#somehow i’ve only been sick for four days it feels like it’s been a week at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

martyfive · 3 months

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i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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“You have to keep stirring until it’s thin, like soup.”

Steve had said this four times.

Eddie wanted a divorce.

They weren’t legally married, but he’d like to find a way to end it before it began.

“I’ve been stirring it for six minutes. It’s not getting thinner.”

“That’s impossible. Let me try.”

Steve was the chef. Eddie knew it, Steve knew it, everyone knew it. He was good at cooking. Not just following recipes, but actually throwing together ingredients from scratch and making something not only edible, but delicious.

But Steve was going away for a week with Robin. Something about a long overdue road trip that they were supposed to take before she went to college.

Eddie had every intention of just living off of takeout and the sympathy of Joyce and Claudia while he was gone, but Steve insisted that he had to know how to at least make a few things.

Steve seemed to think he could make a glaze for the baked chicken currently in the oven. The same baked chicken he’d almost burned because he thought he could put it in on broil instead of baked. He was really THAT hopeless.

But Steve was determined and when Steve was like this, he had no choice but to go along with it.

Steve was stirring, frown becoming more prominent the longer he tried.

“Something isn’t right. Did you put the lemon juice in?”

“You watched me put it in.”

“And the jelly was completely cooked down before you turned down the heat?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Steve.” Eddie placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders from behind him, shaking him slightly. “I can just eat pizza. Or sandwiches. Cereal. Joyce is having me over for spaghetti one night, I’m sure there will be leftovers. I won’t starve.”

“But you need to know how to take care of yourself!”

Warning sirens were going off in Eddie’s head. He’d been alone for a couple of days before and everything was fine. He’d made some macaroni, ate his weight in toast, it was great. He survived.

He even ate an apple!

So he could do it if he had to.

“What’s going on in that head, big boy?”

“Nothing. It’s just that Wayne didn’t have time to show you this stuff and you need to know.”

“I can make it a week, Stevie.”

“What if you have to make it longer?”

“Are you planning on running away? Going into hiding?”

He could tell Steve was rolling his eyes without even seeing his face.

“No. But what if I’m not always around?”

Eddie’s gut clenched. Steve must be sick. Or maybe he has a feeling that somehow the Upside Down is open and ready to ruin their lives again.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I mean anything can happen. What if we get in an accident and I don’t make it?”

“Woah.” Eddie turned Steve around and held onto his hips, fingers probably leaving bruises on his skin. “Where is this coming from?”

Steve shrugged and looked down at the floor.

“Robin has anxiety about it doesn’t she?”

Steve nodded.

Ah.

Robin didn’t intentionally shove her anxieties onto Steve, and she didn’t realize he felt them so strongly when she did. She was a worrier, always thinking about the worst case scenario and then somehow making it worse in her mind.

Eddie didn’t really let it bother him until it affected Steve.

“Sweetheart, nothings gonna happen. You’ve changed the oil and checked the tires. You’ve packed every possible thing you could need in any emergency. You have a cup of change for pay phones if you need to use them. You’ve got every stop picked out and we’ll know where you are the whole time.”

“But none of that helps if I’m in an accident.”

“No. You’re right. It doesn’t. But what are the odds of that happening really?”

Steve was silent.

Eddie cupped his face between his palms, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Stevie. But you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself without having to know how to make a glaze for a baked chicken. Do you really think I’m gonna waste an hour of my evening making this decadent dinner for myself? Or do you think I’ll make a sandwich and eat a bag of chips while I read a book?”

“I know.”

“I know you know. So let’s just trash the glaze, dip the chicken in some ketchup, and fuck around until we fall asleep. I’m gonna miss you for a whole week.”

Eddie’s hands slid around him to cup Steve’s ass and give it a squeeze. Steve smirked up at him as he let himself fall into Eddie.

“We could just go right to dessert?”

“Are you the dessert or am I?”

“I’m the cake and you’re the ice cream.”

“We better hurry then before the ice cream melts.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughed as Eddie pulled him from the kitchen to the stairs.

“I’m hungry, let’s go!”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #domestic fluff #I just think the rumors about Eddie not being able to cook are true #he can survive if he has to but it won’t be anything good #Steve having anxiety about ridiculous things thanks Robin

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animeyanderelover · 7 months

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Tags: @flaming-vulpix

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, clinginess, abduction, death

The Little Merman Pt.3

Part 2

"Ikuya, just hold still! The doctor won't hurt you!"

You had to press him down by the shoulders, the scene reminiscent of a time where your family used to have one dog which had hated it to be touched when she had somehow hurt herself. Ikuya let out whimpers as he squirmed around in your hold, recoiling whenever the doctor touched him. His amber-colored eyes were looking at you pleadingly as his voice was still too raw and hoarse to use since whatever flu had abruptly hit him nearly two weeks ago. His skin was still burning with his fever and his movements were sluggish as his body was heavy and exhausted.

“Hmm, has his condition become worse or slightly better since my last visit?”

“Slightly better, doctor. But he’s still very weak.”

“The medicine I’ve prescribed?”

“I’ve been giving him the medicine everyday. It at least helped him to sleep better.”

You glanced worriedly at the doctor. You were concerned for Ikuya’s help since he had been in this weak condition for over one week already. You didn’t want to tell him this but in your eyes he just was very delicate so you feared that the sickness would be too much of a toll for him. After all, he had told you that he had lived sheltered on an island for years with his family. He probably wasn’t used to a lifestyle like yours.

“Is… Is he going to be fine, doctor?”

The older man gave you a short laugh when noticing your worried expression.

“Now, now, (y/n). No need to give me such a dejected look. His condition might be weak but it’s nowhere near life-threatening. I’d say if you take care of him like you’ve done until now, he’ll be fine in a week or two. Just continue to give him the medicine.”

You nodded, feeling a weight drop from your heart as you chose to believe the doctor. You’d grown attached to Ikuya in the four months he’d been with you so you wanted him to get fit again.

“Thanks for dropping by again. I can’t thank you enough.”

The doctor waved his hands dismissively.

“No need to thank me. You know that I’ll gladly drop by. Your parents were good friends of mine…”

His eyes shortly darkened as they filled with sadness and weakness and for a moment he looked like he had aged significantly before he resumed his mild grin.

“If anything should happen, just inform me.”

You escorted him out of the house and stood in the doorframe as you waved him goodbye, watching how he disappeared in the woods to walk back to the small town. You hadn’t shown it earlier but now your eyes showed pity as you watched his back in the distance. You’d known him since your earliest childhood days and knew how much he had lost in his life. His wife had died in an accident as her horse had thrown her off and she had smashed her head against a rock, his parents and siblings had passed away years ago, his best friends and also your parents had drowned away and then his only child had been gone missing mysteriously years ago although rumors had it that they’d been kidnapped by the man that had randomly appeared years ago. Your memories were hazy as you had been very small during that time but the one thing you still remembered about that scary man were his cold and unsettling purple eyes that had gazed cruelly at everyone he had laid eyes upon. Gossip in the town by people who had clearer memories of that time than you had told that the only one who had been granted his warm gaze had been the child of the doctor. The doctor truly had lost so much and yet continued to move on. His strength was inspiring.

“I know it tasted awful but it’ll help you, I promise.”

You said as you tried to reason with Ikuya to take the medicine that he hadn’t liked from day one. You understood him of course, it smelled bitter and was viscous from it’s texture, not even to mention that the brown-green color of it made it look everything but appetizing. But as your parents had always told you: “It doesn’t have to taste good, it’s just supposed to help you recover.”

He made a grimace as you nearly shoved the spoon in his mouth and the bitter texture spread on his palette, for a short moment you feared that he’d gag but Ikuya managed to force it down his body with an audible gulp.

“There we go. Now you should try to sleep a bit more. You need all the rest that you can get to get better.”

You told him as you pulled the blanket up his body and helped him to lay back down in the bed. You took the warm rag from his forehead, wrung it out before dipping it in cool water to place it onto his warm forehead again.

“So, if you need help with anything, just make yourself noticeable somehow so that I can assist you in whatever way I can.”

You reminded him before standing up from the bed, ready to head to your own room and rest for the night. Just as you were about to leave though, you were stopped by his soft hands weakly grasping your wrist. You turned to him with a slightly surprised look as you wondered what he could want from you.

“S-stay a bit longer with me.” He croaked out with his hoarse voice as good as he could, his eyes staring at you with a frightened gaze. You’d sort of known that he had separation anxiety but it had gotten worse since he had fallen ill. You bit your lip as you saw his gaze that made your heart always waver with guilt. He looked too innocent, too weak, too fragile in such moments as if he would fall apart if you wouldn’t be there for him. You gave in with a sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Only until you’ve fallen asleep.”

You couldn’t even have imagined how happy those words made Ikuya. He had been miserable ever since the mysterious sickness had gotten him and had practically immobilized him. He assumed that it must have been a curse of the sea wizard due to breaking his promise, one that took time to heal. Time that he needed to make you love him.

Instead he could barely go to the bathroom alone as you had to help him with everything. He hated it as much as he loved it at the same time. He’d never been this helpless before in his life and it was humiliating but at the same time he couldn’t help but bask in all of the attention and care you gave him. A part of him couldn’t help but believe that this meant that you loved him too, even if you hadn’t spoken those words yet.

He sluggishly crawled closer to where you were sitting before slowly wrapping his arms around your hips, his head moving up to lay in your lap. You weren’t prepared for this so you flinched surprised upon witnessing his move. Initially you were fully prepared to berate him for this, teach him some boundaries but words failed you when you glanced down at Ikuya. He had closed his eyes, breathing softly with his cheek smushed against your thigh. He looked peaceful and calm for the first time since he’d fallen ill as you knew best how much this sudden disease had worn him down. So you bit your tongue, out of pity, and allowed him to lay in your lap, dozing away to a happy dream in which both of you were lovers and he showed you his own home.

It took him weeks until the worst passed by. He still wasn't completely healed but at least now he could walk without your support, even if he was still feeling wobbly on both of his legs. Throughout the entire time where he had been seriously ill though, you never left him once. You catered to his needs as much as you could, took excellent care of him and stayed with him when he got anxious. Multiple times he'd woken up to you sitting on a chair next to his bed, your head tilted over the back of the chair in a position that would surely give you a stiff neck yet you never complained. Because it all was for him. You cared for him! You loved him! It must have been love that made you sacrifice all your time and comfort in favor of nursing him back to health!

"You're looking really better now. The medicine of the doctor is really working now." You beamed happily as you shoved a spoon full of vegetable stew in your mouth, munching on it. Ikuya gave you a flustered grin, happy to finally feel better as well as seeing you in such a happy mood to see him well. You were happy because he was finally feeling better... The thought of it made him blush a bit and he shyly averted his eyes to his soup plate. He lifted his own spoon, carefully blew at the steaming food before eating his own share. "It's also because I had you to look after me..." He finally decided to speak up bashfully, although his voice was still very quiet.

"Don't mention it. I'd hate to see someone precious to me suffering. Also, I have lots of experience with taking care of sick people. I had three younger siblings after all."

His heart soared in Ikuya's chest when you mentioned that he was someone precious to you. A giddy feeling took over him, one that almost made him want to skip happily across the room as he helped you cleaning up the table, trying his best to stay stable on his slightly shaky knees. They had felt weird since a few days but you had told him that it probably was the aftereffects of his passing illness. It made sense in his head.

"I'm heading down into the village. I promised to help the fisher there to help them navigate since the weather is a bit rough today. We'll share the money the catch will bring us. You're fine with being alone for a while, right?"

He wasn't and Ikuya wanted to tell you so too. But guilt held him back as he knew that you had already neglected your own work enough for him. So he hid his hands behind his back as they had started trembling as the idea of you leaving him distressed him and gave you a weak smile. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

You didn't look fully convinced but decided to just have faith in him since you'd hate breaking your promise to the people down there. There was also this urgent matter to take care of...

"(y/n)?" Ikuya asked carefully when he noticed that you had spaced out, looking like you were deep in your thoughts. You snapped out of it when you heard his tender voice.

"Don't forget that the doctor will be coming later today to see how you're doing. I might not be back by that time so you'll have to open the door for him." You reminded him quickly before dressing up for the windy weather outside.

"See you later." You told Ikuya before closing the door.

"See you later." Ikuya muttered under his breath even though you couldn't have possibly heard him then as you were already out of the house. He stared at the door dreamily before walking up the stairs, the feeling of giddiness still etched into his chest. He had a good feeling about this. It would all work out. He was sure of it.

Just when he was about to step up the last few stairs, a sudden wave of pain suddenly hit him. It knocked the air out of his lungs as his legs gave in under him due to the painful cramps. All strength left his legs for a moment and it was only because he was thrashing around with his upper body and his arms that he managed to push himself forward and prevent falling down all the stairs. He let out deep and shaky breaths as he crawled up the last few stairs with only his arms, his weak legs sliding over the wooden ground. He turned on his back as soon as he laid safely on the floor, touching his legs confused and frightened. What was wrong right now? This couldn't be normal. He felt his legs trembling under his hands, spasm after spasm going through his muscles that had his face turn into a pained grimace. It took a while for the pain to slowly go away. He took in deep breaths the entire time yet still felt like he wasn't breathing in enough oxygen which slowly had him feel slightly dizzy.

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his stomach.

He slowly removed the baggy trousers that you had bought him to see what was wrong. His heart dropped when he saw teal-colored fish scales covering his pale skin. No, no, no, no. no...

He erratically rubbed the palms of his hands against them as if trying to wipe them away yet they stayed there, although they at least didn't seem to spread further up his legs. For now at least. Abruptly he became aware of the way his chest was heaving for more air as if not getting enough as the dizziness slowly got worse. He got up slowly, pushing himself up with his hands before slowly balancing himself out on his feet. He could see them slightly shaking now as it felt even more difficult now to stand. Despite that he quickly made his way towards his room where you still had a bowl of water just in case you had to use wet rags to cool him down. It felt like the water pulled him towards it as he collapsed next to it and instantly dunked his face into the object. He instantly took deep breaths as soon as his nose was in the liquid and a mixture of relief and dread washed over him when he realized that he could breathe under water.

