#mostly because it’s day two of my period (the worst day)

[redshoes-blues]

I’m so glad the article im editing today has decent grammar because I’m having A Day and I would’ve had a full blown meltdown if I had to use my (currently unavailable) brain energy for work

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

[sunkissedscribbles]

☆ 𝑆𝑊𝐸𝐸𝑇 – 𝐻𝑂𝐺𝑀𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝐴𝑌 𝟷

PAIRING: mattheo riddle x reader A/N: christmas szn strikes again!!! i'm so excited to be doing my first ever ficmas, i hope y'all like it, too SONGS: Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex

☆ HOGMAS 2024 LIST ☆ MASTERLIST ☆ TAG LIST ☆ KIARA'S PART

One thing about Mattheo that was very obvious to anyone with eyes that besides loving you to the moon and back, he loved winter. It was when he was the happiest, cozied up on the couch of the Slytherin common room, sharing a warm blanket with you, limbs tangled as you two were sipping on some hot tea.

It wasn’t the Advent, the Christmas period for him that always seemed to have him in a good mood. In fact, he couldn’t have cared less about the birth of ‘some bloke who conceived without his mother being shagged’ if he’d tried. No. It was the warmth of the fireplace after Quidditch practice, the sweet, cinnamony scents filling the air everywhere, the decorations all around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, the muggle Christmas songs you kept showing and making him mixtapes of, little snowball fights, and ice skating on the ice of the frozen Black Lake.

But mostly, it was the way you seemed to bud out in flowers as soon as you saw the first hint of snow.

He loved seeing you so happy over something that happens annually.

“You’ve never seen muggle London?” you asked, eyes wide with surprise shining in them before a great, excited smile appeared on your lips. “Let me take you. See the lights, the Christmas market –London’s beautiful now.” Seeing your pretty smile and shining eyes, Mattheo couldn’t (and wouldn’t want to) refuse an offer like this.

So this is how he found himself in the city centre, with you by his side, blabbering about the market and hot chocolate excitedly.

Merlin, he wanted to kiss you so bad. But then you’d stop talking. It was either your voice or your lips.

He tried to focus on what you were saying, but then there came that cute sound – your laughter, a soft, gentle giggle he loved so much leaving your mouth and sending is mind into overdrive, a crooked smile appearing on his own lips, and he finally went in for that kiss he’d been dreaming of for the past few seconds – maybe minutes. He’d always lost all sense of time when he was with you.

Not only sense of time, though. He could put the pressure of being You-Know-Whose son for as long as you were with him aside, and he could relax with you around. And Merlin, did he dread you’d ever finding someone possibly better than him as much as one could cower at the mere idea of facing their own worst enemy. And Mattheo’s worst enemy was time, it always had been. Why? Because before you, it moved so slowly as if he’d been jinxed into numbness, and with you, it moved so fast as a blink of an eye, and he implied it was your effect on him. So, of course he feared the day you’d call it quits.

You reciprocated the kiss, a little taken aback by the sudden action, but smiled nonetheless, knowing that you’d found your one and only in him, that you’d never stop loving him.

And in spite of his fears and doubts, deep down, he knew that too.

It was so sweet, knowing that you loved him.

And it was perfect.

tag list: @mattiesgf @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare @mamartinez @s00ty-feet

[mt-oe]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Thank you so much for understanding ;; I was honestly very scared because it felt like I was making excuses. Don't worry. I'm getting professional help currently and I'm trying my best. People like you deserve the best in life.

On another note, I love this idea so much ❤ I've always wanted to write something like this but often forget to or life just gets in the way. In a way, this kind of helped me push towards that agenda.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

note/s: not proofread, implied afab reader, she/her for mizu, fluff, menstruation

"Just a little bit more."

...you told yourself for the nth time this afternoon. What could have been a productive afternoon which could have been filled with adventures in the local markets ended up with you staying indoors while your wife looked for whatever she could buy with the little money you had.

It wasn't like you wanted to stay inside. You wanted to help her. You really do. However, the past few days, your back had been acting up badly. At first it started with a dull pain, a slight throbbing pain on your lower spine whenever you walked or stood up for too long. Then, the pain started turning into a constant ache. A type of pain that felt like your spine was creaking and was about to snap at any moment until you couldn't take it anymore.

Mizu never really understood your pain. Both of you had extremely irregular cycles, her's probably worse, but her goddamn pain tolerance was something to be envious of. And whenever her periods did hurt, she was never one to dwell on the pain. This woman was immovable.

You, however, were a different story.

Sometimes you'd lay on a bed of leaves, looking at the stars with your eyebrows knitted together, teeth gritted, and a fist punching your lower stomach lightly in a steady rhythm, wondering if you were some kind of disaster in your past life to deserve this pain.

Thankfully, your wife never really judged you for that.

At first, she was insistent that you kept pushing on your travel, that it was just a little bleeding. However, no matter how cold her exterior was, her heart couldn't take the sight of your pale lips and the sound of your stuttered labored breathing. It didn't take long for her to crumble and for you to burst into tears in her arms.

After some time, both of you sort of eased into it.

Well...mostly her.

Periods never really became easy for you.

This led you to your current situation now.

The two of you had just settled in a small, fancier inn last night. Usually, the two of you would find a cheaper place to save money, but the growing exhaustion on your face and the sluggishness of your movement began to concern Mizu; thus, both of you settled on the first inn you saw.

It was slightly more pricey than the ones you usually settled in, and that made you feel a bit guilty. Despite her insistence that it was okay, you promised you'd make it up to her by helping her look for cheaper food options in the market. However, this morning, you surprisingly woke up feeling like hell. Your nose slightly congested for some reason, your skin feeling a bit more sensitive, and worst of all, your back sending waves of pain with each movement. You didn't know what was going on. You were pretty sure you were doing a good job at keeping yourself healthy despite the conditions the two of you were in.

Each gust of wind against your skin felt like a dull blade attempting to run across the smooth expanse. The congestion of your nose was making the simple task of boiling water a chore. You couldn't go out like this and both of you knew it. Even if you did try to help, you'd end up risking getting sick anyway.

After several attempts on trying to convince your wife that you were okay, that you could go with her, she finally shut you down. Her tall figure towering over you for a moment before a soft audible exhale passed through her nose. Warmth covered your being as she slowly yet tenderly wrapped her arms around you, kissing the top of your head, leaving you with no words and the silent reassurance that it was fine.

A little while later, you soon grew bored of tidying up and undoing and redoing your hair, and decided you were going to wait for her to come back. With your hand alternating between massaging and lightly pounding your back, you got up and made your way past the silent hallway, footsteps echoing, and sat down on the genkan.

It was...an odd place to stay, yes, but it was better than the lonely confines of your room.

Sighing softly, you rested your head against the cypress beam, eyes staring at the door with a sense of unexplainable exhaustion. A slight churning sensation twisted in your gut as the minutes turned an hour, and the hour turned into hours.

You knew Mizu was strong, but what was taking her this long? Yeah sure, Mihonoseki wasn't exactly known for vegetables, but buying some shouldn't take you hours.

Was she okay? Did she run into trouble? She had always been a magnet for trouble. Did she get scammed? Did she run into some prettier woman who she wanted to wife up more than you? Nononono—

'Okay, let's stop overthinking,' you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath in. Besides, your back was an even bigger problem right now.

Straightening yourself up, you slowly exhaled, closing your eyes as you took another deep breath in an attempt to ease your ache. The pain wasn't actually dissipating, but you liked to think it did.

As the cycle of you taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly continued, your body slowly started relaxing despite the miserable ache your spine was feeling. Taking another deep breath, your hand stopped massaging your back and fell on to the smooth varnished wood beneath you. The sound of the busy street or the footsteps of the guests in the inn seemed to fade in the background, your eyelids relaxing. Before you could even process it, sleep enveloped you like a blanket of comfort.

Some time after, the door slid open quietly, allowing the breeze to enter the warm constraints of the establishment. Mizu's figure entered before pausing at the sight of you curled up near the entryway. Her cold eyes softened, feet automatically carrying her towards her love with soundless steps.

A soft exhale passed her nose as she crouched down, setting the produce and herbs she had just bought down. Gently, her fingers made their way to your cheeks, caressing them as if you were made of porcelain. Her thumbs made their way to your eyelids, feeling the warmth under them. Then, your brows, gently gliding over them and making their way to your temples which she gave a soft press. A small, almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Mizu continued to admire your features a bit longer before deciding to stop. Taking a quick look around, she placed her purchases on your lap, moving your arms to hold them loosely, and hooked her arms under your knees and around your shoulders. She tightened her arms around you as she stood up, carrying you bridal style, adjusting to make sure you and the things she bought were secure as she brought you back into your room.

The soft plush of the futon greeted your skin as she set you down to do her own chores quietly. It was a comfortable silence. The type that she was only able to feel around you.

Soon, the sun had set but you were still deep asleep. It was starting to concern her, but you weren't showing any sign of a fever. Unable to think of a reason for your body's distress, she did the best course of action she could think of which was to rest.

A little while later, a soft groan rang through the air as you woke up. It was dark and you could barely see anything. However, one thing was apparent to you. You were no longer sitting on the genkan and the sun was no longer up. Blinking, you tried to make things out through the darkness and recognized your wife's figure.

Your eyes widened a fraction before softening. With a soft touch, your fingers combed through her hair in a steady pace. Usually, the feeling of her strands across the pads of your fingers would comfort you. However, this time, you couldn't explain it but it made you feel...guilty.

Has she been waiting for you all this time? Oh gosh, she probably carried you all the way here. "Love..." you whispered breathily before sighing. It was a small thing but a lump in your throat was forming. You felt so grateful and yet so guilty. So touched yet you wanted to sob just from imagining her carrying you.

However, the emotional rollercoaster you were in was abruptly cut off. Maybe the tea you had this afternoon was starting to terrorize you because goddamn you needed to go relieve yourself. 'Great fucking timing,' you huffed to yourself mentally. Shifting a bit, your face soured even further.

Why the fuck did your clothes feel sticky? Greaaaat. Now you were just plain annoyed.

Ignoring the ache in your back, you pushed the covers off and got up, making your way towards the outhouse. With each step, the more your discomfort grew. You couldn't really see it through the darkness but you could feel a patch of wetness on your behind and it was NOT helping your mood at all.

Leaves crunching reverberated through the air as you approached the outhouse, glaring at the squat toilet. The stench was catalyzing the growing disgust boiling in your system. At this point, all you wanted to do was piss and go back and crawl into Mizu's arms.

However, the moment you lowered yourself, an odd feeling of something jelly-like leaving you alarmed you. Your eyes widened as you froze and slowly looked down.

A clot.

Immediately, your eyebrows furrowed, panic starting to set in you. Grabbing the back of your kimono, half a gasp and half a groan disgustedly escaped you upon seeing the red taint your digits.

This seriously couldn't be happening right now.

You already felt so guilty, making your wife spend so much money on an inn and making her go out alone. Now, you had to be an even bigger burden.

Your breathing grew shakier with each breath. The guilt was starting to weigh down on you. Poor Mizu. Always having to deal with you. How could do this to her? Thoughts continued to flood your mind as tears started to line your eyes. You were feeling so many shitty things right now and you felt so fucking bad. Shit. The futon was probably stained too. You didn't even bring a cloth with you right now. Your clothes would be so fucking stained and smell so fucking bad and—

Fuck. You can't take this anymore.

Sobs softly left your lips as you stood up and glared at the ground. You couldn't even bring yourself to go back. Everything hurts. Your tummy, your back, and not to mention how sticky the drying blood was. You also felt so bad and so ashamed for making Mizu deal with your errands the whole day. Soft trembles racked your shoulders as the tears continued to drip down from your eyes.

Suddenly, you saw a pair of feet stop just in front of the wooden enclosure of the outhouse, prompting you to stop. You couldn't see the person's face and who knows what they intend to do. "It's occupied," you muttered, sniffling softly.

"I know," the sound of your wife's gruff voice could be heard. Her feet turned towards the entrance, about to walk towards it before she stopped, deciding against it. "Are you alright?"

"No," you immediately shot back, regretting it immediately. Your guilt dug deeper at how harsh you sounded but...you can't help it. You felt so damn frustrated.

A squeak reverberated through the air as Mizu leaned her weight against the wooden panel, a silent sign that she was waiting and listening. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at her feet, wondering how could she be so patient with you. Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, "I'm...bleeding."

She didn't reply immediately, her eyes flickering between her two feet as she thought of how to respond. After a moment of silence, she finally replied, "I know. I saw it on the sheets."

"But that's not what I'm asking," she continued, pushing herself straight. "I'm asking if you're alright." Her tone was firm but soft. You could tell that she wasn't mad. It wasn't like a 'no' you barked out sufficed. You weren't okay, and she knew that, but she wanted to know how she could help.

The question that left her lips, the softness, everything invoked another sob from you, unable to handle how loving she was. "No," you repeated, voice quivering. "I don't know what to do. I bled onto my clothes and the futon too," you started to spill.

"As if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't bring a cloth and it stinks here and I feel so guilty for leaving you to look for supplies and...and now I'm being so unreasonably emotional," you began ranting.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at your sentiments. She remained silent once again before she audibly exhaled. "May I come in," she asked.

You nodded even when you knew she couldn't see you before sniffling out a small 'yes'. Grass crunched underneath her feet as she walked in. In her hands was a cloth. "What's that for?" you asked.

