#and worst is today. god i woke up feeling like i was dying

[rubiesintherough]

.

#you know. i think the best way i can describe my fibro flares to someone are... day 3 of having a really bad flu #not when you're first coming down with it. not toward the end when your fever starts breaking and you feel better #smack dab right in the middle. where you're so exhausted bc you can't sleep bc you feel so sick. haven't rested properly in days kinda tired #everything hurts. every muscle aches. every joint pops when you try to move #you feel nauseous and dizzy. you get up to try using the bathroom and almost fall over. your body is too weak to hold itself up #you've already cried twice today bc you just feel so damn awful #you have no appetite and have to fight to keep anything you do eat down bc you just hurt so goddamn much #your stomach hurts. #your brain is all foggy. you can't think straight. you can't really talk bc the words just arent there #but unlike having the flu... this isnt rare #and you won't 'get better' #the symptoms will let up a little bit again enough for you to function better but you won't ever feel 100% #and it'll hit again. for no reason. and you get to go through multiple days of being bedbound feeling like you've caught the worst flu of yo #*your life. and nothing helps. nothing helps with the symptoms for more than a couple minutes at a time #and there's no telling when another flare will hit and you'll feel this awful again #its fucking terrifying living in a body that actively fights against you #................ anyway that's what i've been dealing with for the past couple days #and worst is today. god i woke up feeling like i was dying #no exaggeration. i considered going to the ER until i realized.... nope just a 'normal' flare level. just have to power through it #(( ooc. )) #venting tw #negativity tw #health tw

[masterqwertster]

Noticing Trauma Prompt List - #16 (and maybe #36 if you're into it) for Orym and the rest of Bell's Hells. In an encounter with Otohan, Orym is struck with one of her poisoned blades (since the poison blocks the divine magic that enables resurrection, presumably it prevents other forms of healing as well). The Hells manage to escape and stay by Orym's side as he recovers.

(We don't know whether Orym was wounded in the original attack on Zephra. I just find it interesting that two of the few people known to have survived encounters with Otohan and her Echoes - Orym and Oshad Breshio - have racial resistance to poison as a Stout Halfling and a Dwarf respectively).

16 "I know it hurts, but you’ll get through it.  I promise." 36 "No one’s asking you to get over this immediately.  Take your time and heal." Those two do work well together. Especially for an extended wound recovery like what you've requested. Prompt

It's taken a lot of work and effort to get to this battle. Hunting Thull across continents and planes between a combination of Scrying, Communes, and the tracker orb.

But they're here. They have her. They just have to be strong enough to finish the job.

Orym is unflinching, up close and personal. He can't even fathom being anywhere else. For Will, Dad, Fearne, Laudna, Lord Eshteross, the Lumas twins, himself, and everyone else that died on Otohan Thull's blades for the madness of Ludinus Da'leth.

Today the Legend of the Peaks falls.

When Thull's blade plunges through his stomach, lifting him up to her eye level, Orym can feel the poison coursing through him. His stout halfling constitution fights it, buying him enough time to sink Seedling through her eye socket and out the back of her head.

They both hit the ground. Otohan dead. Orym dying.

It's not the way he wanted to go, but it's not the worst circumstances he could have died under. He's killed the hand that slew his husband and father and temporarily his best friend and good friend and himself. That's not nothing. Really, the regrets are that he didn't get the one who gave the orders that resulted in so much death, and, more importantly, that his death will hurt the people he loves dearly. Much as Will's death had hurt him.

"Ooooh, that's a lot of blood. Just hang on, okay, best friend? You're gonna make it. She doesn't get to kill you. Not again."

Still, it's nice to have friends, family, there at the end. And soon, he'll see Will again.

_____________________________________________________________

Orym wakes.

He shouldn't be waking up? At least, not in pain. It hadn't hurt afterwards, the last time he died. Maybe it was the poison?

When Orym peels his eyes open, it's to a bed in a room with an open window that lets in a nice breeze and sunlight. A familiar room and bed, actually. His ma's house, and his old bedroom that she redecorated for an adult when he was... convinced to live with her After.

It's strange that he's in his ma's house and not out by the cherry tree like before-

"'Bout time you woke up."

Orym startles. That is not the voice he was expecting to hear.

Basking in the sun-stripe from the window on a pile of cushions with their bare feet propped up in a pot of soil is Ashton.

"Ash-Ashton, w-what-?"

"You've been out of it for about a week. Guess that anti-god poison's a real fucking bitch even when you're not killed with it," they explain, digging their toes a little deeper into the soil.

"...We're in Zephrah," Orym quietly states, his question implied, after a few moments of processing Ashton's usual oversimplified yet complete explanation.

"Yeah, well, Fearne did the tree thing to get us out of there, so it's not like we had any say about where we were going," Ashton answers a bit grumpily with a shrug.

"Are you okay?" Orym asks, noticing their tension.

"...Depends on your definition of 'okay.' The family's alive, despite your attempts to be otherwise. That fucking bitch Thull is dead. Nobody here is going to try to kill us, except by daring Chet to try those wind sails or whatever the fuck they're called," Ashton ticks off on their fingers.

"But..."

"I'm an earth genasi with falling issues and this place is all air and sheer fucking cliffs," they huff.

Orym can't help but chuckle at Ashton's petulance. Which hurts with his gut wound, but it's worth it. You have to take joy where you can find it. And if the genasi feels he has the room to not be responsible for holding the others together, then yeah, things are okay.

____________________________________________________________

Orym hobbles out to the bench beneath a cherry tree that Laudna is sitting on.

It takes him a moment to clamber up, as the bench is sized for not-Small folk and his wound is still slowly healing. Once he's up, Orym gently leans the cane Chetney carved for him against the bench.

"You know, it's very nice here," Laudna says conversationally after a few minutes of watching leaves and petals drift by on the constant breezes. "Fresh air, beautiful foliage, stunning sunrises and sunsets."

"Yeah," Orym quietly agrees, hands twiddling through the process of druidcrafting poppies. "It's pretty great."

"And filled with ghosts for you, I'm sure," she presses on, a little more serious. "Much like Whitestone is for me."

His hands still.

"...Yeah," he chokes out eventually.

Laudna hums, her hand finding his hair and gently stroking it, leading him in to lean against her boney side.

"If you need out before you're fully healed, I'm sure Fearne could be talked into whisking you a continent or plane away. I think we've all already seen the sights of Zephrah these past two weeks and don't see any need to stay beyond your health."

And it's so tempting to ask Laudna to start sending messages to gather up Bells Hells and go. After all, there's still more work to be done, he tells himself. Tries to ignore that it's the past and grief he's running from, not duty he's running toward.

"Maybe," Orym says.

_____________________________________________________________

He's trying out the first kata of the Zeph'aeratam in the backyard of his ma's house, Ashton napping in the dirt of an empty flowerbed and Chetney leaning back against their side whittling away at a project.

When Orym has to pause because of the stabbing pain in his gut for the fourth time, he starts quietly cursing.

"Ain't no need for that," Chetney says without looking up. And Orym flinches. He'd forgotten that the old gnome has incredibly keen hearing as a werewolf.

"I'm not gonna be of much use if I can't even get through the first kata," Orym points out his frustration.

"Yeah, and we're not looking to get into a big fight once we leave. So there's no need to rush things. Let time do her thing and heal those wounds, ya hear?" and Chetney points an accusing chisel at the halfling.

