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aristrocrat · 2 years

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Chapter 3

S2 Episode Three

SUMMARY: Y/N and Stiles keep getting cockblocked. The pack goes ice skating. Y/N can’t stop resisting the urge to use her powers.

WORD COUNT: 7000 (damn wtf i went OFF with this chapter. had so much fun writing this omg)

TW: Sexual language, cursing, blood. What else is new bitches 😐

“A tail?” You furrowed your brow as you looked over at Stiles. “Like a dog tail? Did it wag?”

“What? Only you would ask if it wagged,” He stopped to look at you with sass. “No, it did not wag, and no, it was not like a dog tail! Scott said it was almost.. lizard-like.”

“Gross,” You mumbled.

“And dangerous,” Stiles deadpanned, looking up at Scott and Allison. You both stood in silence for a moment before he spoke up again. “So about last night-”

“Oh my god,” You blushed, hiding behind your hands. “I’m so sorry about that. I seriously don’t know a bigger buzzkill than my mom.”

“I was gonna call her a cock block but that works too,” He smiled before taking your wrists into his hands and lowering them before looking into your eyes. “Hey, it’s alright! Don’t be embarrassed. I get it. She came home early and found you gone so you had to leave. I’m not in any rush. We can do this on your time.”

“You mean my mom’s time?” You groaned. “At least my dad’s coming home tonight. I don’t know if I could stand another day with her crazy ass.”

“Your dad’s coming home?” He perked up. “Oh, we are so going to his apartment tonight! He’s making dinner, right?”

“Yup, some sort of pasta I think,” You laughed. “You know you’re always welcome! He’s like in love with you.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who’s in love with him!” He smiled, making you giggle and roll your eyes. “Seriously! He’s the coolest person I know.”

“Hey!” You protested.

“I said what I said,” He shrugged, chuckling boyishly as you pushed him away.

“Alright, Y/L/N, Erica! You’re up!” Coach called as Allison climbed down.

“Saved by the bell, asshole!” You joked before walking up to the rock climbing wall. You strapped on the safety rope and looked over to see Erica nervously fumbling with it. “Here let me help. These things are so awkward.”

“Thanks,” She smiled, facing you so you could buckle her into the strap. You nodded once before making your ascent to the top. Though it was far from effortless, it was your favorite day in gym class so you had fun climbing. You hopped down again and raised your arms with pride.

“WOO!” Stiles shouted, making those around him jump as he looked over to Greenberg. “That’s my girlfriend!”

You laughed and blushed at the scene he was making before you look over to see Erica was still gripping at the middle of the wall, clenching for dear life as she hyperventilated. Your eyes widened as everyone approached.

“Erica!” Coach called, running up next to you. “Dizzy? Is it vertigo?”

“Vertigo’s a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear,” Lydia scoffed before looking up in annoyance. “She’s just freaking out.”

“Would it kill you to be a little nicer?” You returned her tone, making her eyebrows shoot up. She opened her mouth to speak before Coach spoke up again.

“Erica!”

“I’m fine,” Her voice trembled.

“Coach, maybe it’s not safe. You know she’s epileptic,” Allison informed.

“Wh-Why doesn’t anybody tell me this stuff?!” He huffed before looking at you. “Y/L/N, climb up there and tell her to kick from the wall! Just coax her down. Kick her off if you need to!”

You nodded before making your way up again, stopping right next to her.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” You smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder as you leaned against the rope. “Look, this thing’s pretty safe. I’ll climb down with you. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She nodded and hesitantly let go of the rocks, quickly gripping the rope. You smiled. “There you go. Now just hop down like this.”

Her shaky breath relaxed a bit as she watched you descend slowly, following your lead. Once she landed, Coach began to speak to her softly and tried to soothe her before the crowd of students erupted in howls of laughter. Erica looked around before walking off in shame, making your heart drop at the sight.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Coach pat your back before dismissing the class. You all rushed to the locker rooms for a quick shower. Lydia gave you the cold shoulder for your comment so you stuck with Allison, waiting in the hallway for your boyfriends.

———

“What do mean tonight’s not a good idea?!” Stiles asked as he changed into another shirt.

“I don’t know. That thing that we saw last night, Isaac missing, Allison’s grandfather- All this stuff happening with Derek just doesn’t feel right. Y/N told me she had a bad feeling about something. I mean what are the odds?” Scott responded as he closed his locker.

“No, you’re not backing out! Do you wanna know why?” Stiles stood his ground. “Because you and Allison are obviously having quite a good time together. And you know who else wants to have a good time? Stiles! Stiles wants to have a good time. And for that matter, so does his girlfriend! Many, many times. Several times in a row. In several different positions!”

“Dude! Spare me the details, that’s basically my sister you’re talking about,” Scott cringed. “Besides, I thought you were gonna have a good time last night?”

“We were! We were on the fast track to having said good time. But I only got to like second base and a half before her mom called and told her to get her ass home!” Stiles sighed before realizing Scott’s aloof face. “Are you even listening to me?! This is serious!”

“Y/N,” He muttered before looking up with panic.

“Yes. I am talking about Y/N. Who the hell else would I be talking about?!” Stiles shouted before looking at Scott’s shaking hands and sighing. “What is that?”

“I think something’s wrong,” Scott said before the two took off, running back into the gymnasium to see you trying to pull the matt out under Erica who was halfway up the rock climbing wall again. “Oh shit!”

“Don’t help me! Go stand under her in case she falls,” You breathed as you continued to pull. Stiles quickly took the place beside you and began helping. “Thanks. I got this bad feeling in my stomach that led me back in here. I saw her on the wall and I think she’s about to have a seizure.”

“Put her on her side! On her side!” Allison shouted as she approached her boyfriend. You and Stiles let go of the mat and ran up to the girl Scott placed on the ground. “How’d you know?”

“I don’t know. I felt this pull. Like I needed to check on..” He whispered before the pack’s eyes landed on you. “You.”

Your lips parted, remembering something from an article you read recently. If a Delvoux connects with a supernatural being on a spiritual level, there’s an unbreakable bond between them. A twin flame. With time and trust, your blood no longer affects them, leaving you fully vulnerable to their attacks. In times of need, they feel drawn towards you. It takes a pure bond on both ends; something you shared with Scott since birth.

“The article,” Stiles whispered, pulling you aside. “It was true.”

“I hope not,” You scrunched your face.

“Why? Isn’t it a good thing?” Stiles furrowed his brows.

“Not if I go crazy,” You hesitated. “He’ll feel every emotion. All the chaos and the destruction, he’ll feel it on a spiritual level. It won’t look pretty for either of us.”

“It’s not going to happen,” He reassured, holding your shoulders. You sighed and looked back at Scott who held Erica’s head, trying to minimize any impact from her subconscious jerking.

“I fucking hope not,” You breathed.

———

“Ew, does being your twin flame mean we’re like gonna fall in love or something?” Scott cringed.

“Okay, first of all, ouch!” You laughed, throwing a green bean at his head. He, of course, caught it with a smile. “I don’t think you could sound any more grossed out at the thought of me if you tried! And second of all, ew! No, it just means we’re like platonically bonded. Think of it as siblings but with our souls instead of our blood.”

“So you can say ew but I can’t?” He took a bite from his apple. “And you call my ego fragile.”

“I’m saying ew because of the fact that we’re basically siblings. I didn’t call you gross!” You giggled, grabbing his apple out of his hands and taking a bite.

“Hey!” He reached for it as you pulled it away again. “Eat your own apple!”

“I ate mine already!” You shrugged before Stiles walked up and slammed a keychain on the table, making you jump.

“Got ‘em!” He smiled. “I’ll pick you guys up right after work tonight and we’ll meet at the rink, cool?”

“I’m not working tonight actually. I was planning on going to Allison’s after school to get ready together,” You said, looking up to see their eyes had drifted towards the doorway. You sighed and turned only to be greeted by a pair of long, tan legs. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Erica walking in, repping a new look. “Holy shit..”

She proceeded to walk up to a boy and take a bite from his apple, seductively wiping her bottom lip afterward. She looked good. Her hair fell into loose ringlets, her walk was powered with confidence, and her smile made everyone in the cafeteria stop what they were doing. It was like everyone was entranced by her beauty.

