#owie the edge

[jmeldog]

Tfw you don’t want to go back into the light but Ganon says to get your ass back out there

[gaypastabake]

Blegh.

Sorgy for not posting more about Popsicle and the fanfic I wanted to write, suffering with mental health problems and extreme stress in my personal life, I do have a couple of memes I made in advance if needed something filler-ish to post

<- Ideas directly stolen from these two images

I have very little motivation to do anything at the moment besides playing bideo games so expect silence from me until I announce what im doing with the fic

[schizononagesimus]

"Hating your period is internalized misogyny worship your body divorce the pain from the period" I say to myself, endometriosis pains so bad they're radiating into my shoulder

[cutest-silly-nb]

got my braces off a few days ago which is cool but the retainer Fuckint Hurts

[clingyduoapologist]

Learning hadestown songs rn for our show and like maybe hades wouldn’t have given you an impossibly simple task if you didn’t uppercut my fucking vocal chords everytime you opened your mouth Orpheus just an idea

[teiasviago]

maybe making astarion my homescreen wasn’t such a grand idea because every time i see it i get a little nd jolt of hyperfocus blorbo energy and have to make a comically horny noise to get it out of my system

[mantomhive]

had to call off work today because I spilt BOILING WATER ON MY HAND

[surpriserose]

Also sorry while im being pissy can youtube not give me fucking melanie martinez ads?????? Can you fucking explode???????????????

[euphorial-docx]

the way i grew up watching scripted mtv shows and now mtv doesn’t make ANY scripted shows anymore…

unrelated but why does my chest hurt?

[hunnibunni2]

liquid bandage is a bitch. the me who bought liquid bandage instead of actual bandaids, is an even greater bitch. I have not even the slightest inkling of what this demon skin glue is good for, cause its not for cuts.

[jmeldog]

Sorry it’s just a doodle, but yeah I love beautiful blood soaked women

[scarletwinterxx]

morning with birthday boy - dad jeno scenario

Helllloooooo so i got this request for our birthday boy🥺🤍 extra fluffy for this very special day. Hope you like it!!!

omggg pls pls make a jeno dad scenario for his birthday, maybw surprising him or something ?? 🥹🥹🥹 imagine him having a son who looks exactly like him when he was a kid 😭😭

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

After a few seconds you peak your head by the door, "I love you too" you say then you walk away. Jeno smiles, his eyes disappearing as the familiar feelings envelops him again. Like he's falling inlove with you for the first time again.

[luveline]

request for miguel - he gets hurt somehow, maybe out on a mission or something, and spider-girl takes care of him and patches him back up, definitely puts a cute plaster on him which he hates but he loves her so he lets it slide :) <33 everyone makes fun of him for it

also hi ily hope you're having/had a fantastic day

thank you for your request!! grumpy lovesick miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader

"And the salt builds up around their ankles," you're saying, sitting on Miguel's thigh, a bandaid in your shaking hands, "and the chick's feet get so heavy they can't keep up." 

Miguel knows this already, he'd listened to you talk about flamingos for days after you watched that nature documentary, but he lets you tell him again for the very same reason he has you sitting on his thigh in front of everyone, and the same reason he doesn't care that the bandaid you're putting on his cheek has a smiley face in the middle. He scared you today, getting hurt. Even as his quickened regenerative abilities close his wounds and heal his contusions, he can feel you trembling in his lap. 

He'd been out with the elite strike team, Spider-Woman on one side of him and Spider-Girl (not you) on the other. Jessica's more than capable of holding her own, and so together Miguel figured he'd been in neither danger nor trouble. But trouble doesn't always present itself as such, and the anomaly they'd been handling had turned out to be three anomalies. It's never happened before, and the shock startled him into bad decisions. 

The cut on his cheek was wide, but it's nearly healed now. He barely felt it. 

What he did feel was your gasp, like you'd been cut yourself, like he had the knife in his hand when you saw it. He supposes you've never witnessed him hurt before, and you're not as untouchable as you seem; you were worse than scared. 

"Did you get it?" he asks. 

You smooth your thumb along the edges of his bandaid carefully. "Got it. You'll be okay, don't worry." 

You hide your own worry with his. He feeds into it. "Are you sure? What about the one on my arm, you haven't touched that one." 

