#it’s been months and I’m still diseased. I need someone to put me down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 1 year ago

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Blue Oleander

It's the last day of @httydhiccstridweek, and it's been crazy, enjoyable ride. Thank you so much @sorushing for hosting it! I hope we can do it again next year!

Summary:

��You again,” Hiccup greeted her. “Still think we’re lying?” She stopped in front of the counter, eyes stony but the fear behind them wasn’t well concealed. She was clutching each of her elbows with the opposite hand. Her blonde hair was loose and a little wild, like she had run her fingers through it quite a few times since she had done it. “How - how long does it take?” she asked quietly. “To - how long do I have?” Hiccup pushed himself upright and ambled over to the shelves behind him. “Without this? Usually around a couple months. With this?” He shook the bottle gently. “Um. Longest the patient ever lasted was up to a year.” The blonde stared at the bottle in his hands bleakly. “A year at most?” she asked faintly. ~ Of course, the universe hated him, so the person he’d fall for s would be a girl who was already dying because she was in love with someone else.

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He was often surprised at the patients that came in, but none had surprised him as much as the stunning blonde fidgeting in front of him.

“Yes?” he asked as she stood staring at him. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “This is Blue Oleander, right? The sign was a little . . . faded.” He quirked one side of his mouth into a grimace of apology. Their sign was faded and overgrown with plants, but the desperate people always found them anyway.

“That’s correct,” Hiccup replied. “At your service. What do you need?” He didn’t know why he asked. Blue Oleander sold a few concoctions, the gray blue walls covered in unfinished gray wooden shelves lined with bottles, boxes, and pills. They were also a certified pharmacy, with a little extra kick, not that the customers really cared. People only came here for one thing.

“My doctor told me to come here,” she shared. “She said you’re the best.” Hiccup nodded and checked his clipboard sitting on the cluttered desk.

“Come this way, Miss . . .?”

“Astrid Hofferson,” she answered promptly. Hiccup nodded and wrote the name down. He’d probably never see that name again. There was no way a girl like her had any cause to be here.

“Why’d your doctor send you?” he asked. “Can you tell me what kind of symptoms you’ve been having?”

“Nothing, really,” she said. “Mostly short breath, but that’s weird because I exercise, and I don’t smoke, I have a nutritious diet, and I’ve never had respiratory problems before.”

“Hmm,” he frowned. “You said you went to your doctor first?” People usually had glaringly obvious symptoms before they sought out help from them.

“Yeah,” she said. “I was just going for my checkup, and she asked me if I had been experiencing anything unusual, and I remembered, yeah, actually, I was having trouble breathing. It’s - I’m an athlete. I need to get enough oxygen when I compete.”

“Yeah,” he hummed non committedly. “But that doesn’t sound like the abnormal illnesses we usually deal with. Was there no physical evidence of any type of disease? You sure it couldn’t be a cold? What made her certain it was an abnormal malady?”

“She, um, she asked me if I had any . . . romantic feelings for anyone,” she admitted. Hiccup raised an eyebrow.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Is that really a necessary question?” she snapped, frowning.

“It is, actually,” he said, not missing a beat. She blinked, taken about. “Do you?” he prompted.

She hesitated, her face twisting ruefully. “Yes,” she hissed, annoyed by such a personal question and his clinical detachment.

“Okay,” he made another note. “I’m going to check your throat and put you through an X-ray even if it’s too early to see anything, and then the doctor can diagnose you.”

A while later she sat stonily on the cot as she processed Dr. Ingerman’s words.

“I have . . . what?” she asked faintly.

“Better known as Hanahaki,” Fishlegs clarified. “It’s a disease one develops in the lungs when they suffer from unrequited love, causing them to cough up flower petals that may or may not develop into full grown flowers until the love is requited, or until the afflicted dies.”

Astrid looked horrified. “It’s fatal?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Fishlegs admitted.

“Okay, but you can cure it, right?” she asked, laughing disbelievingly. “I mean, there’s no way I could actually die from this?”

“Not really,” Fishlegs sighed. “It’s something the patient kind of has to cure. There are cases where it can be removed at the expense of the feelings towards the object of their affections-”

“Perfect. When can I schedule one of those?” she interrupted briskly.

“- But they are very dangerous, have a long recovery period, extremely expensive, and um, we don’t offer them.”

“What!” she cried.

“We can’t afford to pay a surgeon-” Fishlegs tried to protest, his voice growing smaller as she wagged her finger angrily.

“Listen here,” she began dangerously, rising from the cot, paper rustling ominously. “Dr. Winger said you were the best, but -”

“Atali?” Hiccup interrupted from the corner of the room. He shook his head sadly. “She was lucky. We were able to hold off the Hanahaki for a while until she got the person to fall in love with her.” Astrid snapped her head towards him.

“You can hold it off?” she asked hopefully. “Why didn’t you say so? I -”

“It’s not permanent,” Hiccup said sternly. Fishlegs had retreated to the doorway nervously. Fishlegs may have been the authority in name, but it was Hiccup who dealt with the patients after the initial diagnosis. “It just puts off the inevitable, and it reacts to people differently. Sometimes it has horrendous side effects, and sometimes it speeds up the process of dying after being consumed. It was compatible enough with Atali that it bought her enough time to cure herself, but there is no guarantee, and the longer it takes the more you have to consume. It can only be cured by love, or you die.”

“No,” she said abruptly. “This is - this is ridiculous! Diseases like this don’t exist! You guys must be scammers and I’m - I’m out of here!”

“First stage, denial,” he commented flatly. She glared at him as he followed her out of the room back into the lobby.

“You’re wrong!” she insisted. “This is stupid. I - I - this isn’t real.”

“Come back when you cough up a bloody petal,” Hiccup suggested dryly. “That should be real enough.” She spun on her heel and marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

She was back in three days.

“You again,” Hiccup greeted her. “Still think we’re lying?” She stopped in front of the counter, eyes stony but the fear behind them wasn’t well concealed. She was clutching each of her elbows with the opposite hand. Her blonde hair was loose and a little wild, like she had run her fingers through it quite a few times since she had done it.

“How - how long does it take?” she asked quietly. “To - how long do I have?” Hiccup pushed himself upright and ambled over to the shelves behind him.

“Without this? Usually around a couple months. With this?” He shook the bottle gently. “Um. Longest the patient ever lasted was up to a year.” The blonde stared at the bottle in his hands bleakly.

“A year at most?” she asked faintly. She blinked a few times and gazed at the low ceiling.

“Yep,” he nodded as he grabbed a notepad and scribbled three pens on it before finding one that worked. “How many petals have you coughed up?” he checked.

“Two,” she replied. “One, um, one a few hours after I saw you guys the first time and the second one this morning.”

“Okay,” Hiccup said, calculating. “You don’t need much of this for now. I would say take a tablespoon - or five milliliters if you want to be exact - twice a week.”

“Only twice a week?” she repeated.

“We don’t know how you’re going to react to it,” he explained. “For some it speeds the process up while it negates the effects of, well, coughing until you either suffocate on petals or drown in your own blood.” She cringed.

“Um, okay. You aren’t pulling any punches here,” she commented.

“You seem like the type of person who likes everything up front,” he replied. “And I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. It’s not pretty. The mortality rate is high, and from what I’ve witnessed over the years the coughing can be a pain.”

“I was just going to ask when I should come back?�� Astrid asked.

“If it gets worse, or, if it doesn’t, in two weeks,” he told her. “Although ideally you wouldn’t come back if you got him to love you back.” She looked stricken at the reminder of how to cure herself.

“There really is no other way?” she pleaded. Hiccup frowned at her.

“Unless you can get the surgery, no,” he answered frankly. “Why are you so against that method, though? Don’t you want them to love you back? You’re a beautiful woman, it wouldn’t be that hard.” Her pretty blue eyes stared at the ground blankly.

“Because . . . because he’s my best friend’s boyfriend.”

Three weeks later found her standing at the counter again.

“I - couldn’t,” she confessed ashamedly as she signed her name on the obligatory forms. “I just - Eret’s my best friend’s boyfriend, I can't just steal him like that. I could never do that to her, she’s my best friend, like a sister.”

“This is your life we’re talking about,” Hiccup said sternly as he wrapped the bottles up. “Surely she’d rather lose her boyfriend than have her best friend die. Especially if you guys are like sisters. You need to get him to fall in love with you or you don’t have a chance.”

“But she loves him,” Astrid said helplessly, taking the parcel and digging through her purse for payment.

“It’s your choice,” Hiccup sighed. “I’m just telling you how I see it.”

“I don’t want to die,” she said resolutely. Hiccup found his mouth twisting unpleasantly. She seemed pretty against doing the one thing to survive.

“You won’t see me again,” she promised as she swiped her card. “Probably.”

“Next,” Hiccup said boredly before he looked up at the next customer. A semi familiar head of blonde hair over bashful big blue eyes met his on the other side of the counter. “Oh,” he raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

“Hi,” she waved shyly.

“Look, I tried, okay?” she argued as Hiccup returned with her X-rays. She had been silent as he had let her to the back and scanned her, unable to meet his disapproving frown. “I tried for a little bit, but seducing him behind my friend’s back is sleazy, and I just couldn’t live with myself.”

“Well why do you have to do it behind her back?” Hiccup asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if you got her on board? Less hurt feelings and guilt, more support?”

“Oh yeah,” she scoffed. “I’ll just go up to her and say, ‘Hey, Heather! So I’m in love with your boyfriend and actually dying because of that, can you get your soulmate to fall in love with me instead? Thanks!’” Hiccup glanced at his clipboard tiredly.

“You say it’s settled further in your chest now instead of your throat?” he checked. Astrid nodded, biting her lip. He looked at her seriously. “You should up your dosage to every other day,” he instructed. “If that doesn’t keep it at bay, come back in and we can get you on the stronger stuff.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“It’s only getting worse,” he said tightly. “Do you need help raising money or something? I know people - we could help.” Astrid shook her head.

“That surgery isn’t a guaranteed result, and the recovery process - I’d lose all my grants,” she grimaced.

“You could lose your life if you don’t do anything now,” Hiccup pressed.

“I’ll find a way out of it,” she insisted. She cleared her throat and reached for the package, covering her mouth with her other hand. Hiccup watched as she left, worry creasing his brow. One of these days, he’d see her walk away for the last time.

The next time she came in she had an attack right at the counter.

“Astrid!” he cried concernedly as she burst into a fit of coughing in the middle of her sentence. He hurried around the counter and patted her back, rubbing soothing circles until a lone petal surrounded by spittle and fluid fell out of her mouth onto a (thankfully) clear part of the table. He frowned.

“Hmm,” he picked the slick pink petal to examine it. “There’s blood now. Is this new?”

“Yeah,” she rasped. “Since last week.”

It was a pink anemone flower. It had slightly different meanings in different cultures, but he remembered the Ancient Greeks believed it had sprung from the blood of a slain lover, and in Japan the flower was also used for funeral arrangements. How fitting, a flower that came from blood and represented death. The pink was pale verging on white, making the bright specks of blood stand out like fresh rubies on white sheets.

“Why didn’t you come in then?” he demanded. “We can’t treat you if we don’t know how the illness is progressing.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, wiping her mouth with a tissue. “I just - if you guys didn’t tell me it was worse it wasn’t true.” Hiccup felt a pang at the pain in her voice, and reached out unthinkingly for her hand. She squeezed it automatically.

“You shouldn’t be coughing that hard then,” Hiccup frowned. “I’ll see if we can treat the cough separately. Let’s get you X-rayed again,” he said as he led her to the back.

“I’m not even going to say it,” he shook his head as he entered the room. Her face drew together angrily. “But, you know, I was starting to be relieved you weren’t coming back. I thought maybe you’d cured yourself.”

“I don’t want to break them up,” she insisted. “They love each other; they don’t deserve this.”

“And you do?” Hiccup asked keenly. She looked away.

“This way it’s only hurting one person,” she whispered. Hiccup felt panic bob in his throat painfully. How dare she feel this way? Could she not see there were people who cared for her and would feel her loss acutely. And he wasn’t talking about himself, no. He just could tell every time she came in and he got to know her better that she was special, and the world would be so much worse in her absence. His heart clenched at the thought. No, he wanted to say. It’ll hurt more than just you.

“Have you thought about getting it removed?” he asked desperately.

“From the research I’ve done, the surgery is very taxing on the person - I mean, they have to cut you open and try to scrape the disease out of your lungs - and once it reaches the heart you’re done for. I would never be able to breathe without help and could no longer overexert myself, and the surgery might take away all of my memories about Eret, sure, but so many of them are good - I was friends with him first, you know? And he and Heather are always together. I’m afraid that, I don’t know, but I don’t want to lose her, too. Plus it’s extraordinarily expensive,” she laughed humorously.

