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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

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MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper. “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #dimitrescu family #with this unruly heart of mine

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.47

Shiro promptly dobbed him into Lance. He literally said “Hey, Lance. Be careful with Keith he drank normal milk”, before letting himself into Lance’s house like he owned the damn place. Still feeling queasy, Keith was reduced to shuffling. His intestines felt filled with needles, and other not so pleasant stuff. Letting Blue finally jump down, Blue ran off towards the sedan as Lance stepped down the last two steps and carefully wrapped his arms around him. Keith all but melted. His nerves still there, but so was Lance

“I missed you”

God. His boyfriend was the sweetest. Keith opened his mouth to tell him how much he’d missed him too, only to fart and ruin the whole moment.

Mortified, Keith went tense as he cringed, waiting for Lance to laugh. Instead, his boyfriend simply pressed a kiss to his neck before pulling away and taking his hand

“That bad, huh? You don’t look too well. Let’s head upstairs?”

Keith felt like he should apologise for blowing their touching reunion. He felt like maybe Lance should have laughed, even it’d been at him

“Keith, it’s okay. Unless you’re standing there literally shitting yourself, because that’s what the look on your face is saying”

“Shut up. It’s Shiro’s fault”

“And you can tell me all about it when you feel better. It hasn’t been the same without you around”

Lance was happy to go at a snails pace, Keith embarrassed enough that he was dragging his feet the whole way. Maybe he had drunk the wrong milk. He’d stopped thinking about it when he lived with Lance, trusting Lance wasn’t about to poison him with the dreaded lactose. Led into Lance’s room, his boyfriend shot him a shy smile

“If you’re not comfortable, I can set you up in Curtis’s room”

“No. No... God. This is... embarrassing”

He may have kind of farted again... Lance’s super nose had to have smelt the fresh scent of internal death

“Keith, you literally can’t control the way your body reacts. If you can see me in my heats, and still be there, I can be there when you’re suffering from drinking the wrong milk”

“But...”

Heats and milk were two different things

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’ll take farty you over no you any day. Take your jeans off, the pressure’s probably not great against your stomach”

Lance settled on his bed, Keith even more embarrassed over taking his jeans and boots off, he felt incredibly lame. Climbing into bed beside his boyfriend, Lance stayed on his back, Keith hesitant, as Lance beckoned him closer

“Get over here already, you’re acting as nervous as I feel”

“You’re nervous?”

Lance chuckled, Keith finally climbing into his hold. Kissing his forehead, Keith wished his nerves would fuck off. Lance’s bed felt so much nicer than his

“This is my fourth change today... so was aiming for casual, but nice casual, but not too nice casual, but not so casual as you thought I didn’t make an effort”

“That’s too much effort”

“Curtis said the same thing”

Keith didn’t like the way he felt when Lance said Curtis’s name. He was reminded that he wasn’t part of anything that’d happened since Wednesday, outside of what Lance, and the group, messaged him

“He did?”

“Yep. He’s actually not that terrible... He still likes to point out things he shouldn’t, but I’ve been mostly working since you left”

“You didn’t think he was terrible before”

“He was on thin ground for murdering my toaster. He covered for me on Wednesday”

“That’s right, Pidge’s parents were coming to dinner”

“Yep. And guess who went into heat? He got me out the room, then covered for me saying I had to lie down thanks to a migraine. Then he kept Matt off my back. He doesn’t think I should keep dealing with heats alone”

Jealousy bubbled up

“Who? Matt? If he...”

“No. Curtis. Matt was being Matt. His idea of comfort was yelling through the door that I should picture you to jerk off to”

“That sounds annoying. Why didn’t you tell me?”

They’d talked that night, and Keith hadn’t even known

“Because, dummy, I didn’t want you stressing out further over it. You had enough to deal with in Platt”

“You could have called to tell me”

“I know... but when I hear your voice, I want to see you, and you know I blurt out things”

Still. Lance should have told him. This was exactly what Keith was afraid of. Matt could easily have broken Lance’s door down, so could Rieva. His boyfriend was kind of cute, and he did have a nice arse. Lance had more in common with the pair of them...

“Keith?”

“I don’t want to be on the outside. I’m supposed to be your boyfriend. Would you have told me if there wasn’t a risk of the others bringing it up?”

“Yes. I planned to tell you today. Maybe not like this, with you feeling sick... Yeah. Basically. I wanted to let you know... It doesn’t feel like... something to talk about on the phone”

Keith’s jealousy died down. The fact Lance wanted to be honest doused it. Tripping over his words, Keith feared coming across controlling or bossy

“Can you call me? If it happens again, can you can me?”

Lance sighed softly, wriggling to adjust himself around him

“I don’t want to put pressure on you. Tell me about those tests Coran put you through. I told you he’d be...”

Keith’s stomach gurgled again, yeah... moment over

“I need the bathroom”

When Keith came from the bathroom, he was ready to die. Milk was evil. Cows were evil. Dairy was evil. He felt far grosser than when he’d gone in, and the bathroom window being wide open was testimony to that fact. Climbing back into Lance’s arms, Lance rubbed his back gently

“You should get some rest. Try to sleep off some of the symptoms”

“No... I came all this way to spend time with you”

“And we will. I tried looking up how to help you but the internet’s not very helpful”

“It’ll pass”

“I know. I wish I could do something though”

What was he supposed to say to that? Lance was doing something. A whole lot of something. He was accepting that Keith wasn’t making things up and that he couldn’t control the way his body reacted

“Maybe a small nap?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll stay here with you. The others are preoccupied. Pidge had Matt working on lighting requirements for the stupid tunnel system again. Hunk and Shay are in the kitchen. Hunk is giving her a cooking lesson, he was pretty proud of the last one he gave. They’re gonna be at it for a while”

The last cooking lesson Hunk gave had to be when he’d tried teaching Keith. Keith had tried... but he felt like he hadn’t lived up to Hunk’s standards. He now knew there was a wrong was to grate a carrot, and that Hunk didn’t appreciate him peeling them with a knife. Hunk had the potato peeler, limiting Keith’s choices. He hadn’t cut his thumb off so he was taking that as a win. Lance had laughed over it all, caging Keith’s body as he showed him how Hunk liked his carrots grated, which was basically like normal only you used a fork when you got close to the end instead of your fingers to hold the shrinking nub of carrot.

Hiding his face against Lance’s chest, he’d forgotten that Lance constantly felt a few agreed above rock cold. Shivering, he found himself half squashed as Lance reached over him, pulling the blankets up so he was covered properly. He couldn’t ask for anyone nicer

“I don’t know if he should be proud”

“You should be. You survived a master class with the best cook in Garrison. You should see them. They’re still grossly in love”

“I’m sure I’ll see them tonight”

“Yeah. Okay, no more distracting me. It’s time for little vampires and little vampire hunters to have a nap”

“I’m not a kid. Don’t make punch you in the dick”

Lance let out a faked gasp of offence

“I can’t believe you’d treat me like that”

“And I can’t believe it’s not butter”

“Oh my god. You must be sick, because that was absolutely terrible and totally not the line. Maybe I should call a doctor?”

“You’re an arsehole”

Keith’s tone held no bite, Lance kissing his hair took all the playfulness out, and instead shoved feelings into the gap. He felt safe enough to rest when in Lance’s arms... he just wished he felt better physically so he could enjoy every what time they had.

Keith completely zonked out. Lance didn’t seem to mind, but Keith did. Sleeping through to dinner time, he was woken by Lance softly shaking his shoulder

“I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s dinner time”

Whaaa... oh... groggy from waking it took him a long moment to process he was at Lance’s and slept the whole damn day. So much for spending time with Lance

“Fuck... fuck...”

“It’s okay”

“No it’s not. I came to spend time with you, not sleep”

“Honestly, it’s okay. You couldn’t help feeling sick”

“But...”

Lance brushed his hair back from his fringe, Keith finding he was still cuddling him despite how long he’d slept

“Nope. No. You don’t get to feel bad over something you can’t control”

“I came to see you. God. What about the others?”

“Are fine with it. Shiro already told them you got car sick”

“That doesn’t explain you looking after me”

“Dude, it’s what friends do. Trust me. I’ve done the same with Hunk and Pidge, plus, I’m a pre-established worrywort. And I think I’ve earned myself a few hours to spend them how I want”

“You didn’t stay here the whole time, did you?”

Keith would have been farting like there was no tomorrow. He still felt bloated and gross. Not at all a manly and brave vampire hunter. God. How the tables would turn if the vampires knew he could be taken out with a glass of plain milk

“Yep. It doesn’t matter what we do when we’re together, it means enough that you came to visit”

“You’re going to have this memory forever, while I’m laying here crop dusting in your sheets”

“Eh, I stuck tissues in my nose, problem solved”

Keith was frustrated by how easily Lance was accepting this. He’d slept the day away. He’d shown up on Lance’s doorstep and then proceeded to sleep. Lance should have been mad at him, his tone was snappy as he said

“Why can’t you just tell me you’re upset? You’re acting like it’s not a big deal”

“Because I’d like to think if I turned up on your doorstep feeling sick you would do the same thing I did and be there with me. No matter how upset and embarrassed I was”

“That’s different”

“Nope. Nope. Noooo. It’s really not. I get you have a hard time accepting affection, but no one made me stay here. No one made me bring you up here. I did it because I care about you”

“And I slept...”

“You’re being a dick. Can’t you accept I care about you?”

“I know I’m a dick, I fucking slept!”

Lance groaned at him, proving Lance was annoyed

“We’re not fighting about this. I don’t know why this is a big deal to you, but I care about you. This, doesn’t make me care any less. I’m not annoyed, I might be a bit annoyed that you’re arguing with me over it. This what people do when they care about someone. They’re there for them. I could tell you were exhausted and in pain so I let you sleep through. Now, however, you have to get up and head down to dinner”

“Pidge is going to...”

“Understand. Trust me. I have a fair few incidents I can use if she says anything”

“You’d stand up for me?”

“Well I’m lying down for you at the moment, but you know...”

Lance’s attempt at humour was lame... and Keith appreciated it

“You’re a dick”

“Yep. Now let’s get moving or there’s going to be nothing left”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

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happymarimo · 5 years

Note

Hi there! I just started following so sorry if this is a major repeat question. I used to keep fish and had dabbled in water snails, but I can't have a tank at the moment and was interested in a snail-terrarium (I'm into plants so I figured putting one together with the snail add in wouldn't be hard, but I don't really know how to go about it. What are the basics of land snail keeping?? Thanks!!!

Hi friend!!

i’ve never gotten this question before and you have no idea how excited i am to answer it. my time has come.

Oh, and if you’re looking for advice on care for giant african land snails, I unfortunately can’t help you. They’re illegal where I live so I can really only help in terms of native/garden snails :0( !

I’m going to sum things up easily since my own attention span is so short and paragraphs might be harder to read for this…

But I do suggest you read everything, as all of it is important. Sorry if this is a super long post!

Environment:

Ideally, acrylic house/container to live in. Must have breathing holes and a lid which can’t super easily be opened (snails are escape artists)

Substrate changes depending on the size of snail. For smaller snails I recommend using a damp paper towel (and change every few days) but for larger snails I recommend coconut shavings and sphagnum moss.

Enrichment is needed! Snails are curious and need places to explore, and places to hide. I’m using a recycled kinder egg capsule for Cube, which is even better since it’s reused (and basically free. And Cube, my snail, loves it!)