"Lift your kimono up. I'll help you," she said, already approaching you. Your sobs reduced into soft sniffling as you lifted your kimono up obediently. Immediately, she began tying a fundoshi on you, making sure it covered what was needed before she took off her coat and wrapped it around you, hiding the blood on your clothes. Each movement, each touch firm yet soft at the same time.

"Let's go inside," she breathed against your ear, hands on your shoulders and gently guiding you inside.

As soon as the two of you were back in the comfort of your room, she immediately helped you change into more comfortable clothing, tossing the bloodied ones in a pile along with the futon covers.

Now both of you sat on her futon, a hot cup of tea in your hands while you spilled your feelings out to her. Turns out the reason why Mizu took hours in the market was because she had already suspected your period before you even realized it and had decided to buy some medicinal herbs to ease your pain. Learning this, you began to wrack up in sobs again, making her eyebrows knit together ever so slightly.

Her rough, calloused hands swiped against your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them, wiping your tears off. Your eyes look up at her, head resting against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," you sniffled quietly. "I don't know why I'm feeling this much. I swear I'm not trying to—"

Suddenly, the feeling of her pulling you closer cut you off. Your body froze for a moment and slowly, you wrapped your arms around her. You could hear her soft, slow breathing against your ear, the rhythm calming your tears down slightly.

She continued to hold you close tenderly as the time passed by, nothing but comfortable silence between you. With a soft, content-sounding sigh, she pulled away, eyebrows relaxing at the sight of you looking at her with those glossy doe eyes before she pulled you in again. Despite not knowing what to say or what to do to comfort you, she still wanted you to feel reassured that she wasn't mad nor did she feel burdened.

The comfort of her being around yours helped ease the storm of emotions boiling in your heart. As you calmed down, you felt her strength push you down carefully, laying you down to rest and joining you. With the love she enveloped you in, your eyes started growing heavy until you finally fell asleep.

It didn't matter how bothersome your period was. Mizu was always glad to be with during this time. The same way you always are when she needed you, she'll be there with you when you need her. Always loving.

[1d1195]

Most II

Read Most here | ~8.6k words (whoops)

From me: So I was worried I wasn't going to have enough for this part. Especially from our MC's POV. I started with Harry first and then I wrote her POV and I think this got a little out of hand as I always manage to do--but hopefully you'll see what I was aiming for.

Warnings: angsty af, some fluff too; my hope is you'll cry when you least expect it

Summary: Leaving nearly killed her; but if Harry was happy, it would be worth it. Harry thought he would never get out of bed ever again after she left. But he did. He's really glad he did, too.

*Three years later*

“Thank you, Harry!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Peterson. Same time next week?” He winked. The woman was older, in her sixties, she smiled politely at Harry and waved from her doorway. It seemed Mrs. Peterson constantly had issues with her alarms and being that she was older and away from family, Harry was happy to help her.

It helped that he lived next door to her as well. A tiny little house, two bedrooms, one bathroom. But it had a nice yard and Harry thought that maybe in the future there would be a flower garden and maybe one day there would be two kids who would find a bird’s nest among the flowers. But more than likely if they had two kids they would need a bigger house, a new yard, with a different garden.

The first year was the worst.

It felt like she died. The grief was so overwhelming it was hard for him to get out of bed. His mum even said things like, “Harry, she wouldn’t want this,” and “honey bunny, you have to keep living,” and Harry was mean about it. He was grumpy, sour. He told his mum it wasn’t living if she wasn’t around. He was sure he sounded like a lovelorn teen who knew nothing about love and life, but he did. Because she was the love of his life; and she was gone.

Gemma was better at getting him out of bed. Mostly because she physically dragged him out, but he was up and out all the same. She took him to get lunch and made sure he attended his classes. She watched him mope and live this half existence. Gemma wanted to hate her. She really did. But she couldn’t. As connected as she and Harry were, it felt like Gemma had a connection with her as well—maybe it was only by proxy of her brother, but she felt it.

“I think she’ll be back,” Gemma had taken Harry to the park for fresh air. They watched people run through, dogs chase after squirrels, and kids swinging at the playground. Life kept moving even if Harry felt like he was at a standstill.

“Gem,” he sighed. His eyes were tired, devoid of tears any longer. “I don’t want...”

“What? To hope?” He didn’t answer her, kicked at the rock near the bench they were sitting on. “I’m not saying you have to get back out there or anything,” she rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. The thought was laughable. There was no one else for him, he was certain. “But some hope would be good,” she suggested.

“Why d’you have hope?” He grumbled not looking at his sister.

“Because I want to hate her guts,” Gemma said knowingly. “I want to claw her eyes out for making my baby brother cry and tear her hair out of her head.”

“Gem,” he grimaced. Even hearing her talk about injuring her made him nauseous.

“Yeah, exactly. The thought of it makes me sick too,” she turned to face Harry on the bench. “She broke you and your sweet heart, Harry,” she reminded him. He turned away from her, afraid he would cry. “Because she thought it was for the best and I believe she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I think she really believed this was for the best. Have you ever seen her do anything she didn’t believe in?” Gemma reminded him.

He hadn’t. Harry, for a brief period of time, really wanted to run a marathon and she helped him schedule and train as if he was going to win a marathon. She hated running but she was up at six in the morning, waiting with a tired, beautiful smile. “Ready?” She yawned. He smirked at the memory. Mostly because when he told her the marathon dream was over, she punched him in the arm for making her like running and getting out of bed so early.

“No,” he sighed, shook his head. Harry let the pause consume the two of them for a few moments. The sound of laughter from the swing set and chatter from the owners to their dogs was warm. Like Harry was there all the time and it was comforting. “I miss her,” he whispered. “I miss her for everything for a lot of reasons... but maybe mostly as m’best friend.”

Gemma smiled sadly, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and nodded. Harry was her little baby brother, but he was a head taller than her, and he had to squish down to rest his head on hers. “I miss her too,” she sighed. “But don’t worry...” Gemma agreed. “She’s gonna be back,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

*

So, the first year was without hope. Harry focused on EMS classes, the classes for his psychology degree, and applying to be a volunteer firefighter so that he could get some of what he wanted whether she was there or not.

The second year, he helped with fire safety and the local primary school. He told little boys and girls how to make safety plans and encouraged them to chat with their parents so they could be safe in the case of a fire.

“Have you ever fought a fire?” A little girl asked him.

He chuckled. “No, but m’friend and I made a campfire and it spread a little more on the yard than we’d like,” he explained with a smile. “Had t’put it out ourselves.”

“Weren’t you scared?” She whispered.

Harry thought about the two of them in his backyard, waiting to roast marshmallows and thinking they could do it without his mum around. They were pretty successful, but a gust of wind threw them for a loop. She was ready to call the fire department. Fortunately, Harry was prepared and had a bucket of water to stop the spread of the flames from licking all the grass away.

“Aw, my hero,” she cooed sweetly, and Harry smiled, feeling happy. He was only eleven or so at the time, but he loved the thought of being her hero. It was worth the grounding and worth the yard work to fix it after. All for that cute girl he already adored in his tween years so very much.

“No,” he shook his head, smiling as he answered the little girl. “No, I wasn’t scared. S’important t’remain calm,” he explained.

“But what if my stuffy gets stuck inside?” She looked at Harry, wide-eyed with horror. It was nearly identical to the same horror the sweet girl had when the backyard was close to burning.

“I bet your mum and dad would have a plan, love. M’sure they’ll be able t’tell you what y’need t’do t’get you and your stuffy out,” he winked at her.

She nodded knowingly. “My little brother too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded firmly. “Little brothers gotta get out too.”

It was like the little girl could predict the future because year three was the year of Harry finishing his degree (early—since he had nothing better to do than study and study some more). He was a staple at the fire station. Helping the town the way he always dreamed of helping.

And fighting real fires.

One of the major restaurants in town had a greasy fire that had him and his department racing to put out the flames before the building next door followed the same fate. Even though he didn’t do a whole lot other than hold the hose (it was a pretty relaxed fire, all things considered) he felt a swell of pride, pure happiness in his chest.

When he was at the local primary school again for a fire drill that same sweet little girl made her way to him, told him all about her plan and how Mummy and Daddy said they would save her stuffies if they could, but they weren’t nearly as important as her. He grinned. “I told you they’d have a plan,” he gave her a fist bump.

“This is my friend, he’s going to be a fireman too,” she pointed to the little boy beside her. He looked a little shy. But he smiled politely.

“S’cool, lad,” he gave him a fist bump as well. “Can’t wait t’have you on the team,” he winked. “Y’gonna train and take care of our little town here?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s going to marry me,” the little girl said. It was casual. Like breathing. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, it wasn’t hope. It was pure fact. She sounded certain she was going to marry her little friend. “And he has a plan for all my stuffies too.”

Now Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Or nostalgia. Perhaps it was a combination of both. How on earth could a twenty-two-year-old man be jealous of a nine-year-old?

But nine was the year she was a pirate for Halloween. At the time, Harry thought his best friend was so pretty and he wasn’t supposed to think girls were pretty, but she was. Even though Harry didn’t know why he thought she was pretty, suddenly, he wanted her to be in his life. So that he could soak in all her beauty and make her happy as long as he possibly could. He cleared his throat. “S’good, love,” he agreed kindly and as silly as it was, he walked away from the little ones because if he stayed a moment longer, he would break down crying jealous of the little love that he used to have that bloomed into something so much more and then disappeared.

*

That first year was truly the worst.

Mitch had Mondays, Niall on Wednesdays. Louis took mornings, since he and Harry jogged together around town. Sarah took weekends, making sure he went to the coffee shop that played quiet music while college students studied just near the university. Eleanor was constantly on call and that usually meant she talked him through the loneliness when he got home from his classes or work—he chatted about his day and told her what he was going to have for dinner.

Anne was compassionate. Always. “Honey, don’t you think—”

“Mum,” he sighed, he didn’t want to hear the end of the sentence. He already knew what it was going to be anyway.

“Couldn’t we look for her?” Anne asked. He shook his head.

“She...left,” it felt like acid in his mouth to say it. But maybe if he had followed after her that first week things would have been different. But he didn’t. So, she was gone and if she wanted to be gone, then what was Harry supposed to do but listen to her? At the heart of it all, he wanted her to be happy. Even if it made him miserable and sad.

But maybe Gemma was right—of course he hoped she was right.

“She’ll come back,” he mumbled. It was still hard for him to say. Even harder for him to believe.

But he did. It took two of the three years she had been gone for him to feel that way, but he believed it. Believed that she would come back because she was his soulmate.

Even though he didn’t believe in those.

“Harry,” Anne sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“Mum, m’jus...something happened,” he sighed. “I don’t know why but...something scared her away. M’not gonna make her run further by looking for her. Begging is only going t’make it worse,” he had given the spiel a thousand times over. “You can’t hate her, Mum.”

“Honey, I love that girl almost as much as you do,” she assured him with a grin. “I just don’t want you to stop living because of her.”

He knew she was right. All of them were right. So, he went to class. He went to work. He saved money to buy his house (and got some help from his kind mum too). He did so many overtime shifts, his coworkers thought he was being a suck up. His mum and Gemma worried about him. His friends worried about him. Harry tried out a plethora of ridiculous hobbies to keep him entertained enough and “lived” even though he didn’t want to.

Because living without her didn’t really feel like living.

But that part of Gemma that felt she would be back made him hope, in the deepest parts of his heart. Made him want to live even when he didn’t think he could because if she came back, he did think she might be mad he tried to stop living.

So, he lived.

*

Harry got home from his overnight shift at seven in the morning. He was tired. Didn’t sleep well the day before so it felt like he was going to fall asleep the moment he closed his front door—he wasn’t going to make it to the couch.

“Harry?!”

It was the exhaustion playing with his mind. He wanted to just go inside, not fiddle with Mrs. Peterson’s smoke alarms or make small talk. “Hey, Mrs. Peterson, good morning,” he answered, making his way across the yard to hers. “Everything alright?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Harry,” she started.

Harry felt guilty for not wanting to help the older woman. Regardless of how tired he felt. “No bother, Mrs. Peterson, really.”

“I think this house is cursed! Remember when the water heater exploded?!”

Harry smiled politely but wanted nothing more than to just go to bed. But Harry pressed anyway. He knew she was lonely. Harry knew loneliness like nobody else. “I do; what is it this time?”

“The sink is backed up—I think something’s clogged in it. I’m so sorry to bug you. I know you just got home—"

“It’s fine Mrs. Peterson. I’ll take a look,” he made his way through her home to the kitchen. Harry knew where everything was because he had done so much maintenance for her over the last year. Harry glanced at the sink for just a minute and then headed to her supply closet to get a bucket and the tools he had set in there for the very likes of this situation.

Once he had his materials, he laid back on the floor and crawled below the cabinet to get a look at the pipe curving out from the sink. All he wanted was to go home and fall asleep. But every once in a while, his thoughts kicked into overdrive—perhaps it was tiredness wreaking havoc on his brain.

Out of nowhere, this wasn’t Mrs. Peterson’s house.

It was the house he was supposed to be sharing with the love of his life. She would be hovering over him, making a joke about plumbing and pipes that would bring a blush to his face. Something he never expected the sweet girl to say but was enamored with her comedic timing. He would fix the issue and hear her say “my hero,” again. She would kiss him and probably convince him (although he needed very little convincing when it came to her and any desire she had) to have sex with her on the kitchen counter.