He sat there a couple of minutes, taking in much needed air before pulling his face out of the bowl, his hair dripping with water and a heavy panic settling deep inside his chest. He was running out of time! He couldn't wait anymore! He-he had to kiss you now!

"Your fever has gone down significally and I must say, you look a lot more healthy now."

Ikuya did his best to nod and give the doctor a good smile as he silently prayed for the old man to leave. He had grown to like the old man but his urge to dunk his head under water again was growing stronger and stronger as the headache from the lack of proper air for him was slowly becoming unbearable.

"It's all thanks to you and (y/n). By the way, do-do you know when they'll come back?" Ikuya asked with a hint of urgency in his tone. He didn't have much time left. He could almost feel how the skin on his legs was slowly turning back into scales. He would most likely turn back before the next sunrise.

"I'm afraid that I don't really know. The weather has gotten a bit worse so it might be a bit difficult to sail across the ocean." The old man told him whilst looking out of the window. The blue sky had completely disappeared under the thick layer of grey and dark clouds that poured rain down onto the surface. The weather was scary, he hated storms a lot. They were loud and cold, the only good thing it had brought to him was you.

"May I ask why you want to know that?"

Ikuya hesitated a bit but then just decided that he didn't have to be very specific about it anyways. "There's something I have to tell them..." He admitted silently, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He had locked his eyes onto the ground and didn't see the look of slow but sure realization that spread across the wrinkled face of the doctor, nor the sad glimmer that appeared in his eyes as he looked at Ikuya.

"I think (y/n) might be a bit late today because even if they're already back from fishing, they have something urgent to discuss with a few people."

Ikuya finally looked up, confused by the tone the old man used as he sounded sad and he felt even more confused when he saw how he was looking at him.

"W-what? Something urgent?"

"So (y/n) didn't tell you. They probably didn't want to bother you with anything whilst you're not fully recovered yet."

Hands suddenly grabbed the doctor's shoulders in a tight hold, although he could feel how they were trembling. Wide amber-colored eyes stared at him with confusion and growing fear. Ikuya could barely stand and partially had to use the doctor as a support yet he forced his legs to stand as a new wave of dread filled his veins. Why was the old man looking at him with such pitiful eyes? What was happening with you right now?!

"What do you mean? Please... please tell me." He spoke out in a quivering tone, big eyes looking pleadingly at the doctor. He seemed to contemplate for a while whether to tell Ikuya or not before letting out a sigh, a defeated one.

"(y/n) has been offered a few days ago an engagement with one of the fisher's children and will visit them today to discuss this topic." He said it as neutral as possible in hopes of sparing Ikuya a too big shock.

Nothing could have saved Ikuya from the shock, the confusion, the fear, the pain this news hit him with. It washed over him mercilessly and for a short moment he froze completely. Only seconds later though his body started shaking again as tears spilled down his face as the word kept repeating itself in his head.

Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. Engagement. But with someone else...

"I...b-but...why?" He couldn't think straight anymore, couldn't form any proper sentence and his voice nearly died down at the end as he let go. His chest started hurting with another pain that didn't come from breathing properly due to the lack of air. It felt like something was tearing him apart from inside his chest as more tears blurred his vision.

"I don't know if they will agree to the engagement or not. All will be decided today."

But-but you had him! Why would you think about getting engaged to someone else when you had him! You...you were supposed to love him... You loved him! Didn't you?

Ikuya let go of the doctor's shoulder as all strength left him and he fell back into the mattress of the bed, staring blankly into the room as more tears cascaded down his cheeks. Seconds ticked by in which the doctor thought about what he should do right now. Should he stay or leave?

"Leave."

His voice was quiet and shaky but there was an underlying bitterness to it that only someone with a broken heart could feel. Deciding to respect that his patient would need some time alone now to come to terms with the news, the old man slowly left the room. Ikuya only noted absentminded how he left, shut the door behind him and made his way back to the town in the rain and wind. Nothing of that mattered really to him in the moment. The only thing that mattered was you.

"Ikuya...? What are you doing outside in this rain?! Quick, go back inside or else you'll catch another cold!"

You had not expected to come home, drenched in water from the sea and the rain, only to find Ikuya standing outside. Wet strands of hair stuck to his face, hiding partially his eyes from your sight. He was drenched just like you were and you could clearly see how his whole body was shivering violently, you assumed because of the cold rain combined with the strong wind.

He didn't move, instead stood in his place, not even glancing at you. You furrowed your brows as you walked closer to him in large strides, concerned for him. What was wrong?

The moment he noticed how you walked closer to him, one hand carefully stretched out to touch him, he flinched away. His whole body jumped back and his head snapped up to look at you and the look in his eyes shot right through your heart. Confusion, fear but above all sorrow beyond words. His amber eyes looked at you as if you'd abused him. You froze in your tracks when he gave you that look and both of you just stood there. Then he abruptly turned around, his back facing you before he sprinted into the forest. You reminded in your frozen position for a few moments as the shock had almost paralyzed you before you finally snapped out of it and ran after him.

"Ikuya!! Ikuya!! Stop! What's wrong?!"

He didn't listen, he didn't stop, he didn't slow down. Ikuya just ran through the growing pain, the burning sensation of his two legs slowly melting back into one fish tail. His lungs hurt as he had never physically exercised like this in this human form and the fact that the air up here slowly didn't provide him with the oxygen that he needed only intensified everything. His head hurt, his chest hurt, he felt dizzy and nauseous and nearly tumbled down a couple of times. His legs lost more and more strength and he knew that he would transform back into a merman very soon.

"Ikuya!! Stop!! The cliff!!!" You yelled after him, your voice layered with fear. Fear for him. Yet now he knew better. You'd never seen him as anything close to a lover. Unlike him you'd never seen him as your light of your life, as your first and only love.

You were out of breath by the time you reached the cliff, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat when he stopped, the slippery ground almost causing him to fall down only for him to halt right on the edge of the cliff. You heard him, saw him visibly gulping for air as if he couldn't breathe properly. You walked slowly towards him, terrified that one wrong move from him could push him into falling into a nearly 30 metre abyss only to sink down and drown into the raging ocean.

"I-Ikuya...please move away from there. You might fall down." You spoke slowly yet despite your best attempt to make your voice sound steady, your tone was wavering. Amber eyes casted a short look down into the ocean before looking straight at you, pinning you onto the ground again as if his gaze had a weight to it that prevented you from moving.

Just now you noticed that his eyes were red and puffy. Had he been crying?

"Did you accept?"

Your mind and your feelings were all over the place, you couldn't think properly anymore.

"What? W-what are you... Ikuya, I-I..." You stumbled over your sentences, unable to form a single coherent one. You didn't understand what he meant but his next question crashed down onto your brain like a landslide, burying all of your thoughts under it.

"D-do you love me?"

All of a sudden you were silent, your mind was silent, no word left your mouth. You just stood there with wide eyes as you stared at him astonished as if not fully registering what he had just spoken.

Now it was Ikuya who slowly walked closer to you, to where you stood. Cold hands gingerly grasped your shoulders and you could feel now how much he was trembling. His eyes were filled to the brim with emotions and now you could clearly see the tears spilling out of his eyes. It nearly made you want to cry as well.

"Please..." He started speaking with a trembling voice, his pleads threatening to break your heart then and there.

"Please love me. Only me. No one else. B-because if you don't...I can never have you."

You could only stare at him as your mind slowly started to work again.

"Ikuya...d-do you know about the-"

You were cut off, caught-off-guard when soft and warm lips pressed against your own pair of lips. You stiffened in Ikuya's hold, eyes somehow opening even wider as he leaned into the kiss, inexperienced yet conveying all of his emotions perfectly.

It was a wonderful feeling for the first few seconds as his stomach and chest exploded with fuzzy and warm feelings. But cold emptiness filled him shortly after as he finally understood your own feelings through the kiss. You didn't love him...and you probably never would.

You were speechless when he pulled away, only able to stare at him as he stepped away from you as if you'd burnt him with your lips, a devastated look in his eyes.

"You don't love me..."

You couldn't even hear what he was whispering more to himself than to you over the howling wind, all you could focus on was how he was stepping dangerously close to the edge of the cliff again. He looked at his own trembling hands for a moment before he locked eyes with you for a last time. Icy fear rolled over you when you saw that look in his eyes. A sad and heart-broken smile was on his face as he let himself fall down and your hand only brushed through the air as you tried to catch him, stop him, hold him.

He heard you crying out his name in a horrified voice, watched your form getting smaller and smaller before he crashed through the surface of the cold water, his skin crawling the moment he was engulfed in it. It was as if being fully submerged in the ocean accelerated his transformation as his legs started shaking and trembling. He watched as the legs he had been walking around with for almost half a year melted together into his teal-colored tail and tore his trousers apart.

As soon as he had reverted back to his real form, he swam away as fast as he could with a bleeding heart that would probably never heal. It had all been for nothing. Six months had been for nothing except making him fall in love with you even more. It hurt, it hurt him so much... He wished he'd never have fallen in love in the first place.

#yandere free #yandere free!#yandere ikuya #yandere kirishima ikuya

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

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Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Three

Chapter Four: A Dance With The Devil

It had been four days, nearly a week since Luke had last seen Katherine. They had worked out a plan for rendezvous: Katherine would keep the Camaro parked at a specially marked spot in the woods, about a mile from the camp. He still hadn’t gotten the chance to go and meet Katherine yet, which he found himself strangely disappointed about.

But, he had finally gotten himself an excuse to leave Camp Half-Blood for a short while. Luckily, he’d walked down the hill for about half an hour to find that Katherine was waiting by the Camaro, per the note he’d left on her windshield on his last patrol of the camp.

“Sandy!” Luke joked, seeing her in a black cafe racer jacket.

Despite coming from completely different backgrounds, and being completely different people, they still had music and movies in common.

“Tell me about it, stud,” she rolled her eyes. “So, what’s new with you? What’d you get?”

“Some weapons, shields, and stuff to help us in the Underworld... What did you get?” he asked in turn.

“Just some odds and ends I needed to stock up on,” Katherine stated. “Here. I had these made.”

Luke looked at her curiously as she handed him a stack of driver’s licenses she’d made using a photo she’d asked him to have taken by one of the children of Apollo who specialized in fake license photos.

“Whoa. Where’d you get these?” he asked her. “I know a few people who can get fakes made, but I’ve never seen anything this convincing.”

“I told you, I have my contacts,” she shrugged.

He carefully examined the fake licenses, looking at all the smaller details. Each license used its own fake name, and listed an eerily accurate height of 6’1”.

“Really? I’m 21?” Luke raised an eyebrow.

“We gotta let off some steam at some point,” Katherine reminded him.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna become part of the camp?” he asked. “It’d make things a lot easier.”

“Nah, I like living out of my car,” she reminded him. “I like the privacy.”

“Yeah, something tells me living in the Hermes cabin with me, the other Hermes kids, and all the other minor gods’ children and the unclaimed doesn’t exactly sound like a step up,” he admitted, not fond of the idea himself.

“Oh, we’d be sharing a cabin?” she joked, a playful grin on her face.

“Well. There is a rule that specifically states that a male and female camper can’t be left alone in a cabin,” he quipped, open to the banter.

“That’s not very progressive,” Katherine pouted.

“Not everyone’s as forward-thinking as us,” he offered.

“I could think of a few things we could look forward to,” she chuckled, her deep voice resonating.

“Like what?” his ears practically perked up in surprise.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she smiled. “Luke, I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta meet up with a guy.”

“What, for more Celestial bronze?”

“No, credit cards,” she elaborated, “I have a few stolen ones, but they’ll only last me so long ‘til the owners notice. I have a guy that does fakes that pass.”

“Where the hell did you find all these guys?” Luke frowned.

“Networking, sweetie,” Katherine said dryly. “I gotta go. Let me know if you come up with an alibi.”

“That was what I was gonna tell you. I got them to give me in-and-out privileges without question,” he explained.

“What’d you tell them?”

“I told them I have a sick aunt back in Connecticut,” he said nonchalantly.

“Good one. Sick relative’s always a sympathy-getter. I gotta go. My guy’s waiting,” she climbed into the car.

“Meet me here tonight. At 8. We can leave then,” he told her.

“Alright. See ya,” Katherine drove off without a second thought.

Luke watched her drive off, already feeling an uncomfortable silence filling the air as she left. Katherine did come with plenty of silence, but somehow, to Luke, it was a preferable silence. He knew a lot of people at the camp, having been Head Counselor of Cabin 11 for years and lived there for even longer, but there few people at the camp he genuinely cared for, especially close to his own age.

Katherine Montalvo was one of the first people he’d ever met who actually understood what he had to say. She was also one of the first people he’d ever actually felt he was safe telling.

It was only a few minutes before 8:00 when Katherine arrived at her designated parking spot down the hill from Camp Half-Blood. She waited exhaustedly as Luke came down the hill, backpack slung over his shoulder and duffel bag in hand. The first thing he noticed about her was that her long ebony-colored waves were now confined in a surprisingly girlish French braid that fell in one sleek twist down her back.

“I’ll start the car,” Katherine nodded in approval.

“What happened to the Camaro?” Luke questioned, realizing she was now driving a silver Pontiac.

“Ran into some trouble. Don’t ask,” she sighed.

“Not asking,” he smiled. “Where to first?”

“I’m ready to head to Central Park,” she replied as they both climbed in. “What are your thinking?”

“I’m ready to go,” she sighed, irritably throwing off her jacket toward the backseat.

Luke watched her as she did, eyes playfully widened at the sight of her toned shoulders, which weren’t hidden by her hair for the first time he’d ever seen. Maybe, he thought, this might’ve been what school dress codes were warning against.