Daily water mistings are a must. Snails live in moist environments - why we often see them after it rains - and I highly suggest using rain water especially if your snail was feral/wild.

Environment must be kept clean! Clean out any snail shit you might find ASAP.

Food:

Pretty much anything a human can eat. It would be good to know the kind of snail though, because some land snails prefer “meat” (eggs, carcasses of other dead bugs and things) but almost all snails love vegetables. It’s important to note that snails can become addicted to one food easily if fed too much of it, so try to have variety. Although, snails can be extremely picky eaters…

And please be careful of what you feed your snail too. No pesticides or chemicals. All food gets washed well before feeding.

Before I continue: Calcium powder on everything. I paid 10$ for a bottle of it at petsmart and it will last me a life time. Brush calcium powder in the nooks and crannies of all food.

It’s also easier for snails to eat hard vegetables if you blanch or boil them before feeding it to them. But make sure it’s cooled off first!!

Vegetables:

Carrots (Cube’s personal fave)

Tomato

Lettuce

Cucumber

Mushroom

Green beans

Sprouts

Peas

Corn

Dandelion leaves (from outside)

Fruits:

Apples

Grapes

Mango

Strawberry

Raspberry

Other things to consider (yes, even for land snails.)

Snello (Recipe provided)

Algae wafers

Handling snails:

Human skin is salty, be sure to wash hands before setting your snail on your skin

Hairs are pokey, try to place your snail in a [mostly] hairless part of your body

Smaller snails can be woken up by breathing (NOT blowing) warm breath into their shell. Sounds gross, but the warmth from your breath will wake them up. (I speak from experience)

Bigger snails can be woken up by gently stroking their tail/foot with your finger. (I speak from experience, it works every time, dont ask me why.)

Don’t try to lift your snail up if they’ve suctioned themselves to something!! Pulling their shell to hard can hurt them.

When you’re handling them, they may rasp (lick) you. This surprisingly kind of hurts, but they only do it because they think you’re food (and will quickly learn you are not!)

They may be deaf, but their skin can sense vibrations. Please don’t yell or make too many loud noises while you’re handling them, as this could cause stress.

Please no strong perfumes, lotions, hand sanitizers, etc while you handle snails. They navigate their world through touch, smell, and taste primarily. Anything too strong may cause pain.

No bright lights please! Snails have simple eyes which mean they can’t truly see, and can only really detect where a light source is. Nonetheless, bright lights are bad for their eyes.

When handling snails, getting gloves isn’t a bad idea. No snail skin hurts, and no rasping! I personally don’t use gloves, but I only really touch my snail if he’s pretending to be a race car. nyoom!

Be gentle in general. Broken shells can potentially kill a snail. This is also why calcium powder is very important.

Behavior:

They’re very curious and like to explore. They explore through touch, taste, and smell.

Probably faster than you might think they are. Whenever you have your snail out of their home, which you should often since they can get depressed if they’re all cooped up (just like humans,) please keep a close eye on them!

If you’re keeping more than one snail, you’re taking the risk of having a clutch of eggs or two. Snails are hermaphrodites which means they possess female and male reproductive organs. They cannot self-fertilize, and do need a partner for it, but be careful!

Rasping, as mentioned above, is a thing they do. If you’re keeping other snails, they might do this to other snails on their shells - so be careful!

All snails have individual personalities and like different things, as well as behave differently and respond to stimuli differently. Keep this in mind as you’re keeping your snail(s)!

Most garden snails only live for about a year or two (sad face :0( !)

Extra tips:

Learn snail anatomy, even basic stuff! You’ll learn cool things like… How they shit through their nose. Yes. Thats actually true.

Try to ID your snail based on your location, their individual behavior, and their “look.” This can also help you determine diet.

Copper hurts snails a lot. If you’ve been working with copper, sorting pennies (you know, as ya’ do.) or etc, try not to handle your snails for a while and be sure to wash your hands before you do, just to be sure.

This is very important, but please let your snails out of their house at least once a day for 30 minutes. Constant sleeping or inactivity for long periods of time is an indicator that your snail isn’t feeling their best. Let them explore things outside of their home. Just like humans, snails which are cooped up in a confined space (which may seem huge to them, still;) they can get - basically depressed. They’ll seem to only really sleep… all… the time… This is just their way of letting you know they’re feeling a bit down and would like some time outside. I keep Cube on the lid of his container (it acts like a dish) along with some food and a structure to climb on or hide in.

And I think thats everything. Wow, I’ll surely be saving this for another time. Any other snail owners, feel free to add onto this!

I hope this helps you friend!

#holy shit super long post #i didnt mean for it to be this long #just wanted to cover everything #sorry #snail #snails #snailblr #snail care #garden snail #garden snails #floweringscrubs

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kindlespice · 4 years

Note

ooooh skin stuff?? what products do you use / what's your routine? im super nosy and fascinated about this stuff lol

oof, sorry this took so long to answer, i ended up writing a whole damn novel… my b. Anyway i buy my skin care pretty much exclusively from yesstyle (minus a few exceptions, but i’m always open to new suggestions! i am gonna take a look at jolse soon) so i’ll just link the products from there. Also i have a little dinky code for like 2-5% off if you wanna save like… $1 it’s 5NAYTT

Disclaimers before i start though, I have normal skin (i know i’m so lucky uwu) so i generally don’t stress about whether my products work better or worse for dry/oily skin—but i do tend to favor more hydrating/moisturizing products. Also i’m no esthetician or dermatologist, most of my knowledge comes from product reviews, skin care videos, and my own personal experiences. So basically take everything I say and share with a grain of salt :))

We’ll start out easy with my morning routine:

1.) Mostly i start by wetting my face with warm water. you can also wet it in the shower if you’re a morning shower-er(?) but i’m not lol. IF my skin is feeling really dirty in the morning for some reason though (like if i sweat real bad on a summer night or drown in a pool of drool x-x) i’ll start with the Perfect Whip foaming cleanser

i find that most mornings, bc of my more extensive night routine, my face isn’t often in need of a cleanser

but i really like this bc you get SO MUCH use out of so little product; i use less than a dime-size amount per wash. but i do use this little foam maker thingy which builds up a better and faster foam than using my hands—not necessary but very convenient. there’s also foaming nets you can try, but i’m not familiar with them.

i don’t completely dry my face after use; i like it damp when i apply the toner

2.) Apply Klairs Supple Preparation Toner

i personally use the original version as i don’t mind essential oil scents, and my skin doesn’t react negatively to them. If oils bother you for whatever reason though, you might want to try the unscented version!

i also pour this into a spray bottle (you can pick these up pretty much anywhere but these are cute if you wanna order some) and apply via spray. No reason other than I just don’t want to buy cotton pads :)

3.) Apply Snail Repairing Essence

i use this pretty much as a moisturizer but you might want to use an additional cream or something if your skin is on the drier side?

4.) Apply SPF

okay so… i don’t actually have a rec for this bc i just use whatever my mom has. and i haven’t actually gotten a korean sunscreen yet bc i don’t go outside and i’m that person (who is v dumb) and doesn’t apply spf consistently in the winter -.- but rest assured, i’ll get some eventually lololol

Okay like i said, pretty easy in the morning! I don’t use essences, just bc i’m still young and a lot of them seem to be focused on anti-aging things that aren’t my main concern. And I prefer to use my serum at night bc it’s got vitamin C and i just told you i’m bad at sunscreen

But night time is where it gets complicated fun:

1.) Hop in the shower (but if you’re not a nighttime shower-er then you can just cleanse out of the shower) and go in with the Clean It Zero cleansing balm (this also has other versions: purifying, revitalizing, and nourishing but i’ve only ever used the original)

i usually do double cleansing at night, so this is my oil-based “first cleanser”

but i have been known to um… “gloss over” this step if i’m being lazy….. -.-

i like oil-based cleansers bc they’re a nice, gentle way to remove makeup (as opposed to wipes and stuff) and i do use this to remove eye makeup as it personally doesn’t irritate my eyes; i also prefer balms over straight up oils bc they’re more fun ^-^

anyway, i massage it on, emulsify, and rinse! also, if you’re not in the shower, i would keep my face damp after rinsing.

2.) Perfect Whip foaming cleanser while still in the shower

pro-tip, if you have a foam maker, i would make the foam BEFORE you start. that way you can just apply it right after the balm!

again, i keep my face damp after rinsing off the foam and hopping out of the shower

3.) Klairs Supple Preparation Toner returns!

again, i have mine in a spray bottle so i spray it on and tap it in!

4.) IF IT’S SUNDAY, then i will go in with the Lemon Sparkling Peeling Gel next

this is a chemical exfoliator (i finally ditched my knock-off st. ives XD) and i only use it once a week

5.) IF IT’S SUNDAY, and i have one available, i’ll put on a sheet mask next

sheet masks are… honestly all the same to me lol but i order these innisfree ones all the time; my regulars being green tea, tea tree, and aloe (they’re actually cheaper on their website tho so…). i also really wanna try the A’PIEU Milk Packs particularly in banana and strawberry, so i’ll probs order and try those out when i can justify spending the money on a whole bunch (knowing me i’ll turn it into a whole $40+ order lol)

i leave these on for 15-20 minutes (usually 20), take it off, and pat the remaining product into my skin

also there’s usually some left over on the other side of the mask and/or in the package that i’ll massage onto my neck and body (we try not to do not waste product in this house!!)

if i’ve done a mask, then i will most likely skip this next step

6.) Apply Klairs Vitamin C Drop

this is pretty much my daily serum as it helps with improving my dark spots and hyper pigmentation (my main skin concern)

i take 3-5 DROPS in my hand… that’s it, i literally wasted so much before i finally decided to stop dropping it onto my face.

apply and pat that bad boy all over!!

7.) Snail Repairing Essence returns!

again this is my probably-not-supposed-to-be-but-idfc moisturizer so i just slap it on!

8.) Almost done, here’s the Snail Repair Eye Cream

this is actually new, but i bought a smaller tube bc 1. i didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on something that might irritate my eyes. and 2. i didn’t. want. to spend. a bunch. of money. but the little nozzle is actually really helpful for getting a small, good amount of cream actually XD

so i’ll squeeze a little line (more like an oblong dot tho) under each eye and use my ring fingers to glide that up to the lid and pat in the product.

9.) Last one! Berry Lip Mask

basically…. i even buy korean knock-offs lololol

i just apply this to my bottom lip (my top lip never causes me issues??) and let it sit over night

Anddddd that’s everything! Very nearly got to that 10 step dream but, no essence, no clout i guess. Anyway, i do have some additional pro-tips too:

If you’re buying/trying new skin care products, be patient and introduce them slowly. it’s hard, but this way—if one or more products are causing a reaction—it’s easy to just cut it out of the routine. Also i like to think it gives your skin time to become used to the new ingredients and to “normalize” before piling on new stuff (but that could be total bs lol)

“Listen” to your skin; use products that make YOUR skin feel good, and use products when YOU need them. especially with serums and stuff, invest in products that will help you to address your skin concerns and achieve your skin goals (whatever those may be at the time)—and not someone else’s. Also don’t be afraid to admit if a product’s not working, better to chuck it than ruin your skin you know?