“What the holy hell is that?” Lydia slammed her hands on your table.

“It’s Erica,” Scott responded.

“She’s hot?” You mumbled, more as a statement, before feeling two dainty fingers slip under your jaw and push it closed. You looked up at Lydia who smirked down at you. Stiles’ eyes widened at the way she touched you, pinching himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

“I’m still hotter,” Lydia leaned down, only inches from your face.

“I was just thinking the same,” You smiled, grabbing her face and pretending like you were gonna kiss her. You both giggled and pulled away.

“I-Is this how girls joke around?” Stiles squeaked before Scott got up and walked after Erica. “Can I come with you to Allison’s after school? And every other day for that matter?”

“Come on,” You laughed, taking his hand and running behind Scott. He followed behind you but not without a smart remark.

“Wait, I wanted to see what the two of you were going to do!” He whined as you pulled him behind you.

“Keep dreaming,” You looked back before running into Scott, bumping back into Stiles. You looked past him to see Erica getting into Derek’s black Camaro and driving off with him.

“Well that’s not good,” Stiles muttered.

———

“What about this?” You asked, twirling to show your outfit off to your friends.

“Try the red dress!” Lydia smiled. “That one looks really good on you!”

“Okay,” You giggled. “Unzip me.”

She gladly abided before pausing to look at the door. You glanced over to see Mr. Argent knocking as he entered the room. He pulled Allison away for a few moments as you continued to play dress-up with Lydia. She added a few accessories on you and worked on your makeup as Allison entered the room again.

“So you have a date?” She grinned, looking at Lydia.

“Well, I did,” She grumbled. “He just texted saying he can’t tonight. Can I just tag along with you guys?”

“Uh,” You raised your brows and looked at Allison. “I mean-“

“If you don’t mind hanging out with a group of couples, then sure!” She laughed, almost positive Lydia would back down at her comment.

“Beats being alone,” Lydia shrugged. “This is gonna be so fun!”

“Yeah,” Allison looked over at you with wide eyes. “So fun..”

———

“Lydia,” Stiles forced a smile as she walked past him. You walked up to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “You invited Lydia?!”

“Lydia invited Lydia,” You corrected, watching her walk into the rink. He groaned. “Don’t worry! My full attention is yours tonight.”

“I don’t think you even believe that,” He grumbled. You smiled and gently took his cheek into your hand. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I texted my dad and asked him to make your favorite tonight,” You tilted your head sweetly. “He can’t join us for dinner though. He‘s going out with a few college buddies tonight.”

“Damn it, I was actually looking forward to seeing him,” He sighed. “But I’ll settle for lasagna.”

“Stiles.”

“Hm?”

“He’s leaving the apartment to ourselves for a few hours.”

His eyes shot wide open with excitement.

“Okay, you’re forgiven! For everything you’ve ever done ever and everything in the future,” He spoke quickly, making you throw your head back in laughter before you waltzed into the arena. He stayed behind to watch the way your hips swayed as you walked up and got a pair of ice skates before proceeding to do the same.

“You know,” Lydia started you took the seat next to her. “I know I’ve given you a lot of shit in the past for dating Stiles. But he’s actually really cute.”

You looked up at her only to see her eyes on your boyfriend as he chose a pair of black skates. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt a spark of jealousy ignite, a feeling you hadn’t gotten in a long time. Not because of her words, but the way she said them. It was a challenge.

“Thanks,” You smiled, lacing up your skates. “I think so too.”

“Like really cute!” She giggled.

You knew bringing her was a bad idea. She wasn’t going to let your little comment from earlier slide as easily as you thought she would. You hated her psychological warfare but had no choice but to participate.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Stiles smiled as he took the seat next to yours.

“Nothing,” You smiled.

“You, silly,” Lydia corrected. “Well, you and Y/N, that is. God, it’s so cold in here! Do you have a jacket I could borrow?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I have something in my bag,” Stiles responded, completely oblivious to her attempt at flirting. You clenched your teeth, holding back any sort of smart remark. “Here.”

“Oh, she hates orange,” You commented. “She thinks it clashes with blue. What were the words you used, Lyd? The worst color combination ever?”

“But it’s the colors of the Mets,” Stiles pouted.

“I don’t remember saying that! I love the Mets!” She smiled, taking the jacket. You rolled your eyes and looked over at your boyfriend.

“Oh, before I forget- Look at what I brought you!” He grinned, reaching in his bag to grab a Reece’s peanut butter cup.

“I love Reece’s! Thank you!” You perked up, reaching for the orange package.

“I should’ve eaten before I came,” Lydia sighed. “My stomach is growling like crazy.

You looked over in annoyance, only to receive yet another smile.

“Oh, give it to Lydia. I don’t mind,” Stiles mindlessly spoke as he laced up his skates. You pressed your tongue against the inside of your lip before holding it out to her.

“Thanks, Stiles!” She smirked, taking the package from your hands and opening it.

You looked over at your boyfriend and watched as his hands fumbled with the laces, getting an idea. You leaned over and kissed the spot behind his ear that drove him crazy, making him look up at you with an amused smile.

“What are you doing?” He whispered. You shrugged before rubbing your hand on the base of his neck, using your thumb to stroke softly as his jaw.

“Nothing,” You responded innocently. “You’re just really attractive.”

“Oh?” He smiled as you leaned in. You placed your lips on his own, almost instantly deepening the kiss. He wrapped his hand in your hair, almost forgetting where he was for a moment. You pulled away with a grin before turning to face Lydia again.

“You two are so cute,” She forced a smile.

“Aren’t we just?” You scrunched your nose and smiled back. She bitterly hummed in response before walking onto the ice.

“What was that about?” Stiles chuckled.

“I’ll tell you later,” You shook your head before standing up. “Ready to skate?”

You spent the first few minutes holding on to each other, giggling every time one of you almost fell.

“Hey, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it!” Stiles called as he let go of your hand to skate ahead a little bit. “This isn’t so- Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m falling! Y/N! I need you! HELP!”

You laughed and reached out for him as he stumbled around, trying to stabilize him through your laughs. He finally stood still before his feet went out from under him. He yelped and subconsciously grabbed your waist as he fell, taking you down with him. You both lost it, wheezing as you laid on top of him.

“Ouch,” He chuckled. “You’re so mean!”

“Me? I tried helping!” You barely could get the words out. “You’re the one who took me down with you!”

“Yeah, but like the fantastic boyfriend I am, I cushioned your fall!” He argued, smiling as he pushed a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“That was so not on purpose!”

“Uh, it so was!” He shook his head, pretending to be baffled by your comment. “But don’t thank me. Thank my tailbone. He really took most of the blunt force.”

“Aww, are you okay?” You said, getting up and holding out your hand. He gladly took it.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’d be a lot better if you kissed me though,” He grinned before puckering up and tapping his lips with his pointer finger.

“Ah, okay, well just as long as it makes you feel better,” You smiled as he pulled you towards him and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Y/N! Stiles! Watch this!” Lydia called before she performed a whole ass figure skating routine. You both looked over as she twirled away on the ice. You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time. “Y/N, can you do that?”

“Y/N,” Stiles warned. “Don’t do it. It’s not worth wasting your magic on-.. and she’s gone. I’m talking to myself now. Great.”

You channeled the familiar part of your brain that you used for school, using it to guide you elegantly on the ice. You began skating and twirling and jumping around, performing a perfect routine. Lydia watched, jaw agape, with utter shock. You skated towards her with a smirk.

“Can you do that?” You asked innocently, making her give you a look of annoyance. Stiles reached out for you as you skated by, stopping you. “Sorry. I know, I know. That was reckless.”

“I think you mean awesome!” He shouted with glee. “Oh my god! That was seriously like something out of the winter Olympics! I wonder what else you can do!”

“Thanks! But I’m not trying to find out,” You grinned. “Wanna go take some pictures in the photo booth?”

“Uh, ch’yeah!” He laughed before you both skated off. Scott and Allison crawled out of the booth and smiled at you two. “Hey! Come take pictures with us!”

“Stiles, it’s only meant for two people,” Allison giggled.