“The potion doesn’t put it off forever,” Hiccup warned. “The disease has finished transferring to the lungs and the petals will become more painful and frequent unless you do something about it. And you don’t know if it might get worse faster, depending on how Eret and Heather’s relationship evolves.”

“I know,” she said dully and reached for the parcel he’d brought, bigger than ever before.

So do something about it, he pleaded silently as he set her prescription. But he could see the dwindling light in her eyes. It was growing steadily. She had already given up on the endeavor before she really began..

She stormed into the office and slammed her purse on the desk. Hiccup looked up from his notebook, startled. Her eyes were brighter than before, but with the feverish gloss to them, not the healthy shine. “I need more,” she said simply. She shouldn't have been here so soon - she must have been consuming the potions more than she ought, but Hiccup wordlessly guided her to the back of the office to a waiting room. She took a bottle out of her bag and took a swig, throwing her head back like it was a shot of alcohol.

“Hey,” he caught her wrist as it came down. “Careful. You don’t need to drink that much. You should save it.”

“If you don’t let go of me I’m going to throw it,” she threatened in a low voice. He released her wrist quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “If I could have the bottle please?” She handed it to him reluctantly. “How often do you get petals now?” he asked her. She slumped and rubbed her eyes.

“A lot,” she said. “Usually at least three a day, sometimes double that. They don’t come one at a time anymore, either. They usually come as two or three still attached petals.” Hiccup cringed. She caught his expression.

“It’s bad,” she stated. He hesitated.

“It is,” he relented. “But not impossible.” Not yet. She could live if she just tried, but it seemed she’d rather die before she did that.

“I’ve tried to distance myself,” she told him, her shiny eyes pleading. “I was hoping I could just . . . fall out of love.” Hiccup sighed.

“I don’t think that’s ever worked for Hanahaki,” he said sorrowfully. “The absence of requited love is what’s killing you.” She slammed her fist against the cot and he jumped.

“Dammit. Dammit!” she cried. “This is so unfair! I never asked for this! I didn’t want to be in love! I had - I had plans! I have a life! I can’t just die,” her voice broke. “Please don’t let me die.” The corners of her blue eyes glimmered as she begged him silently, tears threatening to fall despite her valiant efforts.

Hiccup swallowed. This was always the worst part. The part where he had to look these desperate, dying people in the eyes and tell them there was nothing he could do. He couldn't make people love each other - oh, but if only he could.

“I’ll do my best,” he said gravely. “But there isn’t much I can do.” Astrid’s face crumpled. “Have you thought about getting it removed?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” she said, her mouth twisting upwards into a grimace. “I wish I could, but it’s so expensive and I can’t afford it! Even if I had the money - my job, my lifestyle, I could never recover enough to go back to that! And the waiting list for the government to pay for the surgery and rehab is years long, which is stupid because this isn’t the kind of thing that waits.” Hiccup shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Her face contorted and she screamed out loud in rage.

“How could this happen!” she cried. “I don’t want this! Why, why, why did this happen to me?” she sobbed. Hiccup stood there awkwardly, hating his life as he watched her helplessly. He got the feeling she didn’t cry often.

“What were your plans?” he asked when she’d quieted down a little later. Astrid wiped her eyes and squinted at him.

“What?” she asked, her voice still thick and hoarse.

“You said you had - plans. For your life. Before - What were they?” she scoffed.

“What, are you my therapist now?” she asked sardonically, her pretty lips twisting in a scowl. Hiccup shrugged. “I’m free for a couple hours, and it’s cathartic.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I was, um. I was going to try to make it to the Olympics.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Cool. What, ah, in what?”

“Gymnastics,” she replied. “A gold medal in vault, specifically.”

“Wow,” he commented. “That’d be really amazing. What do you do now?”

“I train, although that’s been getting harder with me coughing up flower petals as often as I do,” she smiled ruefully. “And when I’m not doing that I’m either working at the bookshop or studying.”

“You work at a bookshop?” Hiccup asked, surprised.

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, I dunno. I just - figured you’d be a waitress or something like that.” She snorted. “Deal with those assholes all the time? I could never. Nah, a bookstore is quiet, and you don’t have to be nice to get paid”

“That’s fair,” Hiccup acknowledged.

“What about you?” Astrid asked.

“What?” he turned to her.

“What about you?” she waved a hand at him. “Tell me about yourself, you know, so this can be an actual conversation instead of awkward venting.” Her voice was nonchalant but her eyes sparkled with curiosity, a welcome change from the despair they had shown only a minute ago.

“Okay,” Hiccup said stupidly. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here?” she asked. “Isn’t it depressing, watching all these people dying because they’re too pathetic to get someone to love them?

“It’s not pathetic,” Hiccup responded. “It’s saddening. I mean, look at you,” he pointed at her. “You’re this beautiful woman, and yet you’re still here, dying from flower petals and unrequited love. It’s sad, yeah, but, I don’t know,” he cut himself off but she was looking at him intently, like she was interested in him as a person and he found himself continuing against his will.

“My dad - Hanahaki runs in the family,” he started over. Astrid cocked her head attentively. “And my dad, he caught Hanahaki. My Mom. She, uh, left us when I was a teenager and my Dad didn’t take it very well. He still loved her a lot, and then he caught Hanahaki and wasted away pretty quickly. I took care of him all those months, and it really left an impact on me, I guess. It’s become my kind of whole life’s work. He gestured around the room. “Here, I help people. I give them potions to keep them alive longer so they can make their other person fall in love with them. I - I track their cases and study them, finding the similarities and differences in hopes of finding a cure or at least a better counter effect. And yeah, most of them die but those who don’t? Those that succeed and get cured . . . they’re doing what my dad couldn’t, and I’m a part of that.” She stared at him for a few moments after he’d finished.

“Wow,” she said eventually. “That’s . . . powerful.”

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. She nodded.

“I can’t imagine the bravery it must take to do this everyday,” she whispered, her eyes searching his face intently. He looked away, embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s nothing,” he laughed softly.

“No,” she insisted, reaching out to grab his hand. He stilled at the contact, his heart giving a flutter in his chest. “For us, it’s everything.” Hiccup’s throat tightened and he cleared it before he trusted himself to speak again.

“You have to try,” Hiccup told her, the lump in his throat that formed when he was around her forcing a bite in his voice. “What’s the point if you’re never going to try?”

“You don’t understand,” Astrid shook her head. “Heather is - she’s everything to me. She’s like my sister, sure, but she’s . . . she’s the one who’s been with me through thick and thin. I could never take away the one thing she values so much. She’s . . . relationships have never come easy. To either of us. And now she’s finally found her one - how could I possibly want to take that away from her.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup said in a low voice, crouching slightly to meet her downcast eyes. “If she’s been with you through thick and thin, don’t you think she’d support you now? Do you think she’d want to lose her best friend and isn’t even there to help through her chronic illness because you refused to tell her? This Eret guy, he sounds great, but is their love worth more than your life?”

“She would!” Astrid cried. “She would give him up for me, I know it. But she wouldn’t forgive me for it. And, even if she tried to make Eret fall in love with me - which she would - he genuinely loves her, he would never replicate my love with her around.”

“So you’d just never even try,” he scoffed, standing abruptly and pacing a few steps away from her.

“I -” she opened her mouth indignantly. “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what this is!” Hiccup cried, spinning around to point at her angrily. A tight knot formed in his chest and rose to the bottom of his throat, uncomfortable as he tried to force his voice around it.

“Why are you angry?!” she cried.

“Because you’re supposed to be the one who’s successful!” he yelled at her. “You’re supposed to be the beautiful woman I was able to save!! You’re not supposed to give up when I’ve invested so much in you!”

“How dare you!” she cried. “I’m not just an investment you can show off!”

“No, no you’re not,” Hiccup spat. “You’re a person and I broke the rules of staying detached to cases because I started to care about you as a person, and now you’re forcing me to watch you die because you won’t even try to save yourself.”

“I-”

“And it’s not your fault for getting Hanahaki, but it is your fault for giving up here, and you’re not the one who has to suffer the consequences!”

“That’s - you’re wrong, okay! That’s not - you don’t understand or even know anything about me! We’re not friends! All you know about me is that I’m dying, but you have no idea who I am otherwise! And you have no right to make assumptions about something you know nothing about.”

“You may not have told me your whole sob story but I’m sure I could guess,” Hiccup sneered. “Let’s see; lonely successful girl. I’m guessing your parents were emotionally unavailable, and dropped you off at sports so you didn’t bother them. Never came to any of your games, and you tried to be the very best in a bid for their approval. You probably went through a rebellion phase in your late teenage years, but your friend Heather has been a steady rock for years now. So when you saw her enter a healthy and fulfilling relationship, you wanted one too. But instead of finding one for yourself, you latched onto the one right in front of you and fixated on Eret. And because of your emotional instability, you equated the ability to make Eret - a man happily taken and out of your reach - in love with you determine whether or not you were truly lovable, allowing the Hanahaki to take root because you’ve hinged your entire life and expectations on this unattainable goal. So now you’re dying, and you feel so guilty you’re willing to let that happen despite your desperate need to actually live life to its fullest.” His chest was heaving by the time he was finished, and Astrid mute in shock.

“You didn’t branch out with any of your relationships - romantic or platonic.” he continued. “And the awful thing is maybe you could have avoided this if you put yourself out there and made a few more meaningful relationships.” Astrid shook her head avidly and backed away. “I can’t -” she said, her voice so small it was hard to hear. “I-” she stumbled on the worn carpet and almost ran out the door, leaving Hiccup to sink in his seat and wonder what he had just done.

He slammed his hand on the desk, rustling the papers. His hand stung, and he filled himself a glass of water to soothe his throat, raw from yelling at her. An old vase caught his eye, the water in it long evaporated, leaving that disgusting brown sticky residue at the bottom, the long dead pink roses shriveled up forlornly. He and Fishlegs had tried to brighten up the space with flowers a while ago before stopping after realizing what a slap in the face it was. He threw the dried stalks out the window and washed the vase out. He hated pink flowers. He hated pretty girls who didn’t try to live. And most of all, he hated the fact he still cared when every person he cared about died from this stupid disease.

He was honestly surprised to see her again. He heard the click of her shoes on the stairs but didn’t dare look up to check who it was before she was standing in front of him.

“Hi,” she said quietly, and Hiccup snapped his head up to look at her.

“What?” he cried, scrambling upwards. “I, I - uh. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I still need the potions,” she said awkwardly, looking embarrassed. Hiccup deflated.

“Right. Yeah, sorry.” He turned to gather a few bottles - four, now, because she was starting to go through them unnervingly fast. “I also, um-”

“I want to apologize first,” Astrid interrupted.

“Wha-What?” Hiccup asked. “No, I’m the one-”

“I said some pretty awful things too,” Astrid insisted.

“Fine,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I um. You were right. About me. I don’t know how because no one’s supposed to know about that. . . my inner feelings. I mean, I didn’t even know them. So also, thank you? For exposing me because I probably never would have confronted them on my own.”

“You’re - welcome? I am also sorry. I should never have yelled at you and presumed to know everything about you.”

“You said something about how this could have been avoided if I had more friends,” Astrid began. Hiccup opened his mouth to take those words back but she held up a hand. “And you’re kind of right,” she acknowledged. “Plus, I’m avoiding Heather and Eret so I’m lonely, and you’re the only one who really knows what’s going on with me and everything.”

“So you’re saying . . .” he trailed off.

“I’d like for us to be friends,” she clarified. “Like, outside of this clinic.”

“Really?” he asked. Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes,” she said, nonplussed. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t serious.”

“I - yeah, I know that. Kinda. But I mean, you want to be friends? With me? After everything?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And not despite everything, but rather because of it. I mean, like you said, you’re already too emotionally invested and I could use an actual friend who knows what’s going on. Plus, you’re a pretty cool guy. I’m sure we’d have fun together.” Seeing his hesitation she added, “Please? Do it as my dying wish?” That brought a scowl to his face.

“Fine. I accept,” he pointed a finger at her. “Not because you’re dying, though, but rather in spite of it.”

“Great!” she smiled. “Would you be free to meet up sometime this weekend?” Hiccup sighed and nodded. Whatever he was getting himself into, he knew it wouldn’t be healthy for him. And yet, seeing the simple wish in her eyes for a friend, how could he possibly deny her? Besides, he’d always wanted a friend too.

Being Astrid’s friend was dangerous, because he got exposed to her magnetic force that had drawn him in when he only saw her with weeks in between, but she had latched onto him, seeking his company like her life depended on it, which was ironic. And he would get caught up in her lively laughter, her smiles, her dry perspective on life with that hint of whimsy underneath. She made him feel more alive than he had in years, but then he’d be privy to all her dosages of that damned potion. He’d watch as a thought of Eret crossed her mind and she’d double over, hacking so hard he’d have to wait before administering the potion so she could have a chance of digesting it, and each time he’d worry this would be the last cough and she’d die before he could pour that time-stealing liquid down her throat.