“Just gotta head to the store. I haven’t had the chance to grab more food.”

Luke didn’t ask her any further questions as she drove them to the closest convenience store, knowing better when it came to Katherine. He got out of the car with her, following her into the store. He noticed a large motorcycle parked outside, wondering who it belonged to.

Naturally, his question was quickly answered once he walked into the store and saw a large, surly biker with short black hair dressed in all leather. He eyed him cautiously, wondering if he’d prove to be any sort of problem.

Luke kept an eye on him as he walked behind Katherine.

“What kind of chips do you want?” she asked.

“Get whatever you want,” Luke told her, chipping in with some of the cash he’d brought with him.

“Spicy peanuts?” she called.

“Spicy peanuts,” Luke nodded insistently. “Never thought that would’ve been something I’d need.”

On the way out, Luke watched Katherine’s back, not appreciating the strange way the rough-looking biker was eyeing them. He stiffened as the man approached them, quickly tapping her arm to signal to her.

“Hey,” the quite literally giant man said gruffly.

“What do you want?” Luke asked him, not trusting him at all.

“Calm down kid,” the man said passively, “I’m not macking on your girl.”

Luke turned to the girl, a confused expression on his face. “Of course you’re not, I don’t think anyone has since 1987,” he scowled.

“Luke, shut up,” she sighed, switching her attention over to the man, “What do you want?” she questioned impatiently.

“You two kids are Half-Bloods, right?” the thirty-something year old biker asked.

Katherine’s eyes widened as her hand instinctively went to her lipstick tube in her pocket.

“What do you know about that?” she murmured.

“A lot,” he promised them. “I’ve made quite a few of ‘em myself. Say, sweetheart, you look real familiar to me.”

“I promise you, you don’t know either of us,” Luke said coldly.

“Wasn’t talking to you, blondie,” the man said, slowly creeping towards Katherine. “Oh… I do know you. I met you when I was hanging out with my girl. I knew it! I could never forget that face!”

“Katherine, do you know this guy?” Luke asked, his concern deepening.

“Luke,” she said under her breath, “This is between us.”

“Wait a minute, your name’s not Katherine,” the man said, his voice deepening dangerously as he examined the tall, thin girl. “No, that’s not it… It’s Rose, or Lily, or something, right? Some kind of flower?”

Katherine said nothing, just standing there awkwardly as the main tilted her chin up to get a good look at her.

“Daisy. That’s it,” he purred. “Daisy Montalvo. That’s your real name. I remember you… the scared little girl living on the street. Boy, you seem to be doing pretty good for yourself now. You got a car, and a boyfriend…”

Luke watched in horror as the once strong and confident Katherine practically flinched at the mention of the name. Had she really lied to him about her name? If she had, he had no idea what sort of thing about her past she could’ve been hiding. After all, she’d already told him she’d killed a person. If that was even true.

“Katherine, we need to go,” Luke urged her, not liking the sinister energy between the two.

“Beat it, kid, I wanna talk to Daisy here,” the biker interjected angrily. “You still have that lipstick my girlfriend gave you?”

Katherine nodded wordlessly as Luke looked at her in surprise.

“His girlfriend gave you that spear?” he asked her. “Who even is this guy?”

“Ares!” she whispered, shooting him an angry stare. “Lady Aphrodite gave me that spear. This is Ares, alright?! Now shut the fuck up before you get us both killed!”

“Listen to your little sweetheart, Duke,” the god of war warned him.

“You’re Ares?” Luke asked him skeptically.

“Mm-hmm,” the man crossed his arms, not-so-subtly flexing his arms as the pupils of his eyes were replaced with bright orange flames.

Luke didn’t question him any further.

“Now, Daisy. What have you two gotten yourselves into?”

“Nothing,” Katherine responded coolly. “We’re just passing through.”

“I don’t buy it,” he insisted. “You two are up to something.”

“We’re not up to anything, Lord Ares,” Luke promised, not necessarily sure how to address the immortal god.

“Relax, I didn’t say I wasn’t into it,” he reassured them. “How would you two like to earn a gift from me?”

“Like what?” Katherine asked cautiously.

Ares, the god of violence, bared his jagged, less-than-white teeth in an almost animalistic grin.

“Anything you want,” he promised, leering like a cartoon villain.

“Swear it,” Katherine said immediately. “On the River Styx.”

Luke remained silent, fearing that Ares would lash out at her, which he was definitely known for doing. Luckily, her gall only seemed to amuse the war god.

“I’ll tell you what, girlie. I’ll make you a deal. We can both swear it on the river, that if you do the one thing I ask you to do, without your little bodyguard here interfering, I’ll get you whatever you want, wherever in the world it might be,” he chuckled mischievously.

“Deal,” Katherine decided with finality.

“Hey,” Luke warned, lightly grabbing her arm, “I don’t like this…”

“Hey, you know we could use all the tools we can get,” she reminded him.

“But do you really wanna do whatever he wants you to do?” he asked.

“Yeah. I do. Because it’s up to me,” Katherine told him.

“Why do you wanna help us?” Luke asked.

“Because. Whatever it is you two are doing, I’m sure my dad’ll love it,” Ares laughed heartily. “I love family drama.”

“I swear on the River Styx that if I accept your deal, and do as you say in exchange for what I want, Luke Castellan won’t interfere in any way,” Katherine vowed impulsively. “Now you swear.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, not particularly thrilled that his full name was invoked in a sacred promise on the River Styx.

“That’s the Daisy we know and love,” Ares laughed, his laughter somehow cold and scorching at the exact same time. “You’ve got spunk, kid. I’ll give you that… I swear on the River Styx that, if you do what I’m about to ask of you, I’ll procure and give to you whatever existing object you want,” he granted, seeming satisfied.

Luke was in awe of Katherine’s trust in the god of war of all people, feeling as if she had some sort of death wish. He couldn’t imagine someone as smart and strategic as Katherine putting their faith in this pompous 80’s movie villain.

“Then quit fucking around and tell me what I have to do,” she stared up at him, eyes spiteful and insinuating.

“Katherine!” Luke exclaimed for the umpteenth time. “Shut up?!”

“Holy shit, you’ve got a mouth on you, kid, I love it!” Ares raved. “Nobody talks to me like this! Shit. Alright. First, I gotta get us to where we actually need to be. Here.”

Before Luke and Katherine knew what was happening, Ares had made a point of snapping his fingers and transporting the three of them, in addition to their vehicles, to an undisclosed location. He looked around in confusion, not recognizing the suburban neighborhood they were now standing in, in the dark.

“Where are we?” he asked, surveying his surroundings.

Katherine, however, didn’t seem confused at all.

“What are we doing here?” she looked up at the god, seeming even more on edge. “I said I’d never go back here!”

“That’s the catch, girlie,” Ares reminded her with a grin. “I never said the task was gonna be easy.”

She sighed, realizing she was in a bind. “You know what? Fuck it. Just tell me what you want me to do,” she gave in.

“Is—Is this where you used to live?” Luke asked her.

She refused to answer the question, not taking her eyes off of Ares.

“What do I have to do?” she demanded.

“Simple,” he began mischievously, “Go in… And get that teddy bear.”

Even in the dark, Luke could see Katherine Montalvo’s face go pale as he finished speaking.

“Why do you want me to get that thing?!” she yelled. “I don’t want it!”

Luke had no idea why she seemed so opposed to the simple request, but something told him that the answer to that question was something long and twisted.

“I know you don’t,” Ares taunted her, “That’s why I want you to.”

“You’re sadistic,” Luke cut in furiously, “She’s not playing your sick game!”

“Like hell she isn’t!” Ares shouted at him, fiery pupils reappearing and igniting the darkness. “She wants that prize! She’ll do anything for it!”

“Stay out of this, Luke. I’m doing this for us,” Katherine promised him, her demeanor softening to appeal to his reasoning. “Just let me go in, and get what he wants me to get. Don’t intervene; I swore on the River Styx. You don’t wanna know what happens if you make me break that promise,” she urged him, genuine fear in her eyes.

“…Okay,” Luke agreed shakily, “I trust you.”

“Good,” she nodded, seeming relaxed by the promise.

“But I’m coming with you,” he insisted.

“Fine by me,” Ares said indifferently. “I can make us both invisible. All you gotta do is go in, and get your teddy bear, Daisy.”

“Fine,” she spat, turning to Luke. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Just don’t do anything, and everything will be okay. I’ll get us what we need to find him.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded, feeling as if he were saying some sort of goodbye, “I trust you.”

He said the words a second time, not knowing what else he could say to urge her to make it back.

Chapter Five

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #jake abel #pjo luke #rick riordan #riordanverse #riordan universe #adam milligan

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moriiartist · 2 years

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WRONG TURN (AT THE RIGHT TIME)

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Vampire!Ethoslab x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: It was simple, the arrangement you had with Gem. She would let you study in the library before it opened; you would be gone before her boss came in. So… how did you wind up with a vampire for a history tutor?

WARNINGS: Mild language, death mention, semi-graphic violence, non-consensual touching (you get manhandled a bit, nothing sexual), blood and injury, vampirism

A/N: Etho’s a little spooky in this one... had me feeling some type of way while I was writing him 🥴. This one is a bit longer than some of the other stuff I’ve written, and a bit scarier, but I hope y’all enjoy it anyways!

“Alright, time to pack up. You promised me you would be gone before my boss gets in, and the library opens in an hour.”

You jumped at the sound of a book slamming against the surface of the desk you were sitting at, jerking your head up and away from the paragraph you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. A figure loomed over you like the specter of death, impatiently drumming their fingertips against the flesh of their crossed arms.

They- or rather, she- affixed you with a glare that could melt steel, green eyes flashing behind the thick rims of her glasses. It took a second longer for your sleep-deprived brain to boot up, but it was almost too easy at this point for you to recognize the face of the library’s chief archivist.

Rubbing at your burning eyes with a forefinger and thumb, you puffed a slow breath through your cheeks. After trying to read by the dim light of the desk lamp for God knows how many hours, they stung like hell.

“Sorry, Gem. I must’ve lost track of time.”

The librarian, Gem, snorted but allowed her stern gaze to thaw, auburn hair rippling down her back as she tilted her head. “Are you sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard? I know you want to finish up your degree, but I’m pretty sure you’ve studied here every day this week.”

You chuckled dryly. Oh, she had no idea.

Your day job took up almost all of the ‘working day’ so to speak, leaving only the darkest hours of the night for you to attend college classes and catch up on homework. However, during those hours, there was nothing you could access beyond what little you could pirate on your shitty laptop and printed course material.

Which is why Gem is the only thing standing between you and straight-up flunking college.

Despite her devout adherence to the laws that governed your local city library, you had convinced her with a mix of bribery, guilt-tripping, and groveling to allow you to visit in the early hours before it opened. You were able to read and complete your assignments in peace, but most importantly: you were able to access legitimate, essential, official resources during the only time you had during the day to study.

You felt the muscles in your jaw twitch as you held your smile, hoping it didn’t look too vacant. Or desperate.

“I’m fine, Gem. Just a bit tired.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry- have you seen yourself? The bags under your eyes are big enough to carry my groceries.”

You winced.

“Can’t argue with you there.”

If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep in a row- and even that estimate was generous. You pivoted in your seat, making the tactical decision to retreat from Gem’s piercing gaze.

You sighed as you crammed as many books as possible into your backpack, forcing protesting muscles that had long remained stagnant into movement. Whatever didn’t fit you hefted in your arms, making a face halfway between a grimace and a look of abject horror as your back cracked under the weight.

Gem pursed her lips, and somehow you resisted the urge to groan. This was an old argument that the two of you had hashed and re-hashed ever since she’d let you come into the library during closing hours, and you were sick of having to defend yourself.

“You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. You look like you’re going to keel over at any second.”

“Well,” you laughed airily, the lightness of your voice at odds with the abject exhaustion in your expression. “It’s not like there’s anything I can do. I need to earn my degree, and you know that night classes are the only thing I can afford to take.”

Pausing for a moment, you snorted. “Both literally and figuratively.”

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Gem sighed, her normally lively countenance as deadpan as she could make it.

“No, I don’t think so. Not if you get to me first.”

A beat of silence.

“... Fair enough.”

It was routine for you to haul your backpack onto your shoulders, Gem helping you with the straps, and wave a harried goodbye to Gem as you slipped out the library’s back door. At her insistence, you promised to text her when you returned to your apartment so she knew you had gotten back safely.

You shivered, clutching your books tighter to your chest as the warmth of the indoors faded, leaving you to the mercy of Autumn’s chilled embrace.

It was no exaggeration that your free hours landed squarely in the dead of night- because although you had been up for hours, the sky was still as dark as pitch. Only the barest hint of starlight shone through the inky blackness, and though logically, you knew it was because of light pollution, some part of you wondered if the entirety of the milky way had been swallowed whole.

While the library was laid deep within the city’s heart, it was directly at the center of the entertainment district. Meaning that, despite the late (or early) hour, the city streets surrounding the library were just as busy during the night as they were during the day. Restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and… other businesses lined the street, the light from their illuminated windows and neon signs shining like rainbows against the pavement.

Across the street, raucous laughter resounded from within a bar. The sound bounced eerily across the pavement and crowded walls of the buildings that rose like silhouettes from the ground. You flinched as you heard the sound of shattering glass, accompanied by loud cheering, wrinkling your nose against the sharp sting of early winter frost and the pungent scent of booze.

You quickened your pace, dodging and weaving through flocks of tourists that ranged from mildly inebriated to flat-out drunk, barely managing to keep yourself balanced under the awkward weight of your backpack. The idea of being caught up in whatever illicit business went down in the cramped alleyways and seedy taverns that garnished the area like sprinkles on a cake was far from appealing- especially with the whole ‘living alone’ thing.

At the next street, you finally made the turn that led you away from the throngs of frat boys and bar-flies into the residential areas that sprouted just a ways off from popular tourist destinations.