“That’s what we’re for!” Scott offered, taking a seat and patting his lap.

Allison looked up at the two of you and shrugged before happily plopping down. Stiles sat down next to them and held out his arm for you. You laughed at how ridiculously small the space was but took a seat on his lap regardless.

You all posed, smiling for the first picture and growling like a wolf for the second. The third one was a shot of the four of you laughing at the previous pose and the fourth was one of each person kissing their significant other, still evidently laughing. Two photo prints came out, one of which you took for yourself.

“Scott, your eyes!” You laughed at the way they flashed back with the flash. He looked at the one in Allison’s hands before tearing off the top half and handing her the normal side.

“Keep this one,” He smiled. “I like this half better anyway.”

The moment was suddenly interrupted by screaming. You all looked at one another and stumbled out of the photo booth to run back to Lydia. You all saw her gripping the ice and sobbing, skating up to her to calm her down. It took a few minutes to snap her out of it, but when she finally came back to reality, she spent the rest of the night looking as if she saw a ghost.

Allison drove her home shortly after. The rest of you shuffled into Stiles’ Jeep and drove back to Scott’s to drop him off before driving back to your father’s new place.

You sighed as you entered the vast and empty space that was your new home. A note was laid neatly on the counter that read: Lasagna’s in the fridge. Pop a slice or two or five in the microwave. Love you!

“Hey, so you wanna tell me what was up tonight?” Stiles spoke up from behind you. “What happened to not wanting to use your powers? I thought you needed to reserve them.”

“I do,” You sighed. “Lydia was taunting me all night because of the small remark I made about her in gym class. She knows exactly how to piss me off enough to make me want to show her she isn’t superior or better than me.”

“Damn,” He raised his brows. “What’d she do?”

“She was messing with my head,” You opened the fridge and popped a plate in the microwave before turning back to him. “Okay, I know how stupid this is going to sound. But she was flirting with you and it was driving me crazy.”

He laughed. “Lydia. Flirting with me? When?!”

“All night!”

“Look, I don’t want to sound like I don't believe what you’re saying is true but I really don’t think she was,” He smiled.

“Oh, please! Stiles, can I borrow your jacket? I’m so hungry! Y/N, your boyfriend is soooo cute! I love the Mets! She doesn’t even like baseball!” You huffed, crossing your arms. “And she took my fucking Reece’s cup!”

“Not the Reece’s cup!” He gasped before laughing. You lowered your jaw and gave him an unamused look. “Aww, don’t get mad! I’m sorry! I believe you. I guess it just went right over my head. I was so focused on you that everything she said was like background noise. All I kept thinking about was how hot you look in that dress.”

“Whatever,” You giggled.

“No, I’m serious!” He responded. “She can flirt all she wants but it won’t get her anywhere. I mean I genuinely didn’t even realize she was doing it because I am so, utterly captivated by you. It’s actually really annoying, thinking about you all the time. Yeah, it’s like a million times as bad when around you too. Hence the flirting going right over my head. She really doesn’t stand a chance.”

“You’re so cute,” You smiled, walking over to wrap your arms around his neck. “How do you know exactly what to say all the time? It actually baffles me just how perfect you are sometimes.”

His eyes danced between your eyes paired with a smile that teased the corner of his lips. He shrugged as a response.

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” He said softly.

“Am I?” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Well, I definitely don’t feel cute when I’m jealous.”

“Your competitiveness really comes out. God, and that kiss was so hot. Please, for my sake, be jealous more often,” He begged.

The microwave went off, but with the way he was looking at you, your mind barely registered it. His hazel eyes were focused completely on your own before they made their way down to your lips. You simply smiled and leaned in.

The kiss that started so soft and sweet slowly deepened, as if you were mutually agreeing to take it further. The second you slid your tongue on his lower lip, asking for entrance, he walked you into the wall behind you and the night began.

You felt his hands slowly trace your figure from your hips, up to your shoulders, and down to your wrists, taking a hold of them and pinning them on top of your head. He took his time kissing your neck before he let you go and entangled his hands in your hair, tugging slightly with desire.

Your now free hands mindfully and seductively traced up and down his chest before pulling him in closer by his belt loops. He groaned into the kiss, sending vibrations through your skull and a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go to my room,” You said in between kisses.

It was your turn to grab onto his own wrist, guiding him towards the first room on the left. As soon as you closed the door behind you, his lips were on yours again.

“Are you sure?” He pulled away breathlessly, making you smile. “We don’t have to if you aren’t absolutely-”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Yes ma’am,” He grinned, abiding your word before guiding you towards the bed, laying you down gently. He raised your dress up and left wet kissing on your stomach before you reached behind you to unzip it. “Wanna step out of that dress for me?”

“Mhm,” You hummed against his lips before you flipped positions, leaving you straddling his hips as you pulled off the red dress. You were left in nothing but the lacy black panties you’d bought for tonight.

“Woah,” He muttered, taking a moment to soak in your breathtaking figure. “Just.. wow. You’re stunning.”

You felt your everlasting smile widen before leaning down to kiss him once again. The pace slowed down; you both wanted to take your time and do this right, making sure to continue with enthusiastic consent.

Right as you began rubbing your hand up and down over his pants, you heard the front door open and close. You both paused before pulling away and looking at each other with wide eyes.

“Did you hear that?” You whispered.

“No,” He said a little too quickly. “I heard absolutely nothing.”

“Y/N? Honey, are you home?” You heard your father call out, making your boyfriend groan in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m changing into my PJs. I’ll be right out!” You called before lowering your voice. “Hide in my bathroom.”

He looked around, seeing it was the only place to hide, and nodded. He quickly collected his shirt and checked to make sure his shoes were still on; a rookie mistake he made in the past. You turned on the light as he rushed to your bathroom. You reached past in your bag to grab an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts to throw on before quickly checking and fixing your appearance in the mirror.

“Hey, Dad!” You greeted with a smile as you walked bag into the living room. “How was your night?”

“I’m very drunk,” He slurred before giggling. “Man, oh man, those boys know how to make the best apple martinis. It tasted like juice so I downed them like water. Did you know we used to water down your apple juice when you were little so you wouldn’t get hyper?”

“You got drunk off of apple martinis?” You chuckled, taking the lasagna out of the microwave.

“Who knew they were so delicious? Here I was drinking beer, never knowing the delight that was mapple tinis,” He paused before thinking. “Mapple.. Apple martinis.. I meant apple martinis!”

“Yeah, I got that,” You smiled as he clumsily took off his shoes. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun!” He grinned before stumbling over to the counter. “Can I have that lasagna?”

“Go for it. I’m not that hungry anyway,” You giggled, pushing the plate towards him as he took a seat at the island. “I was actually about to hit the hay.”

“Boo!” He grumbled. “That’s boring!”

“It’s a school night! And from the looks of it, you should probably go to sleep too,” You reached in the fridge to grab him a bottle of water. “Drink this before bed. I don’t wanna nurse your hangover tomorrow.”

“I’ve got the liver of a 21-year-old athlete, foo,” He hiccuped before taking a bite. “Damn this is the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted in my life! Of course it is, I made it! Thanks, me.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” You laughed, walking over to kiss the top of his head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams,” He responded before drawing in a big breath. “GOODNIGHT STILES!”

You froze before hearing a small voice from your room.

“.. Goodnight, sir,” Your face fell into the palm of your hand.

“If you sleep with the door open, I won’t tell your mom that he’s over so late,” Your dad offered. “He can borrow my Star Wars PJ bottoms. They’re in the top drawer. Oh, and you can take the car to school tomorrow! I won’t need it.”

“Really?! Thank you!” You grinned.

“No problem, kiddo,” He said with a mouthful of lasagna. “I’m gonna watch movies and eat popcorn.”

“You do that!” You said as you walked into his room to grab the pajama bottoms before going back to your own bedroom and throwing them at Stiles who sat on your bed. “Rain check?”

“Raincheck,” He affirmed before shifting uncomfortably. “How does he always know I'm here?"

“Maybe it's the Delvoux blood," You shrugged before smirking. "Or the fact that you literally parked your car at the entrance of the building."