The disease had grown stronger. It thrived and originated off of unrequited love, yes, but that didn’t stop it from permeating every aspect of Astrid’s life - and now, his. He’d lost count of how many nights he’d stayed over at her place, holding back her hair as she drained her life out into the toilet, rubbing soothing circles along her back and whispering you’re gonna be okay. This isn’t it. Here, take this. Breathe. No - no, it’s alright. It’s okay. I’m still here. Yeah, I’ve got it right here. You’ll be okay, Astrid.

He told her he was the one who created the potion and why he wasn’t the official doctor instead of Fishlegs.

“But that’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “I mean, you made a successful remedy all on your own? And you were so young then, too. Surely that deserves a Nobel Prize or something.” He sighed.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he admitted. “I didn’t follow protocol . . . I did some pretty illegal things, and I went through a pretty shady testing process. And I don’t think they’d want to acknowledge someone like me was the one to come up with it and reveal how I was smart enough to go behind their backs, revealing them to be incompetent, or how Hanahaki wasn’t exactly as uncommon as they thought.” He usually had at least one customer every day, some of them from all over the world pleading for the tonic. He never had the heart to charge them, not when they had given up everything for this small chance.

He brought out his journals to show her one day when she felt too sick to get out of bed. “I didn’t document all of the cases, but, you know, most of them are there,” he shrugged as he dumped them on her plush duvet.

“How many years ago do they date back?” she asked.

“Since I was seventeen,” he replied. “Just over ten years now.” She flipped through the pages, complimenting his drawings of all the different flowers and crying sometimes at the struggles of the people recorded on the faded, cheap pages. So many had died, unable to stand a chance against the relentless flowers. There were few successful cases. She lingered particularly long on Dr. Atali’s.

“You know,” Hiccup said quietly after he cleaned her vomit up for the tenth time that day. “I have this theory that maybe Hanahaki could be cured by something other than the person you’re in love with.”

“Really?” Astrid asked weakly. “Do share.”

“I dunno,” he stared at her stained sheets. He hadn’t known how to clean them the first time she had gotten blood on them, but had since gotten better with lots and lots of practice. “From what I’ve observed, Hanahaki develops to literally fill a hole in your heart. I’d always hoped- I wondered if the cure is always that person’s requited love, or if it could ever be someone else’s.”

“What do you mean?” Astrid asked.

“Don’t get all excited,” Hiccup warned her. “But what if - what if the diseased could fall in love with someone else - someone who returned their love, and it cured them? I never had the courage to suggest it to a patient, but . . .” he swallowed. “You’re more than that now.” Astrid sat up slowly.

“You’re saying if I could fall in love with someone else I could cure myself?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he corrected her. “I thought there might be a small possibility.”

“But if I could just like-”

“You have to love them,” he emphasized. “Probably more than you love Eret. And they’d have to love you back entirely. Not just some jerk who’s attracted to your looks and thinks your personality is just a nice bonus; it has to be unconditional. They’d have to love you just as much as you love them, with all their heart.” An unbidden seed sprouted and rose in his throat, but he forced the thought down. Like I do, he wanted to say, but no. No, he was already on dangerous ground. Yes, Astrid was already unlike everyone he’d ever met, but she was still just a friend. It wasn’t more than that. Hiccup knew he had a naturally caring nature and that was why he was so concerned about her, why on the nights he slept in his own rickety slat he woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming he’d wake up in the morning with Astrid gone, choking on her own bile or something equally horrific because he wasn’t there to help her to the bathroom. He cleared his throat, but it came out like a raspy cough.

“But if I found that?” she asked, her voice low, like the subject was sacred.

“There would still be no guarantee,” he said, wanting to swallow again to wet his dry throat.

“What do we have to lose though?” she persisted.

You, he thought.

She started to improve, little by little, but Hiccup did not get his hopes up. He had watched enough people to know the respite usually came before the last wave would hit the hardest. Winter came, and along with it a snuffling nose and cold mittens wrapped around his cracked mug. It was also the season for cough drops, and Hiccup consumed many to soothe his itchy, sore throat from the harsh wind, using honey instead of sugar for the time being to sweeten his coffee in the mornings.

“Hey!” a bright voice greeted him and he couldn’t help but smile even as his heart twisted in his chest. His theory had given her hope and it pained him to think of what would happen when it was proven wrong. There was also an ugly pain in the back of his mind at thinking of watching her try to fall in love with someone else. Whoever they were, they would never deserve her, and how could the undeserving twit possibly be the one to cure her of her affliction? It wasn’t fair, not with all those late nights and lunch breaks and early mornings he had put into taking care of her. For what would happen once she was free from the need of his stupid potions? None of his successful cases had ever stuck around, too caught up in their honeymoons of feelings and relief to care about him. He had used to wish he wouldn’t see her again when she’d first started to come in so he could believe she’d been successful in her cure, but now he couldn’t bear it. They were friends now, but that was because he was the only other person she had that wouldn’t cause her to die quicker.

“Wow,” she commented gently, bringing him out of his reverie. “You look like you’re thinking a lot.”

“No more than usual,” he replied blithely. “You look especially light hearted today, practically radiant.” He froze as his words registered. He hadn’t meant to compliment her. But then, maybe he could let it slide this time as Astrid’s cheeks warmed with a delicious pink not from the cold. She studied the dusty floor for a little bit, recovering her composure before she spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began.

“Thor help me,” he muttered. She smacked his arm lightly and he laughed. “Seriously,” she complained. “I’ve been thinking about your theory.” Hiccup’s smile dwindled.

“Astrid, it’s just a theory. There’s no research behind it. You can’t put too much hope in it; it’s never been tried before.”

“Well, then I can try it and you can add it to your research even if it’s a dead end -” she cut herself off with a laugh at the pun while Hiccup tried not to choke at the idea. “And refer to it with your other patients.”

“Astrid-” he began.

“You’re not going to stop me,” Astrid interrupted. “I think your idea has merit and I’m going to try it if it’s the last thing I do. Remember what you said four months ago before we were friends?”

“I said a lot of things,” he groaned, already knowing that Astrid had won the argument. A fond, tickling sensation made itself known in his esophagus and he tried to ignore it.

“You said you think I latched on to Eret because I just wanted a relationship for myself! So my Hanahaki isn’t even as emotionally tied to the subject of my affections the same way others might have been. I have a chance, Hiccup,” she pleaded. “And it’s given me hope. Besides, I’ve already chosen my guy.”

This time Hiccup did choke. “What?” he spluttered.

“I have a guy that I’m . . . developing feelings for,” she said breezily, like her words weren’t crawling into his chest like thorny roots and piercing his lungs. “And I think he would meet all the requirements if I got him to care for me, which I’m confident I can do.”

“Oh,” Hiccup said stupidly. His heart sank at the thought of her smiling at some unknown face with that sparkle in her eyes. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it had, because, well, wasn’t she supposed to be in love with someone else already? He imagined her laughing over coffee with this unknown guy, bright blue eyes and pink cheeks with those adorable bangs falling into her eyes and making her toss her head endearingly. He was probably handsome and muscular and cleaned his room and didn’t run a slightly illegal rundown, decrepit pharmacy that had needed a new coat of paint for the last four years. He fought against a petulant frown.

Astrid rolled her eyes at him and he felt indignant. What else was he supposed to say? “Um, well let’s talk about this some more at lunch,” he suggested, feeling like an idiot.

“Perfect,” she flashed bright white teeth at him and bounced out of the room. He followed her with his eyes and then his ears until he heard the door close downstairs before he doubled over in a coughing fit. He coughed and coughed and coughed but that soft bit of mucus just wasn’t coming out so he staggered over to the sink to continue hacking. He felt something slimy on the back of his tongue and frantically tried to spit it out. It was a large glob that . . . didn’t feel like a glob. As he wagged his tongue, a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He spit, and it landed in the sink, clear in its condemnation.

A blue oleander petal lay starkly against the stained steel of the sink. He stared at it unblinkingly, his mind running through all the coughs from his cold in the past weeks, the itches from the weeks before. The tickling sensations all those months ago. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was supposed to be the one who caught himself before this happened!!

A blue oleander. Sometimes he had tried to find amusement in the bleak stream of dying patients and had rated the different flowers that came out of their mouth. Cherry blossoms were the most common, followed by roses, and boy, were those horrific. Cherry blossoms were small enough, and while they killed just as easily, there was something particularly gruesome about roses. They were huge, and of the three people he’d watched hack roses out of their throats, the flowers had been whole. With stems. And thorns. He remembered the first time he had seen someone reach into their mouth and tug the rose out, sobbing in pain as the thorns caught and shredded their throat. They hadn’t known whether to spit the blood out or try to swallow it. Hiccup had thrown up that night when he’d gone home.

But blue oleander. That was a new plant. Fitting, given that he had named his business after it. It was a simple plant with small, brightly colored flowers. He knew his oleanders well. The red ones were good for decorations while the purple ones had healing properties. But the blue ones, well. They were poisonous. To humans and other creatures. If the myths about dragons were true, the beasts couldn’t sniff one without being affected. Humans, on the other hand, would have to ingest a good amount of concentrate for the flowers to have any serious negative effect, but the fact he had poisonous flowers growing somewhere in his lungs? Well that didn’t fill him with dread at all.

He’d also never seen this flower up close. Due to their poisonous nature, blue oleanders were banned in multiple countries. The pictures had never done its color justice. The petals were a stark electric blue - rather like Astrid’s eyes, he realized.

“Is it contagious?” a patient had asked once. She had been a frail girl of twelve. She hadn’t lasted long. Hiccup remembered crouching down in front of her to meet her worried eyes and flashing her a crooked smile.

“No,” he had assured her kindly. “No, it’s not contagious.”

But at that moment, it felt like it was. He felt like he had kissed a hundred people with tuberculosis in one room and believed he was perfectly safe. He had exposed himself to her, and now he had caught the deadly disease. How ironic, that he had caught it now, after falling in love with a person who had it for someone else.

Oh, this was just his luck! He knew that he was particularly susceptible to Hanahaki, but as the lonely years had gone by he hadn’t ever thought he’d actually catch it! Not when he never got out enough to form attachments to anybody. Of course, the universe hated him, so the person he’d fall for so hard it’d cause him to die would be a girl who was already dying because she was in love with someone else.

And now she was trying to fall in love with someone else. People had never been successful in falling out of love to escape their Hanahaki, but he sincerely hoped that their method would just be more like a transfer, filling the requirement of reciprocation. But what guy could she mean? Who could she have possibly been seeing? It wasn’t jealousy that made him wonder, simply protectiveness. She was sick and ready to latch onto anyone who would help her - who was he to know if this other guy didn’t have alternate ambitions?

And, selfishly, he didn’t want to be the one to break his heart and give his life to cure her so she could bestow her love on another man. That was awful of him, he knew, but he was dying, couldn’t he think mean things?

But she’d never return his feelings. How could she? She was so far out of his league there was no way she could ever feel the same. She was a successful young woman, ambitious and hardworking. How could he and his run down business, peeling paint, and awkward self ever hope to match her?

His affliction progressed at an exponential rate. The thing about Hanahaki being tied to love was that the more he loved her, the more it hurt (the more he died). So he brought his own bottles of remedies and swigged a great gulp before he knocked on her door and she opened it with a smile. When she’d start coughing he’d jump out of his chair to get her a bottle, and take a sip as he was returning it to the medicine cabinet. She didn’t have much time left, as she was coughing all the time now, not just when she thought about Eret or maybe the other guy.

And it was painful, trying to support her while she talked about her new guy with shining eyes, catching her when she coughed so loudly she couldn’t stand.

“You know, even if this doesn’t work, at least you’ll have tried, right?” she’d said after she caught the worried look in his eyes. “I’ll go in your journal - you’ll make my portrait pretty, right?”

No, he thought. Because I probably won’t last long enough after you.

“Hey,” are you okay?” Astrid started asking as he was excusing himself from the room nearly every minute.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assured her.

“Are you sure?” she checked. Her hair was falling distractingly over her shoulder, her pink lips pressed together in concern. He felt a flower start to build in his throat again. While Astrid’s Hanahaki had been petals upon petals - the type of illness where the infected usually died of suffocation instead of drowning - Hiccup had whole flowers coming out of his mouth. The stamens and filaments along with the petals. The full on stems and leaves had not yet arrived, so he had some time, but gods, it felt like he was already dead

“Mhm,” he smiled tightly at her. “Of course. I just - I just need the bathroom.” He backed away, trying to breath slowly as his throat clogged up with flower heads.