"There's still others out there that need to be handled. Imogen's mom. Ludinus-"

Chetney snorts. "We're not the only ones after that fucking elf. Let them sniff him out. And if they get the kill before we're back in the game, than that's just one less problem for us."

____________________________________________________________

Imogen comes in on Orym doing stretches Nel and Maeve specifically told him not to do, a tray of pastries in hand and a steaming pot of tea floating behind her.

"So you're really considerin' that jailbreak," she comments, nudging the door shut with her foot.

"I think we're all getting a little stir crazy," Orym replies, wincing as presses a little too far.

"Can't say I disagree with that," Imogen nods, setting down the tray and pouring tea into a mug also balanced on the tray.

"And today's menu is medicinal tea, and meat pies courtesy of Fresh Cut Grass," she narrates, selecting a meat pie for herself.

"Are they any good?" Orym asks, sipping at his tea.

"A bit bland, but Letters has been havin' trouble gettin' Ashton to taste test with as much as he's sleepin'," Imogen decides after a thoughtful chew.

Orym frowns around his own meat pie. He's certainly seen Ashton sleeping around often enough, but he hadn't realized it was that bad, given his own tiredness from his recovery.

"Is Ash-?"

"Grumpier than a wet cat? Yeah. The Air Rift energy here just makes 'em tired and irritable, which isn't exactly unexpected accordin' to the druids around here, seein' as earth and air are opposites," Imogen reassures him. "They also say he should bounce back pretty fast once we're outta here."

"That's good."

_____________________________________________________________

"Ready to go?" Fearne asks, pure mischief in her eyes and Orym can hear her tail swishing the fabric of her skirts.

"Yeah, let's get out of here," he agrees with a smile. A month of slow recovery and he's more than ready to get out, get back to work.

They gather with the rest of Bells Hells in the kitchen. Their planned egress is out the backdoor to take the old oak tree to Issylra in hopes that Hevestro might provide them with better directions on how to get to Hishari. Searching through cursed(?) ruins should be safer than hunting down Ludinus while Oryrm is still regaining his strength.

Except when he leads the way into the backyard, lanterns light up, and Orym's family is gathered around the tree.

"You didn't think you were leaving without saying goodbye, did you?" his ma asks.

And tears gather in his eyes, that both parts of his family are here and supporting him.

#MQ&A #MQfic #critical role #orym of the air ashari #bells hells #noticing trauma prompt

[fangymutt]

bbb

having the worst mental health breakdown and spiral today i feel like fucking dying god idk whats wrong with me i woke up feeling like shit and nothing is fixxing it time to get blackout high i guess bc i cant stand this rn im tired of crying

#sorry im just ready to kill myself bc capitalism #i know everyone is annoyed hearing my problems #im sorry

[ginalinettiofficial]

oh something funny happened

i facetimed a friend of mine today who i’ve been meaning to hit up cuz i’ve not had a lot of energy for socializing but am trying real hard rn to do it

and at one point they were like “my partner is gonna be so excited you called me” and i was like oh yeah??? and they were like “yeah, they were the one at the beginning of july that was like ‘okay babe. this month, make it a goal to see daina’ cause they know i’m trying to socialize more. and all july they were like yes this is your month!!! you’re gonna see daina!!! and then ofc that didn’t work out -” because we actually HAD made plans in july, and then i got covid so we had to cancel, “and they were like ‘okay babe it’s okay, so make it a goal for august’ and i had to stop them and be like, babe, no, we missed our chance. the window has closed. it will open up again later.”

and idk i’m still dying laughing because they know me SO well. we spent a month making plans and then those plans had to get cancelled and their partner was like “cool so make plans THIS month” and they were like “absolutely not, daina will need at least 2-3 months to recharge after that attempt, be patient the time will come” and it’s just so TRUE and made me feel so seen and loved and also made me laugh a LOT

because they were right, it’s now october and i finally just today, after a solid couple months of thinking to myself “dang i gotta get back to wren”, woke up like “YES TODAY I HAVE THE ENERGY I WILL CALL WREN TODAY” and the fact that throughout those two months i kept thinking “god i’m the worst, i’m such a shitty friend, we had plans MONTHS ago and i still haven’t hit them up, they’re gonna hate me” when that entire time they were just like “all is well, daina needs her time to circle back, i love her and will talk to her next time she’s able, which, knowing her, will be some time in the next season” is just. SO lovely and validating and wonderful. and also fucking hilarious

#d speaks #idk if this made any sense at all i just love my friends!!!!! #just that their partner had the instinctual logical response of ‘your goal of seeing daina in july didnt work. now it’s august goal’ #and that wren immediately was like ‘oh no babe daina tried really hard to see me this month’ #‘she needs time to recharge before she’s ready to try again’ #just. i adore them and how much they see me and care for me

[thecursedhellblazer]

Bold What Applies: Ben Folds Five Edition

Rules: bold what always applies to your muse, italicize what applies sometimes or partially, and strike out what never applies. (Disclaimer: some pronouns have been changed to I/me/my or you/yours for the sake of consistency and clarity)

The Sound of the Life of the Mind:

Erase me, so you don’t have to face me // You can never escape me // I don’t want this thing to end // I stay at school so that I can hear the sound of the life of the mind // I had it all, or should I say I saw it all? // Home for me was always someone else // I missed you then and I miss you now // I want a different answer

Ben Folds Five:

I want to be lonely // Mother don’t know that I’m going far away // Go ahead, you can laugh all you want // I got my philosophy // I see that there is evil and I know that there is good // I’m crazy but I get the job done // I pushed you ‘cause I loved you guys // Got drunk and took her/him home and we slept in our clothes // I feel guilty for not giving a shit // I’d like to tell you everything // It doesn’t seem the same these days // I could settle down // There’s good in nearly everyone // I was never cool in school // I’m sure you don’t remember me // I’m still wondering who to be // I got this pain in my heart // I feel like a quote out of context, withholding the rest so I can be for you what you want to see // Time to go fool somebody else // Don’t want you hanging out with no one but me // As I’m growing older I’m bored // I remember when misery thrilled me much more // I can’t wait 'til the future gets here // If you really loved me, I wouldn’t have to be so mean // You can’t respect me 'cause I’ve done so much for you // My intention’s become not to lose what I’ve won // I’m scared and lonely and tired // Sometimes I punch myself as hard as I can

Whatever and Ever Amen:

I’m big and important // Kiss my ass goodbye // I’m your nightmare little man // You will be sorry when I’m big // I can’t just get rid of you like you got rid of me // God knows you’ve seen my worst // I’m lonely and I’m right // I am numb //  Now that I have found someone, I’m feeling more alone than I ever have before // It’s not me you’re dying for // You’re a brick and I’m drowning slowly // I broke down ‘cause I was tired of lying // I want my money back // I said what you wanted to hear // You’re everything I want, you’re everything I’m not // Everyday I wear the same thing // In a stupor from the drugs that didn’t ease the pain // I’ve charmed everyone here // I know it’s cool to be so bored // Nothing’s adding up and nothing’s making sense // Woke up way too late feeling hung over and old // I walked barefoot down the road // Here I stand sad and free // Oh, God, what have I done? // It’s all smiles and business these days // I’m sure back home, they think I’ve lost my mind // Everything’s the same // I’m still here when I could be anywhere

The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner:

Nothing hurts when I go to sleep // I know it seems that I don’t care // Sometimes I get the feeling that I won’t be on this planet for very long // You’re the reason I want to stay // I never understand these things I feel // My innocence has all but faded // I don’t believe in love // I’ve been thinking a lot today // I don’t blame you if you never come to see me here again // It’s my life and I can decorate it as I like

tagged by: @rapxir​ (( thank you! )) tagging: @paradiseturnedhell​ (Nick) @ithinkim-adorable​​ (Dean or Tony) @springtwirling​ (feel free to pick!) & whoever wants to steal it !