The one on his arm has been wrapped in gauze and bandages. You bring his arm to your chest, careful not to touch his wound. "Does it hurt?" you ask, your lashes twitching with the intensity of your concern.

"No, cariño," he says quietly, for your ears only. 

"Get a room," Lyla pleads. For hers, too, it seems.

"Sorry," you say, trying to stand. Miguel strong arms you into staying on his thigh, arm like a seatbelt at your waist. "Miguel." 

"You haven't finished," he insists. 

"You look finished to me," Lyla says. "Or did you want another bandaid for the owy over your heart?" 

He grits his teeth. He doesn't want another bandaid, he didn't want the first, but he wants you to be happy. If putting a giant pink heart-shaped plaster on his cheek is going to make you feel better, that's what has to be done. Miguel purses his lips to one side until he feels the adhesive of the bandaid pull away from his skin, and waits in the ridicule of his teammates for you to notice. 

"Oh," you say, fingers poking at the peeled bandaid unhappily. "Sorry, I'm sorry, let me–" You pull the bandaid off achingly slowly. "I only have hearts left, I–" 

"Just put it on," he says, with a feigned reluctance. His devious plan works, and you set a heart plaster over his cut. It's not big enough. You add a second.

"That is hilarious," Lyla says, her mink coat falling down her arm as she twists in the air and holds up a dramatically large cell phone. "Say cheese." 

Miguel looks at you. You throw up a peace sign. The photo is proof of his indulgence in you, if nothing else. He doesn't care how ridiculous he might look on screen, you've finally stopped shaking. 

He squeezes the fat of your hip in his hand and sighs. What a fool, he thinks. He's not talking about you. 

[livwritesstuff]

Steve reaches the top of the stairs on his way to get ready for bed when he hears the weary call of his husband from the other end of the hall.

“Steeeve,” Eddie groans, “Rescue me please.”

He’s in Hazel’s room, Steve can tell, which probably means that tonight is another night in a long string of failures to get their three-year-old into bed at a reasonable time (seriously – their older two went to sleep without any issues hours ago, but their sweet Hazel James has been in a phase of doing everything she can to avoid her bedtime).

Indeed, Steve walks into their youngest daughter’s bedroom to see that Eddie is the one blinking bleary eyes at him while Hazel, on the other hand, is wide awake and standing on her mattress in her Halloween pumpkin pajamas (yes, it’s June – very few battles are won by Steve and Eddie these days).

“Uh-oh,” Steve warns her, ”You’re putting Daddy to sleep, sweet girl. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, first I hafta show Daddy all the places I got hurt today,” she replies, coming up right to the edge of her bed so Steve really has no choice but to pull her in for a snuggle.

“Where’d you get hurt today,” he asks her.

“Don’t,” Eddie mumbles, an arm over his face shielding his eyes from the light of Hazel’s lamp, “It’s a trap.”

But Hazel is already wiggling out of Steve’s arms, backing away just far enough to push her sleeve up and reveal the impressive collection of colorful, patterned bandages decorating her arm.

Earlier this week, Hazel had discovered the magical power of Band-Aids (in other words, she fell and was completely inconsolable until Eddie suggested putting a princess Band-Aid on the nonexistent “owie” – surprise, surprise, the agonizing pain disappeared without a trace almost immediately).

Now, she’s practically covered in the damn things.

“Look,” Hazel says, pointing at a princess band-aid by her wrist, “��Dis is where I fell and a stick poked my arm.”

“A stick poked your arm?” he repeats.

“Uh-huh, so now you gotta give it a kiss.”

Obviously, Steve obliges, planting a dramatic kiss onto the plastic band-aid.

“All better?” he asks her.

“Yep. And then this one –” Hazel points at a Ninja Turtle band-aid up by her elbow (Steve’s gotta make sure Robbie doesn’t see that one or her six-year-old version of hell will rain down on all of them), “This is where I got stung-ed by a bug.”

Steve kisses that one too, and then Hazel hits him with a pretty fantastic yawn.

“You wanna come cuddle in bed with me and Daddy?” he asks quietly. She nods, and as he scoops her up, Eddie grumbles something that gets muffled into his arm.

“What was that?” he asks (only a little sarcastically). Eddie drops his arm and lifts his head to look Steve dead in the eye.

“You’re a goddamn sucker,” he repeats.