It took a minute for Harry to notice the water stopped leaking into the bucket. Carefully, he stuck a screwdriver into the pipes to make sure everything was clear and ready to be put back. “Alright, then,” he cleared his throat and slid back from the cabinet and stood to test the sink.

“You know Harry,” Mrs. Peterson began. “A handsome, kind, intelligent young man like you,” Harry was back below the sink putting the pipe back together. “I have a granddaughter your age. She’s very smart. She wants to be an engineer and she’s going to work—”

Harry smiled kindly. “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” it wasn’t the first time she had brought it up. “But, y’know m’happily taken.”

*

The first year was the worst.

Fortunately, her mom didn’t put up too much of a fight when she went home and said she wanted to move away. The car accident she was in really did a number on her and her mind. In turn, it messed with her daughter as well.

Mom said she planned on moving when she went off to college anyway. In a moment of clarity, a good day she was having, she explained she wanted to be closer to her sister so that she could let her live her young life the way she was supposed to and not have to worry about her addled mind. At the time, she was devastated. The thought of not having a house near Harry seemed horrifying. Grounds for a tantrum she never threw when she was young. She was going to drag her feet and keep hold onto Harry like she was being told she had to leave a theme park.

At the time, Harry wiped her tears away, kissed her gently on the forehead and assured her she could live with him until they got a house of their own.

She never thought she would willingly ask her mom to leave their lovely town.

Fortunately, the day she asked to leave her eyes were bloodshot, but her moms were clear. “Are you sure, sweetie?” She combed her hair back and kissed her forehead the same way Harry had in the exact opposite reaction. “What happened?”

She inhaled sharply, shook her head, and turned away. “No,” she sniveled. “No.”

So, for a few moments, her mom was her mom. The one that was kind and lovely. The one who’s mind was fully intact and didn’t get angry for no reason. “Oh sweetie,” she frowned and held her while she cried.

When they arrived at her new place, a small little house her mom was renting just a few miles away from her aunt, they reminisced about the photos and trinkets she grew up with. They laughed and she felt like she was at home even though it was the furthest from home she ever could have imagined.

“You know, when I’m mad, it’s not about you, my love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” her mom told her. “I’m sorry I’m not the mom you used to have.”

Her dad had ducked his responsibilities shortly before her mom’s water broke so it had always been the two of them. For a very long time, it was perfect. Her childhood was perfect. The best mom who never made her feel like she couldn’t do something.

Then, post-accident, it felt like just one and a half of them.

Sometimes, she didn’t know who the half was.

But one thing she could count on was that Harry would make her whole.

“I’m worried that I won’t live my life because of her,” she whispered to Harry. They were laying under the stars in his backyard. It was before they were together; but if you asked her, there was never a time they weren’t together. Being boyfriend and girlfriend in school was a label for everyone else, not for them. “It makes me feel selfish,” her voice creaked.

“You are the least selfish person I know, kitten,” Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Squeezed it. “Your mum is still your mum,” he promised. “She doesn’t want you t’take care of her. S’not your job. You have t’live your life for her.”

Harry was a year older than her, but it often felt like he was ages older. He was wise beyond reason, and she was so grateful he was in her life. Not just because he was easy to look at and she adored him so unbelievably much, but because he was right. He was there. And he always made her feel better.

She was turned on her side, so she could properly stare at him. The car accident was years ago at that point, and it still felt fresh. Part of her lost a chunk of her mom that day and sometimes the aftermath was more painful than the day her aunt came to get her at school and bring her to the hospital. She and Harry usually walked home from school and the poor thing nearly had a panic attack not knowing where she was.

How no one, including themselves, figured out they were meant for one another long before they were together, seemed crazy to look back on.

When she realized her mom was different, Harry was there to balance the craziness. He helped her cope and assured her that everything would work itself out. He helped her through the screaming matches that ensued and all the frustration she felt from not being the same mom she once had. Things would be okay—he would make sure of it.

It was ridiculous that two teenagers could think in absolutes like that. But she believed him so completely; neither of them had money—well, no more than their retail jobs offered. Harry couldn’t support her anymore than she could support him. But given the chance she was certain he would. And she wanted nothing more than to be there for Harry the way he was for her.

But without Harry, she felt numb. Trivial stuff didn’t matter anymore: a broken dish, mom yelling at her, a car repair, or a cut on her finger from slicing veggies for dinner. Waitressing mishaps and stressing for finals felt completely different without Harry by her side.

Her mom forgot a lot of stuff. Where she put bills, where she left her glasses, or how to get to the grocery store. But she never forgot Harry.

“How’s Harry?” She asked.

“Good,” it was easier on her heart and her mom to just say he was fine. It wasn’t worth reliving the experience over and over. It killed her that she didn’t forget. Hearing his name made her stomach flutter. But they were closer to her aunt now. So she was able to help with the things her mom was forgetting more frequently and the chronic pain and anger that she suffered from due to the accident. It was why she was able to live in apartment with a friend from school.

How she was able to make a friend at all was a miracle.

Addie was a history major and but took so many dance classes she could have double-majored in it. She was graceful and beautiful. She was loud and fun—always knew people who threw the best parties and always managed to find a guy to help move their stuff in and out of their dorm and apartments.

Part of her wondered why Addie even liked being friends with her. She wasn’t anything like Addie: bright, vivacious, life-loving. All she did was go to class, go to work, and mourn the loss of the love of her life even though it was her own fault.

After some coaxing and friendship building (and a thunderstorm mid semester that took out the power in the middle of the night and simultaneously woke the pair of them) she told Addie all about her past life. “Sweetie,” Addie shook her head and spoke into the dark room as if she could see her. It felt like she was yanking directly on her heart. “You could have him again,” she promised. “There’s no way he’s not waiting for you.”

“But Addie... he deserves more.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t want more.”

“Addie,” she shook her head. “I’m not...”

“Not what? Everything you just said made it sound like you’re his soulmate.”

She felt like her vocal cords had been pinched together. She was glad the darkness hid the tears. “Harry didn’t believe in those,” she whispered.

“Well, respectfully, sweetie…he’s as dumb as you are, then.”

She laughed. It started quietly and built and built. Her giggle into unfiltered pure joy. It had been months since she laughed like that. It was warm and made Addie laugh alongside her. She didn’t know how much she missed laughing. It didn’t make it better because God, did she miss Harry and her old life, her old friends, and everything about that wonderful, beautiful town. But it made her think that maybe, if she could laugh, Harry would too. That’s what she wanted, right? At the end of the day, it was why she left. Give Harry the chance to have more when she felt like less.

*

Addie took a writing class with her in their second semester. An intro class—but it was one of those ones that was ridiculously hard for no reason at all. Luckily, she enjoyed writing, but if someone took this class as a hopeful, easy elective, they were in for a rude awakening.

Their professor had just finished reading one of the assignments from the previous week. It was riveting, a short story about a girl who felt this undeniable pull to jump off a bridge in the town she lived in. It wasn’t a tragic kind of jump. It was like a reset, something hard to explain. That there were a lot of things she felt it would help—if she just jumped once, it—no everything—would be okay. She described the bridge, the rocks, the water with so much rich vocabulary, it was like everyone in the class was there at the bridge. The protagonist hated heights though, and jumping was dangerous even if it wasn’t tragic. The back and forth of pros and cons as to why she should jump, why she shouldn’t. The humor, the warmth, the nostalgia hit the entire class like a tsunami.

The final paragraph read about the girl going to the bridge. She had just decided, finally she was going to jump. She set her belongings down and climbed the railing. She was alone and brave. No one was going to stop her, and she felt so good. She wasn’t going to stop herself. She breathed in the salty air, didn’t look down, and listened to the sound of waves crashing over the rocky shore. It was peaceful. No cars around, no people. Just her and the water. It was exciting, Addie felt for the character wanting the reset more than she wanted to breathe. It was going to work; she was going to feel better. Addie was proud of her for wanting to do it and getting what she wanted.

A reset. To fix everything. Their professor read.

Then, she climbed off the railing, picked up her stuff, and went home.

How was anyone supposed to remain in this writing class if that was what they were competing with?

“I hope she publishes that,” Addie whispered.

Their professor wrote the assignment on the board. Another short reading and then questions to go over it. The room was silent while people read, and then quiet chatter started as they worked in pairs on the assignment. At the same time, their professor shuffled the previous writing assignments and returned them to their authors.

The paper titled Jump slid onto the desk beside Addie. She stared at her friend like she was possessed. “Are you kidding?”

She quietly tucked the paper below her new assignment sheet and shrugged, cheeks blushing at the notion. Addie was in awe and unnerved that she didn’t seem to care. Over the next several classes, she kept an eye on her friend so she wouldn’t miss any more brilliance. She wrote answers to questions her professor asked in her notebook. “Why don’t you answer?” Addie whispered.

“Shh,” she hushed.

“Are you a genius? Like a prodigy or something?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, worried her professor would say something about their rude and ridiculous whispering to them.

After class, they headed back to their dorm for a nap. It was like they were toddlers, but they didn’t care. “So, Prodigy—”

“Addie,” she laughed. “Stop.”

“What’s your plan? A book?”

There was a small pause. Reflective almost. Then she nodded. “Yes.”

They were quiet. Addie waited for her to elaborate but it never came. “Sweetie, you’re brilliant.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, still not elaborating. That was the first time she felt like her old self in her writing. It was the first piece of something that was sentimental and her that she had written since she left. It had been 231 days since she saw Harry. Last week when they had been assigned the homework to write something like Jump, she finally felt like it was worth writing.

“Hey,” Addie stopped her, a hand on her arm as they approached their dorm. “Can we just...take a second? You wrote something so brilliant and beautiful. Maybe you and Harry were used to that kind of brilliance, but I’m only just learning about it,” Addie said Harry’s name so casually. Like she had known him just as long as she had. Harry would love Addie, she was sure. “You should enter that in a contest,” she told her. She snorted and shook her head. “I’m serious! It should be published. You hooked me in, and it was what, five thousand words?”

She nodded; shrugged nonchalantly. “More like four thousand, actually.”

Well, it felt like ten thousand to Addie and she still loved it. “Why did you write it?” Addie asked. Biting the inside of her lip she shrugged again. But she knew. They both knew. “Sweetie, you can go back to him. You can jump,” she said reassuringly. Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. “Harry would under—”

“I know,” she croaked. “I know,” she sniffled. The chill in the air wasn’t helping. Harry’s birthday was only a few days ago and it was the first one in years where she didn’t send him a message at midnight. She had been the first one to wish him a happy birthday for the last ten years—since she was old enough to text him. But Addie was right. Harry would understand. It was ridiculous that he would. He would forgive her instantly. But it was barely half a year. It was too soon...it wasn’t enough time to let him... breathe without her.

Even if it felt like she was suffocating without him.

“Aw, babe,” Addie sighed and wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder. It took her a second to notice she was crying, sniveling more than was necessary as she remembered his birthday wishes. “I’m sorry,” she said and ushered her the rest of the way into their dorm. “We can talk about it another time.”

She sniveled and wiped her eyes. “S’okay. Thank you for being so nice, Addie,” she said truthfully. A different friend might have told her to quit crying and it was her own choice. But Addie was different. Because as brilliant as she was, Addie had a knack for this kind of emotion, this kind of understanding that someone as graceful as her could only understand.

“Of course,” she held the door open for the lobby. “That’s what best friends are for.”

*

She worked a lot from the moment she set foot on campus. She waitressed at a restaurant that was flooded with locals and plenty of college students. For years the only one that flirted with her was Harry. She was surprised when guys asked her out while she was working. It was a little uncomfortable at first. “I’m actually—”

“Of course she’s taken,” one of the guys at her table said to his friend.

And honestly, she hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, she still felt taken. Very much so. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to move on from Harry. “You are?” he asked with a frown.

“Happily,” she sighed softly. Because it was true—partly. She was smitten; completely taken by and with Harry. Whether he was physically around her or not. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Couldn’t be.

It didn’t stop the flirtations, but it made it easier to take them on because she could say her heart was taken. Happily, taken.

So, the first year was the worst. Figuring out how to live without her best friend and so she focused on school. She focused on work. But Harry invaded her every thought. In fact, she started writing down things that happened to her. Like a list because maybe, in the depths of her subconscious, she wanted to go back. That’s what Jump was about. She had to go back. Even if it was to see that he had moved on and if he did, that was good. He deserved it.

Harry was in her blood. He was written in her notebooks as if she had it tattooed on her skin.

*

“Do you want to get an apartment?” Addie asked. “You’re staying the summer, yeah? What was your plan for that?”

She wasn’t sure, honestly. It was April and the semester was coming to close in just a few weeks. She thought she would just sleep in her car or something and shower at the gym. Visit her mom for a bit of time about an hour away. Or maybe even commute from there. But she hadn’t thought about it, because it honestly didn’t matter. She would continue working and moving. Trying her hand at silly hobbies to entertain her mind and keep her from spiraling and being sad all the time.

“Yeah...um...no...no plan. An apartment?” the sale of her mom’s house gave her a pretty penny. It was kind of her mom to give her anything. Well...you know. Her mom shrugged. An unspoken sentence about inheritance and the like.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have air conditioner that worked when we wanted it to?” Addie sighed dreamily. “Or heat? Like why are these dorms even allowed to run without heat in the middle of a snowstorm?”