From someone who’s experienced a very unpleasant, burning unibrow :))) don’t remove hair on exfoliation day and avoid putting a lot of product on sensitive areas. Also, doing some sort of cleanse before hair removal helps to reduce the risk of dirt and stuff getting into the exposed skin.

Oh and be gentle with your exfoliators (whether physical or chemical) DON’T SCRUB FOR THE LOVE OF PETE to avoid cuts and burns!

If you have a spot (or feel one coming up) , use some sort of spot treatment. you’re much less likely to pick with something if it’s covered up by a patch (these are my faves) which will reduce irritation and formation of dark spots.

Be as hygienic as possible! There’s no towel drying steps in my routine for two main reasons. 1, i like keeping the moisture and hydration from the water as long as possible. and 2, bacteria. is. everywhere. Towels are pretty gross when you think about it and limiting contact between them and your face will probably greatly improve your skin’s health. Also avoid touching nozzle or dropper applicators directly to your hands or face: that way the applicator won’t come in contact with any bacteria or germs and transfer that gunk onto your face every time you use it. Washing your hands and/or tools that DO touch your face is also important in, again, reducing the spread of random gunk.

Take it slow, relax, and enjoy it! Skin time is my relaxation time (especially sunday nights oml so awesome!!), it’s honestly one of the best parts of my day just being able to kick back and take care of myself. Try not to make it a chore, it isn’t supposed to feel regimented or overwhelming, but relaxing and fun!

Okay that’s really it!! And yeah this got really really long….. sorry if you actually only wanted my yesstyle recs XD

#i really didn't mean for it to be this long #i just kept on typing #idk this stuff gets me excited lolol #let me know if any of you guys use these products or have any recs #i'm always on the hunt for new stuff to try!!#plus i'm also nosy and fascinated by people's routines and go-tos XD #asks #should i start a skin care tag?#i'll put it here just in case #kspice.care #non sims #Anonymous

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volturialice · 4 years

Note

I have eczema too do you have any tips on dealing with it?

ooooof. ok content warning for discussion of Gross Things and injuries and lowkey self-harm below the cut

so. I grew up with like, SEVERE severe eczema. as in, huge open sores all over my arms, legs, hands, feet, and sometimes neck/face/ears. ones that never went away. my quality of life was…not great, lol. I frequently got staph and other infections, I had to wear long pants and long sleeves at all times, it hurt to shower or bathe or swim and salt water was RIGHT out, people avoided me because my appearance grossed them out, and still other people (frequently adults and teachers) saw the injuries and assumed I was self-harming, which. I mean, the scabs were itchy as fuck, and I frequently scratched them open (gross gross GROSS and yet I still did it!) so in that sense it sometimes…was? but was also a very involuntary and physiological medical condition, so when people who didn’t know me told me it was self-harm that felt horribly dismissive of my feelings and agency. (like…to this day I still couldn’t tell you if it was self-harm. maybe it was part self-harm and part medical condition, I have no idea.) basically it was a lot of discomfort, a lot of pain (to this day I have a freakishly high pain tolerance) and a lot of gargantuan struggles with self-esteem, body image, and social stuff.

people (including many doctors) also told me I would “grow out of it.”

I did not. some people do, but like. come on asshole that’s not a fucking solution, you expect me to sit here covered in scabs until puberty maybe fixes everything? shut the fuck up steven

what happened to me was that my mom is a fucking terminator who did tons of research and eventually, through sheer persistence, got me in to see one of the best dermatologists in the area. this guy took one look at me and went, “yeah, you need UV treatments.” so that is what I got, for about 2.5 years during middle school—basically went twice a week to get zapped by an upright tanning booth. sometimes had sunburn in the dead of winter. it was weird (and it isn’t for everyone because there is of course the risk of skin cancer), but it eventually worked on all but two areas: my right hand and left foot. took another year of trying to treat those two places with medicated bandages and shit before they finally gave up and injected steroids directly into my hand and foot, which hurt like a biiiiiiitch but worked within weeks.

so that was pretty much my Eczema Journey. by high school, I had gone from walking around bleeding all over the place (seriously, jasper would’ve killed my delicious ass SO FAST, what the fuck is a papercut lol bella get on my level) to having a pretty good quality of life, my eczema reduced to “irritating dry skin.”

today, 1/9/20, to take stock, I have:

gross dry hands because it’s flu season and I’ve been washing them a lot

perpetually chapped lips

one (1) cut on the corner of my lip that has been there since december and refuses to heal ugh

which is like absolutely nothing to me, I spend every day so grateful that my skin has been basically fixed and now does its one (1) job of holding my blood and guts in

before I was Cured, there were a couple of things dermatologists had me do that might help you

…they didn’t always help me but here they are

1. mineral oil baths. they are gross but they will leave you feeling like a snail (effervescent) or a greased pig, or a p*rn star because you’re covered in slippry slime lmao. it’s supposed to help form a barrier to protect your skin? idk man sometimes these made me itchier but I’m just one person

2. chlorine bleach baths—please note that this means A TINY AMOUNT OF BLEACH diluted in water, not a bath in 100% bleach lol fucking ow. these are good for killing bacteria and preventing staph infections, etc.

3. going to the pool. same deal as the bleach bath, the chlorine kills bacteria.

4. get some sun. UV rays in the right amount are good for eczema, as my particular case proves. but like, don’t get skin cancer. it’s a balancing act.

things I still do now that I’m Cured

…and have a normal, manageable level of eczema (some of these are no-brainers but idk your life so bear with me)

1. moisturize constantly. I never leave the house without a travel-size tube of moisturizer. I moisturize every morning, every night, and as needed throughout the day. this requires keeping a giant thing of moisturizer by my bed like some kind of gross h*ntai-addicted teen boy, but whatever that’s a sacrifice I have to make

2. ALWAYS moisturize after getting wet in a pool/shower/etc. like, within minutes. PAT your skin dry, don’t rub, and then moisturize immediately.

3. but also? don’t get affected areas wet that often if you can help it. take sponge baths rather than showers sometimes, or shower in cooler water. when it comes to avoiding washing your hands without spreading Spanish Influenza et al, hand sanitizer is your friend.

5. use a generic, non-cosmetic moisturizer. I can’t stress this enough. I am currently not on any prescriptions, which means I get my stuff over the counter. but my skin will absolutely not tolerate ANYTHING with any kind of cosmetic-y chemicals that make it Smell Nice or whatever. no aveeno, no neutrogena*, no…see I don’t even know what other brands are because I don’t use any of them. brands I use: cetaphil and cerave, and that’s IT. this goes for shower gel and other skin products, too! basically, the less Fancy and nice-smelling something is, the better it probably is for your skin.

*the one exception is neutrogena’s “sensitive skin” sunblock. that is the only sunblock I’ve found that doesn’t irritate my skin. is good.

6. same deal as #5 when it comes to laundry detergent. most brands will irritate your skin, so look for something labeled “sensitive skin” or “free and clear,” etc.

7. fabric softener bad. do not use

8. for lips, I’ve heard aquaphor is good. hasn’t really worked for me, I just use regular chapstick and apply it like every 5 minutes. dermatologists have also recommended I use vaseline, but I don’t like to feel slimy (see #1a)

9. not to sound like a Live Laugh Love insta influencer, but stay hydrated! it’s extra important if you suffer from eczema. people aren’t kidding when they say it’s good for your skin.

10. kind of an obvious one, but if you have allergies, avoid the stuff you’re allergic to. ‘twill cause flare-ups.

11. try not to sweat. which isn’t to say, like, “don’t exercise ever,” but be ready to rinse off with fresh water and then moisturize immediately after you sweat.

so yeah, that’s my whole spiel. think I covered everything! but of course, different things work for different people. if anyone else has tips, feel free to comment with them!

#asks #anonymous #not twilight #life of g #injury mention //#self-harm mention //#eczema stuff

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lesbian-raichu · 5 years

Text

HAPPY ENTIRE MONTH OF HALLOWEEN

Here’s a short scary story - this is “Case 45: Medical Institute of Arkansas” (Continued under the cut) Heya Sunshine, Found this out in the woods near the clubhouse. Looks like a letter or something spooky like that so I figured it might be something you’re into. I started reading on the way back it but tripped like a dumbass - I can’t fucking walk and read, I’m like a kindergartner. Skinned my hands and everything so the paper got kinda crumpled and gross. My bad. But uh, having blood on this sort of shit makes it more legit maybe? I dunno. You’ve got a better stomach for mysteries than I do. I keep thinking I hear shit behind trees and it’s not even night yet lmao. I’m gonna drop it on the table for you. I’ll call you after my classes are done. Love, C

Medical Institute of Arkansas

Log date: 10.24.2004

Name: Sarita Makwana, Chief Physician

Forgive the frankness with which I am to depict what has transpired. After today, I believe it allowable. I am writing this both to make sense of this and to convey to others what occurred here. Patient zero, James Allison Fitzgerald was committed to my care this morning, by his wife. Initial symptoms were arrhythmia, excessive hypertension, risk of stroke. It was Nurse Ellen Suzuru who performed the MRI, and who deduced based on strain of the heart that there were arterial clogs.

You know what? I am forgoing the lingo. I have no idea when this will get out. I have no idea if anyone will get to read this.

Suzuru did the scan, and as a result, the decision was made to operate. With respect to whomever reads this, I frankly don’t give a damn if we made the right choice or not. We could not have known. The thing about the scans, from what we could see, was that his ribcage looked abnormal. Several of us dismissed it as an injury, a poorly regrown bone, maybe a deformity of the third and fourth ribs. It was inconsequential, if a dying man is brought to a doctor, that doctor has few options. His wife disclosed that James had been experiencing trouble breathing for approximately three days prior to his entry, and that the pains in his chest had started merely an hour before he entered our care. I remember she rambled about a trip to France they had gone on, worrying about salmonella poisoning from snails, and I attempted to calm her down. Her husband was 6’4 and 360 lbs, heart conditions were not improbable. God, I am so tired.

We sedated him and proceeded to open him up, with the plan to insert a few heart stents to improve blood flow. The initial appearance of everything however, was fine. Confoundingly so. James was healthy.

If anything, there was some strain on the heart, but no blockages, blood flow was fine. For all intents and purposes, James had simply overexerted himself, yet when he came in he was half-conscious. At this point, I was confused but intrigued. A healthy dying man, only 40, no pre-existing health conditions. The most I could figure was that if his ribcage was poorly formed, it could place stress on the organs, but his wife insisted to one of our nurses - Kinnings - that he was as healthy as an ox before last week. And at this point, perhaps I can only laugh, because it feels almost like a joke.

We were paying attention to the wrong thing.There were two other doctors with me - Uzumaka Williams and Desmond Corrigan. Williams said she had cut her hand, and was sent out immediately. I didn’t know how she managed it at the time, she wasn’t holding anything, just examining the patients heart, when she jerked back. She insisted she was fine, but left to avoid contaminating anything. Corrigan left after her to call my assistant. It was after about fifteen minutes of examination, right as the thought crossed my mind that I should simply stitch him up and send him to neurology, that I saw his breastbone, and the ribs curving out of it. I had not cut it out of the way, but somehow it was pushed aside, as though malleable. His ribs had been moved. Corrigan came back with Suzuru, and I asked if he had done anything, or if he’d seen Williams, but he denied both. There was no reason to lie. I wasn’t paying attention. If I had been, I would have noticed that his ribs had moved. I perhaps would have noticed that the beeping of the heart monitor was not coming from the heart monitor at all. I would have noticed that despite the fact that I felt the patient’s heartbeat, he was dead by the time he came in. Perhaps I would have noticed that James Fitzgerald’s ribs were not ribs at all.