"God damn it!" He huffed, recalling his obvious parking spot of choice. "The Jeep! Fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," You giggled, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. "Now we know what not to do next time."

"It sucks knowing what we could've gotten away with tonight if we'd thought it through beforehand," He grumbled as he made his way to your bathroom.

———

“Y/N, we think Boyd is Derek’s next victim. Wanna go with Stiles to check to see if he’s home or with me to the rink?” Scott approached quickly as you shut your locker, Stiles right on his heels.

“I think you already know my answer,” You laughed.

“No, no, I need her to go with you,” Stiles argued.

“What? Why?” You both questioned.

“She needs to stop using her powers, dude. You can protect her better than I can,” He turned to Scott. “Plus, she brought her dad’s car so she can drive you there. It’ll be quicker.”

“But-“

“He’s right. I think it’s better this way. I’m almost positive he’s at the rink anyway so Stiles should be fine,” Scott grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you behind him. “Call if you need anything!”

“Will do!” Stiles shouted before running out to his Jeep. You and Scott made a beeline to your dad’s car, hopping in and speeding off.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” He mumbled. “Am I getting it from you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You nodded, gripping the wheel.

“So why can’t you use your powers?” He asked as you made a sharp turn to the left.

“I don’t know if it’s true, but there are some articles that say the more you use it, the more likely it is to like.. make you go crazy in a sense,” You spoke up, looking over at his stunned face.

“So that’s the secret you’ve been hiding from us,” He mumbled. “Have you felt any different?”

“I honestly can’t tell. I mean, normally when Lydia tries to get under my skin, I can just laugh it off. Last night though.. It’s like I had this overwhelming urge to outdo her and I kind of channeled the magic or whatever to compete with her,” You sighed. “But I’m also just competitive. So who knows?”

“Maybe it’s triggered by anger the same way it is for me,” Scott pondered for a moment before speaking up. “You might be able to ask Allison if she knows something. Her family's gotta have some sort of book. And it’s not like she’ll tell anyone or anything.”

“You mean my worrywart of a friend? I don’t know, Scott. She’s got a lot on her plate right now, I’d hate to worsen her anxiety,” You breathed.

“She’d hate to see you not ask for help. She’d rather see you reach out than go crazy,” He shrugged. “But it’s up to you.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. It’s not a bad idea,” You nodded as you pulled into the rink. “Now, come on. Let’s go get Boyd.”

Scott rushed into the building before you, scanning the vast space for any presence besides for the boy who sat on top of a Zamboni.

“Boyd!” Scott called as you walked in behind him. “I just wanna talk.”

He continued to drive the ice resurfacing machine, ignoring the two of you.

“Hey, come on, Boyd. Please,” You spoke.

“Did Derek tell you everything?” Scott asked. “And I don’t just mean going out of control on the full moon, I mean everything.”

“He told me about the hunters,” The boy broke his silence, grinding the machine to a stop.

“And that’s not enough for you to say no?“ You questioned, without judgment but with genuine concern. He fell silent once again.

“Whatever you want, there’s other ways to get it.”

“I just want to not eat lunch alone every day.”

“If you’re looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek,” Scott shook his head.

“That really hurt, Scott,” The familiar voice boomed behind the two of you. You turned to see Derek standing with his newly formed pack behind him. “I mean if you’re going to review me, at least take a consensus. Erica, how’s life been for you since we met?”

“Hmm. In a word, transformative,” She said before showing her teeth and growling. You rolled your eyes.

“Isaac?” Well, I’m a little bummed about being a fugitive, but other than that, I’m great,” He smiled at you, looking at you up and down.

“Okay, hold on. This isn’t exactly a fair fight,” You scoffed.

“Then go home, kid,” Derek smirked.

“She meant fair for them,” Scott slammed his fist into the ice below him before growling. You took your stance, hoping your magic wouldn’t fail you now. The two betas approached, Isaac going for Scott and Erica towards you.

“Didn’t he tell you, sweetheart?” You smiled. “You can’t hurt me.”

“No, I just can’t make you bleed,” She scoffed before running and throwing you back. You landed on the ice with a thud, groaning a bit as you slid before standing up again. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” You chuckled before feeling the power run through your veins in a way that it never has before. It made you feel unstoppable. You could see how this could be addicting; it was euphoric.

She launched at you again but you jumped up, managing to kick her on the side of her head and knocking her down. “Woah..” You smiled.

“You bitch!” She growled, coming at you again. You waited for her to approach before manipulating her force against her to flip her into the ground below you. “That’s it!”

She whipped out her claws and stood up.

“Make me bleed. I dare you,” You taunted. She paused, realizing who she was up against. In the moment, she let her anger take over her judgment before she continued to march towards you with her claws fully retracted.

The power in your nerves surged excitedly through you. With it, came a feeling you’d never had before; you wanted to hurt her. You wanted to show her your power and frighten her to the point of pissing herself. You didn’t care at the moment if it killed her; you wanted retaliation to the extreme.

You saw a black flame-like aura appear on your hands as she continued towards you, you held them out as the black aura grew, bursting a black flame towards her chest. It sent her flying into the Zamboni headfirst, knocking her unconscious. You turned in time to dodge Isaac as Scott launched him back next to Erica.

“Don’t you get it?!” Scott shouted. “He’s not doing this for you! He’s just adding to his own power, okay? It’s all about him. He makes you feel like he’s giving you some type of gift when all he’s done is turn you into a bunch of guard dogs!”

“It’s true. It is about power,” Derek spoke. You looked at him breathlessly as you wiped your nose. Your eyes widened at the black blood that now decorated the back of your hand. “You look tired, Y/N. Let the big boys take care of this.”

He approached Scott, eyes now glowing red as he slowly transformed into his werewolf form. You saw as Derek head-butted him before slashing his claws through his stomach.

“Scott!” You yelled, feeling something drip out of your nose.

“Stay out of this, Y/N! You’re bleeding!” He shouted before receiving more blows to his chest and jaw, returning them back to Derek and sending him stumbling backward.

You wiped at your nose and saw black blood smeared on the back of your hand. Maybe the whole black aura thing wasn’t such a good idea. You couldn’t help but wonder if your body was warning you against the type of magic you’d summoned. You’re thought were interrupted by Derek’s growl.

The alpha smiled before beating Scott senseless, sending him into the ice. He stepped up to him, pressing his heel into his throat. You looked up a Boyd, taking the keys from his hands and clenching your eyes as you sliced through the palm of your hand.

“God damn,” Boyd cringed as you approached Derek from behind. You grabbed his face with your bloodied hand before he turned around with shock.

“Oh shit,” You muttered before he flipped you over his shoulder, sending you flying forcefully into the ice next to Scott and knocking the breath out of you. He quickly took a small, silky fabric out from his jacket and wiped the blood off of his face, seeming to be just fine before walking back to his pack.

“Don’t,” Scott breathed as Boyd approached the two of you. “You don’t wanna be like them.”

“You’re right,” He lifted his shirt to reveal a bite, making you sigh and drop your head back in disappointment. “I wanna be like you.”

The four werewolves gathered before making their exit. Scott rolled over to look at you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, wiping the blood from under your nose and looking back at you. He took your wrist in his hand, seeing that the blood from your hand was still red. You nodded and sat up. “You have to be more careful. But I’ll admit- that last stunt you pulled? That was a killer move.”

“Literally and figuratively,” You smiled, looking down at the cut. “I wonder why it didn’t work though.”

“If you ask me, it probably has to do with that rag he wiped his face with,” Scott looked back as the door swung closed behind the last of them. “We need to find Stiles.”

“We need to take you to the clinic,” You argued, looking at the nasty bash in his stomach making him wince and hiss in pain as you lifted his shirt to take a closer look.

“It’ll heal,” He shook his head.

“Wouldn’t the healing process have started by now? He slashed it at the beginning of the fight,” You furrowed your brows, seeing it bleed a significant amount compared to his more recent wounds. You got up, helping him up before you both made your way back to the car. “Try to keep the blood off of my Dad’s seats.”

The drive to the clinic was quick but it was enough time to call Stiles to check his location. You drove with your left hand as Scott pressed your old hoodie against the wound on your right palm, keeping it from bleeding more. You swung by an alleyway and watched Stiles crawl into the backseat of the car, reeking of garbage.