The chilly night they spent snuggled in bed beneath every blanket they owned and every sweatshirt they could possibly put on was now a fond memory that made them smile. Although it was anything but fond at the time. “And if the smoke detector goes off, we don’t have to run out necessarily,” Addie continued. “You can feel not guilty about writing into the night in your own room.”

“Are you trying to sell apartment living or are you flirting with me?”

“Whatever gets you to move in. My parents know someone so the rent will be cheap—just have to pay the utilities and a little monthly fee. The only thing is we’d have to move twice. They have this place for the summer but we’d have to go to a different one of their places at the end of August.”

With the tips she was making, plus the tutoring she did at the writing center, it seemed completely doable. But a huge part of her hesitated because she always dreamed her first apartment would be with Harry. He would help her move furniture and let her decorate it however she wanted even though she asked every time if he liked it. What if I want pink walls with yellow polka dots? She asked him. Then I’ll get m’paintbrush. What if I only want blow-up furniture? She wondered. Then I’ll buy an air pump.

“We’ll have to go furniture shopping,” she said instead.

Addie squealed.

*

She was sitting in the auditorium watching Addie’s dance recital. A guy sat beside her. “Hey,” he said sweetly. “I’m Carter,” he stuck his hand out. She offered her name quietly.

Harry would love Carter. Clearly a bright personality—outgoing and sweet. “I saw you sitting alone and figured I’m alone too. Are you waiting for someone?” He asked. She shook her head. “I think we have a class together,” she didn’t immediately recognize him. Harry would love him. Would love how sweet he was to get ready to just chat and make her feel comfortable without being creepy. Even though she did not want to talk to him. Not because he made her feel weird but because she was grumpy, sullen and sad. “Do you know someone in the show?”

She cleared her throat. “My best friend; my roommate. Addie,” she pointed in the brochure showing a picture of her that she had to submit a week ago and they spent hours going over photos of her.

She watched him look at her picture. For a moment it was like looking in a mirror. She knew what Carter saw because she experienced it every time that she looked at Harry. Unwittingly, she had just shown Carter the first image of his soulmate.

“Oh... oh wow... she’s... she’s like... really pretty,” he swallowed his eyes widening, drinking in her portrait like she was the only thing that mattered. “Sorry,” he shook his head and turned away briefly. When he turned back to continue the conversation, he had a bright smile on his face. But she was already mentally gushing about the way he had fallen for her friend just from a mere headshot in a program. “My sister did dance for years and I’m really far away from home so I thought I would come check it out. I used to complain about all the recitals, but now I miss them. Isn’t that weird, how you take it for granted?”

She didn’t feel like talking. Especially about things that were taken for granted. She had spent most of the day packing up her dorm room and scouring Facebook Marketplace for cheap furniture. She and Addie were going to as many thrift stores and yard sales this weekend as it took to furnish their two-bedroom place. She was tired and overwhelmed.

Maybe I should suggest blow-up furniture.

But Carter clearly wanted to chat, and they still had a few minutes until the show started. Obviously, he liked her friend already, so she needed him to like her because she couldn’t stand to lose another person in her life. Even of her own doing. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s like you... you forget all the little things,” she murmured. “Like I remember the big things, like the hugs and the vacation memories, all the popcorn we shared at the movies...” She smiled fondly. “You don’t remember like the way they left the kitchen a mess or shoes by the door covered with snow.”

“Yeah... yeah, exactly,” he smiled sadly. “Do you have a sister?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I... I had some really close friends though. We... I,” she swallowed. Admitting it was all her fault, out loud, was an entirely different thing. “I left them behind... because...” she shrugged. “Y’know.”

Carter watched her curiously for a moment. It was clear he didn't know. “The writing class—we’re in that writing class together,” he recognized.

Then she knew, he sat by the window. His partner incorrectly answered a lot of questions. “Oh, that’s right,” she nodded.

“Do you have any theories on who wrote that Jump thing? My partner in class and I have been trying to figure it out for months. It’s been published you know.”

She did know. She had been paid fifteen hundred dollars for its publication after Addie insisted that she submit it to a magazine two months ago. But she didn’t pay much mind to it. It hurt a lot. She thought about lying though. Maybe even saying it was Addie. She had two siblings at home and Carter was very cute. She would probably fall in love with him without even trying. She couldn’t wait to introduce them after the show. “Yeah, um... I actually... I wrote it.”

His eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Wow... wow,” he was staring at her like she did jump off the bridge she wrote about. “You know...that makes sense. I’ve never heard you talk, but... now, I’m not surprised... You speak the way you write.”

“How’s that?” She wondered curiously.

“It’s just... gentle, I guess,” he shrugged. “Like I feel like I want to tell you everything; I wanted to tell you everything after our professor read your story and I didn't know you,” he chuckled. “I met you what, three minutes ago? That's not normal.”

She smiled fondly. “I get that a lot.”

Harry told her all the time she was too nice—but not in a bad way. It was more so that she had an open, adorable face and just had the sweetest demeanor. You could talk a man into bed if y’wanted, kitten. He winked. Y’wouldn’t even have t’say anything; he would do all the talking.

Gently, he put his hand on her arm. “I hope you jump,” he said quietly, with a little squeeze as the curtain fell closed, and the lights dimmed. Her heart fluttered. He was meant for Addie.

“Can I introduce you to Addie after the show?” She whispered right as the emcee stood center stage with the microphone ready to get the show started.

“Good evening,” she said. "Our dancers--"

“Yeah?” He smiled so brightly she could see it in the dim light, whispering back to her. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Someone deserved a happily ever after anyway.

*

They were so destined for a happily ever after.

Carter wouldn’t leave her side. Brought her flowers every week and made sure she always had a jacket that he would carry in case it was cold. When she was studying, he would literally feed her dinner to make sure she had food in her stomach.

Their love was so pure she was jealous. She could only imagine how Harry would have taken care of her on nights she had to stay up all night. He probably would have turned the pages of her books or read to her out loud when her eyes were tired. Hell, he would have written essays for her only for her to rewrite them and correct them just for fun.

Carter helped them move their stuff from their dorm to the apartment, and then to the second apartment. Then when Addie’s parents’ friends asked if they would be willing to move to a different apartment so they could have an elderly couple move into the lower floor place he helped move them again.

“Hey gorgeous. How's my favorite matchmaker,” Carter winked at her as he walked into the apartment. He was a staple. So very much in love with Addie he walked in whenever he wanted and truly, she didn’t care. “Addie’s on her way home, I was going to make her mac and cheese, do you want some?”

God, Harry would love him.

“No thanks, I’ve got a shift in a bit. Just finishing my rough draft.”

“Awesome, well, let me know if I’m making too much noise.”

God, she loved him.

“Do you want... to hear it?” She asked. Harry used to read and listen to her poems and her prose. Her writing was like doodles on the edge of her notebooks but it felt like she was reading Harry a bedtime story. He would beg to hear something, anything. Sometimes she would just reread old stuff when she hadn’t written anything new, but he listened to it in awe like it was the first time he heard it anyway.

“Do you want to share?” He asked. Surprise coated his tone. He pulled the dishes out he was going to use and looked at her over the half wall between the kitchen and living room. “I’m game if you are. I just figured it was private.”

She ignored him and began to read. Recently she had been inspired to write about love that was hidden but love all the same. Something that Carter said back in the auditorium really resonated, made her want to write the way she used to. The way she wrote Jump. She talked about dance recitals that she hated and the way the people left muddy shoes on the floor. She wrote about how sometimes when she least expected it, she thought of the love that resided in the bathroom, a sticky note on the mirror telling her to have a good day. Putting a glass of water on the bedside table because she had a late night. Giggling at a message that was sent two days ago but made her smile as if it was sent a minute ago. How love was green eyes and dimples that always knew what to say even when she was down. She talked about love that was quiet and perfect because love didn’t need to be loud.

It took a moment to notice that it was silent in their apartment. She looked up and realized she couldn’t see Carter because her eyes were filled with tears. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re uh...” he shook his head. “You’re going to write the world’s greatest love story,” he smiled.

She snorted, laughed, crying still. "Yeah...yeah, no..." she wiped below her eyes unable to say anything else.

Carter walked over to the couch, set her precious notebook on the coffee table that had a heart on the inside cover with someone's name she shouldn't have written any longer. Then she sat beside his favorite matchmaker. He rubbed her back and told her it would all be okay.

She thought about how she hadn’t seen the love of her life in 382 days but she felt it as if she had fallen in love for the first time yesteday.

The first year was the hardest. But at least she could write again.

It made the second and third years pass in the blink of an eye. Aching for a love that was in her notebooks and in her head.

*

Harry’s coworker was waiting for him outside the coffee shop. His shift was over, but he had plans to finish his latest creation that morning. A caffeine jolt would be just what he needed before he headed home.

“Hey Lauren,” he smiled sweetly.

“Hi Harry,” she answered with a bright smile. Her voice was cheerful, and it reminded Harry of the girl he wanted to hear from more than anything.

“Any word?”

There were plenty of coffee shops in town. But Lauren was extremely helpful in his need for information—or at least she tried. He just wanted to know she was okay. Lauren had worked there for as long as they were old enough to have jobs. While she was always just on the other side of Harry’s circle of friends, he thought that she could get away with seeing Lauren and Harry might not ever know. He chose this one coffee shop, slightly out of his way, because he thought maybe if she was passing through, it might be the one place she chose—just to see an old friend.

Lauren was extremely helpful at first. Harry had stopped by the shop shortly after Gemma had talked to him in the park. It seemed like fate that he would run into her. Tried reaching out to her, trying to help Harry figure out why. In the end, it amounted to nothing. Not a word came back.

“No word,” her voice was quieter. Like she felt bad that she hadn’t heard anything.

So, he stopped asking. But the habit of visiting Lauren, it made him feel closer to her. In some small way.

He had two trays of drinks that he brought to Louis and Eleanor’s place. They were situated around the coffee table, waiting for a football game to start on TV. It was quiet while they listened to the pregame show and Harry found Sarah staring at him. “What?” He asked.

“You can’t fall in love with Lauren,” Sarah said.

Everyone groaned and agreed with the sentiment.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered as he took a sip of his drink.

“I would castrate you myself,” Eleanor assured him.

“M’not—”

“Harry wouldn’t do that,” Niall said defensively.

“Yeah, that was one of her best friends,” Mitch chimed in as well.

“I don’t—”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah said defensively. “I don’t want you to fall for Lauren just because she’s like her.”

Harry looked at his lap and shook his head. “M’not falling in love again,” he assured them. “As far as m’concerned... m’heart is taken.”

*

It was a stop light. The music beside him was loud. He scrolled through his phone aimlessly. Something he never did before she left. Why would he need to scroll when she was there? They created their own fun and entertainment. Now, it was the only thing that kept his tired mind occupied. Everything was to pass the time. He laughed when he was supposed to, smiled when he was supposed to. When he needed to move or help someone, he did.

But Harry was undecidedly different. He didn’t laugh the same way. He didn’t love the same anymore. How could he?

The music playing was a hit from ages ago—a song his mum loved and played a lot while he was growing up. If it wasn’t one of his favorites of his mum’s, he might not have looked up from his phone screen. But he did. Thank God, he did.

He dropped his phone. It clanked between his boots against the floor of the truck. His jaw fell slack. “Kitten?” He called instinctively. Her music was too loud, though. Plus, she was singing along. Tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the instruments behind the lyrics. Harry’s heart started to race. Like he was in a five-alarm fire. He opened the door without thinking and stepped into the stoplight traffic.

“Harry!” The light was still red, but it wouldn’t be for long. He knocked on her window causing her to jump and double-take as she looked toward him. It felt like Harry had sprinted a marathon in his gear. He was sweating, his breathing erratic.

How long had she been home? Was she home?

God, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

It was like the Earth flipped back to the correct magnetic field. All the pieces of his splintered heart slammed back together. He was overwhelmed with love for her. The 1,127 days that he had counted without her hadn’t passed since he last saw her—it was just yesterday that he saw her, right? She looked the same, beautiful as ever. She smiled; it was small. Almost like she didn’t mean to smile but it was a reflex. Harry smiled back—a reflex of his own at the sight of her. She never failed to make him smile. Even in his memories, the good, the bad, the awful day she left, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. His knuckles were still pressed to the window, refusing to move away from the piece of her that was finally physical and real in front of him. It felt like no time had passed. As if it was the very same day that she broke his heart, and they were just lucky to happen to bump into one another while running errands later that day.

“STYLES!” Shouted from behind him.

He blinked, the sound of horns honking returned. Her small smile disappeared, and she waved ever so slightly and started through the intersection. The line of cars beeping behind her. The line of cars behind the truck agitated and beeping as well behind his waiting partner.

Harry hopped back into the truck and watched her turn right at the next streetlight. As they passed the street, his eyes stayed glued to her turn, long after they passed the street. His coworker cleared his throat. “Was that...?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. The breath felt new; like he hadn’t really ever taken a deep breath in a really long time. As if he had been holding it for the last three years and he forgot what oxygen really felt like as it entered his lungs. “Yeah,” he repeated to himself.

--

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[2rats1gogh]

Same anon here with more- people need to stop conflating Aegon with Joffrey Baratheon.