“Again?”

“Yes,” he bit out as gently as he could. “When you gotta go you gotta go!” He fled to the other room, refusing to be embarrassed by what he’d just said. Yes, he was dying, but did he really have to insinuate he had terrible bladder control in front of the gorgeous girl he liked? Part of him contemplated throwing up the flowers down the toilet but if one petal didn’t get flushed his secret would be out. He snuck to the pantry instead, grabbing paper towels that he carefully spit into, his stomach curling in disgust. He folded the towels and stuffed them into his back pocket, to be later hidden in his bag. He let out another cough and reached for a bottle, uncorking his and closing his eyes in relief as he took a sip.

“-Hiccup?” His eyes flew open in surprise and he inhaled the drink. “Oh no!” she reached for him and he shied away reflexively, ignoring the way her beautiful face fell.

“I’m fine!” he gasped as he coughed to clear his throat. “Really, just - went down the wrong pipe.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“I - I was just thirsty?” he tried.

“Why are you drinking that?” she asked sharply, jutting her chin towards the bottle still in his hand. His eyes widened in panic and he pretended they were widening in realization.

“What the - Whaaaat? Oh my God, this wasn’t what I meant to pick up! Ha ha . . . that explains why it tasted so funny.” Astrid grabbed the bottle from his hand.

“Stop lying to me,” she ordered, her voice growing thick with intimidation. “Why are you drinking your potion?”

“I wanted to see how it tasted?” he tried.

“The truth, Hiccup!” she yelled. She let out a cough, a couple light pink petals falling from her mouth, and Hiccup had the stupidest urge to cough with her.

“I-” his voice was strained from holding the cough in.

“Please, tell me what’s happening,” she said desperately. “Why are you always running away? Lying to me? Am I doing something - am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about all of this. I - trust me, I don’t want to do this either. I thought you wouldn’t mind - I mean. But this - you - don’t tell me -”

“Of course not,” Hiccup interrupted. The only thing he had left was the dignity of not being hopelessly in love with her. His hand went automatically to his back pocket. Her eyes followed his hand and he gave in to the unbearable suffocating itch in his throat. As he bent over she lunged for his pocket, dragging the bunched up paper towel. He cried out, trying to grab it back but she was quick, dancing out of his reach as he had to hack again, stiff leaves and petals scraping the raw insides of his throat. She undid the wad of paper towel just as he spit out his own plant. She dropped the package in horror, bright blue flowers falling onto the wooden floor next to Hiccup’s whole flower. It was a wet, drowned reminder of a romantic gesture. A part of him almost wanted to pick it off the floor and present it to Astrid, the way a suitor might pick a pretty, blooming flower for his lady.

“No,” she whispered brokenly. Her knees gave out from under her and she collapsed onto the floor. “No no no no nononono.”

“Astrid,” he reached a hand out to her shoulder but hesitated. She would probably push his touch away. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I really - I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“How long?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Not long,” he sighed. “It’s just - powerful. Very powerful.” She let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.

“Who is it?” she asked dangerously.

“Astrid-”

“Who is the bitch that got your love and never returned it!” she cried loudly. “Who? Who is the other person who is doubtless better than me? WHO is killing you?!!! Why -” her face crumpled and she tried to stifle a sob. “Why is it never me?”

“Astrid-”

“No!” she wailed. “You don’t understand! I was - you were my hope! It was supposed to work!! And all this time - all this time you were keeping this from me!”

“No, wait-”

“Who is it?” she demanded, grabbing the front of his shirt and his eyes fought to not flutter shut and imagine her kissing him. “I’ll storm over to them and demand they love you back-”

“That’s not necessary,” he assured her.

“You can’t die!” she exploded. “You’re not allowed! I’m not going to let you! Please! Live. If one of us has to go it should be me-”

“Hey,” Hiccup cupped her face, silencing her. “I - I know you don’t want me to die. And I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d feel bad and I want - I want you to be happy. I want you to make it out of this alive. Ever since - Even when I first met you I never wanted you to come back if it meant you were still alive. And every time you did, I wanted to cure you more and more. You have always been the one who deserves to live. And I - I had a crush on you, okay? I liked you so I was trying to help but then we became actual friends and - oh, this is so messed up,” he groaned.

She sank to the floor. “So the person you’re . . .” she trailed off.

“It’s you, Astrid,” he admitted, his eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh-”

“I know you already like someone else and you’re trying to get them to fall in love with you. I would never want to intrude on that.”

“Hiccu-”

“And I really didn’t want to offend you, because, I mean, who would want me? I’m just - it’s pathetic and I knew there was no hope so I didn’t want to worry you and-”

“HICCUP!” she shouted and he cringed. She grabbed him by the shirt again violently. “I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I wouldn’t be head over heels in love with you. You’re amazing! You’ve dedicated your life to helping people - strangers! And you’re smart and you’re funny and kind and handsome-” she broke off her rant with a wet laugh.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, blinking back tears. “Why do you think I kept coughing more when you were around? Why - why do you think I told you about my plan to make a guy I’d been spending a lot of time with and had gotten feelings for to like me? Why do you think keeping the fact you were dying hurt me so much?”

Hiccup blinked.

“I love you, you stupid, dense brick of a man! I love you, Hiccup. I - I - I-” She smashed her lips onto his ferociously and his shoulders sagged in relief. Somehow - and he was most likely wrong - she had confessed her love for him and now they were kissing. This was beyond his wildest dreams - okay, maybe not his wildest - but, well, even if this was just a dream, why not take advantage of it? He brought a hand to cup the back of her head, tangling it in her golden hair and angling her face as she shifted herself into his lap on the floor.

“You love me?” he asked as they broke apart for air.

“You’re an idiot,” she snarled half heartedly, punching him in his left shoulder. But before he had time to wince she pulled him in for another kiss. Something loosened in his throat and suddenly all those petals that had been there, threatening to burst again seemed to disappear.

They were in a dark pantry, bloody flowers and wet paper towels littering the floor around them, and Hiccup was sure it was the most romantic scene he’d ever beheld.

“It worked,” Hiccup said, shaking his head in amazement as his pencil hovered above the journal’s page. “We actually transferred the Hanahaki subject to someone else. You were sick for me, not Eret.” How was it possible to feel smug about her having a deathly illness regarding him? He wouldn’t think it possible, but here he was.

“You were also sick,” Astrid reminded him. “It happened around the same time I decided to try to transfer it onto you.”

“What?” Hiccup exclaimed. “No way.”

“Yeah-huh,” Astrid nodded. “Coincidence? I think not.”

“You’re saying that in transferring the subject of your Hanahaki, so to speak, the disease infected the new subject too?”

“We are dealing with the unprecedented,” Astrid shrugged. “It’s entirely possible.”

“But I already had a crush on you,” Hiccup argued. “I just couldn’t admit it until I was spitting bloody flowers out.”

“Well, maybe it only affected you because you already had feelings for me,” she conceded. Her eyes sparkled. “But what we do know for sure is that we’ve successfully cured Hanahaki disease for someone else.” Hiccup’s head snapped up to meet hers.

“Do you know what this means?” he exclaimed, standing up from his chair to pace around the room.

“I think so,” she smiled softly.

“I mean,” he amended. “We were pretty lucky, it might not work again if the other person isn’t already in love, but -” he laughed disbelievingly.

“We have a cure for Hanahaki,” he repeated. “We can . . . people don’t have to die anymore.”

“As long as we pair them up well,” Astrid added. “Maybe we should add ‘matchmaking’ to our services.” Hiccup rolled his eyes at her teasingly.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see next time.” Astrid grinned.

#hiccstridweek2024 #Day 7 #love #love confessions #Hanahaki au #hanahaki disease #Hiccstrid #Hiccstrid au #my writing #Hiccup Haddock #Astrid Hofferson #angst #tw: blood #tw: discussions of death #how to train your dragon #HTTYD #HTTYD au #HTTYD fanfiction #blue oleander

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etraytin · 2 years ago

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First Lines of Fic Game

First-lines-of-fic meme! Tagged by @beingatoaster!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Whoo, it's been awhile since I did ten fic, but let me dip into the archives here. Most of what I've been writing lately is Minecraft stuff because it is kind of fun to play in a universe where all the physics are made up and the biology doesn't matter. Here we go! (I have decided to take the concept of "first lines" very liberally and go with sort of "first idea of the fic.")

Number 1: We Could Be Sleeping in the Flowers (Hermitcraft) It could be worse, Grian thought to himself as he grimly scaled the wall of his base to attach another few strands of glow lichen. He could have come down with much worse diseases.

Number 2: This Heart of Mine That's Guilty, Not Remorseful (Hermitcraft) “I’m sorry, Grumbot,” Father whispered, and Grumbot didn’t understand. In the darkness of predawn, his sensors could barely detect the small Player crouching under the screen that made up Grumbot’s “face.” Other Father did most of the maintenance on Grumbot, but he could sense the faint discomfort that was someone meddling with his interior components.

Number 3: After One or Two False Starts, I Believe We've Found Our Stride (Double Life) “So do you and Scott still have something going?” Tango asked one night.

Number 4: Do You Know How To Go To The Heaviside Layer? (Double Life) Pearl should’ve just ignored the noise from the forest. She had so much to do! Her precious doggies were well-fed for now, thanks to the meat rotting in Ren and BigB’s abandoned home, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still time for hunting!

Number 5: Set You Sailing From My Harbor (Double Life) Grian went to Scar in the first quiet moment he could find that first day, the first moment he was sure that the implacable attention of their audience was turned elsewhere.

Number 6: Put Out All Your Strength of Arm and Heart and Brain (Double Life) Pearl woke to the sound of Tilly barking. That was odd in itself, since Tilly rarely barked, but what could be bothering her inside their own base?

Number 7: I Hope You Blink Before I Do (Double Life) Pearl told herself that being alone wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as though she needed a partner for a simple survival world anyway. She’d done this dance a thousand times on her own.

Number 8: Brick By Brick and Heart By Heart (Hermitcraft, Third Life) The swamp was peaceful at night, Grian thought. Maybe not all swamps but this one certainly was, just a little wedge of nature left tucked between Larry the Snail and the magical village.

Number 9: Isolated Cases (The West Wing) “Does my face look flushed to you?” Josh demanded. “Well, you’ve been yelling for the past ten minutes, so...” Donna pointed out. Josh frowned, leaning closer to his laptop. “No, I’m being serious. Do I look flushed to you? I feel hot.”

Number 10: Cause Problems on Purpose (The Good Place, Untitled Goose Game) It was another perfect day in the Good Place, seventy degrees and sunny, no clouds, no bugs, and no pollution. Around a thousand years ago Janet had changed the neighborhood algorithm to allow for occasional rainy days and a month here and there of perfect summer, autumn or winter, but for the most part the Good Place was a world of beautiful late spring weather.

There's a real big jump in time there between numbers 8 and 9, because I basically didn't write at all after the start of the pandemic (except that one particular fic) until spring of 2022 when the writing bug bit again. Number 1 is a WIP that has been lingering for months now since my mom had her stroke and life got real weird again for awhile, but I'm planning on finishing it up very soon. There is more writing to be done!

Let's see, I'm gonna tag @smallblueandloud and @tanoraqui and @stars-inthe-sky and anybody else who wants to take a little walk down Fic Memory lane. It's fun!

#my fanfiction #i didn't realize i wrote so much hermitcraft and double life smp fic #i guess because they were mostly short little one-shots #once i was reassured there is basically no rpf in either of those fandoms my brain started vrooming along with stories #the little block folks are a lot of fun

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tknblog · 1 month ago

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Adventures in finding enough

#writing • Someone on the internet I have never met just poked me. So hard that it hurt. Her name is Liz and I forgive her because she didn’t poke me personally. I might even liken it to jabbing myself, and all because she defined the word “enough” in my context.

In January of 2020, two months before it would have a name, my little family of three caught Covid-19. While we didn’t experience any respiratory complications or need hospitalization, it was painful and exhausting, and I was dealing with a bout of Shingles at the same time. My right hip, thigh, and lower back have never recovered and still feel slightly numb. I blame the Covid.

Well, more precisely, I blame Long Covid. My particular variety includes brain fog, exhaustion, constipation, dry mouth, diminished taste and smell, and what’s been termed by some as Post Exertion Malaise. I’ve also been dealing with a cavalcade of musculoskeletal issues, mostly due to a motorcycle accident I had in 1990.

I’ve had my left knee replaced and will need to get the right one replaced at some point, a cervical spinal fusion, will probably need to get one of my arm bones shortened to alleviate wrist pain, and have been dealing with Degenerative Disc Disease since I was 19. Oh, and the arthritis, near non-stop tinnitus, and sciatica down both legs. I have a feeling I’m forgetting some things, but this is enough.