#* Exorcist Demonologist and Master of the Dark Arts * ::about:: #* I'm John Constantine. I do stupid in spades. * ::aesthetic:: #(( dash games ))

[andysorbit]

ANDY IM CRYINGGGGG TODAY IS HORRIBLE. FIRST I WOKE UP TO MY ROOMATES DOG SHITTING ON THE FLOOR IN MY ROOM. NEXT I DECIDED TO RUB ONE OUT TO RELAX MYSELF AND MY FUCKING MOM CALLS ME TELLING ME TO DO MY TAXES. NEXT IM WRITING THIS FIC THAT I TOLD YOU ABOUT. I FINISHED BUT I FUCKING FORGOT TO SAVE THE DAMN DOC. RAHHHH.

HI BOO HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!!!! SORRY YESTERDAY WAS CHAOTIC I WAS OUT WITH FAMILY

idk why I still had the caps on but yeah I'm too lazy to erase all that and say it quietly

no but what is it with dogs shitting in rooms randomly??? like I have my sister's dog loves doing that. we houstrained them so they use pads indoors but she will deadass walk right over a pad and go into my bedroom like

and then bring her lil raggedy ass out like

like bitch I WILL MAKE YOU EAT THAT SHIT STOP FKN PLAYIN WITH ME then when we give her a time out she wants to look at us like she got beef like???? sis you're scared of your own shadow I could fold your shit with a medium scream okay??? like all I gotta do is sneeze right now and you'll see God so you really ain't got enough ass in your britches to be tryna get froggy in this mamajama

no but let's talk about moms calling when you're about to piddle your diddle like?? my mom has a despicable habit of calling when I'm right fkn there. like every fkn time and she's always calling for something related to grocery shopping and when my mom calls while she's in any store, I know that I'm gonna be on the phone for no less than 15 minutes. so I'm just sitting there shaking and dying trying to respectfully get her tf off the phone like idgaf about what kind of soup you wanna buy get the fuck off my phone so I can bust this nut

and taxes 🤢 I did mine last month and they gave me such a hard time just kept rejecting random stuff and being annoying 😑

RIP to the fic 🌹

honestly that's the worst feeling and even when you try to find the silver lining, it's hard to because you worked so hard and when it's finished??? that's even worst but sometimes taking a little time to accept that it's gone helps because for me, jumping right back into writing and trying to piece back together what I can makes me want to abandon the fic altogether which feels bad

I'm here for you boo. anytime you wanna rant, I gotchu

#andy's mail #elle 💜

[a-nam]

I'm someone who is just. Incredibly afraid. Just so frightened. For years I never travelled.

I have been trying to rely on God to help me out with my fears. Like I don't believe in God BUT I need something to calm me down. Like if I fall it won't hurt bc God is my net.

So I went travelling on my own. The flight is half an hour. I did so well. I flew over there. Went to muesems and tours and restaurants . Was so stressed out of my mind.

This morning I woke up and I was relieved. I enjoyed my morning pottering around. Headed to the airport 4 hours before my flight. Boarded the plane on time. When I sat down was told there was a 20 minute delay. No big deal.

We flew home but couldn't land. We circled the sky for an hour and flew back due to weather. Girl beside me was crying the turbulence was so bad.

We stayed on the plane for 6 more hours. My phone died. We all knew that if we left the plane we would not be compensated by the company. But knew if we flew back we wouldn't land.

I was freaked. Flights home tomorrow ran 4 times the price of my ticket and I had no where to stay. I was so sad that my archetypal father let me down.

But by a miracle we got pulled forward and were one of very few planes that got home. That's very special. I had a hard time but I actually got home. That was different to most people today.

Like I feel like shit for being on a plane for 12 hours with no food, no phone and my eyes blurred whenever I tried to read. I had my first proper panic attack since I was a teen. I do still feel like I'm dying.

But I got home which is better than a lot of people. The archetypal father gave me enough of a challenge as I was able for. There was one pair of airplane tracks.

I don't know. Literally the worst thing I could imagine was facing me. I still feel like I'm on the plane.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Please today has been the worst day everrr. It snowed, but classes were still "in session" so I still had to get up and go, none of the people I actually like were there so I sat alone pretty much all day, the roads were slippery so I literally almost got into a wreck 😭 I missed out on my breakfast and lunch period, because again, went to my psych class, my boyfriend or whatever is mad that I say "huh" all the time?? 😭 Dawg, I'm just hoping, no PRAYING, that I can have a good time at home. I seriously feel like exploding rn, Axel please just throw me into the sun atp 😔 I had 3 different quizzes today, and I ran on 3 hours of sleep so Idk how tf that went 😞 PLEASE, ALSO I RAN OUT OF YK FEMININE PRODUCTS, BUT WHEN I WOKE UP IT LOOKED LIKE IT WAS OVER SO I WAS JUST LIKE "Yk what I'll just go pick some up after classes" LEGIT MY 3RD PERIOD I FIND OUT I WAS WRONG? Dude I can't 😭 But bag secured now?

Please the second I stepped into my lovely home the tears started building up 💔 It's mostly because my boyfriend legit told me everytime I say huh or what it makes him mad, cause I didn't know? He's all the time calling me stupid and idk how to feel about it, like ik its a joke, but I was constantly put down if I was incorrect about something growing up. I was taught that intelligence is one of the most important things for a person, so I try really hard to maintain it, but when he calls me dumb, or stupid, maybe even slow, sometimes implying it.. Just is completely insulting. Idk how to mention it without getting a negative reaction either. He called me uhm, just a word that I won't repeat, and I told him not to then he said "Are you seriously offended? Like why are you offended by it?" 😐 I love him to death, but I don't like when he calls me degrading names. I mean, he's constantly calling me a bitch and stuff, it's just borderline disrespectful. It'd be different if it was an obvious joke, or if it was just occasional, but no its all the time and it's difficult to tell it apart from seriousness. He even told me to not talk to him for the rest of the day today? Man I'm just dying. I feel like it's bringing out the hurt that I've been trying to get over, and it's just a lot 😩 Might nap though, or sleep? Idk idc 😭

(Venting session is actually insane 😒, don't pay attention to it)

OH BUT I STARTED TALKING TO THIS GIRL MORE TODAY!! She's genuinely so sweet and funny 😭 I love her omg, shes so relatable🤞😩 Might just have to make her my #1 pookie 🙄 Gonna eat some uhmmm, actually probably just gonna eat this ramen stuff cause yk, don't feel like cooking or anything 😔