Aegon has done some despicable things that I won’t make excuses for but he’s not the rabid dog that Joffrey was. Cersei, Tyrion and Tywin struggled to rein him in at 13 years old and once that crown was on his head a monster was let loose. Alicent can actually reason and get through to Aegon at pivotal times. Cersei could not do that with Joffrey.

Aegon above all craves Alicent’s approval and affection, he turns into a sniveling mess at Alicent’s scolding at his big age. Alicent is not afraid to tell Aegon exactly what she’s thinking. She doesn’t placate, pacify or coddle like everyone had to do with Joffrey because he was out of control, cruel AND stupid at the same time. Helaena is the most important person in the world to Alicent and Aegon is not going to harm the most precious thing in the world to Alicent. Helaena doesn’t have to fear Aegon bashing her head in with a rock or choking her after she has just had a stillbirth….

He called her an idiot at 14, yes it wasn’t nice but it was completely normal. At 14 I called my sister a cunt right across the dinner table, but I've also fought for that same sister. They are siblings and that interaction that made them seem more human as opposed to their 2 dimensional team black counterparts who always just smile and have kind words for each other- except when Jacaerys was beating the shit out of Luke on the beach, but no one is saying how miserable Luke was despite Luke actually seeming unhappy with parts of his life. He was even vocal about these things. Whereas Heleana who is a blunt speaker, has not said anything like that.

Helaena doesn’t look afraid of Aegon, she doesn’t look afraid of anyone in her immediate family (including Criston) as much as team black would like her to be. At the most Aegon ignores her, like she said. Honestly ignoring her is preferable to what Viserys was doing to Alicent. She had 3 children before she even reached 20. Aemond and Helaena are almost Irish twins. In the show Helaena and Aegon just have the twins who are maybe 4-5 years old, so Aegon is not forcing himself on Helaena.

We don’t know much about Helaena in the show because they decide to delete certain scenes and include other stupid filler scenes when they contain fan favorites…but Helaena in the book was happy. Her input towards the war was valued. She loved her children and everyone could agree she was a wonderful mother.

Her life isn’t perfect, there is no woman in that time period whose life is. Her husband is so far from perfect but that doesn’t mean Helaena lived a life of misery.

The book even says basically that Helaena died with Jaehaerys that night and Alicent didn’t kill Jaehaerys. That was Daemon Targaryen.

And when pointing the finger at Alicent, remember that she didn’t make Helaena on her own. She had a useless father who ignored her and her siblings her entire life. Viserys withheld his love from them out of some twisted loyalty to his first wife that he killed and his oldest child by this wife. These things would have a deep emotional impact on a person, it certainly has on her brothers. Stop letting Viserys off the hook.

(the way you called Joffrey a rabid dog omg I’m cryingggg😭😭😭😭 shxjskkzkvzlclwgzjpf)

but yeah, you are so so so right.

I hate it when people, mostly TB, compare Aegon to Joffrey. Like the ONLY two things they have in common is an ambitious (?) widow mother queen and also the fact that both aren’t very nice people. But that’s about it. Aegon at his worst doesn’t even come close to how horrendous Joffrey was on a regular day. Aegon never killed people for fun, he didn’t publicly humiliate Helaena like Joffey did with Sansa. And as I say, I am ignoring the fact that he’s a rapist because it was literally added out of nowhere, makes no sense, and has no relevance to the plot whatsoever. It was added purely to make Aegon and TG look bad. Canonically he is literally just a lazy alcoholic.

And I absolutely agree with what you said about Helaena. TB often say that “aLiCeNt MaDe HeR LiFe HeLl” but she literally didn’t? She would NEVER have her marry Aegon if Aegon was like Joffrey Baratheon. You can call Aegon every insult in the book, he was neglectful, he ignored her, he wasn’t really present in the lives of their kids, but he was NOT an abusive husband or father. And as you said, unlike Viserys, he never forced himself on Helaena. He wasn’t obsessed with the idea of having as many children as possible with her. Literally not at any point his nonexistent “abusive” behavior is shown, not even in the show. During the dinner scene Helaena literally jokes about her relationship with him, she seems comfortable and chill.

Sure, as you said, her life was far from perfect. In the books she does give birth at 14, in the show, since everyone is slightly older, she most likely was 16? Not that uncommon actually. She still had her mother, and her brothers, she has sir Criston. Aegon’s behavior was controlled by Alicent, so he would NEVER hurt her. If you remember how Alicent reacted to Aegon forcing himself upon Dyana (dumb scene overall but still) you can only imagine how she would react if he treated Helaena the same way.

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[writerscall]

Enemies to lovers with spider hazel

author's note/s: 3.6k words. spider!hazel and fellow superhero/vigilante!reader, more of a one-sided annoyances to lovers, really. think kind of supergirl-esque for reader's powers (at least in the flying and strength aspect) and to help visualize reader's mask, click here for reference.

“So that’s, what, five bad guys down for me this week now and three for you? Maybe I’ll sit back and relax tomorrow so you can catch up.”

You can’t see the face behind that mask but you’re sure there’s a shit-eating grin on it. You roll your eyes at the quip. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not a competition.”

Not that that ever changed how annoyed you got whenever the tally was higher in her favor, though. But the webslinger’s count wasn’t what really got you riled up; wasn’t even how smug she could get about it. It was the way she executed the crime fighting skills that you assumed she was learning and making up as she went. Spiderwoman was messy and, ironically, uncoordinated half the time, but the worst part was that she drew too much attention.

You knew attracting the attention of the police and the papers was inevitable, but at least you had the good sense to not make a whole show of being a vigilante. Spiderwoman, on the other hand, just loved to stay and chat.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m just messing around.” There’s a drop in her tone, clearly making an attempt to ease the tension. “You’re a lot faster than I am with rounding up criminals, so you get extra points for that.”

At that, you allow yourself to smile the tiniest bit. She can’t see it behind your own mask but if she was as observant as she claimed to be, she might see however little of it reached your eyes.

She clears her throat, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of her neck as she says, “So uh, I know it’s getting late and all, but I’ve got my backpack stashed somewhere not far from here and my lunch sandwich is still intact. It’s a pretty big one so you know, if you wanted a post-crime fighting snack…” 

It’s a harmless, friendly gesture so you hold back a scoff and snide comment. You get it — the business you were in was best done alone but it could get lonely after doing it for some time. Besides, masked heroes like the two of you wore masks for a reason: nobody could know who they were, and even fellow vigilantes weren’t an exception to the rule. But you supposed it would be nice to have a friend with the shared experiences.

Just… maybe not her. Or just maybe not yet. This wasn’t like making friends in school, after all.

“Not hungry,” you tell her shortly before lifting yourself off the ground, signaling that your conversation was over and you were leaving.

You hear her say something as you take off, but you can’t be bothered to look back.

Despite it being the last day of the week, you found Fridays particularly hard to get through. Mostly because you were itching for the weekend to come but because the bad guys in the city always seemed to act up during that day. The feeling in your stomach about what your evening patrol might turn out like was a mixture of both fear and excitement, but you tried your best to push it down for the time being. It was only the second period.

“You and Miss Callahan, partners,” your teacher says with a tap to your table as she strides by, listing off other pairs. You look over to Hazel who apparently is already looking at you, her eyes wide with… shock? A hint of nervousness in them too.

Weird. You were sort-of friends through the cheerleaders she was surprisingly close with, Isabel and Brittany, but you’ve never really spoken much to each other. Maybe she was worried you guys wouldn’t click without the other girls around.

You cast her a smile as she gets nearer, sliding the worksheet to the midpoint of the table. “The total number of questions is an even number, 12, so we can each get a half. But we can help each other too, of course.”

Hazel mutters something that sounds like an ‘okay,’ but she mumbles something else under her breath that you can’t quite make out.

Overall, the class goes fine. The osmosis experiment wasn’t too hard to do and the questions were manageable. It was just how Hazel acted throughout the whole hour that threw you off a little. You knew she could be as awkward as she could get excited, and sometimes she talked too much and didn’t pick up on social cues easily, but the whole time she just seemed… uncomfortable, if that was the right word. Like she really wanted to say something or do something but she couldn’t for whatever reason.

Once you’re both done cleaning up, she wastes no time in removing her laboratory coat and shoving it into her bag, but you don’t want to let her get away that easily. Gently, you place a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Hey, Hazel?”

She pauses, eyeing your hand for a second too long before looking at you. Properly looking at you. She could barely do it throughout the experiment.

“I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?” You bring your hand back and begin to slip off your own coat. “It could be none of my business, so feel free to tell me off if you want, but you just seem a bit out of it.”

Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze quickly moves from your face to something beside you. Rather, on you; your shirt was pulled to the side while taking off the coat and it exposed the bruise at the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone. Shit.

“Oh, that’s— don’t worry about that. I just tripped and fell hard in P.E. the other day,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand, pulling your shirt back in place. God, you hoped nothing in your voice or face was giving you away. You doubt her first assumption would be that you were one of the masked vigilantes featured on the news, but she couldn’t be thinking of anything good either if she didn’t buy your excuse.

And she didn’t. “That doesn’t look too good,” Hazel says with a frown.

“It’s fine—”

“Come with me to the locker room? I’ve got something that can probably help with that. I mean, it’s not in the locker room, it’s in my actual locker and I’ll have to go get it from there first before going to the benches, but uh… um, yeah. I-I’ve got something.”

Her ramble ends with a sigh and you can’t help but smile at how she stumbled out all those words. Funny how you were the one all concerned about her just a minute ago and now the tables were turned. You didn’t want anybody seeing your cuts and bruises, or at least didn’t want anybody asking about them, but you didn’t get to ice the one she saw just yet. You’d take whatever ointment or cream she might have stashed away in her locker if it would help.

So you nod your head and walk with her towards the door. “Alright, yeah. I’m sure you know a thing or two about treating bruises, what with all that fighting you do.”

You almost bump into her when she stops and whips her head at you sharply, that wide-eyed look back on her face. What was with her today?

“Your fight club? With Isabel and Brittany and all those other girls?”

Hazel visibly deflates and lets out a half nervous, half relieved-sounding noise at that. “Yeah, yeah! Always gotta be prepared.”

You say nothing in return and follow along to her locker, deciding not to overthink it. Hazel could just be a little odd and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ah—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, being even more careful than earlier with moving your shirt and bra strap to the side to expose the bruise more.

“It’s okay, just… I think it would be easier if I took my top off for this?”

Hazel actually makes a sound when she gulps. You’re quick to add, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, no pressure at all. It’s just that the bruise kinda trails off to the back too, so…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll just…” she trails off, turning away so you can take your shirt off.

“Haze, you don’t have to do that,” you say with a chuckle. But it was instinct as it was for everyone when somebody was changing in their presence, and you knew there was an extra kick to it now for her.

Brittany and Isabel were always just poking fun, but you knew they teased Hazel about you sometimes. Both girls even asked you about your possible interest in her more than once. Hazel was cute and you did want to get to know her more, especially see how she was in that fight club because they always said she was different in that element. But considering your own after-school activities, dating was just out of the question.

Silently, Hazel turns back, cap off the tub of gel in her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look nowhere else but your face and the area of the bruise, so you reach out and smile at her reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. I know you’ve seen boobs before.”

“Well, not your boobs.”

She says it so casually that you’re both taken aback, but you just laugh. Thankfully, Hazel laughs along with you too.

You lean against the sink and she comes closer, stopping once her knees knock against yours. “Tell me if I’m pressing hard, okay?”

You smile at her again, softer this time. “Okay.”

It’s comfortably silent as she applies the gel on your bruise. High in vitamin C, she tells you at some point, cause it apparently helps bruises heal faster. Hopefully you didn’t get hit there again tonight so you could actually see if the science behind the gel worked or not.

When you turn around so she can work on the bruise’s extension on your back, you say, “That gel looks like it’s barely used. Do you have a stock of those at your fight club or do you guys just tough it out when someone gets a hit in?”

“This is my personal one, but most of us prefer to use the traditional ice packs. And unlike the rest of them, I heal pretty quickly.” Hazel smiles at your reflection in the mirror and you immediately smile back. You didn’t think it was possible for her to ever have a hint of cockiness in her tone. You kind of liked it.

“Like a regular superhero then, huh?”

She looks away, her smile dropping slightly. “Nothing like that. Um, you’re all good now.”

Hazel reaches for your shirt before you can even ask her to. You thank her with another smile and she moves away so you can put it back on.

As you walk alongside her to the exit, you stop her for a moment before pushing the doors open. “Thank you again. I’m pretty sure the gel is working already.”

Her gaze falls to the ground and once again she’s all fidgety and bashful. You hesitate for a second, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just a light, friendly peck, even though ‘friendly’ might’ve been teetering over the edge at that point. Something shifted and you weren’t so sure you’d just laugh it off the next time Brittany or Isabel asked you about Hazel again.

You walk out of the locker room together, shyly glancing and smiling at one another until you have to part ways for your next classes.

Christ on a cross, you were really fucking tired. The city had been quiet since you started surveying it at around five o’clock and you were highly considering calling it a day at around half past seven, leave whatever happened in the later hours to the other crime fighters your city had one too many of. Hell, even to whatever cops who might be able to do their job properly for a change.

But a trio of snatchers caught your eye as soon as the thought occurred to you. So much for an earlier end to the week.