In short, loads of fun.

All of these issues have had a significant impact on my ability to write. Writing is what I’ve done professionally and as a blogger since 1996, with about twenty of those years in the computer book publishing industry where I contributed to about one hundred books. I started PDA Handyman in 2002 and ran that blog for about eight years, as well. I’ve written hundreds of blog posts, many I’ve lost over time due to moving servers and being dumb, and some of which I still host here on my website.

Writing has been a part of my essence since I decided I wanted to be a writer when I was nine, and while it took many years for me to realize that dream, it has always been an endeavor filled with pain and joy… which is where Liz comes on. In her short, concise post on Writer Unboxed entitled “Enough” she managed to poke me with a sharp stick and draw emotional blood. She didn’t do it on purpose. She has no idea who I am. She simply related her experience, like a good writer. (You should read her post now. It’ll be quick.)

But it hurt nonetheless. Maybe even more, since she was again able to find joy in writing. I, on the other hand, feel lost, like I might never again recover those aspects of writing that at once brought me happiness and the satisfaction of having accomplished something through the adversity of putting down words on a page. Creation, after all, is pain, but it’s more than that. It’s about all of the emotions, the good and the bad, that swirl around the process.

I can’t focus. I have never had good memory recall, but in the past few years it’s gotten significantly worse. I have days where my various sources of pain are just too intense. Following a terrible experience with opioids after my knee replacement, I haven’t used them since, so all I have for pain relief are ibuprofen, pregabalin, and tylenol. As I go into my second day trying to complete this post my tinnitus is at a 9/10. It could be infuriating, but I’ve been dealing with it for so long now I’ve gotten used to it. That doesn’t make it easier to manage, but I don’t get mad about it much any more.

I used to have ideas just pop into my head all the time. That’s mostly gone now. And yet, despite all these challenges, I still try. And that’s when I realized that what Liz was saying about “enough” is what I’ve been doing. I post about nerdy news and animation and comics I like and some politics here and there, but I’ve really enjoyed sharing what I’m #NowPlaying as one of my deepest loves is for music.

So maybe you are right, Liz. As a writer, it just has to be enough, I think. At least for now.

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senescenceandsensibility · 2 years ago

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Creature Comforts

Ok, so just going to ramble a bit and hopefully something will come of it….I haven’t written anything since the last post in early January. Haven’t opened the manuscript. In fact, I am actively avoiding it. I feel rusty and I can’t remember how I used to do this. I don’t know why I bothered.

I had to look back a bit. Two posts ago was the beginning of September. In September, on the 11th, I got two wisdom teeth removed. That night, my elderly cat had a seizure (he had leukemia, heart disease and an unknown but serious kidney issue) and the day after that I took him to be put to sleep, bloody holes in my mouth, my swollen face hidden by the mask. The next day I went back to work and pretended everything was fine.

Everything was not fine! I was sad and the house was awful. I needed a creature. I am on most days grateful and happy about my solitude. It’s been so long since I had to share my space with a human, I’m not sure I could do it now. But I need another living being. So on October 1, I went and adopted a seven-year-old shelter cat, reasoning that I could grieve my old friend while making a new one.

It was amazing. It’s like he knew he was finally home, after a shitty, shitty life. Three years as a stray in a parking lot, two years in a shelter waiting to be adopted, two years with a family who then returned him to the shelter in terrible shape, and then months waiting for me to come along. So, so much love to give, it was maybe two or three days before he was curled up in my lap and firmly lodged in my heart. I don’t know how they do it in general, but I don’t know how he in particular managed to worm his way in.

You can probably see where this is going? He died at the end of February after two active months of increasingly alarming symptoms. You don’t need the details. I have regrets for sure, and would like to make a few different decisions, but I don’t think I could have changed the outcome. He was sick when I got him, doomed from the start.

It was just so unfair. He’d finally found the safety and love he’d been lacking for so long, the injustice is the hardest part to handle. I know he knew love in the end – I know I gave him that, and I would do it again. But he deserved more. We both did.

Still working through this next bit, but I've been crying a LOT and kind of glad for it. I can’t remember doing this in quite this way before. I've been shut down for a while, years, probably, and this grief is mixed with a lot of other stuff that is much better out than in. My heart works, which is good news even if pain is the only proof I have right now.

This sort of thing should hurt. I loved him so much and he loved me. It is really something to be someone’s everything. I needed it, that simple, wholehearted love. I was enough for him.

It is refreshing on the one hand to experience uncomplicated grief. We don’t get to do that very often. There was nothing unexpressed, nothing unfinished. Maybe that’s why I want a creature in the first place, why I find them so vital to my happiness.

On the other hand, of course, is anything uncomplicated? Isn’t some of this about everything we don’t get to cry about? Isn’t some of this about three years of unprocessed trauma and fear? Pets and people and politics and pandemics?

Ah, who cares, just let it out. I’ve long been a proponent of feeling one’s feelings. Right now, I’m perfectly happy to be sad. I am taking in the lessons he taught me, I am missing him in every moment. And I am looking for the next creature.

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nyoomerr · 10 months ago

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in this house we go feral for worm art 10000% of the time and this is no exception, so please accept this small fic drabble inspired by this absolutely insane art 🙏

cw: implied vore -----

When Luo Binghe first meets Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe hasn’t eaten in a month. He isn’t sure how long his body can keep itself alive without eating, but he can’t risk eating the beasts in this part of the Abyss - their flesh is loose and hangs on their bones in a way that speaks of rot and disease. Luo Binghe could survive eating something like that, but it would put him out of commission for a day or so.

Besides, Luo Binghe is used to being hungry. He’s been hungry his whole life, in one way or another. Hunger is proof that Luo Binghe is still alive.

Shen Yuan worries more about Luo Binghe’s hunger than anything else, and more intensely than anyone who has only recently met Luo Binghe ever should. To Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe’s hunger is worse than the burns festering with infection on his feet, worse than the fingers on his left hand that haven’t grown back yet.

“You can’t heal those other things if you’re this hungry,” Shen Yuan stresses. “Please - you need to eat. Let me feed you.”

Luo Binghe can’t afford to trust any part of the Abyss that offers him respite. An oasis of fresh fruits and water will turn out to be an illusionary trap; a demon that offers a meal will just as surely turn out to have poisoned the meat.

Luo Binghe wants to take the poisoned flesh into himself anyway.

Oh, he’s been hungry all his life, but he’s never been hungry like this. It’s never burned him, never made him feel like life might not be worth living if he can’t partake in this meal. Luo Binghe has spent ages with an aching stomach, and has spent years starving for the touch of someone who cares for him, but this -

Luo Binghe has never been hungry for a person before.

“Please,” Shen Yuan says again, looking for all the world to be an innocent and earnest man, worried for his new friend. “Please, let me feed you.”

Shen Yuan cannot be an innocent man. Shen Yuan is a demon native to the Abyss - native to the place that Luo Binghe has been banished to - and so naturally Shen Yuan must be as awful as Luo Binghe himself is.

Even more damning, Shen Yuan has been begging to feed Luo Binghe for over a week, now - for as long as Shen Yuan has known him. Even before Luo Binghe had slain the beast that Shen Yuan had been hiding from, Shen Yuan had started asking if he could feed him. When Luo Binghe had rebuffed the obvious attempt to poison him, Shen Yuan had silently begun following Luo Binghe through the Abyss, chasing Luo Binghe with unasked for advice and superfluous compliments.

A week is not long enough for Luo Binghe to learn to trust someone. It is not long enough for Luo Binghe to think Shen Yuan does not mean to poison him, or lure him into a trap, or strike when he lets his guard down. It isn’t even long enough for Luo Binghe to begin believing that Shen Yuan really means the praise he lavishes on Luo Binghe.

It is enough time for Luo Binghe to become addicted to it anyway.

“Please,” Shen Yuan says, and he says it like a prayer, like Luo Binghe is worth praying for.

Shen Yuan is in front of him on his hands and knees, his head bowed, keeping a respectful distance. His hands are on Luo Binghe anyway: light touches to his cheeks and neck and feet, small pressures resting on his shoulders and his back.

This is the nature of the demon Shen Yuan is: the sort that can multiply.

Shen Yuan’s clones are significantly smaller than he is - only as tall as the length of Shen Yuan’s palm - but Shen Yuan has assured him that they share senses with Shen Yuan’s main body, and that Shen Yuan’s thoughts control their every moment.

They are also the food that Shen Yuan has begged to feed him.

“They’re safe for you to eat,” Shen Yuan insists. “Biologically, I’m not so different from a human, so they should taste the same as one. They may not have so much meat on them, but I can produce enough of them to fill you up anyway.”

One of the small clones tugs at Luo Binghe’s hair lightly. Luo Binghe knows without checking that it was unintentional; the clones seem almost obsessed with wrapping themselves in his hair, leaving small braids everywhere they can reach. Every part of Shen Yuan is obsessed with touching Luo Binghe in a million small and gentle ways.

Even when Luo Binghe is on guard against it, Shen Yuan’s manipulation is devastatingly effective. It’s harder and harder to remember that Shen Yuan cannot be trusted, when Shen Yuan touches him so sweetly.

“Will it hurt you permanently, if I eat them?” Luo Binghe asks.

He knows well enough it will hurt Shen Yuan temporarily. He only wants to know if it can be healed from.

“Not permanently,” Shen Yuan assures him. He looks especially eager at Luo Binghe’s questioning, thrilled that Luo Binghe has not instantly shot him down like he usually does. “I can produce this many of them every few days or so, as long as my main body is not terribly injured. I can keep you fed for as long as you need me.”

Luo Binghe hums, looking down at the tiny clones of Shen Yuan that are tugging at his robes, their small faces crumpled in distaste as they silently tut at the tears in his old disciple robes. There are perhaps ten of them, including the ones he can feel on his shoulders and in his hair. It’s only enough for a few mouthfuls.

Luo Binghe plucks one of them out from where it has climbed into his sleeve. It goes limp in his hand, letting itself be held and moved without resistance. It only looks up at Luo Binghe, smiling with the same dopey grin Shen Yuan’s main body wears when Luo Binghe lets him chatter about the beasts in the Abyss.

Luo Binghe pinches at its body, and its little face turns pink, its smile bashful. There isn’t much fat on it. Ten of these every few days won’t be enough to fill Luo Binghe up.

(Luo Binghe doesn’t think any amount of Shen Yuan could fill him up. He thinks he’ll be hungry for Shen Yuan forever, for as long as Shen Yuan keeps playing at being good and kind and perfect, for as long as Shen Yuan pretends to care for Luo Binghe.)

“Why,” Luo Binghe says, still pinching the small creature in his fingers, “do you want to feed me? Why should I believe your flesh isn’t poisonous to me?”

“Even if it is, would it matter?” Shen Yuan asks. “You’re immune to all poisons. You could start by just eating one if you’re worried; that little won’t be enough to weaken you so much that you couldn’t fight back if I suddenly attacked you.”

Luo Binghe licks his lips. If he gives in to this hunger, he won’t stop at just one. He wants to eat all of Shen Yuan - he wants to absorb Shen Yuan’s flesh into his until Luo Binghe is more Shen Yuan than he is himself. He wants to feed the addiction he has to Shen Yuan’s touch by turning his own touch into Shen Yuan’s.

He almost wishes he weren’t as immune to poisons as Shen Yuan says. He almost wishes to die by consuming Shen Yuan’s flesh.

“Why,” Luo Binghe says again, “do you want to feed me?”

Shen Yuan looks up at Luo Binghe, genuinely confused. “Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t anyone?”

Luo Binghe shudders. He’s so, so hungry.

“No one has before,” Luo Binghe says.

“Everyone else has been a bitch,” Shen Yuan says, his eyes cold. “They’ll get what they deserve soon.”

Luo Binghe closes his eyes. He can hardly smell Shen Yuan over the sulfuric stench of the Abyss. He brings the small clone he’s holding up to his face, breathing in deeply.

It smells of salt, of sweat. Does Shen Yuan’s main body smell the same? Or would it smell more metallic, tainted with the blood that must surely be spilled when Shen Yuan tears a part of himself off to form a new clone?

“Alright,” Luo Binghe says. “Feed me, then.”

Shen Yuan does. Luo Binghe’s hunger does not abate.