“Let’s go,” Steve ignores him, holding out the hand not holding Hazel. Eddie takes it and lets Steve pull him to his feet, and then they head off to bed.

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist Nick Robles **Thank you for the correction @miraculous-panic **

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You bump into Jason. How will your first meeting go?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Part Five: Hello Sailor

I opened my eyes and had a face full of an exposed chest. I hadn’t run into a wall. I ran into a man. A man with wet jet-black hair with a white streak. His full torso was exposed revealing a white Y-shaped scar and a very defined body that was glistening with water. He had various bruises and cuts along his body making an instinctual part of me want to reach out and heal him. Although, I refrained from that urge. He only wore a white towel that was wrapped low against his V-cut hips. My face heated and words failed me. 

“I’m… I’m y/f/n. The healer Bruce hired,” I stammered. God how embarrassing. I could face a level one trauma without a blink of an eye but put a man fresh out of the shower in front of me, and apparently my mind turns to mush. 

“I figured,” he reached out a large hand; I took it. He nodded, “Jason Todd. If you wanted an introduction you could have asked, you didn’t need to tackle me.” 

“Pfft that was barely a nudge. A slight bump if you will.”

He pointed at one of his many bruises, “Look what you did to me! If that is your ‘slight nudge’ I’d hate to see a real tackle from you, y/n.” 

“Oh please, that bruise is at least three days old! You can’t pin that on me!” I tilted my head back and laughed. 

“New girl I can pin whatever I want on you. You tackled me, and bruised me before I got so much as a ‘hi, nice to meet you.’” 

“Hi Jason Todd, nice to meet you. Are you going to let me heal you or do you want to keep your injuries to seem mysterious and interesting?” I asked in a sweetly sarcastic manner. 

“First you bruised my body and now my ego, wow y/n,” Jason drew out the syllables of my name as if he was savoring them. 

“If you don’t take me up on my offer in three seconds I’m going to bed,” I said flatly. My tone might have indicated that I was serious but I knew that the threat was empty. 

Jason threw up his hands in surrender, “Yes ole mighty healer! Please have mercy upon me!” 

I rolled my eyes and started walking toward my room. Jason followed me.

“This is your room?” Jason asked, surprise lacing his tone. 

“Yes, why?” I asked, curious.

“It’s nothing.” 

I ignored his weird comment and sat on the edge of my bed. I motioned for Jason to sit next to me. I could have sworn I saw his eyes widen from across the room. He made his way over slowly as if hesitant.

The bed dipped as he sat down. He was a very large man. Practically a giant. With broad shoulders and thick thighs… okay nope. Not going down that route, you need to focus you pervert. I thought to myself. 

“So how do you do this? Do you wave your magic wand and make my owies go away?” Jason looked at me intently. The question was partly a joke, but I could tell he wanted a serious run down of how it works. Just as I was about to elaborate a fluff ball came hurtling out of nowhere.

Hashbrown practically parkoured herself onto Jason’s lap. Jason’s laugh was deep and smooth like dark chocolate and honey. He reached his hand out and let Hashbrown sniff before he began to pet her lightly. Soon the room was filled with her purrs.

“Who is this?” Jason asked, smiling.

“That attention whore would be Miss Hashbrown herself,” I huffed. 

Jason reached out a hand and grabbed Hashbrown’s front paw. I was shocked she let him. “Hello, Miss Hashbrown.” 

Okay wow. The inappropriate thoughts are going wild. There was something about a man being gentle and good with animals. 

I swallowed hard and focused myself, “In order to heal you I have to rest my hands against you. It works best with skin-on-skin contact but in emergencies, I can make it work through cloth. Or if you are more comfortable doing it through clothing we may do that as well.” I put on my professional Nurse voice which left little room for playfulness. 

I heard Jason clear his throat and then he nodded, “It’s fine. I’m okay with skin-on-skin.” I saw a faint blush in his cheeks as he said it. 

I rubbed my hands together trying to warm them for his comfort. I raised them slowly, “You might feel a slight tingling sensation like pins and needles. It should only last for a moment though. Are you ready?”

Jason nodded and I rested my hands against him. I closed my eyes and concentrated. There were bruises and cuts which I healed with little difficulty. But as I searched there was more, so much more.

“Wow you’re like an iceberg,” I mumbled.