“Jesus. What happened to you? You smell like shit,” Scott gagged.

“Erica happened! That bitch is ruthless,” He huffed, leaning forward to see his gaping cuts. He looked over at you to see your upper lip covered in dry blood and your hand covered by a blood-soaked cloth. “Oh my god! What happened in there?! Are you okay?”

“Derek happened. He happens to also be a ruthless bitch,” You smiled before driving towards the clinic. “Look, I know I need to stop but I had no choice but to use my powers this time. It was Derek’s pack versus us.”

“It’s okay! But you just have to be careful. We don’t know how to control it yet,” Stiles reassured.

“I get what the articles mean by magic controlling my bloodline,” You breathed, remembering the feeling it gave you. “It came so naturally. And it felt like a drug. It was like utter power and euphoria pumping through my veins. I think it could be addicting. I really need to stop using it.”

“Bro, you should’ve seen her though! Her hands were like covered in this black mist, dude. She beat the living hell out of Erica,” Scott looked back smiling. “She was like a jujitsu master before her hands started smoking. Then she just knocked Erica into the ice smoothing machine and knocked her out without even touching her!”

“Damn,” Stiles’ brows raised, he was impressed. “What happened to her hand?”

“Derek knocked Scott to the ground and held him by the throat with his foot,” You began to explain before Scott chimed in with excitement.

“Y/N sliced her hand open with Boyd’s keys, dude. Then she came up behind Derek and grabbed his face, smearing her blood all over him!” He all but shouted. “It was awesome!”

“Yeah, except for the part where it didn’t phase him and he flipped me over his shoulder,” You mumbled. “My back feels like it got snapped in half now that the adrenaline is going away.”

“Wait, it didn’t phase him?!” Stiles’ jaw dropped. “How?! That shit knocked Scott on his ass with just the fumes or whatever!”

“He wiped his face with this like silk cloth. Scott thinks it has to do with that. I feel like it was because I over-exerted my powers fighting. Who knows,” You shrugged, pulling into the vet clinic’s parking lot. You all got out and proceeded to walk in. “It’s not like we can test it. Scott’s basically immune to my blood now.”

“God, why isn’t this thing healing..” Scott winced as he walked beside you.

“Because it came from an alpha. And that’s not true, Y/N,” Deaton’s voice echoed as he saw the three of you walk in. You froze, how did he know? “The blood of a Delvoux can help cure those she’s bonded with. The women in your family were well known to join werewolf packs as an alliance. They protected your ancestors and your ancestors healed them in return. All it took was love and trust. Mixing the blood of a bonded werewolf with your own can heal you too. Physically and mentally.”

“You know?” You muttered, making him smile. “How?”

“I know everything about this town,” Deaton shrugged. “We have a lot to talk about. I wanna show you something. But before I do, unwrap your hand and rub it on Scott’s wounds. I have to warn you, it’ll burn.”

You nodded, hesitantly taking the hoodie off of your hand as Scott lifted his shirt. You looked up at him as if to ask for permission; he nodded. You placed your bloody hand on the beginning of the top gash. You removed your hand across every gash, feeling a warm sensation in your hand.

“Oh, that’s not too bad!” You smiled as you pulled away.

The second your hand left his final scratch, you felt it. Both you and Scott screamed in pain, feeling as if you were being branded. You held your wrist and fell to your knees, clenching your eyes in midst of the blistering pain. And just as quick as it appeared, it went away. “Fuck, remind me never to do that again.”

“Agreed,” Scott said, trying to catch his breath.

“How do you feel?” Deaton chuckled.

“Like I just placed my hand on a stove,” You looked down at your hand. All that was left from the wound was the dried blood where the hash previously laid.

“Mentally. How do you feel?”

You took a moment to realize that your head suddenly felt light. The anxiety, the anger that boiled deep within you, the darkness that loomed in your mind- it was gone. Your eyes widened at the silence in your head. You didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten until it was gone. It snuck up on you, eating at your mind silently and subtly. The gravity of the situation finally sank in; you were well on your way to insanity before that moment.

“Holy shit,” You whispered. “It’s gone.”

“Come with me,” Deaton’s tone darkened before he led you to the back room. Before you laid a corpse, slashed through like he’d been through a human cheese grinder. “I think we better have that talk now.”

EPISODE FOUR ->

———

As always, please let me know what you think of this! I love love love to hear from you guys :) Plz like and/or reblog, it really helps me out! Comment or DM if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

AHHH, I’M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE WITH SEASON TWO! not me avoiding all of my responsibilities to write this shit 😀 but i literally love witchy y/n. and i love y/n and stiles’ relationship. poor babies just wanna lose their damn v card but i won’t let them 😭🤚🏽

@okay-j-hannah @mitchloveswriting @itscheybaby @cevans-winchester @moon-child @rrrogertaylor @janalustare @loveangelic69 @angelxfics @blueberry-birdie @rebelbagel @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @ifilwtmfc @dianewowslt @aloha-lush @crockercorpbakers @taysirene @take-me-to-ny @captainfrisbee @darkenwolfie @stilesbxtch @youaintabadbitchyoujustabitch @raynelbabe @michellebarista @chervbs @lovingchildperson @littleboysmile @mushroomroyal l @luvforstiles @naynay2319 @xannaelizx @igotmajordaddyissues @andrew-garfield-is-my-mj @stephhevring

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pokeheadcannons97 · 3 years

Note

I'm not sure if requests are open or not but can you possibly write hc's for milo gordie leon and piers about having a s/o who suffers from epilepsy maybe include their reaction to the first seizure they see, and things like how they handle when s/o starts to seize/show warning signs,

I only do 3 characters at a post so I am going to do Leon, Piers, and Milo since I have Pokemon Shield

(and mama Melany)

Also, I’m speaking and writing this from my perspective of helping my aunt who has seizures regularly and will be answering in what I do and other things that I’ve looked up or found that help, please let me know if I can make it better, thank you! <3 Be safe

Leon

Even though he is super directionally challenged, he is so very perceptive. He will be the first to notice when you are about to have a seizure.

The distant look in your eyes and the nonverbal responses when he asks if you are okay are always signs you’re about to go into one.

He’s by your side in an instant, holding the back of your head up steady while rubbing your arm.

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N… you’re okay.” He repeats this all through out it, steady and comforting.

When you blink back after a few moments, eyes bleary but answer softly back to him, he knows you’re okay and out of it.

Will immediately stop what he’s doing, be it in the middle of an interview or sees you go down in the stands, he is next to you to help you through it

Wont hesitate to absolutely eradicate any disrespectfully words or jokes towards you about your seizures

When you first went into one, he had not expected it.

The two of you were out having lunch together after Leon had invited you out for a date to get to know each other more closely. He had been persistent, always engaging you in small talk when you were at work at one of the local shoppes in Wyndon. Would offer to help in carrying heavier things to help you out, and to make your work load lighter.

You had been perfectly fine, sitting across from him eating lunch at a local restaurant that you favored, when you seemed to be staring off into the distance as he was talking.

When Leon saw your Gothita get destressed and practically climbed up on you, he knew something was wrong.

He was scared, and that was putting it lightly.

With Gothita surrounding you in her psychic powers she steadied your body and instructed Leon through her telepathy to hold your head straight to where you wouldn’t choke.

He frantically rubbed your arms, while looking for your distant eyes to come back to the cheery e/c he found so attractive.

When you started to move slowly on your own your eyes peered up at him, the distant look fading quickly.

“Mmm…? Leon?” You asked softly, trying to attempt to remember where you were and what happened.

“Y/N!” He replied a smile forming on his face, full of relief. “You’re okay, my God I was so worried, are you ok?”

“Mmmhmm… thanks to you and Gracey.” You replied with a soft smile, giving your pokemon a thankful expression, to which she cried in happiness as a reply.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, to at least get a look at you. Then I’ll make sure you get home okay.” Leon said as he helped you up with his strong arms, letting your body lean against him. “I never knew you had to deal with these. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be, Y/N.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, your stomach knotting up in that similar way it did when you would see him visit your work on his days off from the league. Most people would be so scared and standoffish, more afraid of you than anything. See you as someone that needed to be fixed, someone that was fragile, and needed to be looked after like a child.