Obsessive Devotion

For @nyoomerr for the SVSSS Gotcha 4 Gaza!! The prompt was "Bingge using Shen Yuan as a chew toy" and I kinda ran with it and went in the extreme direction. Had loads of fun with it :3c They're so normal!! CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Implied vore, Implied cannibalism, Vivid Neons, Eye Strain

#WORM ILY PLEASE HAVE THIS HUMBLE OFFERING #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FILLING THIS PROMPT THIS IS SO GOOD #💕💕💕#maybe bingge would get better if he ate shen yuans by the mouthful </3 #fic drabble

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elvensorceress · 2 years ago

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Wednesday is for the WIPs

tagged by @lostinabuddiehaze @dickley-buddie @rogerzsteven @spaceprincessem @fatedbuck @spotsandsocks @prettyboybuckley @confetti-cupcake @monsterrae1 @zainclaw @bekkachaos @deluweil @rewritetheending 🥹💕 I love you all so much!

tagging @messyhairdiaz @swiftiediaz @gaydisasterdiaz @blutterlie @alyxmastershipper @jobairdxx @ajunerose @the-likesofus @ashavahishta @sibylsleaves @fleurdebeton @shortsighted-owl if any of you haven’t already and want to share something 😘💕

Unless You Ask Me To is way out of my control now. It was not even 20K in the first draft! 🙃 The rewrite is asdjfksl who even knows. But have some more because everything needs more Karen Wilson.

As soon as Christopher reaches the front door, Eddie kneels and hugs him as if they’ve been apart for years. Chris pats his shoulder in a placating way but also gives him a, “Dad. It was two days,” and wriggles away so he can seek refuge and peace in his bedroom.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. Because Eddie shuts the front door and reaches for Karen before she can go back to her car. He urgently motions her closer and leans down to whisper to her as if someone might somehow hear them. “He told me he loves me.”

She gives him an odd look. “Who? Chris?”

Eddie huffs. “No.”

“No? Oh. OH.” Karen’s eyes grow wide and then she turned her voice to hushed, conspiratorial tones. “The boyfriend? He loves you?”

The boyfriend. His boyfriend of four months. Who is sweet and considerate and patient and nerdy and fun. And all Eddie can think about is how the only time he’s thought it, mentioned it, felt it— is when he confessed that love? Love to Eddie, for Eddie? Love means Buck.

“Yes, the boyfriend,” Eddie tells her. “He told me he loves me.”

“Awww,” she smiles proudly like Eddie is a child who’s shown her the messy, scratchy drawing he’s made that she knows is objectively terrible but is maybe subjectively adorable and makes her sentimental. “That’s great, Eddie. Good for you. I’m happy for you.”

At least someone is.

It’s not that it’s a bad thing. It’s a very good thing. He likes Raúl, he likes being with him. Dating is fun and enjoyable for once, and they just had a perfect, romantic night away together. Unless you factor in the fucking panic attack. There’s that little tiny detail.

He should be happy. Eddie wants to be happy. He shakes his head and just feels even more guilty and terrible about it.

“And you said…?” Karen waves her hand— either like she’s confused and wants to know more or like she’s conjuring a spell that will put him out of his misery. He hopes it’s the latter.

Eddie pushes his tongue to the front of his teeth. “He told me I didn’t have to say the same. Or feel the same. I don’t know. He’s very casual and nonchalant about everything. I kissed him and we just—” Eddie shrugs because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to feel about this because he’s much too busy feeling like a failure for being unable to have sex.

Feelings and emotions are full today. He’s way over capacity. They’ll have to try again later. Except not. They should not try again later because he’s tired of feeling anything. They can fuck off forever.

Karen shrugs back. “And you just—? Fucked? Or no, made sweet emotional love because he loves you?”

Jesus fuck. Eddie holds up a hand. “No. Nope. No, because that’s the thing. That is the thing. I can’t— I-I don’t? We haven’t. Not because he’s a man. Just to clarify. It’s not that.”

“Oh,” she says wisely, knowledgeably. “Is it because you were Catholic?” It sounds like it’s a tragic disease he used to have. The way she says it. And… well. Maybe it was. But that’s still not the problem. “No sex before marriage? No marriage that isn’t a man and a woman? God will cry, you’ll burn in Hell, all that bullshit? Is that it?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Although he can’t say it’s very helpful to think about? “I just…” He looks around even though there’s no one who can hear them, no one near his front door, his neighbors aren’t out taking walks or doing yard work, and there’s no way for anyone to know what he’s going to say. But he has to make sure. “The last time we talked about love? Was when I told him that I’m in love with Buck.”

Karen’s eyes widen so large, they just might pop right out. And then she has to glance around, too. Like she’s also wondering if anyone was around to hear what he just told her. “You told him you’re in love with Buck? You’re in love with Buck?”

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to bring this up? What in the hell was he thinking? He pinches the bridge of his nose and then tells her. “It was months ago. I had feelings before I even met Raúl and I told him about it because I didn’t want to be dishonest. I was expecting to break up, but he basically said, of course I was in love with Buck and he already knew, from the beginning. But it wasn’t a dealbreaker because we could still build something together if we wanted to because— because I know Buck doesn’t—”

Karen raises an eyebrow and gives him a narrowed, suspicious gaze.

“Even if he feels something. He’s not ready. He doesn’t look at me or think of me like that. He doesn’t want a relationship right now.” And Eddie would fuck up not just everything for Buck and Christopher, but the strongest most necessary support beam relationship in his whole life. Because that’s all Eddie ever does is fuck up every single potential romantic relationship he ever has. “I don’t want to fuck that up. I can’t ever fuck that up. Love doesn’t mean it will work. It doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I can’t… I can’t.”

“Okay…” Karen seems to accept that. For now.

“Anyway, the point? I like him. Raúl. I like him a lot. I love being with him. I really do. I’ve never actually really enjoyed a relationship. And I told him the thing that I told him months ago. Because I had to be honest. And I’ve been trying to commit. I am committed. I am. I want to be with him. But— but the last time I talked about love, it was, ‘I love Buck.’ And— and—”

Karen tips her head to the side like she can decipher all the secrets of the universe just by looking. Who knows. She’s a literal rocket scientist. She might have that power. “And you still love Buck. How could you stop loving Buck.”

It’s not a question. She doesn’t even say it like a question. It’s a fact. And it will always be a fact.

#buddie wip #poor Eddie always going through it #wip wednesday #911 #fic: unless you ask me to #jenwyn wip

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years ago

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Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Note

I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

#tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jondanny #what a tag i need to use it more often #if people do actually like this i might be tempted to give it another go #i think the outline for it ended up being too long for a week event #so i got lazy and gave up #asks #my writing #danny stoker #jondanny au

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dysfunctionalcrab · 4 years ago

Text

cute vets, pets, and boys

Pairing: Quackity x reader

Pronouns: Gender neutral

Description: Tiger needs to go to vets. Over there, his owner meets a cute veterinary assistant (yes, I mean you)

Notes: Doctor Anderson is the name of an actual doctor I shadowed I couldn’t think of anything else okay, leave me alone.

His knee bounced up and down impatiently. The place was unusually packed today.

Tiger sat in his basket, loafed and with his eyes closed. Quackity’s heart ached for the small cat, the poor animal had stopped his regular eating habits. When he filled his bowl, it was only half finished, which was abnormal, since Tiger was usually finished within 10 minutes, and then meowed for some more.

He glanced at the clock, sighing after calculating that he had been been waiting for almost a whole hour, until a vaguely familiar man walked into the room with a clipboard. He was a middle aged man, grey hair and and stubble. He wore giant glasses with black frames. It was only when Quackity’s eyes landed on the name tag pinned to the pocket of his white lab coat, did he realise this was their regular vet.

“Alex!” He called out, looking up from his clipboard and locking eyes with him

Tiger hadn’t been to vet in ages, and when he did, it was usually his mom who took him, so to see him so enthusiastic, or even remember his name, startled him quite a bit.

He stood up, clutching the handle of the cat basket and lifting it off the floor.

“Doctor Anderson?” He tried to play it off as if he wasn’t reading his badge to remember his name.

“How have you been?” The doctor asked him.

“I’ve been good, busy, but good,”

“How are you? How is your mom?”

Quackity tried to be polite, answering all the questions he had. But in reality, he didn’t care about catching up with his vet, especially after waiting an hour of waiting just to even be spoken to while his cat sat miserably in his basket. It had entirely ruined his mood. He just wanted to know what was wrong with his cat.

He was relieved when Doctor Anderson finally ushered him into the room.

The doctor walked in with another man, he looked young. This man was going to be the final patient you assist before finally finishing the veterinary experience course. You took a deep breath and approached them both.

The other guy looked you, not in a weird way, but just to curious to who you were. You offered him a kind smile, and when you started to think wasnt going to, he returned it. Doctor Anderson watched the interaction from across the room.

“This is [Y/N],” he introduced, putting a gentle hand behind your back. “They’ve been shadowing me for the last 2 months, today is their final day,”

Quackity nodded, glancing towards you again, but less soft. Your smile dropped. You started to assume he wasn’t in a good mood today, especially since he probably had a sick animal with you. So, you resorted to standing in the corner of the room, just to observe.

“So then, how can I help you?” The doctor asked him

“I don’t know,” You watched him as he distressedly pushed his hair away, alongside fiddling and adjusting his beanie anxiously. “Tiger just hasn’t been eating lately and it’s been worrying me,”

Doctor Anderson opened up the basket and took out a small tabby cat who you now knew was named ‘Tiger’. Your heart awed at the cat, you loved cats. I mean, you loved animals in general, which was the reason you wanted to help them.

You watched as he started to check the cat, feeling his fur and his body for any irregularities. His face was fully focused, eyebrows furrowing. You could tell the owner was nervous since he was rubbing the seam of his shirt aggressively between his finger and thumb.

“Has Tiger ever-“

The door suddenly swung open with a loud creak. All your heads snapped towards the entrance, another doctor stood there, her face a little sweaty and she was huffing, completely out of breath

“Doctor- we need you please, it’s urgent,” She stated.

The doctor looked at you, and then looked at the cat, and then looked back at you. You felt yourself freeze in fear. You knew what he was asking, and you frantically shook your head, pleading with your eyes that he didn’t leave you alone.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, before taking off and dashing out the room,‘following the tinder woman. He accidentally slammed the door a little hard that the noise startled Tiger. He let out a small and scared meow.

You pursed your lips, looking down sympathetically at the cat. You then looked at his owner, he was giving you a blank, expressionless stare, his brown eyes told you he was a mixture of tired, irritated but concerned. You wondered how long he’d been waiting.

Quackity was nervous around pretty people, he was far from confident. After the way you smiled at him, he felt himself heat up. He’d be lying he if he said he didn’t find you cute.

If you weren’t in such a formal environment, he’d be initiating some sort of casual conversation with you to start things going, if he even knew how to. But now, especially since he had a sick cat with him, wasn’t the ideal situation. Your voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

“So,” you gnawed at your lip nervously. “He’s lost his appetite?

Quackity nodded slowly.

You hummed, observing her on the table. He was a cute little cat, his eyes were glossy and wide. You felt a pain in your chest at the poor thing. You had never been left alone with a patient before, so you were anxious to say the least.

“Has this ever happened before?” You asked

He shook his head. “Uh- no. No it hasn’t.”

You stroked her, he immediately nuzzled into your palm. You and him both locked eyes at the adorable moment.

“He’s cute,” You stated.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “He is.”

He picked up a mental note of your interaction with him. It was uncommon that Tiger relaxed at someone’s touch so easily, usually he would do that at-least within a week of knowing or playing with them. He was also quite aggressive, living up to his name.

“You don’t need to worry, you know, I’m sure he’s fine, the worst it could be is like- kidney disease or something,”

His eyes widened

“Not that it is!” You took back, wishing you could swallow your words back up again. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just saying that he could-“

He raised an eyebrow at you, this time out of confusion of your rambling.

“I’ll stop talking now.” You muttered to yourself

You felt ridiculous, being so nervous. You couldn’t tell if it was from the pressure, or the fact he had a strong gaze on you.

“I’m going to check his teeth, if that’s okay?” You asked

Quackity stepped back abit from the table. “Yeah, yeah, of course, do whatever you need,”

You patted her head before positioning her so you could look at her mouth. You gently held her head and used your fingers carefully to pull her jaw open. It all looked pretty normal, until your eye fixated on one of her canines that were looking black at the root.

You sighed, observing it a little longer. You smiled, thankful that you found the problem. It was funny to you how this guy hadn’t even thought to check her mouth before-hand.

“Well, we’ve found the problem,” you said. Quackity stepped closer and watched to where you finger was pointing. “Just a bad tooth, it most likely hurts when he eats,”

You smiled at him reassuringly and he relaxed. His Tiger was going to be just fine

“So now what?” Quackity asked you, petting Tiger. He quietly purred

You ran your tongue at the seam of your lips. “I don’t know, I guess. I don’t think if it’s legally permissible for me to diagnose anything or 8 anything- I think,” you spoke awkwardly. “It’s better to just wait for the doctor to come back,”

He nodded again. The silence in the room was making it a little uncomfortable for the both of you, the only thing making it less... weird, was the cute little cat laying on the table.