“What?” Jason asked laughter in his tone.

“So much more beneath the surface.”

I felt him tense under my hands, “I guess you could say that.”

I couldn’t talk anymore. All of my energy was going into healing him. Rib fractures. Sprains. Bruised organs. A pinched nerve. Low iron. Low-grade fever. I healed and healed. My exhaustion grew. My eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by sandbags. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t lift my head. Distantly I felt myself leaning forward. But I lost consciousness before my forehead slapped against Jason’s shoulder.

***********************************************************

Jason’s hands quickly reached out to catch the girl as she fell towards him. It seemed like she passed out. Jason anxiously checked her pulse which was strong. She probably just needs some rest. He thought. Because whatever she did to him, Jason felt great. She went beyond the mild injuries and healed more than Jason could hope for. Instantly he was grateful. 

He gently eased her back onto her bed. He pulled up her blankets. He plugged her phone into the charger. And he shut off the light. He made his way out the door and into the neighboring room. His room. He and the healer were so close they shared a wall. A foreign feeling popped up for Jason. He liked that she was so close to him. He felt strangely protective of the stranger. It might just be because she healed him. Or maybe it was something else, something undefinable.

Jason banished other thoughts about her as he got dressed. Soon he made his way down the stairs and into the dining room. Where his entire family was yelling and arguing. Ah home sweet home. 

***********************************************************

A few days had gone by. I haven’t seen Jason since. I found much to my annoyance that I caught myself looking for him when I heard footsteps. Or thinking about him in my spare time. How embarrassing. You have one tension-filled healing sesh and all of a sudden you can’t think logically. 

I paced around the Batcave in my scrubs. I alternated between reading my book, doodling in my notebook, and texting Sam. 

[Girl if you don’t tell me more about Mr. Baddie Skunk I’m gonna have a freakout.] Sam texted me. 

[I literally told you everything. That was it.]

[He has to be hot for you to say something. Does he have social media? I wanna see this cutie patotie.]

[No, just no, you stalker.]

[I’m not a stalker. I’m looking out for my friend. I may also be curious but that is beside the point.]

I heard and felt the rumble of the Batmobile. [Ttyl. Duty calls.]

I stood in my healer’s station. I double-checked my supplies once, twice, three times before the Batmobile came screeching up. Bruce got out quickly, his cape snapping as he moved. He ripped open the rear door and leaned in. When he came out he held a whimpering Tim in his hands. 

I ran up to him with the gurney, “What happened?”

Suddenly Dick was beside me, ripping off his blue mask. “Poison Ivy released a noxious gas created from Manchineel. Tim took the brunt of it.” 

I raked my brain trying to remember the properties of Manchineel. In the hospital most of the time we just tell the patient to call poison control. It didn’t matter. Tim’s airway was the top priority. I rested my stethoscope against his chest as we wheeled him closer to the station. 

A high-pitched turbulent sound filled my ears. Fuck. Stridor. His airway was closing. 

“Bruce go into the red cart top drawer and grab an epi-pen now!” I yelled as I started cutting away his Red Robin suit. I hissed through my teeth when I saw red hives and blisters all along his skin. “Grayson grab saline and rinse his skin! Wear gloves when you do it!”

Bruce deftly handed me the pen and I stuck it quickly into the meat of Tim’s thigh. In a matter of moments, I saw Tim’s breathing even. I listened once again he was still wheezing but it was better than the stridor. Without wasting another minute I rested my hands against Tim’s chest. I ignored the remnants of gas that burned my hands. It took hours but I healed Tim completely. He still was in a deep sleep by the time I was done. His body needed rest. I patched up Bruce and Dick since they also got exposed. 

I felt sweat dripping down my back when I was done with everyone. 

“Here,” Dick said, handing me water, “drink this you look a little gray.”

I nodded and gripped the water. I winced, forgetting that I burned my hands. It wasn’t as bad as Tim’s by any means but the burns were second-degree and hurt like a bitch. 

Dick saw my wince and looked at my hands, “Oh shit! We should wash those off!”

“No shit Grayson.” A flat voice said from the distance. I recognized it instantly. Jason walked up to us, with supplies in his hands. He motioned for Dick to get up. He did and Jason took his spot. 