And you had them subdued with ease. Two of them were clearly new to the life of crime or just greatly inexperienced, and the other one was yelling at them half the time. Despite your skill and inhuman qualities, however, they were all relatively bigger than you so knocking them all out still took some time. You were two down with one to go when you heard a thwipping sound by your ear, and in the next split second, the snatcher was webbed to the wall.

Then you heard that voice. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

You look over your shoulder, groaning. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I wanted to help you anyway. You’re welcome!”

“I’m not thanking you!”

The blare of police sirens comes not long after and you and Spiderwoman flee the scene before any of the cars come to a stop. Flying got you ahead of her since she relied on buildings to swing off from, but she caught up to you in no time. In just a few minutes, you were both back on the rooftop you left her at earlier in the week.

“You know, you’re right for making sure to never have to talk to the cops after putting the bad guys down. I should do that more. Those people really don’t like us.”

“I think you just talk a little too much for their liking.”

It’s not meant to be funny, but she laughs at you anyway. You might’ve put your guard down and decided to not be so irritated if it weren’t for the throbbing pain near your shoulder. You were sure the bruise there got bigger and worse after one of the snatchers got a good punch in that area.

“Yeah, well, I’m calling it a night. The city’s been quiet enough except for that one incident today, so I’m going home.” You sigh, moving to walk past her. “You should, too.”

“Hold on, I…”

You stop, waiting like she asked. If she was gonna ask you to hang out and share a sandwich again, she still wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.

She’s in a silent debate with herself for too long and you really, really wanted to go, so you say goodbye and start walking again. But just as you come shoulder to shoulder with her, she reaches out to touch yours and you wince back in pain. It just had to be the bruised one.

“Oh god, sorry.” She says as she takes her hand away. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not, but I’ll be fine the next time we unfortunately cross paths again.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Look, Spidey, I really don’t have time—”

“Just take the tub of gel home then, if you don’t want me to take a look at it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hits you, and you freeze in place even before she says your name. Your actual name, written on your birth certificate and school records, written on that worksheet you shared just a couple of hours before.

Slowly, she begins to take off her mask. You almost want to tell her to stop but that wouldn’t change anything. Even if she didn’t show you her face now, you’d see it in two days time on Monday. Maybe even earlier if you happened to bump into her on the weekend.

Your greatest annoyance was the same person you thought you might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on earlier. You could not deal with any of that right now.

So you don’t.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by now, but I promise I haven’t—”

“I need to go.”

A crease forms between her brows. She starts to say something again but you’re quick to cut her off. “I need to go, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Hazel lets out a resigned sigh, looking to the floor as she nods. You fly faster than you ever have to get back home.

Your luck doesn’t get any better over the weekend when you get a fever on Sunday evening, making you miss class for the next three days. A paracetamol usually did the trick after a day, but the fatigue and exhaustion of your secret life was probably getting to you, too. But even with the ugly feeling of a fever, it was actually really nice to just stay in bed and drink soup for a change. It feels like you haven’t properly rested in weeks.

Your mind, however, was still restless. You tried not to look at the news too much in case there was some criminal that got away and it would just make you feel awful for not being able to catch them. But you tried even harder not to message Hazel to talk.

“Hey kiddo, your friend from school is here. Says she has the notes and homework you’ve missed since Monday.” Your dad pops his head in as he speaks. You can’t see who’s behind him, but it was probably Isabel. She’s been checking in on you constantly.

“Yeah, just let Isabel in, dad.”

“Not Isabel,” says a different voice as the door shuts behind her. Speak of the devil. “But I do have Isabel’s notes because they’re way neater than mine,” Hazel adds, a sheepish look on her face.

You don’t say anything as you watch her cross the room, shrugging off her backpack and gently placing it on the seat by your study table. Then she turns to you, and you’re surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Hazel, what—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” She shakes her head, angrily rubbing at her eyes. “I thought something really bad happened to you.”

“It was just a fever,” you tell her as you sit up straighter against your headboard.

“You know what I mean.”

You did. You reach out and pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come on, come here.”

Hazel does as she’s asked. Her gaze was focused on your carpet but you could see that her eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears anymore, although they were rimmed red. “I’m fine, I promise. The fever’s gone now and I’ve been cleared to go back to school tomorrow.”

She nods but she’s still not looking at you, so you take one of her hands in between both of yours in an attempt to make her. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted on Friday night. I just didn’t know what to say and it was… it was a lot to take in at the moment. I was so sure that nobody knew who I was. I panicked.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I swear.” Hazel looks at you then, holding your gaze like her life depended on it. “I know I talk too much but I would never do that to you. Never.”

You can’t tell if she’s quoting you from your last conversation or not on that last part, but you believe her. “I know. I’d never tell anyone about you either, Hazel.”

She looks down at your hands when you rub your thumb across the side of hers and, after a moment, she laces her fingers with yours. There was a burst of warmth in your chest and you could tell there was one in Hazel’s too. So much for your one rule of not dating anyone because of the dangerous part of your life.

Not that you thought the two of you were dating, though.

“So… now what?”

“Well, life goes on as it did before, I guess.” You scoot closer to her, smiling as you add, “But I guess we can hold hands every now and then, if you like.”

“Oh, I like. I very much like,” Hazel replies enthusiastically, a matching smile on her face. She holds on to your hand tighter. “Can I kiss you every now and then too?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

But that’s changed in a heartbeat, both of you leaning forward at the same time. You tug her closer, unlacing your hands so you can bury one in her hair as the other holds on to the side of her face. Hazel kisses you slowly, but there was an urgency to it as well; like something could happen the next day that would ensure she would never be able to do it again — but all things considered, that was an unfortunate thing that very well could happen. You kiss her back just the same, savoring the moment and praying to every god out there that your mom or dad wouldn’t come barging in any time soon.

She pushes you down onto the bed and pulls away with a grin, planting kisses across your cheek and down to your neck. You hold back from verbally reacting to that and the feeling of her hands on your hips, her thumbs gently caressing the skin there. It takes too much energy for you to manage to say, “Hazel, Haze… my parents are home.”

Hazel brings her face back up to yours. Instead of looking disappointed, she just looks pleased. “I know, sorry. Got carried away — I have been fantasizing about this for a while now, though, so cut me a little slack.”

You giggle out an ‘okay’, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Also, if there’s any of that fever bacteria still in me, I apologize in advance if you get sick in a day or two.”

“Don’t even worry about me,” Hazel says with a shake of her head, leaning down to kiss you soundly once more. “I heal fast.”

[dcdreamblog]

Hi, I know your field of study is more focused on the WWII era of superheroics, but I got a question about the 1980s.

My dad recently told me about the time he met the Teen Titans in school because of some Reagan era Anti-Drug thing like DARE and putting the complicated politics of the War on Drugs aside something unusual caught my eye.

He had a picture of him meeting the Titans and among the usual suspects like Starfire or Raven the picture featured a hero I never seen before.

At first I through it was Robin, but no it was a guy in a blue (purple?) costume with red accents who my dad said was the leader of the team.

He sadly can't remember his name, so I wanted to ask if you could clear this up for me.

Who was that guy and what happened to him?

That's amazing as far as heirlooms go, I hope your dad treasures those.

The Titans actually did shows like that all over the country in relation to the "Presidential Drug Awareness Campaign" but like you said there was a very obvious wrinkle in the lineup

(Poster distributed to schools around the country, circa 1983) The man in purple up at front is a hero by the name of "The Protector". Most of you are scratching your heads. If you are a native of certain parts of San Fransisco you are pumping your fist in the air. San Fran has a lot of superheroes that call it home but The Protector is known for one thing and one thing only: He's the illegal drug trade's worst nightmare. He's taken on seemingly untouchable gangsters and even pharmaceutical companies and has really become the face of those fighting addiction in the city. As for "What happened to him":

During his early days he was criticized for having that hard edged DARE, no tolerance on drugs attitude but these days he's mostly known as a friend to the addicts of the city and a supporter of places like clean injection sites and needle exchanges.

He's even gotten into more than a few high profile dust ups with the SFPD over excessive force in raids or encampment clearings. As far as I know as of right now he's still doing what he does best in the Golden Gate City. People from the area can sound off in the comments of course.

(Graffiti mark of Protector on a needle exchange in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood, this mark is used to denote that a building is under his "protection") It's hard to know WHY Robin wasn't there for this. Some people have theorized that it was to keep him out of the public eye on Batman's orders but I don't know that I buy that, the lanes of communication between the two during this time period didn't seem that one sided. Personally I think Robin just stepped aside to give the floor to someone who had more specialized knowledge on the subject

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Marriage Law Trope part 3

Obviously, Granger refused to have the ceremony at the manor, despite all of my mothers requests and horde of howlers. Mother wanted to save all of the time and money she spent planning her only sons wedding. So, she brought the ceremony to Granger.

Inside of the ministry, is this sad little room for the kinds of witches and wizards who want to get married without all of the hoopla. They either don’t have the money to spend on a big wedding, or they just need the marriage for legal purposes.

But mother fills this room with the white Lillie’s and the pink carnations and she charms to ceiling to sparkle. There’s a massive wedding cake in the middle of the room on a table she set up herself. It’s three tiers with the smallest one holding two figurines of a bride and groom. The bride originally resembled Astoria with her black hair and pale skin. I had to ask Theo to transfigure it to resemble Granger. He managed to transfigure the skin to resemble the sandy color of Grangers and the hair to grow two sizes bigger, but it’s still black. Not brown.

With a shrug, he moves back to my side. We’re both leaning against a wall, and I’m dressed in the first clean(ish) suit Theo could find before forcing me out of the door.

The finality of last nights drunkenness simmered into a buzz and is now boiling rapidly into a hangover. It starts with a headache that begins at the base of your skull and then it wraps around and you swear you can feel your brain scraping against your scalp because you’re so hungover you think everything has shrunken or expanded. You aren’t really sure, but all of those scenarios pop into your head and you just can’t even blink without the pain landing into your brain, behind your eye sockets.

The point is, I feel like shit on what some may consider the most important day of my life.

Theo peers at me from where he’s leaning and begins to dig through his pockets. Inside of his jacket, in his pants pockets. I don’t know what he is looking for and I can’t understand how he keeps digging around in the same pockets for long periods of time but finally. He produces a vial of something bright red and holds it out to me as I watch my father hiss into my mothers ear. Across the room, he’s telling me, my mother, the worl, that at this is the worst thing to ever happen to the Malfoys.

“Take this.” Theo says and I take the vial, without looking it. I take the vial and uncork it before tossing the entirety into the back of my throat.

Because potions are not new to me. Potions are what I do. It’s just that, ever since Granger rolled into that room last week, I don’t want them. I hate them. They dull everything inside of me and everything around me. And so, every other night, I skip them. Every other night, I let myself feel the spread of my sheets as i lay down to sleep. I mull over data and information, mostly about the things insane and heard and I felt.

And then I close my eyes. I blink and then it’s morning. Everything stops and then speeds up until the sun is shining through my curtains. Sometimes I doubt that I even fell asleep.

The point is, I didn’t take my potions last night because I wanted to feel the enormity of this day. I wanted to remember the way it felt to watch Granger say ‘I Do to Draco Malfoy.

It’s not like I have any romantic feelings. It’s just interesting and something about the way she stood up to father makes me think she’s going to do something stupid and reckless and I really just want to remember it. I want to feel it all.

The point is, we have to kiss. This isn’t just a business deal, because we’re expected to get intimate. We’re expected to stick my parts into her parts and make a fucking baby.

But the point is, I got stupid drunk last night because I couldn’t figure out what kind of kiss to give her. It’s not like I even want to kiss her. But if I don’t, or I do, what is then outcome? If I kiss her like she’s repulsive, she’ll likely hex my balls off.

If I kiss her like I want to fuck her, like I want to consummate this, she will likely still hex my bullocks off.

And I don’t. Really, I don’t.

It’s just that, she has the greatest set of tits I’ve ever seen wrapped inside of fabric.

The potions tastes like pepper up with a kick of something tart. And my tongue tingles just as the door to the room opens.

Granger is dressed in a white dress. Her shoulders are bare and the dress is simple, like something you’d wear to an afternoon garden party and her hair is pulled back with intricate braids that meet at the back of her head but the rest of her hair is down and wild and she feels like the falls of Asaranca during summer. It’s Warm and wild but there’s a cool steady mist blowing in your face.

Trust me, I know.

But, behind Granger, there’s Harry Potter and there’s Ginny Weasley. And there’s Ronald Fucking Weasley.

Ronald Weasley is as freckly as ever, but that’s not why I hate him. Freckles don’t bother me. He’s combed up and dressed in a suit that actually looks new and fits his big gangly body, but that isn’t why I hate him, either. I don’t even hate his copper colored hair. Copper has its appeal.

The point is, just the mere presence of him grates at my nerves.

It’s like being lit on fire and being able to do nothing about it. Your blood is boiling and it feels like your skin is tightening around your temples but really it’s just your nerves getting frayed and there’s nothing you can do.

And the point is, that when Granger steps into the room, his hand moves to the small of her back and I can feel the possession in his touch, even from here I’m standing.

And the point is, I’d rather die than have my wife be something Ronald Weasley feels like he owns.

The room fills with the tension that spreads and reaches out for all eight of us. It’s threading itself into our skin and through the fibers of our muscles until it settles deep into the gut or carves itself out a little space in our chest.