“So, how long have you been shadowing him again?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, he was clearly just trying to make conversation with you to diffuse the awkwardness.

“For two months,” you answered. “Today is actually my last day.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, kind of disappointed actually, this experience has been quite nice. Now it’s back to textbooks and PowerPoint presentations, it’s like being stuck back in high school”

“I get that. Law school is just case after case and it can get boring sometimes,”

“Law school? Holy crap,” you said, before throwing a hand over your mouth, remembering he was still just a patient. “Sorry, excuse the language,”

He giggled nervously. “Don’t worry about about it,”

Conversation with him from then on was easy. It flowed quite smoothly, from talking about about school to other general things.

He liked the way you listened, Quackity knew that he waffled on about certain subjects a whole lot. But you seemed to actually be interested, your face lighting up every time. You found it sweet the way he talked so passionately about things, for a stranger, you were pretty intrigued.

You enjoyed his company for the next 30 minutes, still waiting for Doctor Anderson to come back after rushing out of the door. To be fair, It was nice to have conversation during the day that wasn’t with a fifty five year old man for once.

“But we have restaurants here like Chipotle, or Taco bell!” You exclaimed, now sitting beside him on one of the blue chairs.

“They’ve never been as good as the ones I’ve had in Mexico,” he told you.

“Well then I guess-“

Again. The noisy door swung open. Both your heads simultaneously turning towards it. The doctor walked back into the room, his hair was a little ruffled and messy. He came in as if he was looking for a certain something, and then his eyes landed on you.

“[Y/N]? What are you still doing here?” He questioned, looking at his watch. “It’s past four o’clock,”

You took out your phone from your back pocket. Damn, time really flew by and you didn’t even realise.

“We were just talking about Tiger, he’s got a bad tooth,” you said

The doctor smiled at you. “Good work, [Y/N]!” He said, pride overtaking his voice. “But it’s really time for you to go home. You can pack up your things now and relax! You’re finally finished!”

“Oh-,” you said, feeling the slightest bit disappointed as you looked at Quackity. “Thank you,”

You stood up and hesitantly slipped off the spare white lab coat, folding it up and placing it in on a nearby counter.

You looked at Quackity again, his eyes were almost saying ‘sorry’ for you having to leave.

Quackity watched you leave the room. His mood dropping straight away. He knew he wasn’t going to speak to you again after this.

The doctor started talking to him again, giving him advice for Tiger and how they would deal with the problem. However, the unfortunate problem was, his attention was focused on you. You know sometimes you talk to someone once and then for the rest of the year you constantly think about that interaction? Yeah, that’s how he was feeling. He had no idea why you had suddenly invaded all his thoughts.

Too bad you’d left without so much of a goodbye.

If only he built up the courage and asked for your number.

———

Masterlist

Taglist: @inniterhq @basilly @nite-land @bunnyloo @siriushxney @notphilosopherstudentblog @tinyegg @dreamiewrites @kai-was-here @shiyanchan

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #mcyt imagine #quackity x reader #Quackity imagines #quackity imagine #quackity x you #quackity fanfiction #quackityhq x reader #quackityhq imagine #quackityhq imagines #quackityhq FANFICTION

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whaleofatjme1920 · 4 years ago

Text

In a Mirror Image (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

🌸 In a Mirror Image

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: blood, language, cheating (both physical but it's not like, in your face, and emotional)]

Part 1

The flowers that grow like weeds in your lungs bloom thicker and thicker every day. Your vision clouds with blue more often than not, and you can’t think about anything but the blossoms and blood that paint the bathroom with a hue you’re already much too used to. It’s a painful existence, and it’s getting worse. One of the most wretched parts? You’re deteriorating so fast that your vision no longer services you. You are blind, unrendered to see. You still choose to live in a delusion, and you are amongst the only who choose not to acknowledge it.

By now, everyone knows but only one other than you refuses to acknowledge it.

You hear Hoodie arguing with Jack more often than not. It seems the blond haired proxy is angry over what Jack has done to you and because he knows what Hanahaki does to those it takes root in.

“You’ll fucking kill her,” Hoodie seethes as he gets in Jack’s face for the fourth time this weekend. “Look at her-”

“I am!” Jack shot back, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “Who are you to come in here and speculate on something that you’re not a part of?” He growls. Normally, Jack likes talking to Hoodie, but not when Hoodie’s on a mission to prove Jack a sinner.

“I wasn’t even aware you still had one,” Hoodie retorts through grit teeth. “I can’t believe you. Look at the flowers Ja-” and before he can continue tearing into Jack, he hears your bedroom door open.

While you still share the room with Jack, neither of you are in it at the same time. You’ve taken residence up on the living room couch with Kate and Jack more often than not stays with Leia. The room you share is usually empty, much like your heart.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Hoodie suddenly greets you as you tiredly walk into the kitchen where the two men had previously been in a standoff. “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, voice so much softer and gentler with you than what he had just been using.

You shake your head as you take a seat at the table. “I can’t sleep,” you say.

Hoodie’s brows furrow in sympathy before they knit in frustration when Jack sits next to you. He watches as Jack snakes his arm around you before he presses an empty kiss to the side of your head.

“No?” Jack says in a sickly saccharine tone. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Does that sound good to you?”

You nod slightly, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “That sounds good,” you murmur back.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he pulls you in closer to his side.

“You disgust me,” Hoodie hisses to Jack as he gets up and pushes in his chair roughly, making the table bounce. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jack for a second as he leaves, roughly slamming the front door behind him.

“What was that about?” You ask, feigning innocence. You refuse to open your eyes to the situation you are in.

“He’s having a bad day,” Jack answers. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he hums as he presses another kiss to the side of your head.

The butterflies in your stomach are dead, but the flowers blood evermore.

“You’re still sleeping out here?” Kate hums as she takes a seat next to you on the couch. She looks exhausted and she’s covered in blood. Her mask is cracked too.

“I guess,” you yawn as you shift slightly from your not so comfortable position. “How has your day been?” You ask as you reach for a glass of water only to see it’s not there.

“Let me,” Kate says as she gets up once more. She knows you’re getting worse. After getting you a bottle of water from the fridge, she comes back to your side. “I’ve had a busy day. Met with an independent named Nyein. They remind me of a big cat,” she finally answers as she opens the water bottle for you.

You take it and begin to slowly sip from it - it stops the flowers from blooming ever so slightly. Your airway opens just a little bit. “Do they now?”

Kate nods as she flips mindlessly through the channels. “They said they’re falling in love with a human. Bad business,” Kate winces, her dark eyes watching you carefully. “I hope they don’t…”

“It’s bad business,” you suddenly say as you feel petals fill your mouth. You cough slightly and the small little forget-me-nots fall into your lap, thankfully free of blood this time. You take one of the flowers into your fingertips and observe it gently. “I hope they’re okay.”

Kate puts her hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing before finally settling on the early evening news. “You wanna burn these blue fuckers?” She asks as the flowers in your lap remain stagnant save for the buds that unfurl at an alarmingly fast pace.

You feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. “Yes.”

Morbid, your flowers have been springing up everywhere. They’ve infested the temporary house. So, you and Kate went around the place, plucking every single one before starting a bonfire in the backyard.

Toby, who considers himself a bit of a pyromaniac, was immediately summoned by the fire the two of you had cast in the backyard. He’d been out on a grocery run, and honestly, he had wanted to get out of the house.

The dynamics of the house had become uncomfortable to him. What with Leia and Jack sneaking off together and you coughing up a full greenhouse, he has been stressed. Toby can’t stand Jack and Hoodie arguing all the time as it reminds him of the life he tried to escape, and Masky can offer so much but ever since he renounced his love for Jay by force… It’s been hard. Toby knows it’s been hard for everyone involved.

He crosses through the house, sneers at Leia’s room, and then exits through the back to the scent of fire. He sees Kate’s arm around you as the fire blazes slightly blue.

“W-What are you g-gals up to?” He asks, coming to your other side so you remain in the middle.

“Burning stuff,” Kate nonchalantly replies. “You care to chuck anything in?”

Toby glances at you as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. “If I d-d-did, I’d be u-under c-charge for killing a-a-another under the O-Operator’s care,” he muses. He’s referring to Jack, of course. He takes in the scent of burning plant matter and blood and frowns when he remembers it’s yours. His hand reaches yours and squeezes gently.

You squeeze back.

Your experiences with Leia are lukewarm at best, and cold at worst. She’s something, she really is something. There’s moments when no one is in the temp house with you except for her alongside you, and those moments are tense, sharp, like a knife and burn colder than the depths of the sea.

The most memorable conversation you’ve ever had was the one that triggered a domino effect that would lead to a black hole in your chest.

“You’re still up?” Leia’s honeyed voice questions softly as she takes a seat across from you on the back porch at the glass table.

You find it more stifling inside so you choose to spend your time out. The weather is warm, afterall. The sun shines and fluffy clouds the size of whales swim overhead. You have a glass of pink lemonade made from a pouch Hoodie and Kate had picked up earlier. You find that the tang is enough to keep the flowers down.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” You say in passing before you sip from the glass. You enjoy watching the rabbits in the backyard. They hop around without a care in the world.

She begins to thread her fingers through her long silver hair, braiding it. “I just think you should be resting,” she says. “You look so tired these days-”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Touched a nerve,” she sighs. “You know you’re getting worse, right?”

You shoot her a glare, but you know she’s right. You’ve actually been holding out surprisingly longer than most people with Hanahaki Disease. Most people succumb to it within a few weeks of coughing, but you’ve managed to hold out for damn near an entire year. That’s almost unheard of. You’ve been hacking up flowers, their stems, roots and blood ever since Leia came into your life.

Everyone tells you that you’re getting worse, but you should have been dead months ago.

“Stop it,” you growl.

“You’re killing yourself,” she continues. “You could just… Let it all go, y’know?” She hums as she continues to fishtail her silver strands. “Renounce your feelings for him and save yourself.”

You grip your glass and set it back down roughly on the table. “That is literally none of your concern,” you repeat, eyes narrowing at the blue eyed beauty across from you. “Acting like you care-”

“I do, though,” she cuts you off. “I know that the Slender Man has big plans for you, but with you wasting away like this… You’ll never live long enough to see them through.” She flashes you a look of concern, but you can tell it’s fake. It shines like pyrite.

“What, so you can take my place just like that?” You bite back. “You can’t even wait until I’m fucking dead?”

Leia giggles and you hate to admit that it sounds pretty. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Daddy always did say I got what I wanted.” Her eyes drift off and you’re able to see she’s no longer thinking about you, but someone who once loved her. She finishes the braid. “Happy six years to you and Jack. Give him all my regards, won’t you?” She stands up, eyes the rabbits feasting on the clover in the grass, before she plucks your half empty glass from in front of you.

“Leia-!”

“It’s not like you need it,” she chuckles.

“It’s a special day,” you said to Masky, a small smile on your face. “It’s our six year anniversary.” Your posture changes to attention as he closes the door softly behind him. He still smells like cigarettes, but it’s a pleasant scent you’ve found comfort in where others find it a nuisance.

Masky put a smile on his face but it didn't reach his eyes. “You need me to draw a portal or something for you?” He holds his arms open to you as you fall into them, part because you’re so weak and secondly because he knows you need the affection - even if he can’t feel it.

You feel light come to your eyes as you nod after leaving a note for Jack in your shared room on his nightstand.

‘Dear Jack, happy six years! I’d wait for you to get back, but I have a surprise for you at the field you gifted to me for our first anniversary. I await you with happiness. Love, R.’

Masky drew the portal in the living room, a mess of swirling cloud-like silvers and blacks before he laid eyes upon the place you once shared only with Jack. “It’s super pretty,” he says, dark eyes scanning over all the wildflowers. There’s weeds on the path, like no one has cared for it in a while. ‘How poetic,’ he thinks. ‘It’s an allegory for your decayed relationship with Jack.’

“No it’s not,” you giggle as you bring Masky down one of the weed and chicory covered paths to the gazebo. “But it’s special to me,” you hum as you take a seat.

Masky follows beside you. He doesn’t take a seat, mostly feeling it wrong to impose on a space that is Jack’s despite his respect for him falling so far from what it used to be, but takes in the scent of dying flowers all the same. It’s summer, and instead of the sun warming the soft petals, it’s burning them. When you cough up more flowers while waiting for the man who still holds your heart (and refuses to return it) you’re less than pleased to see that they blend in with the untamed mosaic.

“Are you still tired?” Masky asks softly as he lights up a cigarette. “You can rest, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You glance over to Masky before you rest your head in your hands, wondering where your lover is. You listen to the wind as it blows through the leaves. You listen to Masky’s hum, and eventually, you fall asleep.