“Let me see.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno @killxz @morpheus-girl @redhood414 @bungunz @conicoroahre @greenyofthegreens @taytaylala12

Thank you guys so much for the kind words I hope you all enjoy it. If there is anything you would like to see with Jason in particular comment below.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Torrid (Geo x My/Any MC/Reader) (Part 2/2)

TO ALL THE MANDIVIDUALS AND TO THE ANONS FROM ALL THE PLANES, I GIFT YOU THE SECOND PART OF THIS GEO x MC ONESHOT.

A/N: So, I know this was meant to be out a week ago and I am SO SORRY TO EVERYONE! I have health issues.

This is an original work, made and thought up entirely by me.

PART 1 LINK: Gelid (Part 1)

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Torrid: very hot and dry.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes ached; the darkness of their lids shielding you from the dim lights that threatened to shine past its pitch darkness, morphing the dark shrouds into muted cacophonies of flame-oranges and honey-yellows.

“Hnn…”

You wonder, briefly, if you’re even still alive. The torrid birching of summer had cooked your flesh, fried your mind-circuits and seared your soul…but this didn’t feel like summer.

Your body feels toasty, as if a warm spring breeze was gently caressing its balmy palms over your unmoving form. Gently soothing and healing the harsh burns that summer’s scorching ornery had devastated upon you.

You notice, in your comatose state, that the light has started to grow more radiant, more luminous, more intense; as if a match had been struck inside the gloom and murk of your consciousness, illuminating the umbra in chandeliers of twinkling lights.

You felt yourself gradually commencing the tedious process of reaching the gates of hypnopompia, whilst somewhere far away, a faint beep started piecemealing its way into your mind. Its annoying chiming reverberates in your skull.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

You feel a wave of irritation slash through the numbing murk, shattering the calm into sharp, serrated shards; their whetted edges piercing and dragging their points into the fogged veils of your somnolent state.

If you weren’t waking earlier, you are now.

But your eyelids felt so heavy, so leaden. How could you possibly slip out of your subconsciousness’ anteroom if your body wouldn’t abide by your minds’ commands?

The beeping was becoming more domineering over the murked blur of the quiet noises that encircled your head. 

What in the absolute fuck is that shit?

…am I dead? That’d make a lot of sense actually.

The noise began to pulse in your ears, slowly punching your brain-fogged mind into a state of configuration. 

You should open your eyes, lift the accursed flesh-lids that curtained them and let the radiance of the world puncture your pupils and blind you.

Aight…MC…you got this girlypop…you got this.

1…2…wait. Nah, that’s fucking stupid. Whoever actually gets up when they count to three is too self-controlled. 

What motivates you. That is the query. 

Geo…? Geo would whoop my ass for sleeping in.

God he’s fucking awesome.

You hiss, before gingerly opening your weaker eye.

Then you immediately shut it, because, well, your pupils are so used to the shadows that the overhead flare-bright lights have probably blinded them. You wince, a scalding pain begins its fervid assault on your eye socket. 

Owie.

You think you swallow. Your throat distinctly — and painfully — aches from the force. 

You faintly grimace.

As your cerebrum continues its reboot, your physicality and its wounds become more obvious to you. What once was benumbed progressively became blisteringly arid, parching your skin and clawing at the dried walls of your esophagus.

You think you hear a voice; a heavenly harmony that continues to cautiously pry you from the darkness. A siren, come to guide you towards her island, towards your doom.

But…waking up wouldn’t be your doom, right? 

Well. It would be if I happened to be in some psychotic lunatic’s basement. That’d suck.

Either way, you had to assert dominance over your stubborn body. 

Okay. Baby steps…baby steps.

You agonisingly slowly begin to open your eyes, aiming to at least squint. Any sign that you were alive was good, especially if you get to hear that beautiful voice again.

Your eyelids pried open a crack, the dazzle of the overhead whites and yellows immediately abusing its power over your weakened eyes.

No…c’mon MC. You’ve got this.

Fortunately, eventually, your eyes began adjusting.

Marvellous. Now…gotta sit up.

You tried to move your arms, testing whether moving them was even a possibility in your current state. You move your focus to your hands, making attempts to flex them or to inch your fingers around, to get a feel for your surroundings.

As soon as your hand left your side, it felt horrifically cold, as if some wraith had exsanguinated all the warmth from your soul and left your body a frore husk. You shamefully retract it into the comfortable cocoon of…blankets?