There isn’t enough room in there for my heart and my lungs and all of that tension.

Because it’s pounding and my lungs are contracting over and over and Granger is looking at me from across the room like she’s just seen life on the moon. She takes her big dumb eyes and shines them on me like I’m that thing she lost years ago, and totally forgot all about it until this moment.

Until she’d stumbled upon it like we stumbled upon it in the middle of looking for something else. And now she can’t remember what she was looking before she found me.

And the point is, it’s unnerving. The look of this witch with her lips parting and her eyes glimmering, it’s too much. Because she’s about to give herself to me, and I’m going to pull her into my life and into my chest and lock her in there. I’ll have to protect her from everyone,even my father. I’ll have to care for her and we don’t even like each other.

My magic is buzzing and my heart is pounding and Theo is nudging his shoulder into mine, telling me to calm down.

“Either the potion’s kicked in, or you’re very excited to see your bride to be,” Theo says and when drag my eyes away from Granger, he’s pointedly looking at my nose. There’s steam pouring out of my nostrils and my ears and I can feel it wafting up my throat as I step away from the wall to greet my bride. But, I cough and puff out a cloud of tart flavored smoke.

Grangers face lights up in a way I’ve never seen before.

Her lips quirk and her eyes latch onto mine and then she smiles. She’s smiling at me like she can’t help it. Like the smoke and my nerves are all something precious and I feel like I’m being bolted to the floor. I can’t move and the best of my heart increases and so I just stare.

I stare and staresndstareandstare. I can’t stop staring at the way her lips lift and show the row of pearl like teeth, the slight sliver of her top gum.

“Ahem,” father clears his throat and the spell is broken. The mudbloods magic fizzes out and her smile transforms into something cruel and bitter as she looks to look at my father.

The tension thickens as the Marriage Commissioner enters behind Grangers gang of Gryffindors.

“Are we all ready?”

The little room is bursting with flowers and tension and the nine of us.

Nobody is ready. We’re all fidgeting and on edge.

Potter is shifting from foot to foot as he squeezes onto the hand of Ginny Weasley. She’s narrowing her eyes on me, a brow lifted like she’s sure I’m about to take a shit on the entire thing. Theo is fiddling with his bow tie and I don’t know why he’s nervous. He thought the entire idea of me and Granger getting married is hilarious.

But now he’s adjusting his tie and shaking his hair from his face and staring at my parents like they might do something.

Mothers just wringing her fingers together and watching Granger with something like wonder filling her blue eyes, rounding them out and lifting her brows.

Father is scowling as he watches everyone step into place.

I step up to the little alter that is on the far east side of the room. The commissioner stands at the podium.

Theo and my parents line up on one side. Potter and the Weasleys on the other.

Granger steps up to the podium and then all of the eyes in the room are on me.

They’re poking and prodding. They’re waiting and predicting.

Because what will Draco do?

Something stupid, his fathers eyes say. Theos eyes are begging me to be reckless.

Harry thinks I’m going to do something to hurt Granger.

Ron Weasley is telling me to run away. His eyes are gobbling up his golden princess and he’s begging me to give her back, give her back.

Granger barely looks over her shoulder, and her eyes don’t land on me. I don’t know what Granger wants.

But I step up beside her and her shoulder brushes against my arm and my headache is gone but in its place, my heart has spread into my throat and into my head. I can feel and hear it in every part of my body.

The commissioner doesn’t drag it out. It’s like ripping off a bandage. It’s better to just get it over with, don’t prolong the pain. Just pinch the edges and pull.

And before I know it, I’m turning to face Granger and she’s turning to look up at me and there’s a ring shoved into my hand. I slide it onto her little fingers that look like they belong between my teeth and I’m promising to care for her and protect her. I’m promising to love her and she’s doing the same and isn’t that some shit.

Were promising to do something that we had no choice in. They’re forcing us together and now they’re making us swear to love each other when we never got the chance to figure it out on our own. And we don’t. We don’t love each other. We hate each other but now we’re going to love each other for the rest of our lives.

You may now kiss the bride.

The words crack into my mind like a whip. I’m jolted back into a moment I can never forget because I’m not being dulled down by the potions my father encouraged me to take. And this is why I drank last night.

Because I’m forced to make a decision that neither of us wants to make.

I clear my throat and I can see Granger swallow as her eyes flick to her friends, to the commission, who nods encouragingly.

She looks to my parents and to Theo.

I lean forward and I have to bend my knees so that I can lower myself to her height and gently place my lips against hers.

I settled on a respectful, closed lipped kiss.

Her lips are soft and firm and warm. There’s a spark of magic that dances against my mouth and I gasp. I gasp and make to pull away.

But Grangers hands suddenly clasp over the back of my neck as she lifts up onto the tips of her toes and deepens the kiss. She takes advantage shock forces her tongue into my mouth and, I think I’m falling.

The point is, my hands hold onto her, grasping at her face and her waist and I’m falling. I’m falling into Granger and she takes me, catches me and devours me.

The kiss is wild and it’s inappropriate but I think I’m cursed because I can’t stop kissing her back. I can’t stop slanting and molding my mouth to hers. I can’t stop letting her massage my tongue with hers I can’t stop her little fingers from gripping onto my neck or from finding their way into the little hairs at the nape of my neck.

I can’t stop the way my fingers press into the fabric of her dress like I might rip into it. I can’t stop the way I, forcing her body to crowd into mine.

The kiss is like a dance that is synchronized and well practiced, like we’ve been doing it forever.

Someone clears their throat and Granger slows the kiss down, kissing me once, twice, three times before she pulls away with my eyes still closed.

She pulls away and when I open my eyes, she sends a smirk at my father and the point is, I can’t care.

The point is, that ancient beast that was a part of me is now a part of her and something wild and frenzied is suddenly brewing right here. Here in this space between her body and mine, my mind and hers The point is, it’s here to stay and the point is, I can’t stop this, even if I tried.

Trust me, I know.

[honoviadakai]

How team Urameshi takes care of a sick person! 🤒

(I’ve been pulling my brains out all day and running a high fever. Instead of you know…seeking medical help outside of a corner store pharmacy…imma let my creative juices flow!)

Cw: mentions of vomiting, flu symptoms, lack of common sense(it’ll make sense when you reach it)

Yusuke:

First off

Why was this the first guy you went to for medical care???

Like he’s not the worst but…

There are better options!

Also, depending on who you are, he might make it worse by accident

Ok so if your a friend, like one of the guys or just someone he’s chill with, just go find an actual doctor

He’s gonna do the bare minimum

But not entirely because he’s lazy

It’s mostly cuz…how the fuck is he supposed to help Jin’s fever when there’s a mini hurricane happening in the room???

Like he can barely take care of a human

How’s he supposed to take care of his demon friends when they’re all different species!?

The best thing he’s gonna do is refer them to Genkai or Kurama

That being said, he does makes an amazing chicken noodle soup!

Everyone gets one big bowl of the stuff when he finds out someone’s sick

Seriously that shit should be labeled as a miracle cure or something

Now if you’re family/a s/o there is a drastic difference

He’s gonna be attentive

But he’s still not gonna know what to do beyond getting antibiotics and soup

So he’s gonna get Kurama, Genkai AND a doctor at the same time

He has faith his friends won’t die from a cold

His family and lover though???

Yeeeeah

He’s gonna internally panic and do what he can to help you recover

It’s a funny dichotomy tbh xD

Kuwabara:

It does not matter who you are to him

You could be a friend, a lover, a family member, a classmate, a coworker, a complete fucking stranger even! Mans ain’t leaving you hanging. Period.

He’s getting all the medicine he can from the pharmacy

He’s making you nice warm soup

If you need to go to the doctor, he’s making the appointment, taking you to the appointment and even attending the appointment with you!

The ONLY difference in who gets what from him is his lover & occasionally his sister get sleepy sick cuddles

His lover is also getting forehead kisses if they ask for it

Yeah, there’s a possibility that he’s gonna get sick later

But he doesn’t care!

You need his help! Repercussions be damned! 😤

Kurama:

This has the funniest dichotomy between friends and lovers 😂

If you’re a friend, he gonna do one of two things

If its just a mild cold, he’ll prescribe some herbal tea he made

You’ll be 100% by tomorrow 👍

If it’s bad like a high fever, he’ll come to your house and be the best doctor you’ve ever had

Like he’s literally a home doctor without the paycheck

Pure professionalism

He comes in, assesses the issues and quickly does everything he can to cure the illness as fast as possible

You’ll be 100% by tomorrow 👍

Now let’s say your family or a lover

He’s at your beck and call 📞 🔔

You want tea? It’s already steeping

You want back rubs? He’s got a rose scented lotion to help ease your aching muscles

You want sleepy cuddles while the meds kick in? Scoot over, he’s cuddling you for the rest of the evening!

He’s low key spoiling you

To be fair…you feel icky, you deserve it!

So just let it happen

You’ll be 100% by tomorrow 👍

…but juuuuust in case…stay in bed till you’re 1000% better 😌

Hiei:

…

Was no one else available???

Is the doctor’s office closed or something???

What chain of events led you to go to Hiei of all people for medical help???????

Like even if you’re his lover…why did you come to him for help on curing the flu????

He doesn’t know what that is!!

Like…if I had to summarize what he’s like when you’re sick….

It’s this

This is the closest to “helpful” he’s gonna be

Especially if you’re his friend/ally

He’s just…not gonna do much…

He’ll maybe go grab Kurama…maybe…

He might just honestly tell him in passing you’re sick and that’s it…

If you’re family or a lover, he’s at least more nice to you

Like he’s actually gonna check up on you

He doesn’t know the first thing about tending to the ill so he’s definitely gonna grab Kurama and basically demand he heals you

He’s not gonna let you out of his sight till he knows you’re 1000% better

He might not be in the same room as you the whole time though

Honestly he might be watching you from a tree a good 5 miles from your house…but he’s still making sure you’re ok

He honestly feels useless so him essentially protecting you is his way of feeling like he’s actually being helpful

Not sure what he’s protecting you from exactly when the virus is already in your body but just let him have it, it’s how he shows he cares

[oakfern]

this is longish and also about mental health stuff so it's under the cut

i technically had a "full time" job for the past three years. i worked in a research lab with one other coworker, mostly working from home. my boss was erratic, disorganized, and didn't give a shit about the integrity of his research. i would go weeks at a time without having anything to do, and then suddenly he would assign many tasks all at once. half the shit i did was never even used for anything, so it was hard to judge what was actually important.

for the first two years i managed to maintain my own routine and work ethic to a degree. then depression hit, and i realized how much "working" like that was draining me. not to mention that i was being paid half the median wage in my area. i should've left sooner, i know. but working at a university meant i could do a master's degree for (mostly) free.

i had a breakdown last summer and it's been downhill ever since. i managed to finish my master's degree in december, somehow. the whole point of the master's was to get a decent job. i should be applying to jobs now... but i haven't started yet. i reached out to a job mentorship program and i was probably matched with a job mentor, but i haven't checked my emails in weeks. it feels so overwhelming.

this is by far the worst period of depression i have ever had. i'm not actively suicidal, but i have absolutely zero motivation to be alive or to do literally anything. any time management skills that i ever had are gone. i sleep until noon every day. i spend most of my time sitting on the couch and then suddenly realizing 4 hours have elapsed. sometimes i play video games, sometimes i crochet, but mostly i just stare off into space. i am awake until 4 am with insomnia. and then when i do sleep, it isn't even restful, because i'm just having vivid nightmares the whole time.

i feel exhausted constantly and i don't even do anything. it's good that i live with my wife, because otherwise i don't think i would remember to eat. i just have no motivation to do anything at all.

i don't want to be like this. i miss having a routine. i want to have a routine. i have a therapist and we are trying so hard to find a routine that works for me. i have a journal and i make to do lists and i try to break things down into manageable tasks. i'm putting the most effort into things that i think will help the most tangibly with my mental health - hanging out with friends and leaving the house - and have made some progress there. but most of my lists have no check marks at all.

is it bad if i get a part time job before i start looking for jobs in my intended field? i feel like maybe i need to work retail or customer service again just to remember what it's like to have things to do, and get used to leaving the house at a specific time. i'm worried it will look bad on my resume if i spend 6 months at a retail job when i literally have a master's degree in a field where there are lots of jobs available, but i'm also afraid that if i rush back into the real world from my liminal depression void, i'm going to fail.

this is the most coherently i've expressed my feelings in months, and i feel like it still isn't even very coherent. anyway. advice is nice. or just tell me if you've also been like this and made it back out so i know it's possible.

[puckpocketed]

OUGH the caps have wanted PLD for years it turns out?

https://www.espn.com/nhl/story/_/id/43493105/nhl-2024-25-alex-ovechkin-washington-capitals-retool-prospects-trades-free-agents

the whole thing is delicious but i yelled when i got to the part about our potato princess

All of those teams were banking on his potential, enchanted by the brief flashes of its fulfillment.

That included the Capitals, who watched him step up in the 2018 playoffs with two goals, two assists and dominant play. "Every time he was on the ice it was like, 'Oh my god, this guy again.' He was such a handful and I don't even think he was even 22 years old at the time," Patrick said.

The Capitals tracked Dubois' path from Columbus to Winnipeg. They tried trading for him in summer 2023 before the Jets sent him to Los Angeles. They got their man last offseason, with his stock the lowest it has been.