UNTIL NEXT TIME AXELLLL, GETTING EXCITED FOR THE ANGST IN SPELLBOUND 🤞😍😍😍

XOXO 👽

bae… ur not gonna like what i have to say… so forgive me if i am overstepping but oh my GOD when i say dump that man i am so serious bc that behavior is diabolical n should not be excusable no matter how much u may love that man …

i am glad u made a friend!!! i hope ur ramen was good :3

ANGST IS COMMENCING

#axel answers ☆⋆｡���°‧★ #axel answers// 👽

[baekuras]

not me telling my boss i threw up and his suggestion being to take meds against diarrhea the specific one being the one i took on accident a few years back during my period in a hazen panic of pain starting at my internship and being in the worst pain i don't even remember anymore and just passing out the second i got home (up to my bed though) fully clothed

i was fine when i woke up again but dear god no i am NOT ever taking it if i have any other gut issues except for diarrhea no, stomach aches or twists do not count

also don't worry I am not actually sick It's a lie that sounds better than "I am actually feeling exhausted because I slept like 16 hours during one night of the weekend, then only up to 5 if I am lucky today, I feel like my life is wasting away and all I can do is sit there paralyzed because I don't even have the energy to go look for something-anything else"

if i am not overly petty i might join in a few hours because my coworkers are not at fault and understaffed but also...the comment made me salty because how do I go "Hey my guts are shit, I threw up-not feverish though don't worry it's fine, but it's not done yet" and you go "just pop in unrelated medical pills and join us soon" just the SOON is making my brain itch a bad way

whaddoyoumean sOON i called in NOW because there isn't a SOON if i knew there was a SOON i'd have mentioned it do not just assume that

more ranting beyond the line because i need to vent some and the tags will cut it off eventually

fun medical facts about ME :D diarrhea takes me about an hour-if it's bad maybe two-to subside enough for me not to run to the toilet every few minutes and start eating and keeping in food and water (might be able to eat tiniest pieces of toast before that-depends) (food here also means toast, i'd be fucked if i ate anything more substansial)

so i'd assume it's the same with throwing up I can't really use the last times I threw up because Last time I did that for like 5hours in 20 to 30minutes intervalls and I don't really remember much The time before was way back during my first period which I also don't remember much of....well anything except me crying and panicking, shugging apple juice to comfort myself only to throw it up and my mother feeling happy for me that I got my period while I just felt like dying so...not reliable sources

but just the casual assumption that i'll throw in some pills and join them in like 10minutes after opening or something just....grinds my gears just fuck off or i will get angry enough to actually throw up

again i do plan to join at least before 3pm for the sake of my coworkers (one shift ends at 3) but god fucking help him if he uses my overtime for the time I am away if he does i WILL leave and get sick-leave for that day and I will go tell my doctor i am pretty damn sure i am burnout-adjacent because I either just sleep or am at work and i'd really like to be able to do anything else in my free time thanks :D

#txts #tl;dr: just fuck off #we already had our regional manager be all 'did you take a pain killer' when i left during the workday AFTER doing work only i was qualifie #to do that day AFTER already being in pain the past weeks because a tooth was just open and about #so i have gotten preeeeeeeetty sensitive to people being all #why don't you just take a pill and come to work anyway #I have already given you the fucking kindness of offering to join later/being there at all #do NOT take that for granted #or i WILL fuck you over by not coming super short notice like today #also he can be salty all he wants that i didn't call before 8am #i am not/barely awake then #my alarm starts at 8 and i am not gonna set it an HOUR early or smth #just to check every day if my body is up to it or not

[thehealingheart95]

Untitled

Kat woke in a hotel room the morning after her best friend’s birthday party feeling like she got hit by a truck. It couldn’t be she drank too much, she had one drink… She wondered what on earth could have made her feel so awful. She honestly didn’t remember a lot about the end of the night. She remembered the party dying down and her feeling like she was about to pass out on the bed, but after that; nothing. She felt a cold breeze, lifted the covers, and noticed she was completely naked. What was going on?

“Good morning beautiful.”

Kat looked over to find a strange man lying in bed next to her, calling her beautiful. Who was this guy and why was he talking to her that way? Oh my god did she sleep with him? Kat’s mind raced and she felt an overwhelming amount of shame and guilt almost making it impossible to move or speak. She had never done anything like this… she wasn’t a virgin, but she knew sex wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this the next day; not any kind she was interested in having, as she was only seventeen.

“Uh…hey.” Kat looked around for her clothes, but they were nowhere in sight. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

The nameless man rose out of bed and proceeded to get dressed himself. “Yeah, they’re over here,” throwing Kat her bra, panties, and sundress. She too got dressed but stayed covered by the comforter. Then the guilt came back; she wanted to look nice for her friends' party, but now she felt a tremendous amount of shame due to her outfit. Was the dress too short? Did she put herself out there too much? How did this happen? The fact he knew exactly where her clothes were was very disturbing, and he felt comfortable just dressing in front of her, what was that? Who is he?

“Did you drive here?” Asked the man.

“Yeah,” Kat whispered.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Sure.”

And so, he did and when they reached her Ford escort ZX2 he insisted on putting his number in her phone and said he hoped they’d see each other again soon. Kat got in her car and felt sick, she pulled out her phone to call Ginger, but she noticed she was already hauling ass to the car via the rearview mirror.

“Whew, hey man, sorry I was saying goodbye to Cain.”

“Hey dude, no worries. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“I think the guys said they wanted to go swimming today if you’re up for it.”

Fuck seriously? Can’t she just go die in a hole instead?

“Yeah sure, sounds good.” Kat couldn’t hide the melancholy in her voice.

“You sure man? We can do something else. Cain just wants to hang out.” Ginger was instantly concerned; Kat was normally so cheerful and just a naturally happy person.

“Yeah, I know, and no, no that’s fine we can go swimming; sounds fun!” And just like that the mask went on, the one that held a deep dark secret. One she wouldn’t share with anyone for at least the next five years. Kat was assaulted and she would never report it or even confront the man in question. She couldn’t see the point; women don’t usually get justice anyway.

She could not place exactly what happened but there would be times when she’d least expect it, she would experience flashbacks, taking her back to the night, showing her clips of what Jacob did to her. Nasty and disturbing images that would take her breath away; he took something from her that night. Something that would take a long time to come back, something she would have to heal from without an apology and that was her voice and her right to choose.

The worst part is, later she would find out that her assault was premeditated, meaning the guy that raped her was brought to the party by someone Kat and Ginger thought were their friends. The man, who later identified himself as, Jacob sought Kat and Ginger out and drugged them both, planning to do what he did to Kat to Ginger too. Luckily Ginger’s ‘boyfriend’ was there and pulled her out of the room but that was all part of the plan. The plan was to leave Kat alone, completely unconscious and unwilling to fight back. The boys even mocked her claiming she sounded like she had a good time the night before while at the pool. The betrayal and disturbance that flowed through these so-called friends made, Kat feel completely isolated and frankly like a moving target. Thank God it didn’t happen to, Ginger though. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, it would just take years to find it.

Eleven years have gone by and still not a day goes by where even the thought of a man touching Kat sends chills up her spine. The difference though is she’s not full of shame and guilt and “why me’s?” she’s full of wisdom and compassion. Instead of the vulnerable young lady, she was a force of a woman and on top of that, a best-selling author. Her book, ‘Why You, Kat?’ hit the top of the charts only three days after putting copies out in stores. She was able to put her trauma into words fitting for an audience and because the book was so amazing, it’s being made into a movie. Sure, she may experience a little anxiety when triggered into a state of remembering how it felt at that time; but mostly she was okay, she was happy and content with her life. She worked hard for it, and it took years of therapy and shadow work for her to get to this point but finally, oh finally it can be shared and not shamed.

#original writing #writeblr #trauma

[18-rabbits-running]

The trials start today. I made this blog because I can't sit around waiting for things to start, I have to do something. This is going to become a log of sorts, I suppose... I can't trust myself to remember everything and I don't want to forget.

I joined... God, only a week ago. It feels like so much longer. So much has happened.