How many doctors does it take to realize that the patient is already dead?

That was my initial assessment, anyway.

I feel ashamed in saying I froze, but we all did. There was a long, loud creaking noise, like a door opening. The sound of beeping was being perfectly mimicked, but no one’s mouth moved. There are different types of fear. The subtle: a general feeling of unease, a pit in the stomach. The frenzied: screaming and crying and begging. Then there is the overpowering: the silencing, no scream can leave you. You’re afraid to utter a sound, afraid to breath, afraid to twitch or run.I could not turn around. God bless Desmond, who tried to attack. God bless Ellen, who tried to get its attention. My good friends, may God bless them, God save them. God help me.

I never turned around. Whatever was inside James’ body was now protruding out of him, able to control his mouth just enough to mimic the beeping, before falling silent. The opening I had made in his chest was stretched, long angled white rib bones - used as legs - lurched him forward, towards Ellen. James’ head lolled around, his mouth agape, tongue out, discoloured and bloated. The legs were segmented and thin, like that of an arachnid, and the host body was dragged along like a puppet, James’ toes dragging and swinging against the ground. I watched, frozen, as two of the sharp, eight protruding bones, stuck into her body and twisted her around, as though she were a mop on the floor. It thrashed her around in the air, and then threw her against the wall. It did the same to Desmond, poking him through the eyes, jabbing his neck erratically, piercing it several times, and shaking him madly in the air with a leg stabbed through his abdomen. An image in my head was of a child shaking a dead goldfish in a plastic baggie. Trying to make it live. Aggressive and spasmodic, able to move with extreme speed in one second, and be eerily stock-still the next.

It swiveled in my direction, twitching like a spider, or a crab, and suddenly James was making sounds. Sobbing, gargling screaming. It felt like there were words in there, distorted. The stresses on syllables felt wrong, like a movie being rewound. He ended the sentence with a long and loud gurgling howl that shook the equipment in the room. At the time, I thought I was spared. I was stabbed once, in my side, thankfully missing my lungs. With monstrous speed, the creature jerkily scuttled away. I stayed with their bodies. I was certain that someone had to have called for help, but it only took me a few hours to realize that even if it came, I wasn’t sure any of us could be saved.

I consider myself a decent doctor. I may be in nowheresville, Arkansas, but I graduated magna cum laude from my university, and chose to stay where I was close to my family. With this in mind, I have to insist - this is not an illness to be cured. This is a parasite, some bone-like tapeworm. I realized this in that time alone, and that with the screaming I heard in the building, both human and parasite, that they were looking for living hosts. Poor Desmond and Ellen were of no use to them.

God I am so tired. I’m going to take a moment. Funny. This isn’t really a report anymore. I’m back. I recorded them, the parasites. I was right about one thing, and wrong about another.

They are speaking, for some reason, backwards. Begging. Calling for loved ones. Asking to be killed.

Which of course means I was wrong. They were never dead. “Consumed” is maybe a better word. The parasite begins its control through the spine, then connects to the brain stem, keeping their human hostage like a flesh puppet. I caught a glimpse of Uzumaka, the spindly legs extending from her torn chest hoisting her around, dangling with her mouth torn at the corners, the sounds she made were the worst of them all.

The Medical Institute has been quarantined. I managed to talk to a few other doctors in Cardiology and Gastroenterology that called the room I was next to. They told me how the parasite was being transmitted. They told me the authorities are planning on burning the building. Several cops that tried to enter to save survivors were killed. The others I heard. The frenzied snapping of bones against tile, the sobbing screams, and the trails of congealing blood that followed the sounds gave me all the information I needed to know. The phone call was cut short, the other doctor had hung up on me while I spoke to them. I went back to my colleagues, my friends, their bodies cold. I have no idea what will happen now. If the quarantine is breached, then God help us.

My hand is seizing up at this point from writing. It’s the only loophole, though. I realized it before Uzumaka did. It’s transmitted through blood, whatever these things are. The smallest cut is too much. Luckily I was stabbed through my right side. I’m left-handed. I lost my motor skills sometime during the phone call, when my colleagues hung up on me, unfortunately, and I suppose my ribs are currently being dissolved by the creature taking their place. I’m writing this in the infinitesimal chance that amidst the destruction, maybe carried by an errant breeze through the window, this letter will get out, and people will know what happened to us. Though that might be selfish, as even this page might be contaminated. If I am being honest, I am too tired. I can’t do more. One of the officers is in the room, across from me, still apart from the body hanging from those towering bones, eyes plucked out, half of his face torn away. And funnily enough, I can understand him. I hear his words, no longer backwards, still wracked with agony.

My name is Sarita Makwana. I am a doctor at the MIA. I love my family. God bless them. God protect them.

And God save me.

#writing #my writing #creepypasta #horror stories #scary story #me and my lesbian problems

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megan0013 · 5 years

Text

@imthegingerninja

not stricklake focused... more Jim and Strickler bitching at each other while dealing with a dirty diaper, but hopefully it still fulfills the request!

This was a bad idea.

No. Scratch that. This was a terrible, horrible idea. Maybe the worst he’s ever had and that’s saying something.

How did it come to this? Jim thinks, lip curling in disgust as the nauseating scent of baby poop invades his sensitive nostrils. He looks to his left, then his right – suspiciously eyeing the two rugrats he’s currently sandwiched between.

“Jim, honey?”

Jim’s gaze flicks forward to find his mother looking back at him through the mirror, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

“Can you see which baby has a dirty diaper?”

Jim sighs, not-at-all eager to assist again. It’s been three days of this. Three days of changing diapers and wiping spit-up and desperately trying to maintain his sanity as five – yes, five! – babies howl relentlessly into his ears. Which is torture, sure. But if he has to watch his mom and Strickler hold hands or sing along to old people music or stare adoringly into each other’s eyes – dangerous while driving, though that doesn’t seem to stop them – one more time...

The baby behind him begins wailing and Jim flinches.

“That’ll be Eustis,” Strickler says jovially from the passenger seat. “He always was whiner. Though, I believe, his familiar may have a good excuse this time.”

“Jim, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim groans and twists around in his seat to peer down at the baby. The little boy looks miserable and Jim feels a tinge of shame at his flare of annoyance. Until, that is, an audible gurgle erupts from poor Eustis and his wailing raises an octave.

“Mom?” Jim’s nose scrunches as he turns back toward the front of the car. “What do I do?”

“Change him,” Barbara says simply, as if they aren’t sitting in a rented van with hardly enough room to wiggle their elbows much less change a dirty diaper.

“Can we pull over?” Jim asks as his nose begins burning.

“Where would you have me go?” She’s got a good point. They’re stuck in the middle of a four-lane highway, practically crawling at a snail’s pace and there’s really very little chance at anyone letting them over. “Walt, babe,” Barbara glances to her right. “Think you could give Jim a hand?”

“Of course,” Strickler answers and Jim rolls his eyes at how sickeningly sweet the changeling sounds. “Jim, if you could just… Can you get him unbuckled?”

“Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

And then, as if by magic, the other four infants begin whining and Jim finds he could care less about the legality of it all. They aren’t really moving anyway, and who knows how long they could be stuck in this traffic jam? Wouldn’t want poor Eustis to get diaper-rash, now would they?

Jim puffs his cheeks and nods once, gathering his courage for the task ahead. He unfastens his belt and turns, climbing on his knees to pull Eustis out of his carseat. Only, when he tucks his fingers under the baby’s armpits they’re met with a slimy, wet substance that Jim hopes like hell isn’t what he thinks it is.

“Mom,” Jim swallows back a sudden wave of nausea, “I think we have a blowout.” He turns his head just in time to see Barbara and Strickler exchange an amused chuckle. “I’m serious guys! It’s squishy on my hand!”

“Well, get him out,” Barbara scoffs, glancing at her son as Strickler unbuckles his seatbelt to twist around.

“Hand him to me,” Strickler says, holding out his hands.

The very distinct sound of something sticky coming apart is heard as Jim pulls Eustis out of the seat and, again, he has to swallow down a gag. “Oh! Oh gross,” Jim moans, lifting the sobbing baby over the back of the seat and thrusting him at Strickler.

“Shit!”

Jim’s not sure if Strickler is identifying the substance covering the baby’s backside or exclaiming surprise, but he’s happy to hurriedly pass the little guy off either way. “Where are the wipes?”

“Diaper bag.” Barbara jerks her head back, gesturing to the bag on the floor behind her seat.

“I can’t get them. My hands are covered in poop!”

Barbara rolls her eyes and reaches back, fishing around in the bag for the wipes. She grins when her fingertips find the plastic package and pulls it out with a triumphant, “Ah ha!”

She clicks it open with her thumb and tosses it onto Jim’s lap. He immediately grabs a wipe and starts to clean his hands when Strickler yelps, “The baby, Jim!”

Oh, right.

Eustis, still suspended mid-air by the armpits, is shrieking with rage and the other baby’s whimpers are swiftly turning into wails. They need to contain the situation now or risk a five-alarm, Chernobyl-sized meltdown.

Grimacing, Jim makes quick work of Eustis’ overalls and diaper (only gagging twice, thank you very much) and deposits the whole getup in the designated trashbag at his feet. “Wait,” he says, glancing around in a panic. “Where are the diapers?”

“All the way in the back,” Barbara answers, failing an attempt to refrain from giggling. “Can you –“

“No, I can’t.”

“Just wrap him in a burp cloth,” Strickler suggests gruffly, beginning to lose a hold on his infamous patience.

“Where are –“

“The bag, Jim!”

“My hands are still covered in poop, Strickler!”

“And mine aren’t?”

“Mom!”

“Driving,” Barbara song-songs and shrugs. “And you should probably clean him off before you put on a fresh diaper.”

“You should clean him off,” Jim retorts with a childish grumble, but he yanks a pile of wipes out as instructed.

“Barbara,” Strickler coughs as the smell begins affecting him, too. “Darling, can you roll down the windows?”

Barbara sucks in through her teeth. “Ooh, super smell getting to you?”

Strickler nods and swallows, just as Jim moans, “Oh, for the love of… It’s in his hair!”

“Wait,” Strickler says, rolling his eyes in exasperation when Jim starts picking at the baby’s hair. “Get his shirt off first or else you’ll just have to do it again.”

Jim glares at him. “This is not what I expected when I volunteered to drive with you to Jersey.”

“Don’t you mean, bummed a ride because the gyre can’t hold all your scooter magazines?” Strickler asks sarcastically and readjusts his grip on a wiggling Eustis, allowing Jim to pull the soiled t-shirt over the baby’s head.

“You were heading east anyway!”

“To Missouri!”

“Mom!”

But Barbara is too busy laughing at the situation to admonish either of them.

“It’s not funny,” Jim growls as he finishes wiping Eustis from his knees all the way up to his head. The baby’s fussing slows now that he’s poo-free, but doesn’t stop. Nor do the cries of the other four, and Jim is just about at his wits end as he uses the last of the wipes to clean off his own hands.

“Will you take him?” Strickler barks when Jim purposely takes a little too much time stuffing the used wet-wipes into the garbage bag.