Although you had made the journey countless times, it never ceased to startle you just how quickly the general cacophony of shouting and laughter faded away with a few blocks of distance. It was much, much quieter here; the only sounds were the gentle tap-tap-tap of your shoes against the concrete and the occasional rush of a car driving by.

Windows of houses looked more like dark, empty eyes as you passed them, and the further you got from the entertainment district, the easier it was to pretend that you were the only person on earth. A sharp gust of wind suddenly howled through the trees, rattling leaves and raking icy claws across your skin.

You gasped as a shiver snaked its way down your spine, instinctually clutching your books tighter to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth. Cursing softly, you shed through your coat pocket to find your phone, exclaiming in victory as your fingers wrapped around it. Clicking it open, you blinked in surprise once you spotted the time: 5:00 AM.

Huh. That was definitely waayyy later than you had originally expected… and you had to get to work at 8:30. A high-pitched whine rose in the back of your throat.

Say goodbye to any chance you could’ve had at a (barely) decent sleep, because at this rate? It would be a miracle if you could get home in time to shower and eat.

You were so focused on your phone that you almost didn’t process the electric hum that filled the air, the lone streetlight ahead flickering in and out to the beat of your footsteps. Catching the flashing from your periphery, you glanced up with a frown.

Now- you weren’t an electrician, or really anyone skilled in the engineering field, but… you were fairly certain that it shouldn’t be making that loud, electric humming noise. You halted in your steps, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at the malfunctioning lamp. It flickered one more time, weakly, before plunging you into shadow.

If you thought that the night was dark before, surrounded by light and the nightlife, it paled in comparison to the true darkness that descended upon you like a cloak. One moment, you’re perfectly fine, and the next, you can hardly see the shape of your body against the pavement.

Another shiver wracked your body- but it felt different from a chill. Something inside your brain had begun frantically ringing alarm bells, and you could only desperately search for some kind of stressor as the hair on the back of your neck rose to attention.

Shakily, you exhaled, spinning in one, slow circle. There was the faint outline of a parked car, engine silent and sleeping, the houses, the trees- nothing. Nothing that would make your anxiety levels swing from ‘manageable’ to ‘DEFCON one’.

You turned back around, your previously relaxed pace discarded in favor of a light jog. It was all you could do not to fall on your ass as your backpack shifted and bounced with your downstep, and your chest felt tight as panic began to seep in.

What the hell is going on?

Something clattered behind you, and your breath seized in your lungs. The burning was hardly an afterthought because you were sprinting, stumbling and dropping your own books in your haste to get away from something you couldn’t- or wouldn’t- see.

You were so close you could see the gleam of the next streetlight up above. Your inhales were more like sobbing gasps of air, and distantly you felt the dampness of your cheeks as tears sluiced down them.

You were so close.

But it was never like you had the chance to escape, anyway.

A calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking it and the rest of your body back. Hard.

All of the wind was knocked out of you as you slammed into the ground, hands and knees shrieking with agony as the pavement grain shredded the skin. The books within your bag did little to soften the fall, their hard spines digging into your ribs through the material of your bag.

Spots danced in front of your eyes, and you felt like you were moving through molasses as a pair of shiny dress shoes strolled into view. You didn’t want to see their face. Something visceral within you begged you to make yourself as small as possible- not a threat, nothing of interest.

Still, your traitorous gaze drifted upwards, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you stared straight up into a pair of ruby-red eyes.

“My, don’t you smell divine.”

You tried to scream, but it came out more like a choked gasp as your lungs came up empty.

This wasn’t- you had to be hallucinating. This had to be something that your sleep-deprived brain had dreamed up, safe and asleep in your bed.

Vampires weren’t real.

But, as it grinned with razor-sharp fangs, face alight with nothing but hunger, it was impossible to say it was anything else as it dug sharp, talon-like nails into your open wound.

Pain, quick as lightning and ten times more intense sparked through your nervous system, wringing a punched-out gasp from your throat. The periphery of your eyes darkened, and for a moment you genuinely thought that you would pass out from sheer agony as you desperately tried (and failed) to tear its wrist away.

It chuckled, twisting its claws in deeper to draw a proper scream out of you, humming in approval before it pulled them out. You went lax, heaving for breath as it lapped at the sticky blood- your blood- coating its fingers.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that it was watching you. Crouched on the side of the street, inspecting you with a calculating gaze not dissimilar from how a fox inspects a cornered rabbit.

“Oh,” it said, a grin that was entirely too wide creeping across its face. “Yes. You taste even better than I thought you would.”

Feeling your breaths come faster and faster as fresh tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, you pressed your palm to your mouth, only succeeding in smearing the blood that covered it all over your chin.

So this was how you died. Alone, scared, and covered in your own blood, pinned down in the middle of the street by a creature you thought only existed in classical literature and trashy romance novels.

And, to top it all off, you had never even graduated college.

The vampire shifted, and you flinched at the sensation of its talons scraping at the soft flesh of your neck. You knew what happened next if the stories were to be believed, but terror had frozen your limbs as thoroughly as rigor mortis.

You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut.

And promptly had them fly back open as the vampire shot back in a blur of snarling and snapping limbs, hitting the ground several meters away from you with a loud crack.

Transfixed, you could only watch with a dumbfounded expression as a cloaked figure appeared to teleport in front of you, hissing lowly. The vampire was on its feet before you could blink, its handsome features twisted into an animalistic snarl before it locked gazes with… whatever was blocking its path to you.

If you didn’t feel like you were about to pass out, you would’ve thought how quickly its expression changed from ardor to pure, unadulterated terror was hilarious.

“You,” it breathed, every muscle in its body snapping with tension. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Sheer survival instinct had kept your focus solely on the vampire that had cornered you, but the fear that radiated it was enough of a surprise that you found yourself glancing over towards whatever was perpetrating it.

One time, after you had gotten off work and had nothing else to do, you decided to watch a documentary series about tropical rainforest animals. For the most part, it was just background noise to help you fall asleep, but you found yourself engrossed when a particular segment about leopards began.

All you could think of, now that you were looking at the cloaked figure, was just how still they were. They didn’t move a muscle, not even where a normal person would’ve begun to cramp after a few seconds. They didn’t even seem to be breathing.

They reminded you of those leopards that you had watched. Especially in the way that those leopards went when they were hunting.

“Who says where I can and can’t be?” they, or rather, he said, masculine voice smooth and calm. “It’s certainly not your job.”

Sensing an opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, you grit your teeth as you shifted onto your hands and knees, slowly pushing yourself up into a crouch. The raw and ragged skin on your knees screamed in protest as it pulled taut, and you had to bite your tongue to stifle your soft sounds of pain.

The vampire’s jaw worked, and even as it drew itself up to its full height, you noted it was much taller than whatever had decided to intervene. (Something was wearing that cloak, but if he was an actual human person, you would eat your hat.)

The cloaked figure titled his head. “If you know what’s good for you, you should leave.”

You froze in place, heart jack-hammering in your ribs. Was he talking to you?

He went on- “Wouldn’t want to break any more rules. The covenant will have your head.”

For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. The wind whistled down the street. In the distance, police sirens wailed.

You didn’t dare move- not when the air itself felt charged, waiting for something to snap.

Then, the vampire growled, lips pulling back from their teeth wolfishly as they reluctantly bowed. Flabbergasted, you watched as it reluctantly melted back into the shadows, the red gleam of its eyes the last thing to fade to black.

The only thing you could hear was your heart thumping in your ears.

After a moment, the cloaked figure’s head turned deliberately towards where your crumpled form was hunched over, and you hastily scrabbled to your feet, Balling your hands up into fists. you trembled, staring him down.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t know what you would do if he decided to attack you, but you weren’t going to take it kneeling- not when you still felt the burn of humiliation for remaining paralyzed by terror. To your continuing horror, he took your silence as an invitation to step forward.

“Stay back,” you bit out, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. “I will not hesitate to punch you in your stupid face.”

Impressively, although you couldn’t make out his face with the shadows that clung to the hood of his cloak, you could see him do a double-take. “... Sorry?”

“You better be,” you muttered, eyes flickering to and fro as you tried to find a good escape route.

To your surprise, he hesitated, murmuring something under his breath that you couldn’t make out. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I am, if that makes you feel any better. You aren’t supposed to be attacked like this, it’s… uncivilized.”

Gaze snapping back to him, your brows raised incredulously. “Really? You’re not just saying that so that I let my guard down? And then you kill me and steal all my blood?”

“If I wanted to ‘steal all your blood’ I would’ve done it already.”

You deadpanned. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

He took another step, but before you could threaten him again, pulled the hood of his cloak down. By now, your eyes had adjusted to the light (or lack thereof), and you found yourself sucking in a harsh breath.

Although you had guessed, what you saw definitely revealed him to be another vampire. His hair, a close-cropped shock of white, stood out against the darkness of the surrounding street.

You couldn’t describe the way that he was looking at you if you tried. His eyes burned like hot coals, pinned on you with a kind of unyielding focus that made your arms prickle with goosebumps. It both struck you as similar to that other vampire’s regard, a predator watching prey, but it was distinctly different- more like he was cataloging the rise and fall of your breath, the grinding of your shoe heel into the pavement.

A black mask- one of those anime ones that you couldn’t bother to remember the name of- hung around his neck, ready to be pulled up without a second’s notice. It looked well-cared for, despite being a little worn around the edges, and he fiddled with it absently as your gaze swept over him.

The most glaring thing about his appearance was the fact that he was almost flawlessly handsome, skin unblemished, bone structure pristine. The only thing that marred him was the long, thin scar that cut across his left eye, splitting his eyebrow in half.

“Even if you are pretty, I still won’t hesitate to punch you in the nose.”

He barked a laugh, fangs- holy shit his fangs- flashing. For some reason, he seemed pleased at your jab, chest puffing out slightly. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“Do I look like someone that would be attracted to an overgrown mosquito?” you scoffed, eyeing his shrewdly. “And a vain one, at that.”

He paused for a moment, staring at you, and you felt the fear that had temporarily abated come back in full force. One of these days, you were going to take a vow of silence so you could never say anything stupid ever again.

You swallowed, hugging your arms tight to your body as you leaned away. In a blink, he was suddenly, much, much closer, and you swore as you jumped.

“No,” the vampire said abruptly, tilting his head in a predatory manner. A smile split across his face, and a confident gleam arose within his eyes as his hand came up to grab your chin firmly. (Privately, you were relieved to find that he clipped his nails like a normal human being.)

“But you do look like someone who knows something they shouldn’t.”

You thrashed in his grip, eventually stilling with your palms pressed flat to his chest. Although you were pushing as hard as you could, it didn’t seem to affect him.

You laughed, a little bit hysterical. “Oh, so now you’re going to kill me?”

His fingers drummed against the flesh of your cheek. Languidly running his tongue against the swell of his upper lip, he cocked his head to the other side. You winced as you heard the vertebrae in his neck crack.

“What could I give you to keep you quiet?”

You blinked, taken aback by his jarringly serious tone.

“What?”

“What do you want? Money? Favors? What would convince you to keep your mouth shut?” he pressed, eyes narrowing, Distantly, you noted that his eyelashes were as pale as the hair on top of his head. “We’ve got kind of a secret society thing going on, y’anno, and we don’t need you blabbing.”

Confused, you shifted, and his hand came up to squish your cheeks until your lips puckered like a fish’s. You tensed but didn’t attempt to move. “‘Oul’nt you j’st kill ‘m?”

He smirked, ruby red eyes gleaming. “Yes, but it would be a shame. You’re funny.”

You batted his hand away, staring at him. He… seemed sincere, or he could just be a very skilled liar. It was more than likely that both were true, and whatever you did, it would be a gamble.

“... A tutor,” you said after several moments of silence, voice laced with quiet certainty. “That’s what I need. A tutor.”

He stared at you. You stared at him. There was a lot of staring at one another.

“That’s it? ”

You shrugged. “College is hell.”

“Not cash, or fame, or… cash…” the vampire frowned. “Everyone asks for cash.”

“I guess I’m just built different,” you said, as if you weren’t running on less than half of the minimum sleep quota and hubris.

You would be kicking yourself later when you sprung out of bed, wild-eyed as you beheld the healing cuts that littered your knees and palms, but right now? You were absolutely not in the right mindset to be making pacts with a creature of the night.

“Alrighty then,” he said after a moment, letting go of your face in favor of offering you his other hand. “It’s a deal.”

You, with all the bravado and lack of self-awareness that only a college senior could possess, took it.

He grinned, and in a blink, a solid chest bumped into your back. There was no heat to your proximity other than your startled flush, even as the vampire’s cold breath caressed the shell of your ear.

“The name’s Etho. I have a hunch that you and I... we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

The crack of your fist hitting his face resounded through the street, drawing a startled hiss from the vampire.

Well, he couldn’t say you didn’t warn him.

@blufr0st @itsonlydana @amearla @bapthadapper @redactedsouls @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden @lunarheartsposts

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aliwritesfic · 2 years

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The Night Shift (pt 6) (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

Summary: Frankie has taken the job as the overnight cook at Lou’s Diner, where you work as the overnight waitress. Attraction slowly grows between you, despite both your best efforts.

Part 5 Part 7

Frankie woke almost eighteen hours later, feeling like he had spent the night drinking. The pills, when he rarely took them, often made him feel like this, like he was on the brink of either being violently sick or dead.

He sat up slowly, head pounding and throat dry. He was glad he had every second Friday night off - the thought of going into the diner feeling like this made him shudder. He dragged himself to the kitchen and downed so much water his stomach became an ocean.

It took a half-hour shower to wake up completely, the hot water slowly working its way into his muscles. It took him even longer to get dressed after, preferring to simply sit on the edge of his bed in his towel.

He held his phone in his hand, scrolling through the missed calls and texts. A few from Benny and Will, a couple of missed calls from Santi, who he knew would be on his doorstep soon if he didn’t call back, and one from June. He lingered on the message screen, reading the message four times before typing out a response.

Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier, I feel like I’ve been asleep for 100 years. But I’ll still be there on Sunday.

He wasted no time calling Santi back, knowing the longer he left it the more worried his brother would be.

“Asshole! Why haven’t you been picking up?”

Frankie cringed. “I’ve been sleeping.”

“For a day? Are you fucking serious?”

“I was tired.” Frankie wasn’t lying - his attacks left him exhausted. Physically and emotionally.

Santiago must have heard something in Frankie’s voice; defeat or maybe dejection. “You okay, Fish?”

“I-” Did he really want to answer that? He knew if he told Santiago about the night terrors, the phantom pains, it would open a whole can of worms that Frankie would like to keep a lid on for now. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Santi hummed, and Frankie could picture him. Probably pulled over on the side of the road, truck still running, internally debating whether to press further. “Alright,” he eventually said, “let me know if that changes?”

“I will,” Frankie said, then eager for a change in subject, “what did you call for earlier?”

“Right! Redfly is gonna be in town next weekend, we’re all going golfing.”

“Golfing?” Frankie couldn’t think of a worse way to spend a day.

Santi made a small noise on the other end. “It’s not that bad. I promise we can drink.”

“Whatever. You’re going to turn me into an alcoholic.”

Santi laughed and hung up, telling Frankie that he’d see him on the weekend and that he may also have an overnight security job coming up. Big money, little work. It was the kind of thing that meant he wouldn’t have to check his bank account when buying something for the next half year. His savings account was starting to look a little thin again - not enough to spark panic but enough that he knew if he didn’t do something it would, sooner rather than later.

He settled down on the couch, a bowl of cereal resting precariously on his stomach and began to channel surf, eventually landing on some weird fish show. He didn’t realise Benny had broken in until he was sitting next to him. Benny gave Frankie a small nod, an I’m here if you need to talk, type of nod. The first time this had happened, Frankie had almost had a heart attack. Now, he was used to it.

They sat in silence for almost an hour, Benny snacking on a bag of sour cream and onion chips from the pantry.

“You ever have trouble sleeping?” Frankie asked after a while. Benny shrugged.

“Sometimes. I’ll have a few months without issue then it’ll be a week straight of not sleeping no matter how tired I am.” Benny crumpled the now empty bag. It was strange; Benny seemed like the most immature of the group, but somehow the easiest to talk to about this kind of shit. Maybe it was because out of all the boys, Benny was the only one who admitted he wasn’t fucking okay on more than one occasion.

“You feeling like that, Fish?”

“Kind of,” Frankie admitted. “I uh- I don’t know. Last night I just . . .”

Benny nodded in understanding. They lapsed into silence again, Benny happy to wait until Frankie was comfortable and happy to say nothing if Frankie decided to say nothing more on the matter.

It wasn’t long though before Benny was snoring on the couch and Frankie was left alone with his thoughts again. Though Frankie usually preferred the solitude of his own company, it was nice having Benny there. Sometimes being alone with someone, even if that someone was currently snoring louder than a jackhammer, was better than being truly alone.

You frowned at your reflection, trying to decide if the lipstick was too much. It was only a few shades darker than your natural lip shade, barely noticeable if no one looked too hard . . . you sucked in a breath and applied it. It wasn’t a crime to want to look nice, right?

Right?

You stepped out of the bedroom, grabbing your jacket off the couch where it lay next to Ethan.

“Why are you wearing lipstick?”

Of course, it wouldn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I just wanted to look nice,” you shrugged and grabbed your apartment keys.

“You always look nice, I don’t know what you need to wear makeup for,” he grumbled.

“Manny always looks good, I just wanted to try to step up to his level.” It wasn’t a whole lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth.

“That’s kind of stupid but whatever makes you happy,” he turned back to the tv. You left it alone, glad to avoid an argument before you left. You still had yet to tell him about Frankie; even though logically, truthfully, there was nothing to tell. But you knew Ethan, and you knew how he would react if he found out that not only were you spending time outside of work with a guy Ethan didn’t even really know existed.

Did this constitute cheating, you wondered as you locked the apartment door behind you, does this mean you’re a shitty person? You were sure at least that it made you a liar and a hypocrite. But even with those thoughts in your head, even knowing that this kind of thing was crossing boundaries that Ethan would not be okay with, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Part of you felt like you should turn around, fake an illness, apologise to the only person in the world left who could love you, and start looking for a new job. Maybe one in a bakery.

A bigger part of you felt like you had passed the point of no return the moment you had decided that you wanted to be friends with someone you shouldn’t. This didn’t make you a bad person, you rationalised, it simply made you human.

You fiddled with your necklace as you walked to the cafe, breathing slowly and bringing yourself down from the edge of a meltdown. Dark clouds covered the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Tell me I’m not a bad person,” was how you greeted Manny, sliding into the booth next to him. Manny looked up from his phone with a raised brow.

“What’s brought this on?”

“I’ve got a lot of feelings rattling in my head.”

“Don’t we all, babe. Seriously though, you’re a good person, why would you think you’re not?”

You glanced around the cafe, making sure Frankie wasn’t there yet, and leaned in close to Manny. “I wasn’t completely honest with Ethan.” Manny gave you a look that allowed you to go on. “I told him it was just you and me today - you know what he’s like. If he knew someone else he didn’t know was coming he’d blow his top.”

“You know how to deal with this?”

“Don’t say to break-”

“Break up with him.”

You scoffed, “that’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s easy for him to say?”

Frankie sat down opposite you, pulling his rain spotted jacked off and draping it over the empty chair beside him.

“Something stupid,” you said. “How’re you feeling?”

Frankie shrugged. “Tired,” he admitted.

“Well you look fantastic,” Manny said. He was right - you couldn’t escape noticing how he still looked good with dark circles under his slightly bloodshot eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly at Manny’s comment, eyes crinkling.

The waitress set down a platter of “wild style” fries (which were just regular fries covered in cheese and bacon) and you pulled your phone out, setting your gaze on Frankie. “Do you have a friend named Benny?”

Frankie almost choked on his drink, turning red in the face. “Y-yes, why? What’s he done?”

You snorted and handed your phone across, open to the text log between you and Benny that had occurred on Saturday night. “He wants me to make you cookies.”

“I’m so sorry,” Frankie muttered, scrolling through the messages. It had started at around three in the moring, your phone buzzing with a text from an unknown number.

U work with fish?

You had stared at the message for several minutes, trying to decipher what the fuck it meant, and more importantly, trying to decide if you should reply at all. Eventually you did, because it was three am and you were bored.

I work more with poultry and red meat.

And then

Who is this? How did you get my number?

It took another minute for the reply to come through, the entire time your hands had been clammy with anticipation.

Soz shouldve led with that. im benny frankie’s best friend, i call him fish……he doesnt have a passcode on his fone lol

You calmed down a little after that. Surely someone Frankie was friends with wasn’t a crazy psycho murderer. You glanced behind you, the bedroom door was open and Ethan’s sleeping form was barely visible in the darkness.

Prove it

A few moments later, a picture filled your screen. It was of a familiar-looking dark blonde man with an impish grin on his face, and Frankie in the back, his eyes closed and mouth open. Clearly asleep, or dead if you were feeling pessimistic.

You weren’t feeling pessimistic though, and the picture almost made you laugh out loud. A second message came through.

Hes to shy to ask but he wants more cookies or maybe some mufins but with lots of choc

“So,” you said to Frankie after he handed your phone back, “cookies or muffins?”

“He’s a nuisance, I’m so, so sorry.” Frankie scrubbed a hand over his still red face. You gave your phone to Manny, who began to laugh as he read through.

“I don’t mind,” you said. Benny was now saved in your phone as Frankie’s friend. “Is he asking for you or himself?”

“Himself,” Frankie confirmed your suspicions. “I’ll have a talk with him about boundaries.”

“Is he allergic to anything?”

Frankie looked taken aback. “You’re going to actually make something for him?”

You nodded. “Why not? It’s nice when someone likes my baking enough to come back for more.”

“I’d come back for more but I’m ceoliac,” Manny said defensively. You patted him affectionately on the hand, taking a long drink of your mimosa. Already the alcohol was making your head feel a little fuzzy. You drank some more, half listening to Manny as he gossiped about some of the teachers from the school he taught at. It was your favourite kind of gossip - the kind that didn’t directly involve you.

You were happy that Manny was the kind of person to take charge in a conversation, happy that he was the kind of person that would fill the silence.

You glanced over at Frankie to find him already looking at you. You met his eyes and found yourself unable to be the one to break the contact. Everything else faded away, until it was just you and him. Your throat felt dry, your stomach backflipped. If this was wrong, you didn’t wanna be right. You never wanted to look away.

This is bad. This is really bad.

tagging: @maievdenoir@luvmeijii@phandoz@you-got-me-starry-eyed@sunnshineeexoxo

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you

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factorialsfandoms · 2 years

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May or may not tidy this up later (probably will eventually), but a little scene where Hyrule is sick, and everyone is miserable until they find cause to tease Legend mercilessly.

Largely inspired by me doodling Hyrule’s mother for a different thing, and only later realising I’d given her the same shade of pink hair as Legend post-bunny, plus a red apron. I’ve thrown a bad photo of a sketch of Hyrule’s mother and Legend on opposite pages for reference. It’s a slightly different outfit, but after realising I decided to play it up a little and say her work-apron is higher and she uses a blue bandana to keep her hair out of her potions because why not.

(Ironically, while the Hyrule in the verse this version of his mother exists in is Legend’s biological descendant, its via Hyrule’s father not his mother. The hair is just a magic side effect with unfortunate consequences for Legend.)

~1.6K, comedy-fluff, mild illness, being Legend is suffering (affectionate)

It had been a long few weeks for the heroes of courage. For once it was not the fault of monster nor man, but merely the fragility of the human condition; fifteen days ago, Sky had sneezed. This was not that unusual, but by the next morning the Chosen Hero had been aching, miserable, and firmly in the grasp of a mild but spiteful cold. Warriors had groaned, and Legend had accepted that - close quarters that they lived in - all of them would be condemned soon enough. He did not /like/ this fact, but he had taken it on the chin, and accepted it for the truth it was. He had even suffered his own illness quietly, continuing their slow march across whichever Hyrule they were currently in with no more snark than a glare levelled at the next man’s back.

Two weeks later and the Chain was through the worst of it. The Links were exhausted, strung out, and miserable, the ache of illness lingering in their bones for a while yet, but they were fine. Some had taken worse to sickness than others - Four looked especially miserable, allowing Time to carry him, while Warriors had barely seemed to notice that he was unwell - but they had mostly recovered by now.

Only mostly, because Hyrule - the last to go down, but the one who had crashed the hardest - was still sick. That morning he had insisted that he had been fine to continue. Whether the traveller had known it or not, this had been a lie.

About ten feet after passing through a portal, the traveller had collapsed, falling to a disordered heap as his body refused to hold him longer. It was by far the most dramatic of any of their symptoms, his body pushed too far in a way that made Legend's gut uncomfortably squirm.

Legend had caught him - of course he had - and held him whilst the rest of the Chain had fallen into a panicked flurry. Somehow this had morphed into Legend holding him as they set up camp; Hyrule was mostly fine - just exhausted, feverish, utterly miserable, and near-insufferably clingy - but nobody really wanted to drag a semi-conscious hero across the fields if it was not necessary.

Semi-conscious, Legend thought, as Hyrule’s weight grew ever heavier. Eyes fluttered shut, and if he were not asleep on Legend’s lap, then he was doing an excellent job of pretending otherwise.

Soon enough, their camp was set up. Sky had pooled up a mountain of blankets on Hyrule’s bedroll, claiming that the soft fabric would help him feel more comfortable. Given Hyrule’s love of sleeping under the bed, Legend was not entirely convinced, but he would let the Chosen Hero fret in his own ways.

The Links backed off, knowing that being watched while sick only made them more miserable and snappish, and left Legend to deal with Hyrule. Great. At least he was wearing his power bracelet, and so could actually pick the boy up.

Which he did; scooping the traveller into his arms he took him over to the blanket pile, opened a small hole with his elbow, and gently positioned him inside.

Duty done, Legend meant to back off, tuck the blankets closer, and allow Hyrule to sleep off the worst of the cold in peace. It was the same privacy that the Links had all granted each other these past few weeks, and he meant to give the same now.

Someone, however, had other plans; Legend drew back, but was stopped. He looked back down, searching with narrowed, unhappy eyes.

Hyrule's fingers were loosely wrapped into Legend's tunic. He could have easily ripped them away; Legend considered it a moment, before just resting a hand atop them.

Brown eyes, hazy with fever, blinked slowly until they managed to reach half open. Hyrule let go and reached up, seemingly towards Legend though his coordination was messy. The fingers opened and closed in a way reminiscent of watching pre-language children gesture for something they wanted.

Legend frowned. He took Hyrule's hands in his own, and moved them into the pile of blankets.

"You'll get cold like that," he hissed.

Not that he expected Hyrule to understand him, but it was worth a try; only one hand wandered out of the blankets this time, making grabby motions at Legend again.

Stupid kid.

Legend took the hand, pressing it between his own.

Hazy eyes looked at their hands together, then trailed up Legend's arms. They settled somewhere near his face, but not quite on it. There was a cautious wonder hidden behind the confusion and the fever.

Legend sighed. The kid needed to rest if he was going to get better, "go back to sleep, Link."

"Hurts," Hyrule whimpered back.

Crinkling his nose, Legend pretended his heart did not twist. Instead he squeezed the hand. Being sick was miserable.

"I know," he replied. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Hopefully. If not, they were diverting to a village to find a doctor. The cold had been through most of the Chain at this point, but Hyrule was taking it harder than the rest. Legend suspected it might have something to do with the way he had stared confused at an orange when they had first met; Ravio also seemed to get sick more easily and more severely.

"Don't go?" Hyrule whispered back.

