#dontfeelsogood

            an exasperated sigh escapes the female, pausing to take a moment to calm herself before turning to the young male. he’d been following her for a couple blocks now and she swore he was full of never ending questions ; seriously, it had been inquiry after inquiry. for the most part she’d been ignoring him in hopes he might get tired but, at this point, that seemed impossible.   ‘ you get one question. i answer one. ’

The clock read 00:46 and Finn still hadn’t slept.

He turned onto his side, cushioning his head on his arm. He’d been feeling queasy since he got home from school, too queasy to do his homework - not even the creative writing piece that he’d been really rather looking forward too. Instead, he had curled up on the sofa and shivered at the tv until his dad got home, when he’d promptly migrated to shivering on his bed. But he’d not slept.He could feel his stomach sloshing inside him, like a swimming pool with a wave machine on, and he wriggled onto his back to try and settle the constant swaying motion. His eyes slid shut.

The clock read 01:34 and Finn was still awake.

He was trying to sleep on his front now, but he was almost certain that the aching pressure of lying on his belly was making the nausea mount. His dad had not been impressed, of course, when he got home to find Finn only half awake at five in the evening. He’d got a letter only last week, he said, about Finn’s bad attitude to his work, and that would not stand in this house, no sir it would not. If he was tired now then maybe he should think about going to bed earlier in future. The man probably thought his son was on drugs. Finn pulled his duvet up around his ears, as if the warmth could shield him from the queasy bucking in his gut. His dad had been even less impressed when he showed up for dinner in his dressing gown and promptly rested his head on the table. He was clearly not, his dad admonished, ‘truly thankful’ for anything at all. And after his poor mother had worked so hard to make such a lovely meal! Finn burrowed deeper into his duvet, his face smushed into the pillow, and cradled his stomach.

It was 02:27, and Finn was fairly giving up on the idea of sleep.

He scrabbled on the bedside table for his phone; thankfully his father hadn’t decided to confiscate it after today’s display of bad behaviour.

‘You up?’

The answer came almost immediately.

‘Yh bb what’s up?’

Finn felt a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wished Zak was here not halfway across town, that’s what was up. If he’d been staying at Zak’s tonight (if his dad hadn’t started getting suspicious about the number of ‘school projects’ they were suddenly working on), he’d have been cuddled up in blankets as soon as he’d set foot in the door, and he’d have dozed while Zak did his schoolwork, and Zak’s mum would have made him pomegranate meatballs in tomato soup, and right now he’d have been fast asleep with Zak’s warm body snuggled up behind his.

‘Miss you,’ he typed forlornly and then in another text, ‘My stomach doesn’t feel so good :’(‘

Almost immediately, his phone started buzzing with an incoming call.

“Babe, are you alright?” Zak’s voice, smooth as honey and laden with concern, made Finn’s eyes prickle a little. He struggled to sit up, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back against the wall.

“No…yeah…no, I don’t know, not really,” he whispered, “it’s just been a really bad evening…” His stomach churned harder in agreement and he bit his finger to stifle a moan.

Zak hummed in sympathy. “Oh Finn, you really don’t sound good. You must have come down with that bug that Séamus was out with on Monday.”

Whimpering slightly, Finn rested his head on his knees. While the statement had been intended to comfort, it only had his stomach rolling harder and the lump in his throats was feeling less like the beginning of tears and more like the onset of vomiting. He wrapped one arm around himself, but any attempt to quell the sick feeling was proving futile.

“Finn, what can I do, talk to me babe?” Zak paced his bedroom worriedly; Finn was never this ready to admit defeat.

“I…oh fuck, Zaki I have to go.” Finn’s voice, tinny through the speakers of Zak’s phone, sounded strangled and upset. Zak waited for the call to end, but instead found himself listening to the frantic slap of bare feet on floorboards, and the thud of knees hitting tile. Then the unmistakable gurgling coughs of Finn struggling to empty his stomach, followed by hitching sniffles before the retching started anew.

Thank you for the reminder, I was falling behind so there’s a few today!

It is currently December 13 and I am thankful for @jojowritesstuff! You’re always there when I really need a distraction, and you’re so encouraging, and really really talented!

I am also thankful for @pieforhumanity! Similarly, Aaron, you’re always there when I need a chat - and you give me awesome prompts! Thank you so much!

I am thankful too for @dontfeelsogood. Ash, you’ve been one of the people on here I’ve known for the longest. You are such a special, precious human. Thank you for being amazing!

This is a great question!!

Yes! Damian and Cain did their Bronze and Silver with the Scouts/Explorers, but they’d done walking/hiking expeditions for both and neither were really bothered in continuing on to do Gold. 

Jack did his Bronze and Silver, but gave up before Gold... He did his bronze with the Scout gang, but did his silver as a skiing expedition with his coaching team! 

                            within   the   city,   so   many   powerful   emotions   were   almost   like   a   gravitational   pull   towards   Lucario.   he   would   focus   on   the   most   intense   emotions,   whether   they   were   good   or   bad   &&   follow   humans   (   from   a   respectable   distance   )   his   latest   point   of   interest   was   an   adolescent   boy;   Peter.   not   that   they   had   ever   been   formerly   introduced.   he   had   caught   the   name   both   through   the   conversations   of   other   humans   &&   this   Peter’s   own   occasionally   self - chastising   thoughts.