Jim rolls his eyes, but tucks a cloth around Eustis and lowers the baby onto his lap. He’s actually kinda cute, Jim thinks as he holds the now whimpering baby to his chest. The others are slowly settling down, too, and Jim looks up to find his mother gazing fondly back at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Jim shrugs. “It really wasn’t so bad. Kinda funny actually. Huh?”

“Ahem.”

Jim shifts his attention to Strickler, who is still turned in his seat with his filth-covered hands held up in front of him and an expectant look on his face. “Jim, can you please hand me the wipes?”

“Sorry, Strickler.” Jim shrugs, a vindictive smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Fresh out.”

#trollhunters #stricklake #barbara lake #walter strickler #jim lake jr #road trip from hell #meg answers #fanfiction #ficlet

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boomboombitches-blog1 · 6 years

Text

Rain

Pairing- Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader, slight Yoon Jeonghan x Reader Genre- Angst, College AU Warnings- Major Character Death, mentions of suicide, one mention of cheating, bad ending because who actually knows how to end things well Word count- 2666 (is that a sign should i be afraid)

A/n- I listened to Rain by Taeyeon the E N T I R E time i was writing this so if you’re wondering what inspired me and u want the full experience go ahead it’s a fucking great song. I meant to make this longer but it just didn’t go that way i guess. One more thing !!!! Kinda spoiler alert but i guess u probably already figured it out so read at your own risk !!!! the vote thing i did yesterday was to decide whether to kill joshua or not because my original idea was to have him and the reader just break up and get back together but then i got ~inspired~ so thank you to everyone who voted yes it actually did help me a lot because i got to write what i was really like seeing for the story there u know but also thank you to everyone who voted no because you almost saved ya boi

Part Two

Rainy days were always your favorite. No claps of thunder, no flashes of lightning, no sunlight warming the ground or streaking through the clouds in charming little pockets of warmth. Just drops of water, slipping weightlessly down from the grey clouds to soak the earth. To slide down your skin, drown away droughts, wash away sorrows with ironic displays of melancholy and pull it right back- make it hurt more and less all at the same time.

You were never the type to run through the rain when you didn't have an umbrella. You liked the feeling of the cool water on your skin, the period of reflection and release it gave as you seemed to be the only one brave enough to walk out in it. Things seemed to slow down for you on a rainy day. Time would set back, the world would move on as usual with you as an exception. As people rushed about to escape the flood, you could take your time and nothing would come from it except a few stares and some heavy clothes. Usually.

You met him on a rainy day.

You were walking through the city vacant of most usual bustle- with far fewer individuals racing around. Most people called it a holiday when the rain started to pour, stayed inside to enjoy their days quietly, but you never did. Even if it meant you were soaked for class, it was worth it. Maybe not the class you were hardly that interested in (and probably wouldn't have bothered attending in the rain if not for your love for the weather,) but the excuse to get out in the rain was more than welcome. He was in your class and rode your bus, and he was walking towards the same class when he spotted you walking slowly, without an umbrella through the rain.

In a warm act of chivalry, he jogged up beside you and held his own umbrella out above your head. You were absorbed in your thoughts- so absorbed that you didn't even notice how the light dulled above you- you only came back to earth when you realized the rain had stopped falling on your skin. You glanced up from the ground and looked around, only to jump in surprise when you saw a dark blue umbrella above your head, and a boy walking in the rain beside you, politely keeping enough distance that not only was he on the opposite side of the umbrella from you, he didn't even get under it. Startled by the presence, you slipped on the wet, smooth concrete. Only then did he get under the umbrella, stepping towards you and grabbing your forearm with his free hand to steady you.

You smiled at the memory.

His hand was cold, large enough to wrap fully around your forearm, for his thumb to touch his fingers when he held you up. He smiled kindly, eyes a warm, welcoming chocolate brown as he met yours through the shade cast by the opaque fabric above your heads.

"Sorry," He said softly, voice smooth and soothing like warm milk and somehow it sent a chill through your body, hair rising on the back of your neck as goosebumps rolled over your skin. "I didn't mean to scare you," He trailed off with a soft chuckle, clearly amused at your reaction. You couldn't help but to laugh a bit in return.

Slowly, the both of you continued walking. Silent and calm and slow, there was somewhat of a mutual agreement between you. You didn't mind having him under the umbrella as well, your shoulders almost brushing but somehow not.

"I'm Y/n." You spoke finally, far past halfway to your building. You could see it by now, were steadily approaching it though your pace was still snail-like. He seemed to be waiting for it, and immediately smiled when he heard you.

"Joshua." He replied.

He was good. You had expected he would be as your first meeting was him going out of his way to keep you dry, even if it meant him getting wet- but good as he was, he was still different from your expectations. He was kind of quiet, but mischievous. He was quick to voice his opinions- but only where he thought they were needed. He teased his friends a lot, and he had a bit of a temper. He was a little jealous, and as hard as he tried, he was bad at hiding it. He was protective, cared about everyone. He was kind to even those who had done him harm, after he had time to calm down about it. He could sing really well and had good music taste- it seemed there was nothing he wasn't good at.

You fell for him hard, and fast. Somehow, he had done the same for you.

He asked you out on a rainy day.

Four months. You had known him four months. It started less friendly- he would walk you to class when it was raining, but only when it was raining. Then one day, he sat with you in the back. You didn't speak, just sat within each other's presence and wrote notes for your class. Then he sat there again. You sat in silence for a week- not an awkward silence, just silence- before he finally asked for your number. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't weird, it just... was.

He invited you to study with him and some friends a few days later, and you accepted. You loved his friends- their whole dynamic together was majorly amusing and welcoming- and they loved you.

You ended up with three more numbers that night. Jeonghan invited you to their next movie night, and you met a few more of their friends. You sat by Joshua, and talked more that night than you had at all previously, which was somewhat ironic considering you were supposed to be quieter during a movie than most of the other times you'd hung out. You spoke about that, too.

He invited you over to study at his house a few days later. That time, you had to postpone because you already had plans, so you went two days later instead. Soon, it was a once a week thing. He started walking you to class every day, whether it was raining or not. You noticed he always had his umbrella in his bag.

Two more weeks went by, and you grew closer and closer. The next time it rained, he asked you to be his girlfriend under his umbrella, on the walk to your school building.

"We've been on friend dates." He hummed when you asked why so sudden. "I want the real, us dates to be like that. Relaxed and familiar. No awkward first dates and being scared of making a bad impression or worrying about what to wear. Just friend dates where we're a little more than friends. I already know i like you a lot, and we get along well so i thought it might be a little less stressful to just... Rip the band-aid off."

You nodded, and he knew that was your yes as well as your 'i understand' by the way you smiled, the way your eyes lit up with warmth and the way you reached for his hand. He took your outstretched hand, smiled, and turned his gaze to the same building yours lingered on.

You both loved rainy days.

You could remember clearly all the days where you had nothing to do but be together, when the rain would fall on the sidewalks and windows of your apartment and distort the world around you so it was only you two together and you would bake and cuddle and dance- even when there was no music playing. It was cheesy and gross and awkward and you stepped on each other's sock clad toes, but you always smiled and times like that were some of your fondest memories.

You were soaked by now, but you guessed that was okay as the smile on your face and the rain dripping down your hair, down your face and smearing your makeup was more than enough to hide your tears as they melded salty, warm water with clean, cold and dripped off your chin. You couldn't stand to look at the street you had walked so many times with him, couldn't stand to imagine how his umbrella blocked the rain from getting you sick, how it distorted the light and kept you warm. It hurt so badly to imagine his footsteps, running up behind you and his warm hand reaching for your cold one as he scolded you, again, for not bringing an umbrella, telling you you would get sick and he wouldn't be able to miss another class so he could take care of you again.

But you did it anyways. You could almost hear him, feel him, smell him. But you didn't want to. Selfishly, you wanted to forget him. You were almost to class, you couldn't be crying. You can't disguise it once you're inside the building and though they've all been through it before, your whole class has seen you break down at the very mention of him, you don't want to do it again.

He left you on a rainy day.

You were arguing. You hardly remembered what about... you didn't want to anyways. Thinking about it would only make it worse. You didn't want to make it worse. He stormed out. You tried to stop him- the worst thing to do is run out at night when you're angry and not paying attention- and your neighborhood isn't exactly the safest, either.

It wasn't too bad, people weren't killed on the daily but there had been a few attempted robberies in the time you lived there. Only at night, though. Nobody in your neighborhood went out alone after dark- except Joshua that night. You started to follow him but he hissed a "it's not safe," and gently shoved you back in your apartment, slamming the door in your face. You wanted to follow him, but he wouldn't let you. You knew he wouldn't let you.

All of the attempted robberies were women, anyways. No one was killed. No-one was even robbed, because whomever was horrible at their job. Joshua would be fine.

Joshua would be fine.

You cried, reassuring yourself of that until you fell asleep.

You stopped walking. Sobs shook your whole body, your hands reached to cover your face. You could hardly hold yourself up. You didn't want to go to class. You knew you were a mess. It had been three weeks since his funeral, you couldn't keep missing. Your knees were weak, you knew they were shaking. Your whole body was shaking. You could feel your lungs getting tighter.

You couldn't see through your tears, so you pushed your hands up a bit further to cover your eyes, only moving them when your legs gave out and you fell to your knees, hands steadying you on the concrete. There was a puddle around you, growing slowly with the rain, but you didn't care. No-one was around to see you. You still wanted to curl up and disappear- you wanted to be wherever he was and apologize and hug him and cry with him- god you hated being alone. You were so used to him holding you whenever you cried, or his soft voice comforting you over the phone, but now he was gone and you were the reason. Your head dropped to let the tears drip straight from your eyes and fall down into the puddle around you.

You shouldn't have let him go.

The phone call woke you up late. Near 2 in the morning, but you didn't mind. It was him- it had to be him. You answered quickly, your stiff muscles crying out at your sudden movement after falling asleep in an awkward position on the couch.

"Hello?" Was all you heard before you gasped, sitting up with your hand over your mouth to hide your sobs. It wasn't him. It wasn't one of his friends. God, you would've rather it had been a girl he went and fucked on the side but no, it wasn't. "Are you Joshua Hong's girlfriend? His parents are in america, you're the closest relative he has. We need you to come down to the hospital. He... Well... I'm sorry miss. Just please come."

You rushed. You didn't want to go at all but the tiniest hope that maybe it wasn't him rung in your head but you knew better. Even so, you so desperately wanted to find out that you were wrong and he was fine. You didn't even change from your pajamas. You didn't care that you shouldn't leave your apartment alone at night- you didn't care if you were robbed or mugged or killed or what- you didn't even remember because your brain was so trained on him. Him, him, him, you had to find him, he had to be okay. You got to your car, soaking wet from the pouring rain. It was supposed to storm that weekend, there was a hurricane nearby and some of the rain traveled. You didn't care if you were soaked.

The hospital looked normal. Somehow, you expected it to be crazy. You expected it to be chaos, tears and sobs and anger and guilt- like you were feeling. But it wasn't. You were the only one, and everyone stared at the crazy woman who was sobbing, dripping rain in her pajamas and flip flops with her hair a mess and makeup staining her cheeks. Your knees almost gave out in fear and guilt and exhaustion when you stumbled up to the counter and choked out his name, stuttering on the words. The lady glanced over at an officer and a doctor who were standing together, and they nodded.

When they took you to the morgue to identify the body, that was when you broke.