But Leon? He shown genuine kindness, he didn’t make you out to be this weak person who had epileptic seizures. He treated you with respect. As an equal.

You were strong, something that you did not hear often in your life.

You gave a small laugh, and peered up at him, your e/c eyes shining against the streetlights. “Is it too late to ask you for a second date?”

Leon’s cheeks uncharacteristically burned a deeper red and low chuckle came from his throat. “Not at all.”

Piers

There’s not many times he’s serious, but when it comes to you, he is stone cold serious.

Will constantly ask you if you’re okay if you seem more nervous or shakier than usual.

Always holds your hand when you’re feeling more shaky, will go into any quieter space to get you to a safer environment just in case

Even though his shows can be flashy and loud, he really prefers that you stay home or listen to CD’s of the shows of his that are flashier and with more lights. He’s talked to his producers about incorporating more epilepsy friendly aspects into his shows and videos so that more people can enjoy it safely.

On the times that you do watch him, he makes sure that the place is better lit, and no strobing lights.

Will rub the top of your head softly when you go into one, and holds you to where you wont hurt yourself during it.

He knew you had them, but you said that it was less common these days. So he thought that it would most likely be a while before you had one.

The first time you had a seizure in front of him, he was terrified and confused on what to do.

You were sitting beside him, listening to him strum on his guitar as try to work out the sound to his new song.

Your Kirlia sat beside you, listening too.

When he looked up from the strings and papers he had scattered around him, rewriting certain parts he paled.

Your arms were shaking as you began to fall backwards rather quickly. Luckily your Kirlia predicted this and carefully grabbed your shoulders and placed you on your side.

Kirlia’s eyes rose to Piers and she instructed him to gently rub at your arms as she used her abilities to work on the overfiring electrical impulses your brain was having.

Piers scanned your body frantically, your twitching limbs and far off stare causing his heart to race in nervousness. He didn’t know what to do, but hoped that what he was doing helped in some way.

Your Kirlia called softly as your twitching began to stop and your eyes regained their soft e/c hue. You hummed a little as you blinked back the glaze over your eyes.

“Y/N, hey… are you with me?” Piers asked, eyebrows knitted together, refusing to leave your side.

You gave him a confused stare and nodded slowly. “Yes…what…?”

Your Kirlia touched your forehead and you understood.

“Thank you… for helping me, Piers.” You patted your Kirlia’s hand greatfully. “And you too Meena, you did amazing.”

From then on Piers was sure to be more observant and learn about how to be better prepared for the next attack. The zigzagoon brigade are always alert and ready to go into pillow mode to help you not hit your head or hurt yourself.

Milo

The absolute best at making sure that you are taking you meds and taking care of yourself

Always tries to make sure that you have enough time to get enough sleep and goes to bed at the same time as you to help make it easier

He’s used to dealing and helping new gym challengers that have anxiety problems, so he knows how to relax you and help manage your stress

Being as strong as he is, it’s nothing for him to grab you when your legs give out when you go into one, making sure that you are laid down on your side safely

His big hands will make soothing touches and coax you through it, making sure everyone around you is quiet so you’re not overwhelmed with voices around you

If you ever feel bad about having them, he is so quick to reassure you that it is never a problem and he loves you so much

The first time you went into one

You were battling him as your first gym battle, with your Espeon battling against his Glossifleur.

You seemed so strong, easily ordering move after move from your companion, but that changed when you started to wobble on your feet, your Espeon immediately ran to your side to catch you from hitting your head and braced your body against her own and let you fall at a slower rate to the ground safely.

Milo gave a wave to the stadium, with a shout of “Everyone stop!” and made his way over to you. The stadium went into a quick and silent hush. The rotom camera, now focused on you.

Your body jerked involuntarily, your gaze far off and unfocused.

Your partner pokemon gave a cry and rubbed against your body while Milo held your head to where it would be easier for you to breath.

“Hey, Y/N… it’s okay lass. You’re okay.” He said softly, his hat blocking out the harsh sun above you. He gave your cheek a few soft pats, his green eyes searching your face.

It took about a few moments for your hands to stop seizing and jerking. When they did you let out a steady breath. You blinked slowly and gave a low hum as your eyes refocused and fell upon the grass type gym leader above you.

“There you are, are you hurt?” Milo asked you, his voice lower but understandable for your comfort.

You swallowed, and went to slowly sit up, the sun from above now shining painfully on you. You blinked your eyes shut but nodded and turned to him.

“Yeah… just...” you began and suddenly noticed where you were and felt the anxiety well up inside of you.

“Would it be possible to…stop our battle for today? Please?” you finished and picked at a part of your nails, cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry but I think I need to lay down for a while, I’m just wiped after…” you tried to explain yourself, your Espeon chittered next to you, rubbing against you softly.

Milo held up a hand with a genuine and kind smile. “Say no more, Y/N. Let’s get you to the nurse on call to get a look at you. Make sure you’re okay.” He rose to hit feet and held a hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You gave a nod and stood up slowly, but wobbled a little, your legs still unsteady.

Milo scooped you up into his arms effortlessly. “Just rest, I’ll get you there safe and sound.”

And he did,

#leon #piers #milo #leon x reader #piers x reader #milo x reader

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rosepandan · 2 years

Note

it’s a reimei tour!! i’m gonna go crazy this saturday

OH MY GOD ITS A REIMEI TOUR. THANK YOU NYX (SPINS YOU AROUND LIKE A BEYBLADE /POS)

Is it animated. I'm so sorry I'm so busy that seeing a new enstars card sends me into epileptic shock /j

#nyx!#OMG?????#pandan asks

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admiralbuttcheek · 3 years

Text

A Pox on Our Pilot (Sicktember 2021)

@sicktember 2021 Day 3: Chickenpox/Rash

Fandom: Top Gun (1986)

Characters: Maverick/Goose

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33667063

The first call came from Carole.

“Hey, honey, how are you?” Goose’s smile was audible.

Carole didn’t sound as happy. “I’m doing well, but it’s Bradley.” Goose’s smile faded. “You see-”

“What is it?” he asked, cutting off the rest of her sentence. She huffed a heavy sigh before continuing.

“He’s got chickenpox.”

Well… shit. Now it was Goose’s turn to sigh heavily, then turn away from the phone for dramatic effect. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s right as rain. Itchy and all, but happy to be staying home from school watching cartoons all day.” The pilot chuckled. He’d had chickenpox as a kid too, and that’s exactly what he remembered: staying home, eating ice cream and reading comics. Not a bad couple of days.

“And you? You don’t have it, do you?” Goose couldn’t bear the thought of his wife and son, itchy and miserable and all alone, while he and Mav had the time of their lives in Miramar. Just a few days ago they’d come up to visit, which was nice.

“Not,” Carole hummed. “Not yet, anyway. I called his pediatrician, he said Bradley is contagious until all the spots go away. Apparently you can be contagious before they even show up.”

“Really? If you need anything, call your mom, okay? I’m sorry, babe, I wish I could be there to help.”

“Goose,” Carole soothed. “I can handle a little chickenpox. But you, stay safe out there, you hear me? No more crazy flyby’s with Maverick.” She giggled in good nature.

“I will,” Goose promised. “Take care, my love. Just a few more weeks.”

“You too, Goose. See you soon.”

When he got the second call, he knew who was on the other end. Maverick.

“Goose,” came the aviator’s croaky, washed-out voice. He sounded like hell.

“Say no more, Mav;” Goose replied. “I’m on my way.”

The front door was unlocked, which was perfect because Pete knew he didn’t have the strength to go open it. He woke up this morning with a pounding headache. When he trudged into the bathroom to get some Tylenol, a chance glance into the mirror showed him exactly why he felt so goddamn awful. Spots, hundreds of them, all over his face. When he looked down, they were all over his chest, too. Oh my God. As the sleepiness waned, the itchiness kicked in. It was downright unbearable. But moving his arms to scratch at them hurt; every joint simply ached.

He didn’t think twice before calling Goose.