"He was playing behind two good centers in L.A. It seemed like he wasn't getting the opportunities he needed to get," Patrick said. "There was still a good player there, but he was too buried in the lineup."

the rest is about the retool and why things are working. i'm eating this article i am folding it up and putting it right in my mouth!!! greg wyshynski, thank you as always for my LIFE.

nyx!! <3 thank you for sending this, it was a good read!! (clickable link) but also,, heartbreaking: the worst sports journalist you know released something about your favourite loser <- i periodically block and unblock wysh because hes very annoying on twitter + i found his hockey book unfunny + he's a mackblack Doubter and Hater and so he's my ENEMY. still. i had a good time !!

anyway. can't leave this excerpt out

Tim Barnes, who has run the analytics department in Washington since 2014, had his group confirm that Dubois' issue was mostly usage. The Capitals did their due diligence to make sure there weren't other issues off the ice.

USAGE. banging my pots and pans about this forever and ever and ever

also this

"You do the work on who he is as a person and in the room. From what we learned, he was a great teammate, hard worker, wants to get better, loves the game," Patrick said. "It's just the situation wasn't great for him in L.A."

i need to go collect media about Dubois one day. the freaks who do clickbait videos have been allowed to peddle lies for TOO long... i'm really interested in the way they talk about vibe checking guys for if they'll be a room fit. people will just say thee most intriguing things and not elaborate. please elaborate mmore .is there astrology involved .

"I mean, that's the biggest thing a lot of times in trades and free agency, just trying to get a sense for what the person's like and what they're like in the group and in the room," Patrick said. "And so we felt like we had a pretty good feel for that."

tucking this into the big pot of starchy soup.. ouur potato primnncess...

[castlebyersafterdark]

I wonder if the rest of the party have heard the things Mike says during sex to Will, or even Will's noises woops, and - In the nicest, not actually mean, best friend way - I wonder if they bring it up or do some light teasing about it especially to Mike 🤭🫣 wonder what they think (maybe not freshly together Byler but after some years when everyone's super chill)

I think these two are so funny because they really try to be so "normal" about each other, but once their friends know and everything's cool, and they have support... they're embarrassingly obsessed with each other. I mean, they always havs been, but now it's of a different flavor. "Which one is the clingy boyfriend?" Uhhhhh BOTH 🤭 anyway, as they get more open with their affection, the comfort level raises. Maybe too comfortable haha. Cue the party side-eying as Mike and Will get lost in their own world. Always whispering to each other, sneaking a kiss whenever its safe and they can, personal space becomes nonexistent. The infamous handsy-ness during movie nights - dead giveaway when Will involuntarily squeaks or whimpers while Mike thinks he's being subtle under their shared blanket. And their friends absolutely calling them out for a conspicuous hickey. And they're always sneaking away.

One day at school, Lucas is in the boys bathroom during third period. As he's standing in front of the sink he hears the sound of a palm slamming against the locked stall door, the last one in the row. Rolls his eyes and winces at the unmistakable babble and breathy moan of one Mike Wheeler. "That's it angel. Fuck, you're perfect, babydoll, so fucking pretty." Plausible denisbility to the gender of the other participant, but he's one of the few who knows the truth that it's Will Byers on his knees. He makes fun of them at lunch, mostly for the fact that they couldn't even make it to ten a.m. that day.

Another time, Dustin learns his lesson the hard way when he shows up early to Mike's house for a campaign session planned for later that day. He opens the side door to the basement and hears before he sees the insatiable, insufferable duo. Mike sitting on the couch, with Will straddling him, riding him slowly with unmistakable noises punched out of him as he bounces on Mike's lap. Both fortunate for his sanity and unfortunate for the reality of what he's walked in on, he doesn't get much of an eyeful, because Will's wearing that damned wizard costume. And Mike's got part of his homemade armor on. But Dustin is not safe for long. The worst part is their banter. Kill him now. "Ohhh, Michael. That's right, lay your hands on me, you’re the only, hmm, only one who can save us. Take me, oh god, take me and be healed, take what you need from me." "Yes, William, so good, come on, give me what I need. Give me your wisdom, your body." "Uhhh, oh yeah, Michael, that's good. Say my name again, address me by my full name, love." "Uh, fuck yeah, Will the-"

Slam. He's done. He's going home now that he shook himself from the transfixed shock as he was subjected to that trainwreck. Dustin’s going to be ill. If it was just walking in on his friends having sex, fine. Awkward, but ultimately hilarious after the fact. That??? He could have lived his entire life without knowing that. Especially with whatever the hell those accents were. Screw going home. He's heading over next door to Lucas's to immediately tell him what just happened.

[mekachu04]

7. Hair

Kidd - 16 | Killer - 20

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Friends to Enemies

that weird little period where they were rival gang bosses

the girls boys are fighting

Kidd is an unreliable narrator but it's not his fault

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"You got taller."

"You grew your hair out." Its hard to tell for sure what Killer really thinks about things these days; a lifetime living in each other's pockets can't be erased in just two years, but besides just hiding his expression behind ragged bangs, Killer's added a cloth tied around his lower face. But he tilts his head the same way, right ear up, left shoulder - his weaker shoulder - hunching up and in and Kidd can feel him judging him through his lashes. Can picture it so clearly in him mind, and he smirks. "It looks good."

And he means that; Growing up they way they did often mean cutting mattes out of Killer's hair, never getting a chance to grow too long no matter what they tried. Hell, Kidd had cried that last time he'd had to take a knife to Killer's hair. A fight with other Heaps' folk had Killer landing in a tar spill and even though they'd walked away the victor, Killer's hair was a complete loss. They'd gotten in a brawl with Victoria only a few days before that, and then Kidd had to cut Killer's hair to the scalp in a few places, and it was too much at once for his 13 year old self.

Killer had the world's worst haircut but Kidd was the one who had to be coddled.

Well, Joke was on them both because Killer would abandon him too the next year anyway.

"I guess ditching me for running water worked out well for you."

"And I'm leaving" Killer growled, and Kidd wanted to let him leave. Wanted Killer to be the one who walked away from the meeting, to reject him again. He was still angry and he -flung- a handful of bolts at the back of Killer's head. Unfortunately for him, Killer ducked in time, grabbed a brick from off the ground, and hurtled it back at him.

Kidd did manage to avoid getting hit but it was nothing as graceful as Killer's maneuver.

"The hell are you thinking!? What if someone saw you!" Killer hissed, marching back, head swiveling nervously like he was looking around to make sure none of his little gaggle of groupies had seen anything.

It was infuriating, and Kidd felt his temper getting the better of him, "What if someone... are you serious! Are you trying to mom me NOW?"

Killer stopped up short like Kidd had smacked him. Good.

"Nono. No. Do you hear yourself? You fucking left me," Kidd -flung- another handful of scraps and trash at Killer who avoided it as easily as the first round, "You left and fucking now you're trying to come in and order me around like you have any say in my life anymore!"

He -threw- another round, this time it felt like it was mostly screws, at Killer. The man's fists were clenched, but instead of letting Kidd goad him into a real fight, he shoved them in the pockets of the almost-not-holey jeans he was wearing as he smoothly twisted out of the way.

"So you can fuck off and I will use my fucking devil fruit however the fuck I want, when ever the fuck I feel like!" He -threw- another handful of screws and scrap. This time Killer didn't dodge it, and Kidd winced when the scattershot slammed into his former friend's side. Kidd dropped his hand down, metal falling quiet around them. "Kil...Killer, I didn't..."

"You're right. You can do whatever you want now. Big bad Boss of your own."

It was Kidd's turn to stick his hands in his pockets.

"Keep the Heaps. It's yours. My people'll clear out by tonight." Kidd had nearly forgotten the whole reason they'd met up - supposedly to hash out turf lines. Killer'd only just been named Boss after all, and had to prove he was up to the task. Instead Killer just ceded the whole dispute to him.

"Just like that? And if they don't?"

"If they got a problem with it, I'm sure they come running to join you."

"Unless they stab you in the back over it first." - Do you have someone now.. watching your back?

Killer just shrugs, turning away.

Kidd will go back to his crew, Killer'll go back to his own new shiny family, and they'd glare at each other over turf lines when they bothered to pretend the other existed at all, and go back to hating each other again.

Killer really did look nice with his hair grown out like that. It was as pretty as Kidd could have ever imagined, and he bet it was a soft as it looked.

...

Ceithir Gormaichean, Kidd still missed the prick.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hello! I love your blog very much. I too am a second degree nurse. I just graduated from an ABSN program and I'm struggling to get my foot in the door anywhere despite good grades + honor society membership + in state license already secured. I live in NYC and the nursing shortage here is CRAZY but for some reason no one wants to talk to me. Would you recommend home health nursing for someone in my situation? I did my preceptorship in the ED and that's 100% where I belong, but the bills are really piling up and I have no prospects. How long did you do home health before you went bedside? Thank you for any advice you have!

(Disclaimer though for all this, I'm across the country from you and have no idea the landscape of nursing jobs in NYC.)

I worked in home health for 18 months. If my goal was to get to the hospital as quick as possible, I didn't need to be there that long. I wasn't in any particular rush to move on. Plenty of people worked less than that and got hired at a hospital, I think something like a year was the average. I know the different between sending out my new grad resume and sending out my home health nurse resume was night and day. As in: literally anyone wanted to interview me.

I'd encourage you to at least apply and see if you can interview. You get to interview the company right back, and that'll let you know the kinds of work they expect from you. There are two main types of home health: the kind where you visit a lot of patients in a day and the kind where you're with one patient for the entire shift. The first kind is doing stuff like dressing changes, medication management, or periodic assessment. The second kind is more like general caregiving with nursing related requirements. I mostly did the second one, and worked night shift. So I fed a patient dinner, I gave them a bath, I got them dressed for bed, then tucked them in and stuck around until morning for their needs in the night. But within that was trach management, seizures, G tubes, medications, central lines, ongoing assessment, all that stuff that got this person nursing hours. I'm not gonna lie--it was often very very boring. I read a lot of books.

(btw west coast disclaimer again, but if you're willing to work nights, you'll get hired more easily. Everyone everywhere in the world doesn't have enough night shift coverage. also, oops! this got long and became an essay on home health!)

For downsides, in home health you can get limited training and orientation before you're alone, responsible for a patient. And then it's all on you. I had some gut-dropping moments early on where I encountered something I didn't know how to handle and didn't know how urgent it was. There's supposed someone you can call at all times, but multiple times when I did call, no one picked up. It can be super stressful and frankly dangerous as an inexperienced nurse. Luckily, many times you have the patient's family as a resource. It's likely they've been doing this years longer than you have. Though it's worst thing in the world when you wake someone up at 3 am because you're unsure and concerned, and then have that person explain in a really supportive tone of voice that these frequent, very brief seizures were probably just hiccups. Hypothetically speaking.

You can get too entwined with the patient and family's lives. It's hard to call out sick because you know no one can cover you. It's easy to cross emotional boundaries. Imagine spending 40 hours a week with someone and their family. They'll occupy a spot in your brain.

And I don't think it's a great place for a new nurse to stay for years and years, just for like professional development reasons. You won't get exposure to a variety of patients (unless you work that other type of home health in which case enjoy seeing eight different patients a day, hope traffic doesn't suck), so it's easy to forget stuff you just learned. I never had to think about transfusion reactions until I started at the hospital and shit now it's relevant all the time. I had to completely relearn how to hang an IV piggyback. Plus, since you work alone, you don't get the chance to see how other nurses work. It's hard to figure out a profession when you practice in complete isolation. It's easy to learn bad habits and have no one ever correct you.

But there's a lot I like about home health. You really do have a perspective on patients and patient care that is unique to home health and long-term care. In the hospital, you don't always get that long-term perspective. If you work with someone for a while, you can track how they progress or decline. Why do some clients stay at home for years and others keep going back to the hospital? What's different about their conditions and cares? You see all the work it can take to keep them steady. That's perspective that easy to lose. It helps you put the patient on a timeline that extends beyond the hospital. If you click with a patient and/or family and work with them for a while, it can be very satisfying working with them because you see so clearly the impact you're having.

Also! I read so many fucking books! I listened to so many podcasts (played so so softly). I knitted and learned sudoku and practiced yoga, looked up vacation spots, put in my grocery orders, and organized my playlists. I also could research and research and research. I had time to look up everything about every condition my patient had, and once I felt more comfortable with those, I moved on to looking up whatever other disease process and patient experience seemed interesting. I'd make myself a little curriculum and, after my patient was tucked in, and be like "tonight's class is vlogs about having a trach."

There were plenty of shifts where I bustled all fuckin night, and sometimes those shifts seemed to be in one endless hellish row, but often I had a lot of time to myself that I could spend however I wanted, as long as I was still in the room with the patient, able to meaningfully hear and see them, and keeping up with the night routine. I fucked around a lot and got paid for it because the job is to be available when needed, and you're not always needed. (I'm not saying slack off! I'm just saying even colicky babies sleep peacefully now and then.)

Anyway jesus christ that got away from me, but like please know that I was in your exact place, and I know how much it sucks and how crazy it makes you feel because I THOUGHT WE WERE SHORT ON NURSES DON'T ANY OF YOU FUCKERS NEED A NURSE, and know that all the other job hunts after this should and will be easier than this.