You wake back up sometime during the night in your bed and not in a position you normally sleep in. It looks like whoever delivered you back here was extra careful with handling you. You only wake up because Jack has accidentally turned on the light.

“Shit, my bad,” he apologizes, quickly plunging the room back into darkness. “Did I wake you?” He knows he did.

“No,” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” That was the most rest you’ve had in months. “Where have you been?” You ask quietly, still choosing to remain buried in the sheets.

Jack slides into bed next to you and gets comfortable. He smells like perfume you don’t wear. Through the faint light of the hallway that peeks under your door, you can see he’s got dark marks on his neck and jaw. “Leia wanted to show me her childhood home. Place isn’t run by Zalgo anymore, so we took a trip out there.”

“Did you now?” You hum as you feel tears prick your eyes.

Jack can see you in the dark. His vision at night far surpasses a human’s. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. Jack knows that his relationship with you is gone, and that you’ve been coughing up flowers for the past year. He knows, and it hurts him. Hurts him deeply that he’s the one causing you such pain, but at the same time, he’s a coward. He chooses not to let you go cleanly because his relationship with Leia is so finite.

He knows she only wants him because at the time he was unattainable. Now that she has him, it is only a matter of time until she does to him what he’s done to you. He understands that fully, but he refuses to leave the safety net that is you because he is selfish. His feelings for you aren’t nonexistent, but it’s that kind of fondness one has after the deed has been done, a love based on past memory and sentiment rather than what will and can be. It has reached his threshold, and you both are too caught up in security rather than what is healthy.

“I did,” he says as his mind rushes a mile a minute. “What did you do today?”

You wonder if you should answer that honestly or not. Would he even care? “I stayed here today, nothing special.” You feel the flowers unfurling in your lungs.

Jack hums once more, his back now facing you as he slowly succumbs to sleep.

You met Masky in the bathroom again, hacking your lungs and more of those fucking flowers up into the bathrub and the sink. Hell, you even got some in the toilet. Your body is growing weaker and weaker by the day. The fact you’ve held out for a year is astronomical, but you know you’ll be being taken from it eventually. No one survives Hanahaki when their lover’s feelings aren’t returned. It either gets returned, or you lose them all entirely.

He almost lost you. You broke the mirror when your body went limp as the vines and flowers crawled out from your lungs, through your esophagus and out of your mouth. If it was an art installation piece, Masky might’ve thought it beautiful, but the fact you went cold and limp and the flowers were blooming at a rapid pace - one he thought he couldn’t keep up with.

Masky, despite not being able to really feel anything, panicked as he took you into his arms. Did he genuinely care for you? No, but he cared to whatever extent the surgery left him with. He fretted because you are under his direct care. He cared so deeply because he too had seen many good proxies and independents lost to it. He cared because a part of him remembered what it was like to have daisies and rhododendrons fill his lungs. Normally, you only have one type of flower to clutter your lungs. Science says “just because.” An old wives’ tale says “love truly lost.” In his case? Jay’s death. Nothing was the same after that.

Masky took no hesitation in scooping you up into his arms and running out of the house to the forest to be closer to his boss’s energy. The Operator could fix this should he will it. He didn’t care that the lights in the house went on from his concerned proxies - the ones who had been sick over what befell you since you came into their care. He didn’t dare let you go as he trampled through the brush in the dead of night, using only the moon.

“Sir!” He calls out frantically. “Sir! I need your help!” He can hear your heart get slower and slower.

And just like that, the devoted father came to his child’s cry.

“My child,” he greets, instantly swooping down to look at your pained, flowery visage. “Did I not tell you to handle this?” He chides softly as he takes you into his arms. The sound of static only grows louder and louder.

“I thought she could,” he says, his tone clearly apologetic. “Please, just… Just fix this for me.” He watches the Operator closely as the tall man holds you in his arms.

While you are not exactly his child directly, you are also still under his care. Leia did not lie that the Operator sees good things for you. Without any other words, the tall man is gone, giving you to gods know who to perform a surgery that should be considered the only humane way out.

He returns to the house where Hoodie, Kate and Toby eagerly awaited him, clamoring around him and pecking like hens wondering where you are. He says that you’re in the hands of a god.

You floated in the ether, your body a galaxy. You watched as your chest was torn open - looked like by the hands of an independent that had talons to rival an eagle.

‘There’s so much,’ she says, her mouth turning into a frown as she worked on carefully removing the clusters of flowers. ‘How is she not dead?’

The Slender Man continues to observe, not offering the doctor any words.

The spirals and swirls inside of you continue to swirl before the flowers get torn out, one by one. The roots that cling to your lungs are stubborn, but with every single one removed, the lights of a different universe go out. Snuffed. Lost. The cavity in your chest grows wider until it births a black hole.

‘How much longer?’ The Slender Man asks, watching as the independent calls in another to help her rid your body of weeds.

She shakes her head as she continues to root them out. They bloom under her touch. ‘I have no idea - she must’ve felt so strongly-’

‘They just keep coming up, Sir,’ the other interjects, her four eyes scanning you rapidly.

The black hole begins to suck up the stars and nebulas that comprise your system. It feasts on you, making every part of what made you you, disappear in its depths. It grows larger as it consumes you. It grows heavier. It grows more powerful.

‘We’re almost there,’ the taloned independent says, her wings fluttering softly to emphasize her point. ‘I’ve never seen it this bad before.’

‘Fix this,’ the Slender Man seethes, his patience wearing thin. He knows your body will not be able to handle this much longer.

The black hole reaches its mass, and slowly, it begins to consume you. It overtakes you, bathes you, and leaves nothing left when it has taken all that it can. Your body is empty. You are a shell. Glimpses of blue, grey and reddish brown flash in your mind’s eye and through the eye of the black hole, but you cannot place the feelings you used to associate with them. You remember, but you do not feel.

The last of the flowers are pulled. The taloned independent is exhausted, and her partner is just as tired. ‘Good fucking lord,’ she breathes out, exhausted from the late night gardening session. ‘In all my years I have never seen that awful disease take hold of an individual that bad,’ she notes. Her bird-like eyes watch over your open chest to make sure they’ve fully cleared it out.

A single forget-me-not sprouts, and the Slender Man is the one who plucks it. Just like that, the flowers, their roots, all evidence you’d ever had life inside of you, is gone. Withered and wilted away.

The black hole takes all that you have to offer, and you are back to consciousness, no longer floating, no longer a home to the vibrancy of the universe.

What came after was a bit of a blur. The Slender Man had brought you back to the safe house you had called your home for the past year surprised to see that some of his favored children were still away, waiting for you as the light of the sun rose over the grass. It was a new dawn.

“How is she?” Hoodie asked, immediately springing up.

“Fixed,” was all the Slender Man said, his gaze shifting from you to your group’s leader. “Masky, I’m entrusting you to watch over her as you have been through something similar.”

“Of course,” the dark eyed man says as he takes you gingerly into his arms. “I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else.”

“One last thing,” the tall man in a suit hums. “I am taking Eyeless Jack from this house. Leia will stay with him.”

“It’s probably for the best. We trust your judgment,” Masky replies.

The Slender Man’s head gently cups Masky’s cheek before he leaves them with the sound of static that dissipates as fast as it appeared.

You spent the first few days after your surgery under bed rest. The Slender Man had healed you but he still worried for the state of your lungs. You needed the rest, and you were pleased to have it. Other than that, you felt… nothing. You were numb. Fleeting feelings of happiness or thankfulness, maybe something melancholic would slip through but ultimately, you were nowhere near your old self.

Jack was not allowed anywhere near you. That was one of the first instructions given to him when the Slender Man had popped into his head. While he did not have an opinion on Jack’s unfaithful behavior, he was more displeased with the fact he’d kickstarted the disease in you. The Slender Man thought that if he started it in Leia, then perhaps everything would turn out alright.

So, he sent the two out with a different group - which mostly meant Jeff, someone the Slender Man knew detested behavior that Jack had committed.

It was not easy for Jack to share the same space with Jeff after word had gotten out about you.

“You’re my best friend,” Jeff had sighed one late afternoon, refusing to even acknowledge Leia in the room. “But that? That was fucked up.”

Jack hummed and kept his gaze on Leia, who looked at him with nothing short of adoration. “Sure.”

Jeff sighed once more and stood up. “You don’t feel an inch bad, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re a shitty guy but you’re an even shittier liar.” Jeff broke the door with how hard he’d slammed it on his way out.

Jack really wasn’t the same, that much was apparent. He’d slowly been becoming more withdrawn and quicker to agitation. Of course, he’d take it out on whoever was around to deal with it. Leia included - it just came in a different form. One in which she’d never complained. But when things were rough between them, things were rough.

Jeff could hardly stand the two most days, so when he’d sneak out, it was with his dog to come pay a visit with you. And he hated how dull you had become.

“Masky used to be a lot more personable,” Jeff would say. “Life of the party when we could get him out of his pseudo-philosophical bullshit. Then he hurled flowers and we knew something was wrong.” Jeff’s hand rubs your back gently as a sign of friendship.

“And then?”

“Then he got that stupid surgery and now he’s just existing. No further purpose, just existing because some pale guy says so for his benefit.” Jeff huffed and looked up at the setting sun.

You found your gaze following his.

“What you’re doing right now,” he began. “It’s no way to live.”

“Would you have rather I’d succumbed to it?” You asked, not adding any inflection to whether you’re happy or sad, hurt or even offended.

“In all honesty?” Jeff tore his eyes from the pink and blue sky. “Yeah. This,” he gestured to you. “This isn’t you.”

Everything you’re supposed to feel feels dampened. Instead, you nodded. “Note taken.”

Jeff frowned.

The first time Jack was able to see you after your surgery was nearing halfway to what would have been seven months. It’d been a rough time without him seeing you, mostly because the guilt had been devouring every humanity he had left. Nothing could fill the void.

Like the first time you had met him, it was an accident when you crossed paths once again. You had been clearing out a house one fine winter’s evening, doing what had been asked of you before you got the faintest scent of something familiar and something you once recognized as comforting. You furrow your brows, weapon at your hip as you slowly and quietly come down the stairs.

Your lips are pressed into a thin line as you peer into the living room. Snow falls outside the window.

“Reader?” A male voice asks, turning around from the hallway. “Is that you?”

You tilt your head slightly as you register the mask you’re looking at. Eyeless Jack, mostly just known as ‘EJ’ or ‘Jack’. You’ve never really spent any time with him though outside of little jobs, so you have no idea who this is or why he sounds so happy to see you.

“Uh, hi, EJ?” You say as you walk at a leisurely pace down the stairs.

Jack freezes momentarily as he comes to greet you in the living room. He’d almost forgotten that when the flowers are removed, so too are the memories alongside feelings.”It’s… It’s good to see you,” he says as he looks down at you, wondering if he should touch you or not.

“I guess it’s nice to see you too,” you say. “What are you doing in this area?” You inquire. You vaguely remember the Slender Man not wanting you two to be in the same area.

“Just out and about,” he answers as he scratches at the back of his neck. “Leia wanted to uh, hunt down some of her sisters - I - it doesn’t matter,” he suddenly finishes, feeling much too awkward to even look at you. He knows you don’t remember, but he certainly does. Looking at you… He has a fresh slate.

“That’s nice,” you say in a tone that’s clearly disinterested. You walk towards the living room windows and look into what is now a cold winter’s night. You can see the snow still falling. If you want to make it back to Masky before he gets worried, you’ll need to head out almost immediately. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Jack slowly comes to your side and puts his attention on you, watching as the snow continues to fall. “Yeah, the prettiest,” he says softly, desperately trying in vain to hold back on scooping you into his arms. There’s something scratching at the back of his throat.

You nod once again and zip up your coat. “They’re expecting me,” you say, gearing up to brave the snow.

“Do you need any-”

“No,” you cut him off. You’re not sure why it comes out so harshly, but you figure it must be a remnant of a memory you no longer have access to. “I can manage on my own.” You brush past him and open the front door, eyes momentarily clamping shut at how cold it is before you step onto the porch. The sound of the crunching snow is satisfying.

“Stay safe out there,” Jack says softly, not moving from his place as he continues to gaze out the window at the falling snow.

You turn your head briefly over your shoulder, “and you as well.”

Jack hears the door close and you walk off into the night, back to a group he was barred from. That tickling in the back of his throat grows more and more prevalent until he clears his throat. Feels like there’s something on his tongue. He coughs a few more times before holding his hands in front of his mouth, displeased to see the small blue petals he knows will bloom to full flowers in a time frame that is too long to be considered fair.

#eyeless jack #xreader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta #hanahaki #angst #masky #hoodie #brian thomas #tim wright #kate the chaser #reader insert #slender man

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