It was him.

You didn't stop crying. Not when you heard his footsteps running towards you. Not when you heard him call your name, fear and worry in his voice. Not when he stopped just beside you, when his umbrella covered you and it was the same blue, cast the same shadow you recognized so well. In fact, you only cried harder. When he crouched down beside him and reached for your face, his skin warm and tan and lively unlike how it was when you last saw him. When he tilted your face to look at him, and you recognized him, but was disappointed. When his warm brown eyes met yours and the rough pad of his thumb brushed your tears away but more continued to fall.

"Yn..." He trailed off. You could hardly look at him. "Come here." He mumbled, reaching to pull you into his chest. He knew how you met, he knew what set you off. He knew his matching umbrella stung you more than it helped.

"J-Jeonghan," You stuttered in a weak cry, clinging to his warmth desperately. How could you do it? How could you go on without Joshua?

He understood everything just from how you cried out his name. Jeonghan wrapped his arm tighter around you and gently lifted you. He was trying not to cry as well, truthfully, but he had to be strong for you. You were with him, you blamed yourself even though he was the one who threw himself out in front of the car. You were hurting the most. Jeonghan was careful, he brought you back to his place because he knew you couldn't stand to go to your own, and he took care of you the way Joshua would have. The way Joshua asked him to.

He dried you off, helped you change without looking at your body, made you a warm drink and held you while you cried.

He saved you on a rainy day.

#IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS I DIDNT PLAN IT #KSJDHFGJD USUALLY I PLAN THINGS BUT THIS HAD NO PLANNING I JUST TURNED THAT SONG ON AND WAS LIKE OH YES ANGST TIME #I HOPE U LIKED IT THANK U FOR READING HOES I LOVE U ALL #Seventeen #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen Drabble #Joshua Hong #Seventeen joshua #Seventeen fanfic #Joshua Hong drabble #Joshua one shot #Joshua scenario #Seventeen Scenario #hong jisoo #joshua fanfic #Joshua au #hong jisoo scenario

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sunshinemiranda · 7 years

Text

King of the Lost Boys - Anthony Ramos x Reader (Chapter 2)

Summary: A leather jacket needs to be returned to it’s rightful owner, leading to an uncovering that isn’t at all ideal. Things are repaired. A home is found. Then, the world starts to suck again.

Warnings: LOTS of curse words. A lot.

Words: 4,855

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. Thank you @secretschuylersister for proof reading for me, and of course my lovely @hamilbye for letting me feature her! So far, this fic (to me) sucks a lot, but let’s try this anyway! I’ll tag the people who asked here too: @robotic-space @daveedsbra @attackonmikaelson @pearltheartist

askbox | masterlist

Morning broke with a harsh light. The weekend beckoned you back to bed with warm hands but the sun that shone insistently through the window was too bright to let you rest peacefully. Feeling, as always, as if you hadn’t slept enough, you trudged down the stairs to arrive to two lovely conclusions: the first being that you had slept all the way till one in the afternoon, and the second being that Nat had too.

“Hey. Get up, you lump. It’s one.” You kicked at the couch she was resting on and she only replied with a groan.

“I feel like shit.” She brushed her hair out of her face and sat up, squinting at you.

“Yeah, you and me both, kiddo. Maybe you shouldn’t have let Daveed buy you, like, eight shots.”

She groaned again, flopping back onto the couch with a hand thrown over her face to block the sunshine from worsening her state. “Fuck. I knew I forgot about something. That must have been it. Jesus, did I really make out with him?”

“Well, the fact that I had to endure even a second of your mouths and tongues… interacting should last me a lifetime in your good books. Seriously, Nat. It was gross.” You shot her a grin, moving to the kitchen to sniff out anything available.

“Oh, shut up. Besides, I totally saw you holding Pan’s hand. Then, he followed us and asked if he could see you again. What the hell happened?” She re-ripped herself from the couch and rose woozily, moving to slouch at the kitchen table with her head in her hands.

“Nothing happened, Nat. We just danced a little, and kissed once. Want toast?”

A pause rang through the room, abrupt and demanding to be noticed.

“(Y/N).”

“Nat.”

“Do not ask me if I want toast in the same sentence as you casually mention you kissed Pan.”

“It’s not that big of a deal!” You argued, mimicking her emphasis on every second word. Angrily, you shoved four pieces of vengeful bread into the toaster.

“Not that big of a deal, my ass. Explain. And tell the truth.” She stood so she could join you in the kitchen, disregarding her hangover as she approached.

Breathing in, your shoulders eased tension away and settled as you leaned against the counter, turning to face her. “Okay. But don’t make anything big about it, alright? He asked me for a dance and promised he didn’t want anything else, so I gave it to him, but while we were dancing I got…a little carried away and we kissed. After, I freaked out ‘cause I couldn’t find you so we went looking. That’s when we found you attached at the mouth to Daveed, so that was great. After that, Anthony chewed him out and I dragged you home. You passed out on the couch and when I got up to my room, he started throwing rocks at my damn window. We talked on the roof for a while, he gave me his jacket. Then he left.”

Again, a silence fell, and for longer, this time. Nat stared at you, expression vacant as she milled through all this new information. She pushed herself up to sit on the counter, sighing a breath.

“This is…a lot. Do you-do you…like him?”

“Like him? We’re not kindergarteners, Nat.”

“You know what I mean. Do you feel for him?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Only partially.” You gave a frustrated groan and reached to pull the toast onto a plate, loading peanut butter onto your two slices.

“Talk to him. Promise me you’ll talk to him. That Pan character might be dangerous, but from what I hear about this Anthony boy, he seems to be quite different from what we expected.”

Nat was (as always) painfully correct.

The weekend oozed by slowly, like viscous molasses. Not all your time was wasted, but you found yourself wrapped up in thoughts about the local gang of “bad kids”. Love, to you (at least up until this point) had all been analysis. You had boiled it down to the odds of getting hurt, the probability of happiness and correcting the dice accordingly. There were no if’s, and’s or but’s about your methods and they had stayed the same ever since your heart had fluttered for the first time when someone beautiful had smiled at you. Analyze the situation. Understand the risks, take other factors like temptation and manipulation into consideration, and adjust accordingly. It was mathematic and not at all the kind of romance you had once craved. There was no time for that anymore.

Monday morning actually made you nervous. However much time you had tried to fit Anthony into the equation of relationships you used as default, the answer always seemed to be undetermined. This was a trial and error encounter and oh, God, how you hated those.

After careful consideration and a lot of stressing out, you had decided that you would join the Lost Boys at the back of the school during lunch period, under the excuse that you were simply returning Anthony’s jacket. If he invited you to stay for the duration of lunch, that was a good sign. If he pretended not to know you, that was a lesser good sign. Either way, your stomach was churning uncomfortably and a feeling of nausea had been floating over your entire body for the first two periods.

As soon as the bell rang, you saw Nat waiting next to your locker, hands wringing at the side of her green binder. She was nervous too.

“Okay. Are you going to go talk to him? I asked around, he’s with the Lost Boys out back.” She pressed her lips together, tucking stray hairs behind her ear.

“Yeah, I’m going to go talk to him. Be right back.” You reached to pull his leather jacket from its hook.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” you smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

You had a feeling it would be anything but.

As soon as you pushed through the doors and saw a group of leather jackets bunched together, fogged in cigarette smoke, your heart plummeted into your stomach. You pushed your feet to continue their pace.

As you moved closer, it was Tink who noticed you first and she turned, raising an eyebrow as she assessed you thoroughly.

“You lost, babe?” Her voice brought all attention to you and from your peripheral, you caught sight of Anthony’s face register surprise. It quickly faded into indifference.

“No.” You answered simply, swallowing as you took a quiet breath to steel a breath. “I have to return something that doesn’t belong to me.” You nodded toward Anthony, and Tink looked taken aback for a moment.

She paused, looking you up and down. “Knock yourself out.” As she moved back, the rest of the crowd parted to allow you safe passage through to deliver Anthony’s leather jacket.

“This is yours.” You said, holding your head tall and with your hands squeezing your binders so hard that it started to hurt.

He looked at you, searching your eyes for something you weren’t quite sure of, wordlessly took the jacket and slipped his arms into the fabric, then turned away and busied himself with lighting a cigarette. His silence stung and before you knew it, your mouth was opening and there was no stopping the words that demanded to come out.

“You’re welcome.”

The crowd murmured. No one spoke to Pan like that, not even his own boys. He turned slowly; cigarette perched on a corner of his lips. He opened his mouth and you assumed it was to speak, but instead, he breathed out and a cloud of smoke assaulted your senses. Coughing, you stepped back and glared.

“I’m not going to thank you, princess.” He grinned, flicking ash from his cigarette.

“Right, I forgot.” You spat. “Someone like you only has manners when it counts, like when you’re trying to find your sleazy way into some girl’s pants.”

Daveed, who was lounging on a picnic table beside Anthony chuckled.

“Whoa, hold up, princess,” Anthony stepped forward, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think I want in your pants? After all, you were the one who asked me to kiss you.”

The world was spinning. This was not him. It could not be the same boy who had promised that his star would look over you, or the boy who held your hand in the dark of a club and helped you without a second of hesitation, or told lame jokes just to get you to laugh. And yet, here he was, in broad daylight, contradictorily beautiful despite his rotten interior.

“You’re an asshole.” You seethed.

“I’d rather be an asshole than a liar, baby.” He smiled.

Without thinking of consequence, without a second thought, your hand was flying towards his cheek. The sound reverberated in the space and for once, the Lost Boys were speechless. So was their leader.

“Stay the fuck away from me. If you ever come near me again, I will turn you and your little club into dust.”

As you walked away, there was no triumph inside you. A victory that required a tear in your heart was no victory at all.

The worst part of the day was not yet over. After the lunchtime confrontation, time seemed to try its best to spite you by moving at a snail’s pace. Nat, still furious about the horrible encounter you had explained, was determined to keep you going through the day and she stuck by your side when she could, sending comforting texts if the two of you had separate classes. The girl was something. That was for sure.

The relief that washed over you as the final bell rang was not as satisfactory as you had hoped it to be. The dark cloud that was the memory of the Lost Boys had seemed to ruin the entire twenty-four hours of the day in a second. The worst part about being disappointed is not the immediate feeling. It is the gaping hole it leaves in your chest that you must attend to for as long as it takes to heal. Hurt and pain are sometimes quick dealings that don’t take too much effort or time. This occasion was not such a case.

After retrieving your things from your locker, you entered the flow of students filing out to catch the bus or go to their vehicles, but turned left and went out the side door. You were counting on Pan’s crew to be waiting in the parking lot for the straggling members of their group and you’d try your damn best to avoid another shitty encounter. Just as you had hopped off the concrete steps at the side door, a hand on your right shot out and grabbed your wrist. You took in a sharp breath and reached out blindly, managing to raise your free limb and backhand your assailant.

“Ow, fuck.”

The stranger stumbled back, dropping your wrist in the process, and you recognized the curly head of hair immediately. Anthony was holding a hand to his cheek, a childish pout curving his lips down as he stared at you through errant strands of hair. Your jaw tightened, teeth grinding together. How dare he try to approach you after today?

“That’s twice today that you’ve gotten me.” He half-grinned, pointing to the red mark that you assumed was from the slap you’d left him with at lunchtime.