I went from being an isolated cripple to having four other people in my house - and now three, because one left. We had a movie night last night and we all fell asleep on the couch. It was actually nice, even if I woke up achy.

We dyed my hair too, because it wouldn't stay in #011's hair. Now it's bright, fire engine red. I kind of like it. I almost wish I'd done it before now.

I decided not to take today's meds. On the rotation of them all, these side effects are the worst, and that's why the special ones are on Friday. They definitely affect me the worst, and I can't afford that right now. Not only will it freak the others out - none of them are awake right now for me to explain what's going on - but with everything going on right now I can't afford to be so vulnerable.

Last time I was anywhere near this stressed and took them, I found myself in town... Having walked. That's an hour walk. And I was barefoot. I just can't risk the meds making me so dizzy and confused and scared right now. I get unpredictable and again, I can't risk being so vulnerable. If I run off again? I'm fucked. HABIT or Uzumaki, or the other wolf that I've heard about, any of them could just snatch me up and screw with me.

I'm safer not taking them and staying at home. I'll just have to deal with what happens when I go unmedicated. I can't do this often, but I have to right now. The risks are too great.

I suppose #003 or #007 or #013 would tell me to look on the bright side, find something positive.

I do feel better, mentally, since having the others show up here. I guess I do worse with isolation than I thought. I'm also apparently extremely touch starved - #017 hugged me and I practically fell apart. But it was nice.

I hope that wasn't the last time.

[fairest]

Staying Alive

Interesting dinner party conversation last night that the only interesting thing about literary prizes would be the author refusing them. Of course we’re all vegetarians but even the cat meowed.

*

Reading Søren Kierkegaard’s Either/Or I learned that “interesting” is a modern concept. I thought that was really interesting. I watched café patrons look at their phone instead of the book in front of them, which was always Elif Batuman’s Either/Or, and I too participated in their uninteresting failures.

*

I did not take off from work for Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur. I did not repent. I did not pray. I lied to my father a few co-workers and some friends about all of those things. I did read the first three pages of Martin Heidegger's Being and Time. I did see and read a tweet about Tao Lin’s poop, which meant I had to read even more about his poop than I had to read while reading Jordan Castro’s The Novelist. God will never forgive me.

*

There’s always so much talk about how literary criticism has gotten shallow, but what if the books themselves are shallow. What if authors are more interesting than the books they write, and even the authors themselves aren’t really that interesting at all. You know what’s missing from good books? Joy. And sensibility.

*

A new and precise line in Butler’s substack about “the slowly dying Lishian school of the sentence” has gotten stuck in my head, this playoff season, like Cubs in Five. The Phillips Corporation will admit they made an awful mistake before young men give up writing their Lishian sentences, but there does seem to be a new wildness in American fiction, and it’s mostly coming from those who promote their work as anti-woke, not from proper books birthed into a perfect world.

*

I play the music I own on vinyl. I play the music I own on CD. I give the music I learn about in Recommendation Corner the old college try, I’m more an Ian guy than a Steve. I defend the playlists. I delete the songs. I move the box sets to the basement and lug the American Record Guides back up. I don’t own E.S.P. on CD but the title track is on the CD of Miles Davis’ Greatest Hits which we listen to during the dinner party and then during the pot party I play E.S.P. on vinyl and Mattie asks do you like jazz and I say no I don’t like jazz, I like Miles Davis. I write out Don Giovanni arias in languages I can’t read. I listen to Good Morning’s Country and I think about you, during the Modafinil line, because that’s the line that would make you think of me. I like the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs song “Different Today” even though every day feels more or less the same, and the 1975’s “Part of the Band” is the first Dylanesque song since Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature. “The worst inside of us begets / that feeling of the internet / it’s like someone intended it.” I remember how tears of joy streamed down my face the day Dylan won the Nobel Prize, thinking there was hope for the written word and how all you phonies who think there’s some august tradition of literature got what was coming to you. Just for a sec. I hope it still hurts.

*

Why does the writer of the lamestream media piece that dissects some “dangerous moment on the Right” always editorialize themselves as “studying the right wing for a long time." Imagine the writer of stock buybacks who has been “studying the habits of tycoons for a long time.” Or the cultural critic on the Dimes Square beat who has “studied Dimes Square for many decades now” and looks forward to getting a little skirt in the backseat of the taxi.

*

Absurdist Jesse Ball published a book called Autoportrait and it’s fine, but it’s nothing like Édouard Levé Autoportrait, one of the most charming books of all time, which Ball, on page XIII of his hardcover, calls a fruitless clump! On the last page, Ball claims he wrote his pages in one day, on John Grisham’s Mississippi estate—another prolific writer he then insults. This is Harold Bloom claiming he read Ulysses over Indigenous Peoples v. Columbus weekend, a case still held up in the court of jester appeals.

*

Eve Sedgwick’s distinction between reparative and paranoid reading. The reparative cleans you up, the paranoid leaves you in a Christian frenzy. I find this instance of writing reparative. Even when I am being dirty with someone I feel spotless. Filth is pure. I just love it.

*

After what feels like forever, a dozen college students get off the train. The guy across from me says my god, were we that bad? I say to him we were much, much, worse. Those guys were drinking Bud Freedom.

*

The purpose of a story, Sontag wrote, is reclaiming the rights of intensity. If I am going to distinguish myself as a writer I must make a break. I cannot live “in the break” as the other writer must, they have no choice, I do. I must reclaim the rights of Shel Silverstein’s forgotten language. I must smile in secret at the gossip of starlings.

*

I discovered Avital Ronell a few weeks ago, through Maggie Nelson’s On Freedom, which was an education in itself and refreshed my memory about Sedgwick’s reparative. On Saturday morning I sat in Oz Park while my child played and I read Ronnell’s Crack Wars. I may as well have been reading Reading Lolita in Tehran on the playground. A page of Ronell being bored is the greatest page from any boring writer, although I fear she is too smart for me and I’ll never keep up, I only have a Master’s Degree and I only speak two languages and one of them is music. On the internet I discovered Ronell was cancelled for giving one of her students a real hard time. Andrea Long Chu popped up again, with a convincing essay about how white-collar work sucks, which I agree with. Ronell wrote a biggish book called Stupidity. Not On Stupidity, just Stupidity. The amount I miss is interesting.

*

On Monday I told my wife I was depressed because it was Monday and she said, “if it’s not Monday with you, it’s something else.” We fucked every night this week. I am losing my summer tan and the beaches closed so I started viewing pornography again. Logging on, I felt like Li from Tao Lin’s Leave Society, the afternoon he relapses and views pornography with anger and glee. I said to the girls, pregnant in their Hollywood Squares, how could I give myself over to only one of you, when all of you missed me this much?

*

I was in a hurry and said excuse me, miss! to a woman blocking my path off Broadway. Only after I boarded the train did I realize it was Katia. The last time I saw her she was screaming at her then husband about “growing the fuck up,” which made my child, and her child, cry. It wasn’t just Monday with that guy, it was Tuesday and Wednesday and Friday too. The thing about raising children is that, unlike your then husband, they rarely become your then children unless your goal in life is true crime. It’s one reason you can never trust the childless on the future, and you can never trust the childless on the past. It’s only the present the childless commandeer. They can’t throw their arms around stupidity like daddy can, they can’t swing it from a star.