“I’m glad you called, Mav,” the RIO said as he scrutinized the lump of blankets and spotty flesh on the couch. “You sounded like crap on the phone, and you look like crap in person.”

“I feel like crap, Goose,” Mav moaned. “Seriously, everything hurts. And itches.”

Goose reached a hand out to his pilot’s forehead to check for fever, but Maverick jerked away.

“Don’t, I’m contagious,” he croaked. Goose shrugged and reached forward anyway.

“I already had it, when I was in 3rd grade.” Maverick felt warmer to the touch than usual. Nick went to search for a thermometer. “Can’t believe you never had it,” he called back from the bathroom. He returned with a thermometer, giving it a vigorous shake before sticking it in Pete’s mouth.

“Got lucky, I suppose,” Maverick mumbled around the glass.

“Don’t forget, under the tongue,” Goose prompted.

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Goose, I have been sick before.” The pilot scratched absent-mindedly at his bare, pockmarked chest.

He smirked. “You sure as hell don’t act like it. You’re a disaster, man.”

“No wonder they call you ‘Mother Goose,’” Mav retorted. “They should call you ‘Mother Hen.’”

Goose erupted into disproportionately hysterical laughter. “Good one!” He cawed. Taking some time to catch his breath, he sauntered into the kitchen. It was pretty bare; Maverick wasn’t exactly a five-star chef. All he could find was some instant coffee, a loaf of bread, some saltine crackers, and half a box of breakfast cereal. Not even a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. Shrugging, he grabbed the crackers and filled up a tall glass of water.

When he returned, Maverick had spit out the thermometer and was holding it up to the light.

“What’s the damage?” Goose asked.

“100 even. Not great, but not bad.” Maverick slumped back over, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He was shivering ever so slightly.

Goose held out the crackers. “Here. You should eat something.” Maverick shook his head, looking away.

“No. Feel too sick.”

“Sick like feverish sick, or sick like ‘gonna puke’ sick?” Goose probed.

The pilot gave a half-hearted shrug. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”

“Fine, but at least drink some water, okay dear?” Goose said in a wifely, mock-doting tone. Maverick snorted and looked at the glass like it was toxic, but accepted it and took a sip anyway.

“Do you have any calamine lotion?” Goose asked.

Mav’s brow furrowed. “Any what?”

“Calamine lotion,” Goose repeated. “Y’know, the pink stuff your mom would rub on you when you got into poison ivy. Looks like Pepto Bismol.” Maverick’s face remained blank, confused. “Seriously? Never got chickenpox, never got poison ivy… Did you even have a childhood, Mav?” Maverick smiled, then wrenched the blanket off to frantically itch his back. He cursed.

“Don’t scratch them,” Goose chastised softly. “That only makes it worse.”

“I wouldn’t scratch them,” Maverick began, voice strained with irritation. “If I wasn’t. So. Damned. ITCHY! God, can’t you give me something for this?”

“That’s what the calamine lotion was for.”

Maverick made an exasperated noise that broke into a weak cough.

“I have an idea,” Goose said. “Stay right there, I’ll be back in a sec.” He shuffled back towards the bathroom.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Maverick hissed, taking this opportunity to scratch more while his RIO was out of eyesight.

Thankfully, Maverick’s medicine cabinet was better stocked than his pantry. Sure, no calamine lotion, but he did have some Tylenol PM. Bingo. Goose shook out two pills and carried them back to the pilot, who was now itching so hard he looked near epileptic.

“Seriously, stop scratching, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Goose cooed. He held out the two pills. “Take these.” Maverick took them without even asking what they were. Goose explained anyway. “They’re Tylenol PM. In 20 minutes, you’ll be out cold. Can’t feel itchy if you’re sleeping.” He plopped down on the couch next to Pete.

“Thank God,” he whined. “Better living through chemistry, I guess.” He took another tentative sip of water, staring at the ground. “How did I even get chickenpox anyway? Nobody at TOPGUN is sick.”

Goose blanched. He gulped. “Yeah, about that…” Maverick glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Bradley’s got it. He must’ve given it to you when he and Carole came to visit a few days ago.”

Maverick smoldered. He wanted nothing more than to smack Goose upside the head, but he loved his “nephew” (and his RIO) too much to lash out. Plus, he knew how much it meant to Goose to see his family. 5 weeks was a long time to be away from two people you love more than anything.

“Sorry.”

That apology was more than enough. “It’s fine. Is he doing okay? And Carole?”

“They’re both fine.” Goose fiddled with the corner of Maverick’s blanket. “I miss them.”

Maverick gave a long, slow blink. The medicine was starting to work. Everything had gone wonky, like a record played at the wrong speed. “I know you do, Goose. They miss you too.”

“Just a few more weeks,” the RIO whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. He lost himself briefly in memories, of his first dates with Carole, the day Bradley was born, his first steps. He’d been there for all of that; how many memories was he missing while he was here in Miramar, and his family… wasn’t?

Something landed on his shoulder, wrenching him from reminiscence. He turned to look at what it was. He saw short, dark, tousled hair. Maverick had finally passed out, with his head on his RIO’s shoulder no less. Goose reached over to tuck Maverick in more snugly. Even through the sleeve of his shirt, he could feel Maverick’s low-grade fever.

“Sleep tight, Mav,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. The pilot hummed in response, already deep in dreams of jets and open skies.

#sicktember #sicktember 2021 #top gun

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celosiaa · 4 years

Note

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm. Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all. Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma fanfic #martin blackwood #hurt/comfort #cw nausea #cw seizures #cw misgendering #trans martin #jordanian jon #background timsasha #my writing

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 2 years

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Immersed In Studying

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.” James 1:5-7KJV

If I could have an epithet engraved on my headstone, it would say— ‘Here lies a lady of great faith in God.’ Trouble is, the words ‘great faith’ would be a lie. The truth is— Every time I’ve tried to develop faith, I’ve failed. All the healings, financial miracles, and deliverances I’ve received from God— He did it all. I just showed up to pray. Somehow each time I moved from hoping and praying to one of the gifts from Holy Spirit— 1Corinthians 12:8-9NIV “To one there is given through the Spirit… to another faith by the same Spirit…” Mother called this gift— ‘knowing in your knower.’

Smith Wigglesworth had ‘great’ faith. I’ve learned how he received his ‘great’ faith— *** took communion every morning; *** never ate a hot meal because he stopped for a Bible study during every meal; *** studied God’s Word three or more hours every morning; *** enjoyed a Bible study every hour or so all day long. Folks— that’s dedication. Results= This man never prayed for anyone, who wasn’t healed: raised fourteen people from the dead. led thousands to Christ in salvation. You can’t lightly discard Wigglesworth’s dedication, it absolutely paid off.

Most of God’s church wavers in their faith. While easy to say, ‘I’m healed’ —when the pain is in full swing, we’re like, ‘God I hurt. Where’s the healing?’ I speak from experience.

We believe and we disbelieve. An epileptic boy was brought to Jesus’ disciples, see Mark 9. The disciples believed in Jesus’ power and God. Yet, they couldn’t deliver the child. The father said, “…if you are able to do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Then Jesus said to him, “‘If you are able?’ All things are possible for the one who believes.” Immediately the father of the boy cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” Mk 9:22-24NET. This father nailed everyone’s problem— we believe, but we have unbelief too.

Greatest of all is our need to be immersed in studying God’s Word, God’s Spirit, God’s love. Doubt knocks with a multitude of half-truths. We’re given the choice to believe God or begin doubting? Have we studied God’s Word enough to spot the half-truths of doubt and knock it out of our lives? Or are we waffling back and forth with two opinions, like a wave in the sea? Remember what Paul wrote in 2Timothy 2:15NASB “Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the word of truth.”

Grounded in truth— doubt won’t be able to convince us. We dare not be ‘wavering,’ if we’re expecting to receive— but we must be ‘standing.’ “Henceforth be empowered in the Lord and in the strength of His might.” Ephesians 6:19BLB All heaven is prepared to back up our faith.