A feeling of triumph rose within you as you noticed the injury, but a general wave of regret at hurting him held it back. You hadn’t really meant to mark him. It was just supposed to humiliate him the way he had humiliated you.

He reached forward to take your hand, as casually as he had in the club. “Hey, so about the-“

You wrenched your wrist away from his grip, hands curling into fists. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He stared at you, assessing. Then, something in him seemed to break, and his gaze softened. A pleading look came about his face. “(Y/N), please, just listen to me.”

“Listen to what, Anthony? A list of shitty excuses that will never explain why you were such a dick to me?”

“You don’t understand,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. “That’s not who I am.”

“Well you could have fucking fooled me.” You spat, whipping around and walking away with a newfound purpose.

“(Y/N)!” He called, jogging to catch up then falling into step beside you. “Let me just make you an offer.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear that.” You scoffed, cryptic to the point of breaking, not even bothering to stop walking.

“I know. So just stop and hear me out. Please.” His hand was brushing at your hand again, light, barely there. Like a fairy’s touch.

You stopped there, froze and stared down at the ground, a flurry of thoughts making it hard to come to a clear conclusion. This boy was causing such uproar in your life. All the things you thought you knew had changed the moment Anthony had bought you that damn martini. You weren’t as afraid to speak your mind. You weren’t shying away from fate. And despite all the mess, you liked it.

“You have one minute.” You stated coldly, looking up and crossing your arms. “Go.”

He grinned. “Okay. I know I fucked up today, and I need to apologize, and make it up to you. I will, I promise. But not here. Let me take you somewhere.”

“Where?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes, picking up the pace again as you started to walk away. “Don’t waste your breath, Anthony.”

“(Y/N). Come on.” He caught up again, turning you so he could look right into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“No, not really.”

He chuckled, a half smile coming back to his lips. “I swear you can. I swear on the second star to the right. I swear on my star.”

You bit your lip, drumming your fingers against your thigh as you mulled over the decision. “Okay. But only if you tell me where we’re going.”

He shot you a grin. “It’s called Neverland.”

“This place is a dump.”

“No it’s not!”

“It so is, Anthony.”

“It’s charismatic.”

Despite your remaining anger, you laughed in spite of the situation. “You and I have a very different definition of ‘charismatic’.”

He shrugged, pairing it with a grin. After tugging you away from the school, he had pointed you towards his car and remained incredibly silent in describing your destination, however many questions (and threats) you threw at him. Upon arrival, the place didn’t look like much and that was only cemented as he parked, pulling you down an overgrown driveway that had no room for the car. You stumbled over holes in the broken asphalt, using Anthony’s hand, clasped in yours, for support.

“How long are we going to play ‘Explorers in the Underbrush’? I’d like to get back to civilization soon, please.” You huffed, looking up at the tree branches that created a forest arc, leaving no view of the grey sky.

“It’s not far.” He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “I promise.”

The difference in his demeanour struck you yet again. He was completely changed now, back to the sweet, graceful, angelic boy you had become acquainted with in the dark of the Belle Rêves club. There was no sign of the venomous person who seemed to spit fire as gently as a cool breeze brushed your cheek, not even a hint of vehement bitterness that he seemed to deliver so well. Your heart twisted into confusion, leagues deep in your own thoughts.

“We’re here.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see an old, ivy-covered sign.

It was tall and arching, with two metal frames that held it just tall enough for a vehicle to drive underneath. The sign was engraved with two fairies resting on each end, balancing it out as they laughed with mirth-filled eyes. Between them, one word, half covered in ivy residue and roots, gave the mystery destination a name. All in caps, NEVERLAND curled into the metal, a word so heavy that, when said aloud, sounded like casting a spell.

“It’s a movie drive-in.” He murmured, watching you the entire time as he smiled. “Well, a deserted movie drive-in. But the gang and I come here and dust off the projector sometimes, just to watch a movie this way. Yeah, it’s kind of a dump. But it’s home to us.”

It was home to them. The Lost Boys, known for their ability to disappear from all civilization had found a place to grow roots, laugh like true children in the night, and watch James Dean fall in love on a movie screen just to get away from reality for a night. The Lost Boys had a home, and it was called Neverland.

Brushing your hand against the metal frames that held the sign up, you smiled, turning back to Anthony. He looked nervous for once, hands tucked into his pockets as he stared at the ground. “It’s beautiful.”

He grinned, taking your hand, to lead you underneath the arch. The place was old, that was a given, but it had such a lived-in, infinite touch that it felt possible that time would just decide to stop moving, just for now. The yard was covered in a thick green pelt of grass, the odd rusted hubcap scattered here and there, remnants of a successful business that attracted young teens and their beat up cars. It was a circular plot, not unlike the fairy circles you would find deep in the forest. Tall, reaching pines and willows curved gracefully around the area, broken up only to have enough room for a tall screen. Adjacent to the screen, a small shack was set up, just big enough for a stash of movies. It was small, even for a projection room, with moss pawing at its sides but it belonged just as much as everything else did.

“How did you find this place?” You murmured, still entranced as he led you across the wide lot.

“Pretty much by trial and error. The boys and I would sort of wander the forest before we had this place, finding new places to drink and get high, just for the night. It wasn’t until we came here that we thought it would be possible to feel like we belonged.” His voice had become so small, barely a whisper.

Your eyes widened at that, but you stayed silent. Society’s take on who this gang of unruly kids were had been completely disbanded in a sentence. The Lost Boys, notorious for tough outer shells that kept out any threat were, after all, just boys. They were young, wanted to have a part in the fairy tale just like anyone else. These children were lost, indeed.

He led you to the projection house, covered in cracked brown paint that was flaking off the sides of the building, waving you over with a silent smile. As he pushed at the screen door, you held your breath, as if expecting a cloud of dust, a result of disuse. Instead, you were greeted with a homely, brown panelled room, complete with a couple wooden chairs and one patched up, hand-me-down couch. The walls were covered with a mix of whatever appealed to the group; movies, posters, shelves of books, rusting auto parts and was that a sword?

“These place is insane,” you breathed, turning in a slow circle to take in the entire room.

“I know, right?” He laughed, letting himself fall against the couch, stretching like a lazy cat in a patch of sunlight.

You stepped over the wooden floor to join him, eyes still scanning the walls with endless wonder as you settled into the worn couch.

“(Y/N), listen, I…I owe you an apology.” Anthony murmured.

His words commanded your attention and immediately, you turned to face him. “Yeah.”

“I just…there’s a part of me…” he started, looking down at his open palms as he explained. “There’s a part of me that is Pan. And there’s also a part of me that’s…well, me. It’s not a case of split personality, but more like-“

“An image.” You cut in, voice quiet and resigned.

He breathed out, eyes closing for a brief moment before looking up to meet your gaze. “Yeah. To the people at school, to the adults in my life, even to the boys, I am always Pan. Pan, the brave, the king, the leader, but ultimately also the asshole. In that club that night, I wasn’t expecting things to go that way. I approached you with that part of me leading but it didn’t work. I realized that what you wanted, and deserved, was the truth. That is why I am Anthony to you.” He reached out for your hand, all tenderness as he stroked a thumb over your knuckles. “And today at lunch, it was like two worlds clashing. On the one hand, you represent who I really am, who I should be. And the Lost Boys are who I want people to think I am. I got scared. I reverted back to the person you don’t know, and for that, I am so sorry, (Y/N).”

A sigh rang through your lungs, taking with it the anger and humiliation left over from the confrontation. You managed a soft smile, raising his hand to brush a feather light kiss against his fingertips, a rare moment of vulnerability. It was an indulgence. You knew all too well that this (whatever this was) was bound to crash and burn. A kiss with an angel, as you had thought before, would be consequential. But for now, you ignored it, just for a second, a fleeting second of blissful ignorance.

“I forgive you.” It was said in a breath, and you could visibly see the tension drain from his posture.

Without another word, he leaned, hand rising to find a familiar place at your jaw as you surrendered, yet again, to that momentary ignorance of consequences. Your grasp transferred from his hands to the roots of his hair as his mouth came down, soft and beautifully innocent, against yours. With his curls entwined around your knuckles, the world seemed altogether simpler and much prettier. It was an instant transformation, like your vision had been cleansed by a miracle. This was the taste of possibility, of living without suffering through regrets and worry. It was so Anthony that it took your breath away. There, again, was the tug of your heart, a bittersweet coming-to that made an annoying voice in the back of your head become cryptic and criticizing. This was good, perfect even. But it couldn’t last.

In your distraction with your thoughts and Anthony, the footsteps sounding against the wooden stairs fell on deaf ears. Even the unlatching of the screen door remained unheard. It wasn’t until a member of the bemused group of Lost Boys cleared his throat in that you broke apart.

Leather jackets. A cigarette each. The scent of the forest surrounding Neverland came breezing through the door as you sat, frozen in your spot.

“Sorry. Didn’t know we were interrupting something.” Daveed grinned as he lounged against one of the chairs, as casual as anything.

Unsure of what to say, you turned to Anthony and nearly paled. His face had hardened, become closed off and so unlike the soft-voiced boy who had just begged for forgiveness. A feeling of dread trickled like ice-cold water down your spine. In the anticipating feeling of silence, the entire room tensed.

“You didn’t.” He stated, voice like steel as he stood. “(Y/N) here was just going. Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your hands had started to tremble the moment he had said your name. A sick feeling of hurt twisted in your gut, the voice in your head telling you to curl up and build walls fast. And that was exactly what you did. You stood; chin held as high as possible, mustering every last shred of dignity you had left.

“Oh, of course. Call me again when your split personality disorder starts acting up. Perhaps we can plan for some time when your clique won’t interrupt and you won’t have to turn back into a spontaneous prick.” Your hands, still shaking, were shoved deep into your coat pockets to hide them from sight.

Anthony’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. Though you didn’t know it at the time, you had hit him where it hurt most.

“You sure you can find your way back through the forest, babe?” Lin smirked, arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway. “It’s getting awful dark out there.”

“I’m competent. It’s something we don’t have in common, I’ll be fine.” You managed, fighting tears that prickled behind your eyes. If you could just get out of that wretched place. You moved forward, surging for the door but couldn’t find your way past as Curly took a place next to Slightly.

“Come on,” he raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side. “There’s no need to be mean about it.”

As you opened your mouth to throw something back, the feeling your stomach getting worse and worse with every moment, Tink shoved her way to stand next to you.

“Alright, alright, just shut it Chris. Slightly. Move, moron. I’ll walk her back to the highway.” She rolled her eyes, giving Lin a generous shove.

There was no way you’d let that chance go. As you stepped forward, your peripheral registered just a glimpse of Anthony. He had his head dropped, you couldn’t see his face, but there was a resignation in the way his shoulders were set back.

Fuck him, your mind volleyed against the wave of sentiment rising. Just go.

And you did. Thankfully, Tink didn’t say anything during the walk and though it was silent, it was a welcomed moment. The light was fading, and you were incredibly grateful for the cover it provided as you turned your head, hiding the stray tears that rolled down your cheeks. Pippa, though you didn’t know it at the time, had noticed but refrained from commenting.

As the highway came into sight, the familiarity gave your restless heart a bit of ease. As you rummaged through your jacket to find your phone to call a cab, Tink hesitated, unsure of whether she should leave or not. In the end, she took your silence as acceptance and turned to leave, tucking dyed strands behind her ear.

