. Mike’s breathing picks up, coming out fast and shallow. He stumbles down the hallway to the bathroom. A trembling hand fumbles to loosen his tie. 

He digs through the bathroom cabinets, looking for something, anything that can numb his pain. Maybe even take it away. 

His heart beats faster in his chest, and he feels unsteady. Mike knows, in the back of his mind, that what he’s about to do is not rational. He knows that whatever pain he’s experiencing is temporary, and that he’s betraying his sister by leaving her alone. 

But he can’t take it anymore.

Spotting the necessary medicine, Mike scoops up the pill bottle. It rattles in his shaky hand, filling up the quiet. Without thinking further-if he thinks further, he might stop, and Mike doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. He doesn’t want to think anymore-Mike pops the lid off and pours all the contents of the bottle into his mouth. 

He feels them slide down his throat. It burns, and some of the pills stick to the sides of his throat. Mike sputters, moving to the sink. He drinks water from the tap, helping the pills slide down easier. 

Mike inhales deeply, clutching the sink. It’s done.

The hard part is done. Or was it the easy part?

Leaving the bathroom, Mike heads to his bedroom. 

It hits him, as he lays down, that he’s forgotten to write a letter. Groaning, Mike sits up. Abby needs to know that what he's doing is not her fault. That he’s not leaving because he’s angry, sad, or even disappointed at her. 

His stomach cramps up, and all he can do is wait for it to pass. Mike sits on the edge of his bed, hunched over. When it (finally) lets up, he grabs a pad of paper and a pen from his nightstand. (technically, his parents’ nightstand). 

He starts and restarts over and over. Pen held loosely in his hand. Everything he’s ever wanted to tell Abby-how much he loves her. How he only ever wished for her to be safe and happy. How he never wanted it to come to this-all vanishes like smoke. His mind feels blank. He feels numb and empty, minus the gradual pain in his temples. 

But he needs to tell his sister something. 

She deserves that much. 

Carefully, Mike writes down what his sister needs to know the most. 

Dear Abby, 

I’m sorry. I need you to know that this-me dying-is not your fault. I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. Sometimes bad things just happen. All you can do is push forward. 

Never forget how much you are loved. I’ll always be with you. 

Mike

He folds the letter and writes a quick note on the back asking the person who finds him to not show his sister this letter until she’s a little older. 

She doesn’t need to know what happened here (yet).

With that done. Mike lays back in the bed, covering up. His stomach cramps up again, worse than before. And it’s not long until he’s dry-heaving. Thankfully, he hasn’t eaten anything in a hot minute, so nothing comes up but the movement makes him nauseous. 

He turned on his side, curling into the fetal position. He’s too hot with the blanket on, but when he throws it to the side, it’s too cold. 

Mike shivers, weakly reaching out for the covers he threw off. But he can’t muster the strength to grab them. His hand falls on the bed. 

He whimpers, head throbbing. 

“Mike?” His little brother says, standing at the end of the bed. “Mike?”

“Garrett,” he murmurs, exhaustion starting to kick in. He blinks slowly, breathing becoming harder. Everything feels both too fast and too slow at the same time. 

“Mike? You don’t look okay. What did you-” Garrett goes to the nightstand, looking over the letter. “Oh, my God! Mike! What have you done!?”

“Wha..? I-I’m tired. Why are you so angry?” His mind is sluggish and his thoughts are slow. He can’t understand why his brother is so mad at him. Shouldn’t Garrett be happy that Mike is dying? (Would you be happy if your sibling died just to see you? Deep down, Mike knows the answer to that question is 1000% no.)

“What did you take?” Garrett leans down until they’re face–to-face. 

“I dunno.” He groans, the throbbing in his temples getting worse. “Medicine.”

“I’m calling 9-1-1.” 

Before Mike can protest, Garrett-who he doesn’t remember ever owning a cellphone (did cell phones that small even exist in the early 80s? Mike can’t remember)-his little brother’s calling the emergency services. He sounds surprisingly calm, answering all the operator's questions with ease. The only sign that he’s worried is the slight tremble of his hands. 

“‘ts okay, Gar,” he murmurs. 

“Oh, Mike,” his brother says, touching the back of his hand to Mike’s cheek. “Just hold on, help is on the way.”

“‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But I need you to stay awake.”

“Tired.”

Garrett slaps him lightly in the face, startling him. He looks up at his brother, a little betrayed and also shocked by how hard his hit was. 

“Stay awake,” he says forcefully, shoving a finger in Mike’s face. A stern look on his cherubic face. He almost reminds Mike of their mother. “No falling asleep.”

Time moves slower, and Mike-in spite of being told not to-feels his head fall forward and his eyelids grow heavy. 

Right before Mike’s eyes close, he swears-for a second-that it’s Vanessa fretting over him. Tears streaming down her face. 

He sleeps. 

-- END OF STORY--

(((I don't usually do this, but this story has two ways it can end)))

If it helps, Mike is just fine. Vanessa saves him in time. They work together to get Abby back. It turns into a romantic comedy of sorts, with Mike being terrible at flirting and Vanessa (also being really bad at) flirting. Mike wins the court case to get her back, proposes to Vanessa (a couple days later). They get married and become a happy family.

2. Or if you prefer a less happy ending. None of that happens, and Mike never wakes up.