Oh my god…blankets! I love blankets. Blankets are wonderful.

You felt a surge of joy fill your heart, its unnervingly swift pounding now serving as a steady background drumbeat to the endless, unbounding bliss that you now felt. Alas, the realisation that you needed to alert someone of your consciousness quickly became the priority in your mind.

You also just happened to acknowledge you didn’t have a clue where you fucking were.

You draw in a deep  gasp, a thinly veiled storm of frustration suddenly onslaughting your mind, pelting your brain with orders to fucking do something. 

“H-. Hell…Hello…?”

Your voice comes out faint and rasped, as if your voice box had rusted to near-irreparability and your tongue had been encased in lead.

“Oh?! Oh my goodness!”

Your ears perk up.

It’s that voice…the pretty one.

The silhouette of a woman comes into view, her head blotting out the ceiling lights and leaving her face anonymous under the shroud of darkness.

“Oh my…I’ll alert the doctor, please relax for now!”

              .  .  .

The next few hours passed by in a blur of boring examinations, excessive interviews with some wacko journalists — who were curious about why the famous, privileged, alleged ‘sex-fiend’ Geo Oogami was seen with you in his car (you were so discombobulated with their choice of nickname that water spouted out your nose like it was a fountain).

Now here you lay, stultified, annoyed and exhausted. The emotional toll it had taken to recall why you decided to lie out in a hailstorm was…immense. You cried multiple times in front of the nurses and doctors, who were demanding every piece of information that they deemed necessary for healing you. Also the consistent beeping of the nearby heart rate monitor was pissing you off, but you understood its pricelessness.

As expected, you had hypothermia, and would have to remain here for at least a week under supervision to ensure your organs and bodily tissues hadn’t suffered any long-lasting or permanent complications.

You were thankfully allowed to read books after about a day, so now at least your crippling, (and very lethal) boredom had a temporary fix.

“MC?”

The angelic voice called out again. The woman – Timea was her name, if you recall correctly — stood in the doorway, before swiftly entering and checking your vitals. After deeming your current state as satisfactory, she turns to you.

“I hear you have a visitor.”

You blinked. You? A visitor? Who the fuck would visit you?

What the shit?

You sit up, the sheets rustling under your weight as you turn to look at the doorway.

And from the unseen depths of the corridor, painted in gilded light, a wild Geo Oogami emerged, his icy turquoise eyes staring right into yours.

You swear you forgot how to breathe.

May God Himself preserve you because if this hypothermia doesn’t kill you, the asphyxiation will. Frankly, you don’t exactly care, you’re too busy gazing upon the angelic, elegant face that belongs to the man who sits at your side. 

“...Why.”

His voice was like a gong, short and straight-to-the-point; yet so firm and demanding that it left you stunned.

His eyes were filled with a thousand shards of broken glass, each one having once belonged to a mosaic birthed of the stars themselves. Maybe the mosaic was like his heart, cold and sharply-edged, yet so beautiful you couldn’t help but look at it with love.

Wouldn’t that mean his heart is shattered though?

“Why what?” Your query seems to have stilled the air, stilled the molecules in the entire room. Geo looked like he’d been frozen in time, before his face turned bitterly ornery.

“Why the fuck did I find you sitting practically naked in the middle of a storm, then have to watch as you die in my car, then have to pay over 10 grand in fines for speeding you to this bloody hospital?”

His voice was far more hiemal and frosty than whatever you’d felt during that storm. It was as if 0° Kelvin itself had been personified, given a permafrozen heart and the voice of a cold wind-whip. You shiver slightly, but how could you not? Like before, you were now in the direct vicinity of the princeling of winter himself. A very unhappy one, at that. 

It was never a good idea to provoke or challenge the wintry wrath of Geo Oogami. Unfortunately, you weren’t exactly the wisest person to have ever lived; a hot burst of annoyance flashed before your eyes, splattering your peripherals in a thousand shades of crimson and scarlet.

“I had my reasons. There’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.” 

The scattered shards in his irises seemed to form into serrated points, each one aimed directly at you, as if his eyes themselves wanted to carve you into pieces.

“Need not worry…? Need. Not. Worry?”

He paused, a small vein prodding under the skin of his temple. You gulped.