"Furthest I'm going is the campfire," Legend rolled his eyes, but gestured to it. "Like I'd wander off when some idiot got himself sick."

Hyrule clearly understood little to nothing of the words, only content to get a response.

Legend thought that that would be the end of it, and was about ready to tuck Hyrule's other hand away and let him rest, when the boy whispered something again.

Despite being just as loud as before - loud enough to be heard by at least most of the now eavesdropping camp - it took a few moments to process.

'Mummy'. Hyrule had looked at him, and mumbled a request for his mother.

Legend stared down at Hyrule, trying to comprehend ir, but received no explanation. Tired eyes simply blinked trustingly up at him a while longer, before fluttering shut.

The scene looked peaceful, but only because they could not hear Legend's screaming.

Really there was only one thing that Legend could do with - turn with helpless eyes to the rest of the chain and whisper "the fuck?!"

A familial word Legend could understand, with how quickly their shared soul had forced bonds between them all. Brother was the obvious choice, the two of them being of similar age. Uncle Legend could accept, the word filled with painful but happy memories of the man who had taught him all. Father... He would have been less happy with that, the implications a little too strong, but he would have taken it on the chin. Grandfather, and he might have slapped Hyrule, but with the distance between each Link would not have been unreasonable. Sister, maybe, if Hyrule was as delirious as he appeared, or a little more fairy than he claimed. Auntie, if he was too tired to determine what was going on but some part of his mind still remembered their separation in time.

But Hyrule's mother?

Legend could see Sky being mistaken for a mother, cucco that he was, but not himself. He was bitter and brash and blunt, experienced but curt in the way that came from knowing too much. Sarcastic mothers were cruel, and Legend did not know how to be a gentle one. How he had been mistaken he had no idea.

Warriors' cackling laughter was helping him none, but did give him an outlet; Legend turned, careful not to wake Hyrule as he did, and glowered, "what are you laughing at, asshole?"

His target was too busy laughing to even rise to the occasion. "You good, /mummy/?" Warriors cackled. "Looking a little red there."

"Shut up," was the only reply Legend could manage to hiss between clenched teeth. "You'll wake him up again."

From the corners of his eye, Legend could see Sky raise his eyebrows, and Time's eyes alighting with laughter. He was getting no help from there.

"Oh really?" Warriors teased some more, face shifting from a grin to a smirk with ease. "You're too prissy to be anyone's mother - it has to be your dress."

"It's not a dress," Legend snapped back, forgetting his own warnings to be quiet.

"A skirt and apron, then? Can't be a tunic, you need to wear trousers with those."

Legend was fed up with the conversation; with his free hand he grabbed a small pebble, and lobbed it in Warriors' direction. The captain dodged, still laughing. "Defensive much?"

"Now boys," Time's voice finally stepped in. "Some people are sleeping."

The two of them rolled their eyes and grumbled a little, but it was true - not only was Hyrule sleeping beside Legend's knees, Wild was blearily blinking at the 'argument' from his place trapped at Twilight's eyes. The two of them had - bar Hyrule - been the last to catch the cold, and we're still fighting off the last few of its effects.

There was another candidate for mother, Legend thought, guarding and protective if a little bit stern. A den mother, not a nesting one.

"And anyway, you should let Legend enjoy motherhood," and there was the conclusion to the impish grin on Time's face.

Legend glowered at him. His scowl only grew fiercer as Sky's raised eyebrows morphed into giggling.

"He's probably just delirious," Four rolled his eyes at the whole group of them. "Just go to sleep and tease him about it in the morning."

It sounded like a fantastic idea, the long day and evening’s panic draining on Legend's skull. And after the teasing that Hyrule had inflicted upon Legend, consciously or otherwise, he deserved a little of his own. Still, Legend was not one to lose - he flipped a finger at Warriors, before moving to return to his bedroll.

Worn fingers on his tunic stopped his retreat a moment; with a scoff he unpicked them this time, and stalked back over to his own bedroll.

If he picked the nicest of his blankets up and tossed at (carefully placed it over) Hyrule, then that was nobody's business but his own.

#lu legend #lu hyrule #linked universe #fanfic #lu fanfic #fluff #teasing #this is not my terrible wonderful idea referenced yesterday this is something I've had a week or so #/that/ is being worked on between things #its... silly

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avewity-owo · 2 years

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Aid request below

These last two weeks I’ve been sick with strep or tonsillitis, (couldn’t be sure since the symptoms are super similar and I couldn’t go to a doctor) so I’ve been quarantined in my bedroom away from my spouse so they wouldn’t get sick. But I recently have been feeling better we played it safe and waited four days after all my symptoms went away to stop my quarantine and actually be in the same space. But since the universe hates me, just in time for me to get over whatever it was and get out of quarantine my spouse test positive for COVID!!!

Which is awful on its own because Covid is an awful virus, but the last two nights I was well enough to sleep in the same bed as them so I’ve also been exposed now as well. We’ve both been vaccinated so hopefully they’re not going to be too sick from it. But I also have a lot of risk factors for Covid being really dangerous for me. I’ve taken a test and for now I’m negative. Now we both have to go back into quarantine to make sure.

Because I got sick before we could do another grocery run and since I do the cooking and grocery planning; we went through almost all of the food we had stored and any readymade/frozen meals we had. We have no money for food and my spouse is the one who brings in an income. They don’t get sick pay because they work as an independent contractor and only get paid for hours they work so I have no idea what we’re going to do. I’ve survived off of little before but I don’t think I can stretch four packs of ramen over a week or more depending on how long it takes for him to feel better.

We have enough to pay bills for the car/insurance and rent/utilities, but no money for food on top of the bills. I’ll figure something out somehow but If you’d like to help I’d appreciate anything you could offer.

Venmo: averity-owo

PayPal: @avewity

#mutual aid #anything helps #signal boost

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seriouslysnape · 2 years

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A little bit of a personal note….

I have written about heartbreak so many times. I’ve written multiple oneshots and various other works with the general theme of a broken heart. I think that it’s safe to say that every writer has written or made an attempt at writing some kind of heartbreak scene or series or what have you.

But I will wholeheartedly admit that until recently, I’ve had no real personal experience with being heartbroken.

Experiencing heartbreak and writing about heartbreak are vastly different. I’m learning the hard way just how real heartbreak is. It’s so rattling to see other people’s worlds still spinning when mine feels like it’s stopped cold and falling to bits.

I’ve never understood the term “worried sick” until now. I’ve never been so afraid of my future because so much of my future has been envisioned with him in it. I shared so much with him. I gave him so much of my time, energy, and effort — and now it’s all disappearing into nothing.

I never knew that the human mind and body could take so much.

I never realized how loud my head could scream at itself. The last three days, my AirPods have literally only left my ears when they need to charge — and that hour that they’re charging is absolute hell. I have them shoved into my ears as far as they can go with noise cancellation turned on with a 12 hour (ad free, thank God) version of nothing but straight brown noise because it’s the absolute only thing that I’ve found to at least somewhat quiet my brain down.

I’ve never had my conscience be so fixated on one thing to the point where every single part of my day is now somehow related to him. Literally today I was washing my hands with Dawn dish soap (I was out of hand soap, don’t judge me) and the familiar scent suddenly made me say to myself, “I wonder if he ever uses Dawn dish soap.” Then there’s a sting in my chest, and I’m reduced to a puddle of tears. This happens multiple times a day on different occasions with different scenarios.

I never knew that my heart could physically hurt so badly. That’s the part that is so unbearable. The pressure in my chest makes me nauseous. The tears in my eyes are nearly on command if I think about it too much. I’m swallowing the heat in my throat and I’m constantly sighing to attempt to release the tension in my chest. It doesn’t work.

I’m hungry, but I can’t eat. I’m only drinking water because I have to. For the first time in my life, I didn’t take a shower when I felt like I needed to because I physically couldn’t carry myself to do it.

I’m distracting myself in any way that I can. Watching Markiplier’s Red Dead Redemption 2 playlist has been my backbone this week. I had forgotten how much I like him and his channel. I’ve downloaded 3 new games on my PS4. Stardew Valley is adorable. Highly recommend. The distractions, though, only do so much.

My bed has become a pit of misery and sorrow. I have four blankets and all my pillows on the bed with me because I like feeling surrounded in a hug. My bedside table looks like a nightmare when I normally keep it spotless. Melatonin gummies and a box of tissues have been my saving grace for falling asleep. Sleep offers some recharge, but he’s even in my dreams.

I could go on. I really could….but we’d be here a while.

I’ve learned more about heartbreak in the last 3 days than I’ve ever learned from reading stories. But let me tell you — it is real.

I’ve written about it as “devastating” or “shattering” or “unimaginable”. It’s all of those things and so, so, so much more. I never realized how heartbreak touches every single part of a person’s life.

I’m hoping I can find ways to make the healing process easier. In the back of my mind, I know that (realistically) I could find somebody else. But that seems like an impossible task for now.

I’m blaming myself for things not working. I’m mad at myself for falling in love. Is that the reality of heartbreak? Maybe it is a person’s own fault when they get their heart broken?

This isn’t a sympathy fishing post. If anything, it’s both for me to get this off of my chest and for others to feel seen. I’m not the first nor the last person to go through this, but oh do I relate to those who have and to those who will.

#sorry I know this is so cheesy and kinda weird #but I’ve never felt anything like this #my angst fics are gonna be BADDDDD now #I love you all #seriouslysnape

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solaris-sunlight · 4 days

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I wish I could be normal about receiving gifts. I wish I didn’t feel this nauseating guilt about it every time on is given to me. I wish I didn’t feel so uncomfortable with it. I wish I could be normal about receiving gifts. I was making progress about it and then it’s immediately stomped all over because I can’t be normal about reviving gifts. I keep picturing ways to return it in my head and everything I can imagine ends in getting screamed at even though I know that’s not what would happen. I wish I could be normal. I wish I could react like a normal person. I wish receiving gifts didn’t make me feel nauseas about it for weeks. I wish looking at gifts I’ve received didn’t fill me with dread. I wish I’d kept the progress I mad. I wish I wasn’t going backwards. I wish I wasn’t losing my progress on being ok with it. I wish it wasn’t getting worse. I wish I could just return the gift I got and be done with it but that’s rude and in my head I can only imagine it ending with rage and disappointment even though I know that’s not how it would go. I kept the tag on the gift. I can’t keep it. I can’t regift it to someone else because that’s cruel. I can’t just throw it away because that’s worse. I can’t give it back because that would be throwing someone’s kindness in their face. But I’ve already hidden it so I don’t have to worry about catching a glimpse of it and feeling sick to my stomach with guilt over a gift I don’t deserve or feel comfortable having. I don’t know if I even responded to receiving it normally. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I feel like such a freak. I feel like somehow this is a moral failing on my part. I have to put away the pot on the stove and yet I feel paralyzed by guilt and anxiety because I cannot return the gift tucked beneath four pillows and against the wall near where I sleep because returning it would be cruel. I wish I could be normal about receiving gifts. I wish I could be normal about many things. It’s been a couple days now since I received it. Returning it now would be cruel. I feel paralyzed. I can’t do anything about it. I don’t know what to do with it. It exists in my space and I only feel remorse and guilt. I wish I didn’t know the reason I’d gotten a gift. It’s not something I deserved a gift for. I hate receiving gifts, especially out of nowhere. I hate receiving gifts without being asked first. I want to scream. Maybe I’ll hide it in their backpack with a note apologizing for not just telling them sooner that I was uncomfortable taking it. I wish I could be normal.

#vent post #i hate this #I hate feeling like such a god damn freak about normal shit.#gonna bury this under so many reblogs

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worldofroma · 9 months

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September 3rd, 2023 Sunday - 9:07pm

school starts on tuesday. what the fuck. i haven’t updated in a while, but man do i have a lot of shit to talk about. so…that dude i was friends with… yeah we dated. my entire work found out which was quite humiliating and annoying but for some reason, his ex was the least bothered by it, in front of me. in front of my other friends who work there…not so much. but hey less conflict and confrontational drama for me right? plus, i said dated, i broke up with him after 3 weeks. yeah. and i kind of feel awful but at the same time i don’t. after i broke up with him (over text btw), i went to the CNE in toronto and got to pay 20$ for a palm reading from a psychic and it felt like a slap in the face.

first of all, she starts off by saying that i need to stop being such a mean person. in other words, she called me a bitch. subtly. and she told me that she can see i have a softer and sweeter side to me and that i should be showing that much more often, but to not let others take advantage of it and let myself become a mother for others. “they have a mother, they do not need you to be a second or third one”. i almost threw up when she said that. she said that i have a lot of work to do when it came to self love and care, thanks. i’m aware. but then she added that i’ll be travelling around the world and i won’t be alone, but she couldn’t tell if i’d be with a lover or a friend. 🤷‍♀️. my step dad said there’s no way i’d travel with a man so i guess i’m either going with a friend or somehow switching sides in the next few years, but i can’t see that ever happening. but then after that she decided to go ahead and tell me that i’ll be happily married at some point in my life with four children. four fucking children. no thank you i like having a uterus that’s inside me not one that’ll fall out spontaneously by the time i’m having a midlife crisis. she also said something about business but i can’t remember exactly what it was she said but it was positive.