*

After finishing Jordan Castro’s The Novelist I re-read the first 100 pages of Don DeLillo’s Mao II and then became bored with its profundity. Bill Gray also suffers from writer’s block, like Castro’s unnamed novelist, although unlike him Gray has published books and the reader believes Gray’s novels have changed people’s lives, and also changed the way writers think about composing the sentence, the sentence being “the writer’s will to live.” It is no surprise that Mao II is dedicated to Gordon Lish. Bill Gray, a “thick-bodied man,” like Castro’s Facebook friends, doesn’t have Twitter, he has cigarettes, but if he had Twitter he would smoke that, too, because he knows it’s the “self-important fool that keeps the writer going,” what Castro, writing about Twitter, identifies as pride. Gray’s in a rut because he knows writers no longer make “raids on human consciousness,” because they have all been “incorporated” and the only thing publishing—indie or mainsteam, anti-woke or do-the-work—really wants is a dead writer, because “the secret force that drives the publishing industry is the compulsion to make writers harmless” and pretend they’re part of some “august tradition.” Très pleased that Don DeLillo won, she’s great, she’s an august tradition. Published in 1991, Bill Gray’s problem isn’t that ornamental despair of kings like Jonathan Franzen or Joshua Cohen—prestige television and/or Twitter has ruined the Novel, if not necessarily Their Novels—it’s that writers aren’t as important as terrorist attacks. In 2022, that complaint sounds racist. DeLillo is a führer not a prophet. Remember Karlheinz Stockhausen, the composer of a piano piece that begins by repeating the same chord 140 times, who wrote, 10 years after Mao II, that 9/11 was the greatest work of art he had ever seen?

*

The ubiquity of the autumn trench. Elisabeth Shue’s in Adventures in Babysitting but less wintry. Are wicked city women wearing these in Zuck’s metaverse? Can you lease an autumn trench from Plato’s Closet in Yarvin’s Urbit? Sometimes they feel cream, sometimes tan. The other night at Siena Tavern I counted no fewer than five cosmopolitans in their “absurdly early thirties,” as DeLillo writes of Brita Nelson in Mao II, wearing some version of the autumn trench. They leave me in the brooch.

*

After the show I walk outside and scream, who here owns The Garbage & The Flowers on vinyl? I see a punk and think about how much I hate punks but the boy in the cowhide vest has a Camel Blue and the conversation doesn’t need to progress from there. The only thing I can tell you is that the saints are marching in and the photographers are sticking out and the horses are pulling up with Bluetooth speakers tickling their manes and there’s no vacancy at Trump International and the bar at the Langham has a private equity party and pandemic racism won because even I’m scared to ride unstrapped the Red Line after 11pm. I check my Lyft app, startled to see the picture I added the night of Danny’s wedding, and then compare it to the Curbed price, also the cost of a Club Monaco t-shirt. I kick up my leg. A yellow cab flashes their brights. In the cab, which will cost $10 less than the Lyft or the Curbed, the news segment on the backseat TV features a young Black man being arrested for assaulting an elderly Black woman on the Red Line. I can’t turn it off. I ask the driver to pass me the aux and soon we’re singing Kevin Johansen’s cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne” with fake drifter blues. By the time we commit to Michigan Avenue I’m too drunk to see anything but the champagne brown mannequins in the Max Mara windows. They wear flesh-colored trenches. But what color is flesh-colored, anyway? Count me out.

*

I write because Gordon Lish used to brush my girlfriend’s Egyptian ass at the old NYU bookstore. Another thing I do is keep Lish’s Collected Fictions on eBay at a hideous price and sometimes people offer to buy it at that price, and then I raise the price. It costs me nothing.

*

Nobody asked me, but I do not believe art has the ability to change the world. I believe the redistribution of wealth from the 1% has the ability to change the world.

#

#og #Stuart M. Ross #interesting #Stuart Ross #Bob Dylan

[library-of-oz]

04/10/2022

5:30 am

I went to bed with the worst ever headache. Honestly it was horrible but it’s fine. I woke up at 3:30 ish and I haven’t been able to go to bed. But I did have a pretty good day today- well yesterday.

 I played D&D with my friends today and dyed my hair but it went wrong. It was shitty but it’s fine idm it. I wish I could text him right now but he’s sleeping and I don’t wanna bug him and make him wake up.

But GOD HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE. I saw his new haircut today and it looks so cute. God he looked so adorably dorky. I love him so much. Before cutting his hair, I know he wanted to really grow it out, but he looks so adorable with his short hair. I absolutely love it, and he bleached it to make himself a lot more blonde and it’s perfect. And he looks perfect. I kind of wish he wasn’t on vacation and I was just here with me, but that seems selfish and I don’t want to be selfish. I wish I could just have him constantly around me for a while though, I know it sounds selfish and I hate that it does, but I want to just be around him and love him as much as I can. I love him so much.

I feel tired though j wish j could go back to sleep because I’m im gonna ed proper sleep for the rest of the day but it’s okay. I’m gonna watch New Girl while I wait because I have nothing better to do. Y’know like I woke you in the middle of the night so there’s not that much to do. At least I had a cool dream and woke up to texts from my best friend. Marc is the coolest person ever and I’m so glad that he’s my friend. 

I’m glad that I can be in a very appreciative mood of people in my life, and it makes me feel like I have the best people around me. I’m so glad my friends care about me the same way I care about them and make me feel like I’m seen. It’s like five in the morning and I just want to be outside with my friends. I want to go on a walk with my friends. I just want to do something because right now I’m really bored and it’s going to get to me soon.

#dear diary #my diary #diary post #diary posting #personal diary #diary entry #online diary #tumblr diary #diary of a young girl #diary stuff #diary log #diary writing #diary tag #diary blog

[babymetaldoll]

I love you, period! (Matthew Gray Gubler x fem!Reader)

Category: Hardcore fluff

Warnings: Mention of period and blood. 

Summary: Your uterus ruins a very special date with Matthew. But he takes care of you and spoils you when your menstrual cramps make you feel like you are about to die. 

Word count: 2 K

A/N: Hi!!! 

Masterlist

✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.

It all started with mild cramps that alerted (Y/N) that the horrible time of the month was coming near. It was almost six in the morning, and her boyfriend Matthew was snoring, lying next to her.

Slowly and trying not to make a noise, she got out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, searching for a tampon and ibuprofen. But there was no pill left in the plastic bottle to help her cope with the intense pain.

- "Shit!"- the young woman whispered and sighed, resigned. If there were no pill left to help her, the answer was a cup of tea.

Just one detail, Matthew didn't have many tea options in the kitchen. Actually… just one: earl grey, and only because (Y/N) had gotten it a few days earlier for him.

Moving very slowly around the kitchen, (Y/N) boiled some water and grabbed the biggest mug she found. She felt like her body needed as much warm tea as possible. After pouring her cup, she curled up on the couch and wrapped her body in a blanket

- "Ok, uterus, you don't like me, I got the hint. But in a few hours, I have a very important day with my boyfriend, and I don't wanna let him down. So what do you say we have a truce this month, and you don't try to kill me? Please?"

Spoiler: her uterus didn't give a damn about that date, and it made sure (Y/N) was in the worst pain she had felt in years.

Matthew woke up around nine and rolled in bed, ready to hug his girlfriend and kiss her good morning. But instead of her warm body, he just found a cold pillow.

- "Bunny?"- he mumbled and slowly stood up - "Are you in the bathroom? Bunny?"- but nothing. Gubler stood up and put on some clothes before walking downstairs.

- "(Y/N)? Where are you?"