“Are you demented?”

He was malding now, a spine-chillingly livid anger in his eyes.

“You could’ve died in my car, under my watch, and it’s not something to be worried about?”

“Aren’t I a nuisance to you either way? What difference would it’ve made if I died?” 

The words are caustic for the walls of your mouth, leaving a bitter coating on your tongue. You’d thought this way for years, yet having your thoughts be thrown into the expanse of the real world, in front of a real man was…different. Especially considering the fact you idolised, respected…maybe even loved this man.

His face was a vial; a potion concocted of shock, disdain and woe slowly morphing the fury into a condensed cloud of sorrow. One that was now waiting to let loose its tears, to pour rain onto the barren soils of the earth beneath.

“How dare you.”

And so, Winter himself looked you in the eye, piercing the veil of whatever hallowed thing was keeping your emotions safely hidden. The aquamarine depths seemed to be slowly exsanguinating you of reason, of any form of logical function. You wanted to drown in them.

Aight. MC. Stop staring at him, he already resents you, he doesn’t need you to fawn over him like that.

You decide to survey the room you were in, it would be easier than continuing to peer into the unknown depths of his eyes. 

White walls. White tiled floor. A couple of pretty paintings. Some fake plants.

A slender bejewelled hand firmly latched onto your chin, steadily, almost like the arms on a clockface, he moved your head towards his.

His hand feels tense, his gelid fingertips bruising the warmth of your flesh. To your left, the bed seems to sink, as if a weight had been strapped unto it.

You still don’t look at him, instead opting to (cautiously) check out his thighs. They were covered by his usual dark pants, the brown fabric ripped and torn in a multitude of places.

God he’s so beautiful. 

“You are as much of a nuisance to me as I am unstylish — not in the slightest.” 

His voice was monotone, yet — unlike earlier — within its melodious notes was a soft melancholic chime; as if his voice had revamped itself into the epitome of dejection and despondency.

You were as astonished as he was uncomfortable.

Then you felt yourself lose every manner of self control as you began to sob your ghastly heart out.

Fucks’ sake MC. Can’t do jackshit right can you?

You feel a few torrid tears leap over the cliffs of your eyelids and crash onto his pale flesh. His eyes follow the wet trails down your face, before smearing it across your cheek.

You felt yourself losing grip over your mind again, trying to catch onto the grains of whatever cognition you had.

Whatever your brain had repressed from that horrific night was flooding through your consciousness, sweeping you off your feet and leaving you stranded on an island in the storm that was your eternal, unbounding sorrow.

But you supposed that’s one of the reasons why you loved Geo oh-so much. He was cold, hard logic; an anchor for your restless, maladaptive thoughts. His chill soothed the hot anger that pulsed beneath you, both from your fate and at the world for stuffing you into a school where you’d never thrive.

But destiny had its ways, you suppose; for even the most treacherous, onerous and dolorous of winters will eventually (and willingly) surrender to the balmy nature of a newborn spring.

“Whatever it was that led you to commit such a stupid act…I hope you can one day entrust me with the context and reasons.” 

“That almost sounds like you care, Geode.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

You feel his hand, rings and all, land atop your head; before gently, softly, stroking your hair. The tears still fell down your face, but the despair slowly fell muted as you gingerly placed your head on Geo’s shoulder and closed your eyes. 

If you’d had your way, you would’ve squished him to death, but you couldn’t afford to push this. Whatever this was.

“Promise me something, MC.” 

There’s that monotone voice again…

You give a small thumbs-up in affirmation.

“Promise me that you’ll come to me before you resort to such an extreme act. No matter how stupid it may be to you.”

He lowers his hand, it now lurking near yours; and you feel a small ray of confidence shine through the murk of your paranoia.

“...okay.”

And now, cautiously, almost as if fate Herself was puppeting you; you felt your hand grasp the slender fingers of him.

Touch him, partake in a quick, fleeting moment of heavenly contact.

To your surprise?

It wasn’t short, or brief, or sudden.

It felt more purposeful than every breath you’d fucking taken, hell even Geo looked a tad astounded by the prolonged contact.

Your soul feels a little lighter now.

Maybe the enigmatic winter himself would learn to accept the dawn of a flowery, dainty spring. Maybe he’d even accept himself. And hopefully you’d accept yourself too.