but fuck, this wasn’t even the worst part since the last time i’ve wrote an entry, this has just been sitting at the front of my brain since i got the reading. what’s been really important is the fact that i have most definitely been reborn. something over the course of this summer has changed me. i am not the same person i was before school ended and i’m fucking proud of it too. i’m sick of being that girl that just sat at the back of each class, behind the chaos and chatting and laughing that goes on in each of my classes. i want to actually be seen now, but only because i know i am myself now. these past few years of high school, i’ve been stuck. locked up after the disgusting lock downs. but that’s not who i am anymore. and now that i’m free from a boyfriend (i swear i’m not that much of a slut), i can do whatever the hell i want. and i love it. as toxic and stupid as it sounds, i’m literally embodying the manic pixie dream girl persona just because i feel like it. and who’s gonna stop me? that’s another thing i’ve adapted, the mindset of “why care? it’s my life not yours.” i’ve been thinking of changing my name for a while bc of course my real name is not roma, but i want it to be, and many people i know have told me that that’s a stupid idea. it’s cringy. it’s weird. okay… you expect me to care why? it’s my life, my name, why does it matter to you if i change it or not? it’s not like i’ll be treating my real name like a deadname or anything, people i know now can still call me by my real name, but once i’m in university, that name and version of myself is gone. i’ll be roma, and i’ll be whoever the hell i decide to be with each day that passes. and i don’t mean to say that in some kind of emo way either, like it’s some kind of depressive phase of “oh, i feel so trapped here in this stupid small town 💔🥀🫠, i just want to disappear and become a whole new person 😈🚬🪦”. like no. lmfao. i think that’s what a lot of people think when i tell them these things, but trust me, its not. my ideas are more along the lines of taking advantage of the freedom we are given but without crossing the line of “acceptable” behaviour. it’s really just the hippie life style ig. on another topic of being whoever i decide to be, i’ve come to realize how much power i actually could have if i just didn’t care so much. i have a tendency to overthink things, overcare about things, make things awkward because i overthink things way too much. but i’m done with that shit, who really cares? the only thing that matters this year at school is my grades, nothing else. after i graduate, what are the chances i see anyone i go to school with now for the rest of my life? probably extremely slim with my plans for the future including travelling and never fucking returning to bruce county. nothing fucking matters.

back to the topic of how i become a mother for everyone, i hate that. i’ve been researching a lot about it and the correct term for it is parentification and occurs when a child and parents roles are reversed. for example, the child is the one who listens to the parents problems while theres are pushed away or labeled as “nothing to worry about”. i hate that i went through that and i hate that it’s made me unconsciously become everyone around me’s mother. worst part about it is that after i saw the psychic and began thinking about it more, i realized that while i was in the relationship with the dude from my work, i was most definitely just acting like a mother he can touch however he likes which is absolutely disgusting. and i wished i had realized it sooner. hopefully, i can somehow change that.

but yeah, that’s how my august has been. pretty self discovering and yet somehow uneventful. lovely.

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gloryintheflowers · 2 years

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I miss you so much I can’t breathe (and I mean that literally)

My dearest aunt barb,

How are you? Where are you? And what is it like there?

I never used to think much about what happened after death. Even when I was suicidal, I could only think of my pain ending— I never put a lot of thought into what would happen after. I didn’t have much of an opinion— sometimes I would think that you might live on somehow. Other times I would think that you became worm food. And then Evie told me that you died and I immediately changed my mind, suddenly of the strong opinion that there is some sort of life after death. I’m biased now, I know that. But I have to believe you still exist somewhere; that you are among the people you love who have died; that you are still you, that you still love all of us and that you can feel our love, too. That you are with us in our pain and in our joy. That you are still here, even if we can’t see you, or touch you, or hear your voice.

I’ve been missing you pretty terribly today. Which isn’t that different from how much I miss you every day. But today has been one of those days where I’ve felt it down to my bones with every breath. Saturday was exactly 4 weeks since we spoke, and Sunday was three weeks since we buried you, and today was 4 weeks since it happened. A month this Saturday. I can’t believe it’s been this long. It feels like time is passing so quickly and I can’t bear it. Every day that passes brings me further away from you— from your voice and your smile and your love. It takes me further away from what feels like a different life entirely, a life where you were here and you loved me, a life where talking to you was the best part of my day and could make me smile no matter what. My life shifted on its axis when you died and I still feel wildly disoriented— kind of like when you go away to summer camp, or you move to a new apartment, or start high school or university— equal parts dizzy and homesick.

Speaking of being sick— I’ve been feeling like complete and utter shit since you died, but the last two weeks especially I’ve been feeling like fresh garbage, and it keeps getting worse. I had the flu or something last week (not covid, unless my four rapid tests were all wrong), and I thought it was getting better but then the cough came back with a vengeance. It’s been getting worse every day, and the last few days I’ve had fevers on and off, a vicious cough, chest pain, shortness of breath, the whole shebang. I had a chest x-ray and we’re assuming it’s bronchitis and I’m using an inhaler and trying to take it easy and hoping it doesn’t turn into pneumonia. The cough is awful but the shortness of breath is the worst part— sometimes it gets bad enough that I get dizzy and my heart starts racing and I really have to focus on getting air in. My friends and my mom keep telling me to go to the ER if this continues to worsen but I would rather avoid it. I just…don’t care, sort of? Like obviously I don’t want to feel like shit, but if I pass out…I don’t know, maybe being unconscious for a while wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. If I stopped breathing entirely in my sleep…well, I promise you I’m not actively suicidal, even if that’s only because you’d kill me if I did that. But I do feel…mildly apathetic? Like, I don’t necessarily want to die, I’m certainly not going to attempt to die, but if it just happened, maybe while I was sleeping, so similarly to how it happened for you…maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It is so difficult to navigate this world as a disabled person. I have been trying very hard to do so anyway. But without you here life has lost all of its colour and all of its joy. It just doesn’t feel worth the effort anymore. Especially not when I feel so sick. Maybe this is what I get for thinking “I miss you so much I can’t fucking breathe” about ten times a day since it happened. But missing you does make it hard to breathe. In fact, this shortness of breath reminds me of the moments and hours after Evie told me on that crisp, sunny October morning. My breath came in rapid gasps, I vomited into my Auntie Glenna’s flower bushes, and sat by their fire pit— a little bit away from the main house so as to have a little bit of privacy— crouched into myself, struggling to inhale, sobbing in a way that sounded like heaving, choking, gasping for air. Dizzy with shock and grief. It was similar before the funeral— i woke up at 5am having such a bad panic attack that I ended the night curled up on the bathroom floor and crying to my mother on the phone, traumatized by my own imagination which had made me dream of you dead, still and silent, looking nothing like yourself, being cleansed, being prayed over, being shrouded. Imagining you in a casket being flown across the country. Dreaming of your hands— those hands that I loved so deeply, that held mine so often and without hesitation, that introduced me to the idea that physical touch could make me feel loved— could make me feel like I was somehow worthy of love. Those hands that squeezed mine, that ran your fingers through my hair, that rubbed my back as I cried. I kept imagining them cold and stiff and still, never to hold mine again. It made me feel like my throat was closing. I had to take several Xanax just to get off the floor. So you see, you being dead does steal my breath. Bronchitis just does it a little differently.

A few years ago, in summer 2020, Jade and I took a course through Western called “The Psychology of Physical Health,” and in that course there was a chapter on psychoneuroimmunology— or basically, the study of how our psychological state impacts our immune system and our overall state of health. It’s a growing field and I remember finding it interesting. Like, did you know that depression can make you more likely to succumb to cancer or develop heart disease? Or that anxiety can trigger autoimmune disease, or cause it to flare up? And did you know that grief affects your body in several ways— including releasing stress hormones that, among other things, cripple your immune system?

What I’m trying to say is that when I looked over at your photo the other day after a painful coughing fit and croaked out “I’m blaming you for this, by the way,” the science backs me up on that.

(And also, I was joking. Mostly. I would take this a thousand times over if it would bring you back.)

(Please come back to me.)

It’s not surprising that grief and being ill don’t exactly make each other better. A few nights ago my fever spiked. I dreamt of you, as I often do, but this fever dream felt so real that when I woke up into this hellish reality where you are dead, I was immediately launched into a bad panic attack. I took a Xanax and went onto my balcony for cold, fresh air and I tried to steady my breathing, which despite my breathlessness was trying to form sobs. Whenever I feel, for even a moment, the full truth of this— that you are gone forever, that I will never hear your voice again, that this is not temporary and I will never hug you again— I violently push those thoughts to the back of my mind. If I let myself really think about it I think I’d go mad. I think I’d start to scream and never stop. I think I’d want to die too.

You never told me that so much of surviving grief is trying not to think about it. You also never told me how impossible that feels.

Today, everything has reminded me of you. I came home after being out for a few hours and feeling awful and exhausted and my first thought was “I can’t wait to just go lie down and call Aunt Barb.” And then my breath caught in my chest as I remembered. Small things kept cropping up— like when I’d think of something I wanted to tell you, or when I passed the greeting card aisle at the drugstore and remembered the birthday card I already bought for you that is still sitting on my desk. Or when my dad and I talked and my first thought after hanging up was that you’d probably have something interesting to say about some of the things he said. And when he told me just to be grateful for the time I did have for you. I wanted to scream— because I’m so grateful for you, and I was just as grateful when you were here. But I can be grateful for the time I was so lucky to have with you and also miss you more than I can bear. I can be grateful for nearly ten years feeling so loved by you, while simultaneously needing more time with you. And I know you’d understand that. So when he said that to me it made me ache. I never thought you’d be the first one to go, you know? Somehow I was always sure it would be one of my other grandparents. I feel like a horrible person for saying it but I wish it was. My Baba, talking about you, told me “I never thought I’d outlive her. She was healthier and stronger.” And I’m not proud of it, but my first thought was— I thought so too— I’d hoped so, even. Obviously I’d have rather no one died at all, but I always kind of took for granted that I would have you there as a source of love and comfort when I experienced my first real loss as an adult. You have taught me so much about grief, but I still kind of thought you’d be there to help guide me through it when I lost someone myself.

I never thought it was likely that you’d be that someone. It happened so suddenly. No one was expecting it. I’m sure you weren’t either. Did you know, in that moment, that you were dying? Did it hurt? Were you afraid?

I didn’t take much with you for granted, other than, apparently, the belief that we had more time. I know you know this. I felt such love and gratitude for you— still do, always will— and I thanked G-d every day for the incredible gift of having you in my life. There is very little that brings me comfort when it comes to you being gone. I know I should take comfort in the fact that you lived a long, full life and that you died quickly and didn’t suffer. I’m sure those things will bring me comfort, eventually, when I’m less shell-shocked. What I do take comfort in is the fact that, when it comes to the things that are most important, there were no words left unsaid between us. You know what you mean to me and vice versa. I do have regrets, and I won’t get into them now, but they’re smaller. I know that when you died you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how loved you were by so many people. How loved you are by me. I can at least take comfort in that.

I dreamt of you today. I couldn’t sleep last night (can I ever?) but I’m so sick I’m just exhausted and I basically slept through the day. I dreamt of you, as I have often both before and after— well. Both before and after. This was the first time I dreamt of you actively dying since it happened. You were in a hospice (although that hospice room looked a whole lot like the porch I slept on when I would come to visit). David and Evie were there. You were breathing but not really conscious. I kept begging you to stay with me. There was no response. Waking up was a rollercoaster ride; my first thought was “oh thank G-d that was just a dream”; my second thought was “Is it a good time to give her a call?” It took a good long moment this time for my brain to catch up to reality and when it did I wanted to die. I couldn’t cry so my jaw just dropped in a silent scream. It was waking from a nightmare and into a night terror. I’m so glad you were never sick or suffering like that. I’m so glad you lived in that home you loved until the end. I’m so glad for those things. But that was a dream and this is reality. You can wake up from a dream. There is no escape from this. And days like today— four weeks without you, feeling so far from you, wanting— no, needing— to talk to you, missing you so acutely I can’t bear it, my fever making everything feel worse— I would do just about anything to escape.

I don’t know how you did this. I always knew you were stronger than I am. I could’ve done without this clear demonstration.

I miss you so much. I love you so much. Please, please come back to me. In any form. Show me you’re still here. I can’t feel you. You’re like a dream. I don’t know who I am— I never realized that you were such a significant part of my identity. I feel like a stranger to myself. I miss you. Please make this end. Please.

I love you forever

Emily

#grief tw #grieving #grief #aunt barb #psychoneuroimmunology #mourning

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star-shard · 2 years

Text

The stage im at with my ‘ED’ makes me feel deeply worthless and hopeless.

This may be my worst binge state, which is saying something. It’s lasted for four days now.

I eat non stop, I mean it, all day non stop, heavy meat, light snacks, protein, healthy food, junk food, pizza, candy, I just pour it and moments in which I’m not eating is just moments of waiting to eat again

Food feels like an actual drug, I can’t stop myself it gives me euphoria I want to eat until I’m sick and drink until I don’t care that I’m sick and then eat more then throw up for the sole purpose of emptying my stomach just enough so I can eat more and then I sleep sick and full and I wake up and I still feel sick and sad and that makes me crave comfort so I eat more

…

I can talk about other things. Think about other things. I can enjoy beautiful weather, and draw a picture. But when the frenzy starts it just progresses, what I truly value gets less and less important. And I become this eating creature that only pretends to be myself to mask my impatience that I have to wait between feedings.

The day started with a lie to myself: I can go off my meal plan, I just really want this protein bar… I can eat this thing with unknown calories, it’s home cooked vegetables… I can snack as long as I track it… I may as well keep eating, I’m just listening to my body’s signals… well my body isn’t hungry anymore but I really want to taste this thing… I’m uncomfortably full but I can just throw up before bed to make that feeling go away… since im going to throw up later I can have alcohol and a massive meal… since I had one drink I can have another sneak snacks into my room but I won’t order a secret pizza… another and another drink, since im drunk I may as well order a secret pizza… time to throw up, this is boring I’m going to lay down… I barely purged up half the pizza, I’m just dehydrated and kind of sober now I feel so sick I’m sad I’ll go to bed…

And tomorrow I’ll wake up sad, anxious, and somehow… hungry.

It’s like slowly becoming a monster as they day goes on, going from just eating a small thing I like to lying to my mother to get drunk and binge alone in the middle of the night.

She has told me to come to her when I get urges so she can help me. But in the moment I don’t want help, I just want my ‘fix’, nothing else.

I was getting better for a week and a half. I was honest, I reached out despite the guilt and pain inside me… but I’ve been lying lying lying so much these past few days I can’t stand to tell her I’ve fallen back so far, lied to her so I can further enable myself.