- "In the kitchen!"- the girl answered, trying to hide the pain in her voice. The last thing she wanted was to make Matthew worry about her. She knew he was looking forward to this day, and she wished to make him as happy as possible.

- "What are you doing up so early, Bunny?"- Matthew ran to her and smiled as he stared at the scene: his girlfriend wearing one of his t-shirts, making breakfast. It was a dream for him.

- "I thought you'd appreciate some homemade waffles and fresh coffee to start your day."- (Y/N) smiled and sighed as she looked at her boyfriend for a second. He was so sweet, so caring, so beautiful. Literally breathtaking. Sometimes she wondered what he saw in her. She was just human, and that man was not. He looked more like a god.

- "You are the best and sweetest girlfriend on earth, Bunny."- Matthew moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her body too, maybe a little tight for her comfort, ‘cos she had to make a major effort not to gasp in pain.

- "Come on, let's eat."

- "Yes, sit down, let me serve you."- (Y/N) whispered and grabbed a dish slowly.

- "Are you ok, Bunny?"

- "Yeah, hon. Why?"

- "I don't know. You look pale. Did you sleep well?"

- "Yes, you?"- she lied and put a dish of waffles in front of her boyfriend.

- "I did. I had a hard time falling asleep, though. I was too excited about today."- Matthew grinned like a kid on Christmas morning, absolutely excited. And (Y/N) did her best to fake a big smile.

- "Great!! When do we leave, Bunny?"

- "As soon as we are done eating! Are you ready for a whole Disneyland weekend?"

(Y/N) held her breath, feeling her uterus trying to do yoga inside her. Honestly, she felt like dying. Cold sweats and shivers. She wasn't even sure she could walk.

And she still had to shower and get ready for a whole weekend in Disneyland with the one man who had been waiting for this day to come for the last four months.

Matthew's schedule was very tight. He had been filming Criminal Mind and overcoming his knee injury. He promised (Y/N) he would take her to Disneyland for a date when they started dating, but everything had gotten in their way.

That's why he was so excited. He wanted to give her the best date ever.

And (Y/N) couldn't even move. But she wasn't willing to let him down. That man was trying his best to be the best boyfriend she had ever had. She was going to be the best girlfriend he had ever dreamt of.

- "Are you ok, Bunny?"- Matthew left his fork and knife and held (Y/N) 's hand- "You've barely touched your food."

- "I'm fine."- his girlfriend whispered and grabbed a blueberry.

- "You need to eat this amazing breakfast you prepared to have energy for all the rides and all the walking, and I know standing in line is not fun, but we can always make it interesting, play charades…"- Matthew rambled and watched how his girlfriend smiled at him.

- "I am ready to enjoy today with you, honey,"- she whispered and took a bite of her breakfast. She regretted doing that in a second ‘cos a rush of nausea almost made her run to the bathroom.

- "What is it, babe? It's delicious! Don't you like your own waffles?"- Matthew asked her, worried.

- "No, I'm just not hungry. That's all. I think I better take a shower."

But as soon as (Y/N) tried to stand up, the pain was too much, her legs shook, and she nearly reached the ground. But Matthew was faster, grabbed her body before she got hurt, and kept her close to his chest for a few minutes.

- "Bunny! what happened? are you ok?"

- "Yes, yes. I'm so sorry, honey. I just…"- but (Y/N) couldn't come up with any excuse for nearly falling. Matthew wide opened his eyes and yelled.

- "Oh my god!! you are hurt!!"

- "No, honey…."

- "Bunny, you are bleeding! I need to take you to the hospital!"

- "No, Matthew, wait!"- Gubler carried his girlfriend in bridal style for a few steps before she explained- "Just take me to the bathroom! I need to change my tampon."

- "Oh! You got your period..."- Matthew made a pause and nodded. Suddenly it made sense- "Say no more!"

It wasn't the first time he knew his girlfriend had her period. And it wasn't something weird for Gubler at all. So he rushed to the upstairs bathroom, holding his Bunny close.

- "I can walk, honey. You don't have to spoil me so much"- the young woman blushed as he landed a soft kiss on her forehead as he walked to the bathroom.

- "I don't wanna risk my Bunny's safe."

- "It's just my period"- (Y/N) kissed his cheek and moved slowly when he left her at the bathroom door.

- "I'm gonna get you some clean clothes, ok?"- Matthew said and watched her nod. She tried her best to be ok, but she clearly wasn't. Matthew knew it. So he grabbed a clean pajama from a drawer in his room and left it in the bathroom as (Y/N) took a hot shower.

- "Can I get you anything, Bunny?"

- "No, honey, thank you."- her voice was a painful whisper coming from the shower. Matthew didn't say anything, just rushed out of the bathroom, ran downstairs and out of the house, ready to drive to the closest convenience store.

Forty minutes later, (Y/N) was curled in a blanket on the couch again, trying to recover in record time to go to Disneyland with Matthew. She knew I was nearly impossible, but she refused to let him down.

- "How are you feeling, Bunny?"- Matthew's whispering in her ear, and his soft kiss on her forehead made her feel butterflies in her stomach.

- "I'm ok, ready to go? I don't want us to be late."

- "No (Y/N), today we are not moving from this couch"- the young woman frowned and watched how Matthew sat next to her, cuddling her.

- "What do you mean? we have a date that's been months in the making."

- "I know, I know. And I really wanted to go."

- "See? Let me put on some pants and…"

- "No, Bunny. Today we are gonna have an even better date. We will stay here all day, eat lots of cookies and ice cream, watch movies, drink tea, nap, and do nothing."

- "Matthew… just because I have my period doesn't mean I can't do anything."

- "I know, Bunny, I know. But I wouldn't feel right to take you out when I know you are in deep pain. By the way, I noticed we ran out of ibuprofen, so I bought you some."

- "I love you"- (Y/N) 's eyes watered up with each sweet act from Matthew.

- "I know. And I love you more, Bunny. Do you wanna take ibuprofen right now?"

- "Please,"- she whispered, still trying not to show him how much pain she felt. Matthew handed him a pill and a glass of water. Then he gave her a hot water bottle and cuddled with her under the blankets.

- "So, Pride and Prejudice or Jane Eyre'"

- "Jane, please."

- "Mr. Rochester it is."

(Y/N) looked at how her boyfriend picked her favorite movie, handed her her favorite cookies and tea, and wrapped his arm around her as he covered their bodies with a cozy blanket. It was perfect.

Half into the movie, (Y/N) fell asleep. Matthew smiled and kissed her forehead, moving her closer to him until she rested her head against his chest. Yes, he wanted to take her to Disneyland ‘cos it was one of his favorite places, and he felt guilty he was busy all the time. Gubler didn't want his Bunny to resent him for not doing whatever normal couples did. He wanted to make her happy and take her out on fun dates. He wanted to give her everything and more. From a hot water bottle when she felt cramps to an entire castle to make her his queen.

- "Hey,"- (Y/N) whispered when she opened her eyes and realized she was sleeping on Matthew's chest.

- "Hey Bunny. How are you feeling now?"

- "Much better… thank you."- Gubler caressed her hair sweetly and smiled, kissing her forehead.

- "I'm glad. You kinda scared me when you almost fell. Those cramps must have been very bad."

- "I can take it. I'm tough."- (Y/N) murmured and closed her eyes, melting at the touch of Matthew's hand on her cheeks and hair.

- "You don't have to take it alone now, Bunny. I am always here to help you. That includes getting you tampons and cookies."

- "Thank you, honey. But you don't have to do that."

- "But I want to do it. I love you, period!