“Wait!” You called out, cell in one hand as you turned to look at her retreating back. She froze and turned, in the midst of lighting a cigarette.

“What do you want?” She raised an eyebrow, skeptic.

“I just…” You breathed out, staring at the ground. “Thank you.”

She exhaled a breath of smoke, pausing to think. Then, a half smile lit up her face and she chuckled. “You’re welcome.” Stepping forward, she reached into her pocket and offered you a cigarette, to which you declined.

“Listen,” she sighed, looking down as she absently cracked her knuckles. “You should know that Pan…he…well he’s different.”

“He’s an asshole, is what he is.”

“No, he’s…different.” She took another drag of her cigarette. “I’ve never known a boy so fucking ballsy in my life, honestly. Nothing scares him. Well, except for you.”

Incredulous, you laughed coldly. “Me? Yeah, right.”

“No, really. He was really shaken up after that encounter this afternoon. Like I said, nothing scares Pan. Except for feelings.” At this, she raised her eyebrow at you. “That boy has never known love in his life. And it’s funny; I used to think I had a chance with him, until…well, until that night at the club. Until you.”

Too full of emotion and thought, you let out a frustrated grown, hands tightening into fists. “Jesus, I just…I’ve got to get home.”

She nodded, already stepping backward as she started on her way back. “I know he’s a dick, (Y/N). That’s a given. He’s just not that much a dick when he’s spent time with you. Think about that.”

With that, she disappeared into the underbrush of the forest. It seemed Pan wasn’t the only member of the Lost Boys who could fly. As you slid into the cab, mumbling an address, your mind was an entire hurricane. There was no centre to this one, no eye to provide calmness or just a brief moment of actual sense. All day, your opinion of who this Pan character was had been in flux, ever changing and you had thought that, in your anger, his cold words would cement your hatred for the boy. Yet still, this was something your frazzled, hectic mind could not comprehend at the time.

Whoever he had decided on being, Anthony was soon becoming all you thought about.

#anthony ramos x reader #anthony ramos imagine #hamilcast imagine #king of the lost boys #peter pan au

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hotel-massage-london · 7 years

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Massages from around the world – Weird, wonderful & whacky

Everyone has had a massage before, whether it’s your bog standard Swedish style or something a little more touchy feely if you know I mean… Either way, most people have experienced first-hand the delights and wonders of massage in any form. Massage is an ancient ritual and was established thousands of years ago in Asia. Over the years, this sacred practice has adapted; hybrid styles have emerged and people have used their imaginations to create new styles. That’s all well and good obviously, but some people just have to take it too far don’t they? There is nothing wrong with being creative, but it’s safe to say that some idiots from across the world have gone a little OTT with experimentation. It’s almost a competition to see who can invent the most ridiculous massage style. Although the list is seemingly endless, we have gone to the effort of narrowing down our favourite weird massage styles from around the globe. Some call them revolutionary, I just call them down right stupid to be honest; but I’ll let you be the judge of that…

Python massage

Okay, so imagine it. You’ve been sightseeing all day and you’re aching in places you didn’t even know existed. You’re offered a massage- are you going to turn it down? Of course you aren’t, it’s exactly what you need right now. Or is it?… Cebu City Zoo in the Philippines is a tourist hotspot, but also attracts people from across the world for a different reason. Lunatics from around the globe don’t just come to the zoo to see animals; they come to get up close and personal with them. Well, the Pythons, to be exact. Cebu City Zoo’s notorious Python massage is arguably one of the strangest massage styles on the planet, and is probably a living nightmare for most people. Four giant Burmese Pythons, weighing a massive 250kg collectively are placed on a brave ass mother f***** and left to slither around as they please. The pythons, named Walter, Daniel, Michelle and EJ are fed about 10 chickens each before the massage to curb their hunger pains. No human for dessert then? The session is said to last around 10-15 minutes and is apparently very therapeutic and calming; each to their own. I’d rather not tempt 4 man-eating snakes to have a bite…

Cactus Massage

When it comes to spa treatments, we are all spoiled for choice. There’s a treatment for absolutely everything- literally. When you’re on holiday or out of town for business, exploring luxury treatments is a given- but would you be willing to take a risk on potentially waste a load of money on something unconventional? If your answer is yes, take a trip to the Four Seasons’ hotel in Punta Mita, Mexico and give their famous Hakali cactus massage a go. Before you ask, this isn’t an ancient form of acupuncture- the needles are removed before the session and only the paddles (the leaves) are used. The paddles are heated in warm water and are split in half once soft. The gooey side is then rubbed onto the skin, helping to heal sunburns, hydrating the skin and banishing toxins. And the best part is, the nopal juice absorbs quickly into the skin and doesn’t leave you feeling greasy or sticky after the session- result! Sounds pretty good if you ask me!

The meat cleaver massage

Is it just me, or does this sound like something out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre? No, this terrifying massage wasn’t inspired by horror movies; it was actually invented in China and dates back to 770BC! The session, which typically only lasts around 10 minutes, begins when the brave participant lays face down on the massage table. The masseuse/butcher look-a-like then uses the SHARP side of the 10” blade and gently begins to knead and tap the skin with the cleaver. However, these massages aren’t necessarily sought out for muscle release- it’s more of a spiritual style. It is believed that the steel can help to remove ‘negative energy’ from the body, and can encourage deeper sleep and better circulation. Okay, so maybe it isn’t as scary as I thought, and it only costs around $7 a session- bargain. Maybe you’ve pulled my leg…

Gondola Massage

Everyone dreams of experiencing the picturesque and sickeningly dreamy sites that Venice has to offer; after all, it is the most romantic city in the world. But, if bopping along the city’s’ famous canals in a gondola wasn’t good enough already, imagine getting a massage at the same time? Sign me up right away! Yes, Gondola massage is now a thing, and it’s safe to say people have lost their shit over it. At the Casanova Spa at the Hotel Cipriani, Venice offers these sensational massage experiences for any relaxation-seeker with a few hundred euros lying around. Easy. The massage is conducted in a private gondola with a trained masseuse and gondolier at hand, and is performed on the beautiful waters of the ancient city. As the massage focuses mainly on the feet, hands and upper part of the body, you don’t have to worry about passers-byers having a cheeky peek at your goodies. Afraid you’ll fry under the sun? Don’t worry; the massage oil used during the session was specifically designed to contain SPF protection agents- so no sunburn today kids. Get me there right now!

Elephant massage

Have you had a stressful couple of weeks and need a massage to let off some steam? If you’re feeling a little tense, why not commission an elephant to sort it out for you? No, we don’t mean some middle aged masseuse on Craigslist, we mean an actual elephant, believe it or not. A tourist park in Chiang Mai, Thailand advertises these chancy massages to any courageous volunteers with balls of steel. Of course, the elephants have been trained to delicately press their feet on the backs of the subjects, and also sometimes use their trunks to lightly manipulate the muscles. Don’t get me wrong, I love elephants, but I don’t fancy the idea of one standing on me. The fact this massage is free says it all!

African snail massage

If you’re obsessed with turning back the clock and preventing ageing as much as possible, then you’ll probably have all of the latest fad creams on the market. But how do you fancy giving snail slime a go? Anything for youthful, soft skin, right? Believe it or not, salons across the world are using this bizarre technique all in the name of beauty. This rather unusual facial was created by a French bloke a couple of years ago who claimed that snails are full of collagen. As such, having these gross little critters sliding all over your face can actually work wonders for the skin and its elasticity. This apparently, ‘relaxing’ massage/facial is meant to feel god damn amazing- that is after you’re able to get over the fact smarmy insects are probably crapping on your face. I’m going to pass, thanks.

Tickling massage

If you’re anything like me, you’ll find being tickled to be the worst form of torture known to man. Seeing a finger float towards my neck literally sends fear pulsating through my body. Unbeknown to me, however, not everyone shares the same dislike as I do. In fact, some people pay for it (weirdoes). Tickling massage is a thing, and for me, it is a manifestation of my worst nightmares. This tormenting massage style originated in Madrid, Spain and is performed in order to reduce stress. Using delicate finger tips and soft feathers, masseuses gently trace down the clients’ back and other areas, and adapt their routine depending on how ticklish each person is. The more ticklish, the more sensitive their routine becomes etc. Personally, I’d rather not pay a stranger $35 to torture me, but if this sounds like your kind of thing, be my guest. It’s your funeral!

Flames massage

Oddly enough, setting fire to yourself isn’t as bad as people seem to think- well, not when it comes to Flame massage, anyway. This rather fiery form of massage is not for the faint hearted, that’s for sure- but if you’re brave enough to get hot and steamy, then you’re in for a treat. Originating in China, Flame massage is very popular during the winter in traditional, Chinese hospitals and it used to prevent illnesses such as flu and colds. Typically, masseurs sprinkle towels with a flammable substance (usually alcohol) and then set it on fire. The towel is then placed on the client, and is then eventually put out using another towel. Surprisingly, the massage isn’t at all painful and is actually meant to be great for losing weight? The term, ‘burning fat’ has never been truer!

Massages by the blind

When you’re investing money into a luxury, you should never go into it blind. At least, you shouldn’t- but your masseuse might. Believe it or not, ‘blind massage parlours’ are insanely popular in China- so much so, it is believed that there’s one on every street block in some areas. The massage itself is pretty standard in many regards, and still focuses on relieving muscle tension and inducing relaxation. However, creator Ly Yuan says that blind massage is better because, “giving a good massage is dependent on a person’s tactile sensitivity. Obviously, blind people have a strong advantage in this.” If you say so Yuan, if you say so.

Pancake massage

Well, what would you know? Finally a massage with sense behind it! I mean, I don’t actually know what a hot pancake could do for the skin, but does that really matter? You’re covered in pancakes- that’s all I need to know! But seriously guys, pancake massage is an actual thing, and its meant to be pretty good. Essentially, fresh, hot pancakes are applied directly to the skin which is said to help tackle fatigue, nourish the skin and banish excess fluid. Practitioners of this tasty massage treatment also claim that it improves bloody circulation but maintaining proper body heat and utilising natural flour for healing properties. Sounds like a load of crap if you ask me, but count me in!

Egg massage

Oh my god seriously? Guys, my head if seriously scrambled now. I wish I was kidding, but im not- ‘Egg massage’ is a thing, and it’s more popular then you’d think. This style originated in china (obviously) and is practiced more for superstition purposes as opposed to healing ones. In China, they believe that it is good luck for a father to give his child a head massage with eggs after the baby has had a haircut. Traditional belief dictates that on the second day of the Lunar month, the egg-massage is said to bring good luck and fortune. I’m just going to stick to fortunate cookies I think guys, I don’t know about you.

Thankfully that concludes our list of weird and not-so-wonderful massage styles from around the world. I myself will stick to the more traditional styles; after all, I don’t really fancy being set on for, eaten by a deadly python, being tickled to death and being squashed flat by an elephant. Oh, and don’t forget about being smothered head to toe in smelly egg. No thank you. I’ll stick to something less eccentric I think…

If you’d like to book in for a massage that’s a little out of the ordinary but not too wild, why not consider an Oriental massage with a trained professional? If you’d like to be pampered and pleasured by a gorgeous Asian masseuse at a time and a place that suits you, then give us a call on the telephone number below or come visit us at our address:

Hotel Massage London Jermyn St St James’s London SW1Y 6JD 07818115228

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