My voice of reason by the end of the day sounds like: this isn’t an eating disorder, you’re just a fat fucking loser, pointless stupid idiot fatass that doesn’t care about anyone. Real bulimics are justifiably hungry, they restrict, they deserve to binge. You just eat because it’s all you are, a pig. Lying selfish pig. Lying to your loving hard working mother person, look at you pretending to recover only to dive deeper into hiding, you’re running out of time and excuses, you can’t hide from her forever, you’re drowning and all because you want to be fat

…

My self worth is dropping lower every day, I care so little about my body. My relationships feel less important than finding new ways to eat as much food as possible, my future feels less important, nothing matters

…

I need to get out of this state of mind I have to

#it’s 5 am I haven’t slept

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because-of-a-friend · 2 years

Text

Should I Hold Your Hand?

MASTERLIST

Not me completing the Halloween fics in May... Oops. I’m trying to be better with my time management guys, it’s just a little hard because I started writing four books at once because I’m stupid I guess??? But I’ve hit sort of a lull with those projects so I’m gonna start working on some drafts here to pick myself back up! Let’s just consider this as me being super early for the next Halloween season lol

Thanks for the request anon! Hope you like it! I only have three drafts left after this one and then I’ll start answering inbox requests!

Remember gifs aren’t mine, link to OP is on the bottom if you want to go give the original creator some love!

SORRY I LET THIS ACCOUNT DIE FOR AWHILE GUYS :((((

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: People watching a scary movie and getting a lil scared, let me know if I missed any!

You and Wonwoo had only been official for around a week

He had asked you if he could be your boyfriend after only a few dates

Which meant despite officially being your boyfriend

The two of you were still in the stage of learning about each other and trying to fit into each other’s lives

Which is why you frantically readjusted everything in your house over and over and over again before he came over for movie night

“I should put the throw pillows on the couch and the blanket on the chair”

...

“No that’s stupid, it should be the other way around”

You wring your hands as you walk around and inspect any part of the house he might be in as if you’ll stumble upon a giant mess you had somehow missed while cleaning

You set out snacks and drinks and just hope your new bf will have a good time

Three sharp knocks sound on your door and you practically sprint to open it

“Hi!” you greet, trying not to sound so nervous over him being in your house for the first time

“Hey, babe,” he gives you one of his winning smiles before leaning in to kiss your cheek

He looks so darling in his hoodie and sweats and you’re just so excited to have a casual night in with him

The two of you spend a good amount of time snacking and talking about your days

Wonwoo keeps subtly scooting closer to you on the couch and you’re practically grinning at the action

Your knee is resting on his thigh by the time he finally asks you what movie you had planned on the two of you watching

“Oh... well I don’t know if you like horror movies but...”

You trail off and try to guage his reaction

Wonwoo smiles at you, “The boys make me watch whatever they want, we can watch anything you want”

He leans up to brush his thumb across your hairline

Your heart skips a beat at the action and you lean away quickly to grab the remote and hope he doesn’t see how flustered you got over one touch

He does notice but he keeps the wide smile on his face to himself, willing it to reduce once you turn back towards him

For the first twenty or so minutes of the movie, Wonwoo is just trying to find ways to get closer to you, hardly even paying attention to the screen in front of him

He settles for pressing his side against yours and picking up snacks that are on your side of the coffee table so he has an excuse to lean over you and set his hand on your knee- even if it’s just for a second

But then the movie suddenly gets really intense really quickly

Enough to grab both of your attentions away from taking chances to steal glances at each other

Wonwoo realizes that your taste in horror movies might be outside his wheelhouse- in fact it’s even a little more intense than the movies that the horror fanatics in the dorm watch

He starts to feel a little nervous as his mind wanders with all the scenarios the movie presents

The next time you feel Wonwoo’s hand on your knee, it is significantly warmer

You turn quickly to face him, wondering if he’s getting sick

But you’re met with the sight of Wonwoo absolutely enraptured with the film, his eyebrows in a deep furrow

He’s pulling his bottom lip inwards to chew on it

It makes you want to pull him into your arms straight away but you resist, you already knew Wonwoo preferred to be the one to initiate physical contact and also preferred for it to be short and sweet and you didn’t want to push it with the relationship being so new

So you let him keep his hand on your knee and continued to check on him every few minutes

His grip keeps tightening on your leg until you finally decide to speak up

He jumps when you say, “We can watch something else”

You laugh a little in surprise at his reaction

“Wonwoo are you ok?”

He nods and smiles at his own reaction

“Sorry, I guess I just got too wrapped up in the movie. It’s ok, we can keep watching!”

“Are you sure? I didn’t even ask what kind of movies you like...”

“[Y/N], baby, it’s really ok.”

...

“Should I hold your hand?”

Wonwoo turns red at your question and ducks his head ever so slightly

He lifts his hand up from your knee, enough for you to slip your hand into his

It’s hot and sweaty and so uncomfortable but it’s still one of the best moments from the beginning of your relationship

Wonwoo uses this connection between the two of you as leverage to pull you closer as the movie continues and increases in fear factor

It doesn’t go unnoticed by you

You finally invite him in by opening your arms up and giving him the freedom to accept the embrace or turn away

Wonwoo grins as he settles into your arms

You talk him through the movie, trying to tell him jokes to keep him happy while you stroke his hair

It’s only when the credits are rolling that you notice he’s sleeping

You selfishly stay there for awhile, appreciating the way he snuggles into you and presses his nose against your neck

But you remember him saying that he has to be awake early the next morning

He needs to get back to the dorm so he can get a good night’s sleep

You start tracing a finger up and down his back

“Wonwoo,” you coo, “you have to get home”

He groans before fitting his arms around your waist and squeezing

You ruffle the hair at the back of his head, “Wonwoo, hey, get up”

He groans again, digs his nose further into your neck before finally relenting and sitting back

You help him brush his hair out of his face

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep”

“No complaints here” you gesture to his arms still around you

Wonwoo gives you a goofy smile before leaning in and brushing his nose against yours before fully getting up off the couch

You follow him into the kitchen and get him a glass of water

“I’m still sorry, though,” Wonwoo keeps a grip on your sleeve as he follows you around, “I’ll plan another date night for us soon”

“Then I definitely have no complaints”

Wonwoo surprises you one last time as he says goodbye, sneaking a hand around your waist and pulling you into him

His lips meet yours and in his sleepy state, he shamelessly gives you a heated and intense kiss

You’re breathless when he pulls away

He gives you a tired smile before walking out the door and promising the text you soon

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

How would the Lord’s be with a s/o who’s short like 5’0 but they’re super sweet but can be feisty

Heyy so i’ve been sick recently so this may not be as good as always and it’s a little rushed but i hope it’s not too bad! but this was still always enjoyable to write as always! enjoy

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina is lecturing one of the maidens for leaving one of the windows open when she feels something tapping on her leg.

Her eyebrow raises when she finds you tugging on the fabric of her dress, your hands covered in blood.

She picks you up by the back of your shirt as you give her the brightest but cheekiest smile.

“Now what have you been up to in these castle walls that has led you to put blood all over my dress.”

Your legs dangle in the air as you explain that you’ve spend the last four hours running around in the cellars and dungeons trying to find hidden trinkets. You didn’t anticipate to run into an array of grim reaper type creatures but you never turned down a challenge.

“My my, it seems you have been busy.”

Alcina throws you over her shoulder and carries you into her private quarters before she practically dumps you in the bath that swallows you.

“You, my dear are not coming to dinner looking like that.”

She’s seated on the edge of the tub, gloves removed as she rubs her expensive rose scented shampoo in your hair. For a moment it’s quite peaceful.

You’re ever the troublemaker and considering Alcina’s dress was already dirty you couldn’t help but splash water on her.

She grasps but plays into your cheeky ways and splashes you back just as playfully until you’re both soapy and covered in water.

You both dress for dinner with Alcina insisting you wear some of your more finer clothes but you still manage to pull some buttons loose here and there.

Although you’re a wild one, bouncing down the hallway and nearly knocking over one of Alcina’s fine porcelain vases, you still take her hand in yours and walk proudly into the dinner room with your lady.

You take your place at the dining table next to Alcina, your chair significantly higher to sit comfortably but she definitely pampered you with some of the finest cushions to boost you up.

Still you can’t help but feel happy and full of joy to see your family and that only lifts your mood further.

Donna Beneviento

Donna walks into the lounge room to find you chasing angie around, trying to get to her from behind the couch.

“You’ll never take me alive!!”

You’re just as crazy and rambunctious as Angie, the two of you instantly getting along. Donna smiles when she finds that Angie finally found a friend and she’s thrilled that Angie is taken with you.

“Will you two calm down before you break something!”

The two of you stop to stare at Donna who is holding a porcelain doll in her hands to stop it from being broken as you practically jump around the room.

But somehow through all your wildness you have a soft spot for Donna. Slowing your movements and walking up to her, you wrap your arms around her neck and hide your head under her chin.

“I’m sorry Dons, will you come exploring with Angie and I in the mountains??”

With you and Angie on either side of Donna, the three of you spend your afternoon exploring the caves near the waterfall.

Jumping over pools of rocks and mini cliffs, you always go first holding your hand out to Donna each time so she can hold onto while she jumps.

You’re always there to catch her too. It’s a little hard when you’re smaller than her but you’d never let her fall.

Eventually you come to an opening in one of the caves. The view is spectacular, with the waterfall cascading down and catching the fading light beautifully.

Your hand is in Donna’s gently rubbing your thumb on the back of her hand. However in a split second Angie comes up and surprises her with a loud BOO.

Donna’s surprised shriek rings in the cave she thinks she’s going to fall from the height of the cave, Angie’s creepy laughter eventually drowns it out.

You wrap your arms around her, keeping a calm but gentle hand on the back of her head to steady her.

“It’s alright, I gotcha now”

You hug Donna tightly, death glaring Angie behind her shoulder. When you pull away, you take Donna’s face and cradle it gently in your hands.

“Common, lets go home I could do with a nice warm cup of tea to go with a good book.”

Even though Donna was less adventurous as you were, she always enjoyed running around with you and Angie but you always spoiled her afterwards with a warm night in under blankets and warm tea while you read to her.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore was walking around the windmill trying to find you when he’s interrupted by a rather loud noise.

“HEY SAL GUESS WHO’S FINALLY TALLER THAN U??”

He audibly grasps when he sees you sitting on the wooden sail of windmill, smiling down on him.

You jump down and land in front of him, giggling at the small scream that leaves him. Stepping forward and into his space you place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s me!!”

You take Salvatore’s hand in your own and lead him to explore all the nooks and crannies of the windmill with him.

Eventually you run off from him and hide behind one of the wooden crates stacked in the corner.

Poor Salvatore is confused by where you’ve gone trying to find you frantically as he runs around looking for you. You had the advantage however, being small had its perks sometimes.

When he’s not looking you run up and jump him from behind, your hands wrapping around his neck as you cling to him.

His laugh bounces off the valley and he spins around with you in a piggyback. One of your favourite things is making him laugh.

You spend the next few hours playing what is basically hide and seek as you run around all through the windmills, reservoir and mines doing your best to stay clear of any lycans.

You’re a wild card in Salvatore’s otherwise quiet life, but he loves you nonetheless. But you don’t miss the way his hand clings to yours in a death grip.

However, sometimes you’re a little too wild for his comfort zone and he definitely refused to do the zip line with you. But he cheered for you from his place on the ground because he never wants you to change the way you are. To him, you’re perfect.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is always used to strange noises and loud bangs within the factory, but after living there for as long as he had; he can always tell when somethings out of place.

A rather large crash rings throughout the halls of the factory and Karl begrudgingly puts out his cigar, hoping that one of the Soldats hadn’t broken any of his equipment.

When he walks into a smelting room he finds you on the floor with metal boxes all over you and you buried under the toppled over shelf.

Karl flicks his wrist and all the metal moves to the corner of the room to reveal you huffing your hair out of your face.

You were looking for a mould to craft a new dagger with, sorting through the assortment of boxes when it all came falling down on top of you.

Karl moves his wrist once more, moving the mould you were looking for to his hand, a smug look on his face. He knew. For the last few weeks he’d seen you eyeing out that mould when you came to sit with him while he worked.

“Looking for something?”

You stand to your feet and try to snatch it out of his hand. Karl sees you coming from a mile away and holds it above your head, he doesn’t even need to use his powers for this one, his arm will do just fine.

He’s cocky and can’t help but torment the thing over your head like a child but in an instant you have him tackled to the ground. Now that one he didn’t see coming.

“Don’t think for a moment Heisenberg that just because I’m small that i couldn’t totally kick your ass if i needed to.”

Now you’re the one to be cocky as Karl stares in awe up at you, it took a lot of strength and maybe a hint of luck to bring down someone as powerful as him.

Eventually you let him up from his kindly uncomfortable position on the floor, his back strained against the metal grates. You totally don’t threaten to throw him at Alcina’s doorstep if he doesn’t make that new dagger for you.

Karl loved that about you, how feisty and wild you could be. It meant you were a great training partner and both of you either trained together often. Being small had its too. One thing Karl lacked was finesse and you were much more agile and skilled in your movements.

Other times you’d help Karl out in the factory by lifting boxes of scrap metal or even welding some of the weapons. He absolutely loved that about you, how he could easily be comfortable with you and his heart swelled when he could teach you all that he knew about metal. For the first time in a long time it felt like someone was on his side.

One day Karl saw you take a Soldat out with your new dagger and to say that it didn’t scare the shit out of him would be a fucking lie. Soldats were taller than him for christ sake.

Karl loved you though. He loved how fierce you were but you had the heart of gold and to him, you were this perfect little being that made his heart beat twice as fast when he was with you.

He loved that you could hold your own and would stand up to anyone but in the closed doors of the factory he got to see a softer more tender side of you filled with tender kisses and tight hugs.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil village #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil #asks #prompt

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