- "Pun intended?"- (Y/N) giggled and felt Matthew's lips on hers, kissing her slowly, carefully, and sweetly.

- "Of course. Now tell me, please, what do you need?"

- "Peppermint tea, another ibuprofen, and a little piece of chocolate."- Matthew nodded at each requirement and left the couch for a few minutes.

- "I'm sorry my uterus ruined our day,"- (Y/N) said and looked at how her boyfriend walked around the kitchen, preparing a tray.

- "It's ok. I love that we get to spend some time together, Disney or the couch."

- "Do you wanna watch a Disney movie?"- Matthew's eyes shone at the proposition.

- "Deal! Finding Nemo? We haven't watched that in a while"- (Y/N) nodded and grabbed the remote control.

- "Sounds good to me, Gub."

- "Then you get to pick a movie."- Gubler moved to her and kissed her lips sweetly.

- "Can we watch a horror movie?"

- "As you wish, Bunny."

 

Taglist General @spenxerslut @ash19871962 @all-tings-diego @babebenhardy @mrsobrien888 @archer561 @muffin-cup @alfonsais @cynbx

#Matthew gray gubler #MGG #Babymetaldoll writes #Fluff #MGG fanfic #MGG Fluff

[jeonronwoo]

Colours → Eric Sohn

anonymous asked: Hi~ Can I request prompt 42 with The Boyz Eric pls?

requested.

prompt:

42. “This indicates that my soulmate is close?”

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none.

genre: fluff, humor.

Having a soulmate wasn’t described like the movies or novels, it was weird. Your hair changes colours automatically if your soulmate decided to dye it. A lot of times it bothered you, almost every month you showed up with new hair colour, thanks to your soulmate for that, but everybody around you understood what you were going through because most of them were going through the exact same thing.

It didn’t surprise you anymore whenever you woke up with new hair colour, quite the opposite, you even started dying your hair terrible colours to show your soulmate that you too were capable of controlling them. And it’s been a battle between the two of you because today you woke up with new hair colour.

“Pink?! You dyed your hair pink?!” you screeched and fumed in rage, you hate pink and now your hair was pink, what is the worst that can happen?

You walked inside the cafe where you work and saw your friend Lia staring at you then laughed loudly, you looked at her annoyed but she just kept laughing ignoring you.

“Oh my God, you look ridiculous!” she said and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, I want to kill my soulmate, that’s what I’m sure of,” you muttered and Lia kept teasing you.

The door of the cafe opened and you saw a boy that looks a little older than you came and looked at the menu above you.

“Hello, can I haveـــ,” he said then looked at your hair, his eyes wide in surprise and you felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Yes?” you said clearing your throat, he woke up from his gaze shaking his head.

“Uh yes, sorry, I want to have an iced coffee,” he finally said and you typed his order.

“Anything else?” you asked and he shook his head thanking you and paid the money, “The name?”

“Kevin.”

You gave Lia his order and she started to get it ready, he sat down at one of the tables and you could feel him eyeing you, and you wondered why.

After his order was done, you called his name and he came to get his drink, he smiled thanking you again, before he can leave he looked at you again.

“I’m sorry, but where did you dye your hair?” he asked and you smiled politely.

“I didn’t dye it, I woke up today to find that my soulmate dyed his hair this colour and now I have to walk with pink hair,” you answered and he opened his mouth to say something but stopped, instead, he smiled and nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” he said and left the cafe.

***

“Eric, I’m telling you! This girl had the same hair colour as you! You dyed it yesterday and she woke up with it today! Doesn’t it make sense?” Kevin argued and Eric rolled his eyes.

“Hyung! Maybe her soulmate did the same thing as me,” Eric said and Kevin shook his head.

“No, this is like a zero chance, she is your soulmate!” Kevin insisted.

Eric couldn’t understand why Kevin was so insistent about his soulmate ever since he came back from that cafe, he kept telling Eric about the girl with the pink hair that had the same shade as him. Eric thought maybe it was possible, but he also couldn’t help feeling like it was only a coincidence.

“Why don’t we just give it a try?” Jacob said tired of hearing his friends bickering.

Eric turned to look at him with his eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?” he asked.

“If you want to be sure that she is your soulmate, dye your hair again today, and then Kevin will go see if her hair changed, if it did change then congratulations, she’s your soulmate,” Jacob said.

Eric thought about it for a moment, it seemed like a good idea, but normally he started feeling anxious.

“And if not?”

“Then she isn’t your soulmate.”

***

It had to be a joke, it couldn’t be. You stared at yourself in the mirror feeling like you were about to kill someone. You glared at your reflection and breathed heavily.

The door of your bedroom opened and you saw your brother, Sunwoo, looking at you with his eyes wide, then he burst out laughing.

“Oh man! Look at your hair! You will shine in the darkness!” he laughed loudly and you grabbed your pillow hitting him in the face.

“Get out of my sight! Leave!” you yelled angrily and he left the room, his laugh still echoing in the hallway.

You looked at your neon yellow hair and decided to take Lia to the hairdresser to change your hair colour. You wore a hoodie and sweatpants and left for the cafe. When you entered the cafe, you saw that it was full, your eyes widened and you pulled the hood over your head and entered the kitchen.

“Oh my God! Y/N! What happened to your hair?!” she asked and you huffed dragging her to the back of the cafe.

“My freaking soulmate did! Anyways, we have to go to the hairdresser to change that colour, ask Yeji or Ryujin to take your place!” you demanded.

“I can’t do that Y/N, the manager is here today and we can’t risk it,” she said and you shook your head pleading her with your eyes.

“Please Lia, I can’t go out looking like that!” you argued.

“Uh, ladies?”

You heard someone saying and you saw the boy from the day before, Kevin, you were quick to pull the hood over your head again and looked at him.

“Can we help you?” Lia asked.

“Your friend here has the same hair colour my friend dyed today.” He said and you looked at him with wide eyes.

Lia looked at you and back at Kevin, she then grabbed your hand and walked up to Kevin.

“We have to meet your friend now!” she said and you looked at her in amusement.

“I thought you couldn’t leave?” you asked and she winked at you saying.

“I’d never miss the moment of you finding your soulmate.”

***

You found yourself in front of a flower shop, you looked at the pretty flowers their scents permeate your nose and you smiled. Kevin walked ahead of you and both you and Lia followed him inside.

“Eric! Jacob! I have guests!” Kevin yelled and two boys came after he called them.

“Y/N! Your hair is changing colours again! Your soulmate is close” Lia said amazed, you grabbed a lock of your hair and said to yourself.

“This indicates that my soulmate is close?”

The first one had a kind smile on his face but when he saw you he looked shocked but quickly recovered and smiled at you.

The other one when you two locked eyes you could feel your life flashing before your eyes, you saw your life with that boy.

You saw yourself and the boy going on dates together, your first kiss, your first time, your first fight, him kneeling on one knee, you getting married, having kids, growing old together. You saw it all.

You saw how his hair changed back to his natural colour, and you were sure your hair did the same. The boy smiled and stood in front of you.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly examining your features.

“Hi,” you said smiling while feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

“I’m Eric, I’m so glad I found you, we have a lot to talk about!” he said and you smiled nodding and said.

“Me too, we do have to discuss your terrible choices at picking hair colours.”

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz reactions #the boyz soft hours #the boyz fanfic #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn scenarios #sohn youngjae imagines #sohn youngjae scenarios #eric imagines #eric scenarios

[love-and-monsters]

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

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