Are we individually willing to study God’s Word until we’ve overcome doubt? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Lord God, I see how much I’ve grown in You, when You are the sole focus of my spare time. Help me and others to desire to all give You our time, in Jesus name I pray.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #immerse #studying #believe #unbelief #probllem #doubt #love #stand #faith #hope

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autistic-beshelar · 4 years

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Neurodivergent Link Headcanons (BOTW)

Here are... my headcanons for ND Link! I’ve tried to put them in fairly concise bullet points so hopefully they make sense. A lot of the autistic/adhd traits overlap, but I’ve put them in separate sections just to try and make this easier to read

Headcanons under the cut!

Autism:

- sensory seeking! Link needs constant stimulation and his preferred sensory input is touch, whether it’s rubbing his palms over tree bark or smushing his face in soft pillows. Auditory and visual stimulation are good too, but he’s very, very tactile. Of course taste is another big thing for him, he loves cooking and trying out new food and exploring different tastes, whether it’s sweet or spicy or sour, the stronger the better.

- he stims. SO MUCH. he has so many stims that I’m going to make a separate post to include all of them, but the main ones are rocking and flapping his hands.

- very good with gross motor skills, generally good with fine motor skills but there are a select few he struggles with - he has very poor handwriting, has to focus tying shoelaces, struggles washing his hair, overestimates how hard he’s brushing his teeth and makes his gums bleed

- poor interoception. Has a hard time telling when he’s hungry, or tired, or in pain. Sometimes he will walk around with an injury and not realise until he sees blood. Finds it hard to recognise negative sensations and his body tends to just interpret them as discomfort.

- very good at recognising and deciphering expressions and body language, but not particularly good at (or interested in) emulating it. He’s very astute and can pick up on microexpressions and hidden glances and the like, and can work out people’s true feelings or motivations, but in a social context he’s not necessarily good at responding to it.

- easily picks up on small details and notices things others don’t - this can be related to the former point, but also just in general. Also very good at pattern recognition which lends itself well to solving shrines.

- nonverbal. Mostly uses sign to communicate, or noises (usually with animals or people he’s comfortable with). Can occasionally manage to speak in short bursts when he has to, but it’s few words and usually stuttered, and if he gets at all stressed (which he often does if he’s forced to talk) he won’t be able to say much of anything. He can talk a little around Sidon and Zelda, they’re pretty much the only he feels comfortable enough to be verbal with, and they understand the way he talks and are patient when he’s slow or gets words mixed up.

- difficulty with eye contact. Either too little or too much, though usually it’s the former. He only tends to stare at people if he likes them, or if he’s angry with them or trying to make them uncomfortable

- echo echo lalia. Loves to repeat fun noises, especially animal noises, but sometimes words (sees a dog and just goes doggy doggy doggy doggy doggy for the next hour). He does this with sign as well, but tends to prefer making fun mouth sounds

- special interests in food and horses! Those twins at the stable were right. That’s all that’s on his mind. Food and horses. He really loves trying out new ingredient combinations and exploring different tastes. And he knows a great many horse facts.

- forms connections with animals more easily than with people. This is partly because when he first left the Shrine of Resurrection he was alone in the wilderness, and partly because he doesn’t really talk, but it’s also just an autism thing. People are friendly to him, but he doesn’t tend to form deep connections with them like he does with animals.

- can tell the time by the position of the sun in the sky but can’t read a clock. What are those numbers on the slate. It’s a mystery!

- has mild visual processing issues, mostly struggles to focus on things like screens or pages, things look blurry or strangely coloured, or have a weird overlay.

ADHD:

- inattentive AND hyperactive AND impulsive, a triple threat

- gets the Zoomies. Often ends up conking out afterwards. Will run around chasing frogs all day and then just fall asleep in the middle of a field

- Can’t Stay Still. Has To Bounce Leg.

- nonexistent sleep schedule. Granted, he doesn’t sleep well or regularly what with travelling all over Hyrule, but even without that his sleep would be terrible

- sometimes zones out in the middle of a conversation. Good luck guessing whether he’s having a seizure or if he’s just thinking really hard about jellyfish

- alternatively, he will hyperfocus. Very good at hyperfocusing on shrines, or anything that involves challenges. Also good at hyperfocusing on physical activities.

- executive functioning… what’s that. Link doesn’t know. Link can’t organise to save his life and honestly thank god for the sheikah slate because without it he’d be screwed. Cannot schedule, cannot plan, cannot organise.

- thrillseeking!!! He gets easily understimulated and needs adrenaline to survive. Will do anything remotely dangerous for fun and profit.

- often thinks very quickly, usually jumping quickly from one thing to the next, but only about certain subjects (usually related to animals, nature, food, chaotic activities) and usually when he’s full of adrenaline. Although other times, especially when he’s tired, it’s just. Dial up noises. Head empty

- focus juice… for mentally taxing activites? Nonexistent.

Expressive language disorder:

(It used to be separated into receptive language disorder, expressive language disorder, or mixed, but these days it’s lumped together into developmental language disorder. However I use expressive language disorder for link because he specifically only has problems with expressive language (forming his own words) and not receptive language (understanding other people’s words)).

- gets words in the wrong order

- sometimes replaces a word with something else, especially if the signs are similar

- has difficulty with tenses (more so in verbal speech)

- often misses out words completely

- has quite a large vocabulary, but struggles with word recall. Will sometimes remember the word he meant to use hours later

- often flaps his hands in an attempt to remember a word, if he can’t think of it he will try to find an alternative

- c a n n o t s p e l l. Sometimes when he doesn’t know the sign for something, he’ll try to fingerspell it, but if the word is hard to spell he’ll try and find an alternative

- finds sign much easier than spoken language, because its grammatical structure (particularly how it uses tenses and combines language with muscle memory) is simpler to use for him, and because it’s so expressive he finds it easier to get his point across

- his language disorder is a part of why he’s nonverbal (as well as that he has a bit of a stutter), so signing in general is just much easier, though not everyone knows sign, and he isn’t fluent himself.

Epilepsy:

- has temporal lobe epilepsy

- mostly gets absence seizures and focal seizures

- absence seizures (essentially his brain ‘switching off’) are his more common ones. They usually only last a couple of seconds, and tend to look like he’s just distracted or zoning out (which he also does because of ADHD), though sometimes his eyelids will flicker, or if he’s walking or doing something he’ll suddenly stop, and go back to it like nothing happened. He isn’t aware of them at all. If they happen during something like a conversation with someone, he’ll just dismiss it as being distracted, though he does start to notice when he has longer absences and misses whole sentences, or has clusters of absences.

- focal aware seizures (auras) usually present as deja-vu, intense fear, or out of body feelings. He doesn’t realise they’re seizures for a while, since he experiences these anyway, and attributes the deja-vu to the memory loss, but eventually learns to tell them apart because his auras tend to come on very suddenly, though they can last a while

- he also gets focal impaired awareness ones, which tend to happen more when he’s very tired, especially when waking up/going to sleep. When he gets auras he’s still completely aware of his surroundings (and usually doesn’t have trouble moving, unless it’s a particularly bad one), but with impaired awareness he gets drowsy and confused, and won’t understand what people are saying

- usually his focal seizures stay just that, but sometimes they will become tonic-clonic seizures. This is usually only when he’s exhausted/injured/extremely stressed/otherwise worn down. Most of the time his auras come on soon enough to warn him he might have a worse seizure, so he can go somewhere safe (at least, once he realises he’s epileptic

- they’re arguably the mildest, but his absence seizures at the most dangerous, even though they’re usually short, because he gets no warning for them. He usually gets them a couple of times a day (especially waking up/going to sleep), but he gets them more frequently if he’s very tired, and if he gets absence clusters it makes it really hard to do anything.

- his main triggers are sleep deprivation, missing meals, extreme stress, and extreme heat. Which is unfortunate considering he spends his time running around Hyrule on no sleep and forgets to eat all the time.

in conclusion link is neurodivergent and i love him. thank u for ur time pls feel free to comment ur opinions and headcanons etc

#link #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda #also for context i am autistic + adhd #if u have epilepsy or a language disorder and i got anything wrong/said anything problematic here pls lmk!#mmm this took a long time to write bc i dont have brain cellsss #is rebloggable!#simply do not clown if u are not ND thank u #kokiri chatter

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