the medium

[ofblairs]

Arabella’s face dropped slightly at his sarcasm, her nose scrunching as she glanced down for a moment to compose herself. “Ah, well. You never know, some people hang out here as if anything in the air could give them the virus.” She smiled sheepishly, lips pursing as she held onto her hand with a slight wince. God, it hurt but she knew she suffered worse. The only reason she even bothered showing up was because of the blood, or else she wouldn’t have bothered. 

“Sorry, I usually don’t like coming here because I know there’s more pressing issues to attend to but-well I figured this was good enough.” She hated seeming weak even when she was injured, her own stubborn head might be the one thing to actually get her killed. She nodded, glancing down at the rag for a moment before back up at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s the best option.”

She followed suit, taking in the small room and the equipment. Her skin pricked as she remembered the last time she was in a hospital, and it was taking everything in her to not have a panic attack. She knew it would be a minor procedure, it wouldn’t be a big deal and the damn thing should heal fast anyways. “Hm? Oh, I was cutting down some of the overgrown grass with the garden shears and I messed up.” She shrugged, frowning to herself as she shook her head. “Really stupid. Yes, I do. I’m just glad I haven’t lost a finger.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

“Ya’ messed up with garden sheers?” He knows what garden sheers looked like. Unless she was tossing them up in the cir, juggling them, he has a hard time believing she just ‘messed up.’ Then again, he wasn’t so concerned that he’d pry into her life to get out what really happened, and even if he did, he may have found that she was telling the truth and he was merely being suspicious for no reason.

With care, he took to cleaning her wound well enough so that he could see just how deep she cut it. It wasn’t as bad as the blood led him to believe, but it was clear that she would still need stitches. “D’ya want me t’ numb your hand, or can ya’ handle it?”

He reached for the needle and thread, holding it up for her to see.

“I ain’t a fan o’ needles meself, honestly. Pricked myself one too many times as a kid.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

He should be used to the voices by now, but sometimes there was that rare one that caught him by surprise. He turned so sharply he felt a sharp sting in the back of his neck, but again he saw nothing but the rain pelting against the small puddles at his feet.

“Will ya’ all just shut th’ hell up for once?”

[wnq-writers]

When morning finally comes tomorrow, it will be so bright that you’ll forget all about the terrors in the dark. So just breathe, it will all pass soon.

A. Synthia (via wnq-writers)

[fyp-philosophy]

Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts unguarded.

Buddha (via fyp-philosophy)

[dustyassnigga-deactivated201703]

Visit Original Link

[snowinterain]

[liriadas]

Brilliant Darkness…

[orenmacnamus-blog]

[orenmacnamus-blog]

△ Do ghosts actually have conversations with you, or is it just disembodied voices and nothing makes sense?

“Well, when ya’ have voices in your head, you shouldtry your best not to talk back t’ them, aye?” He pausedbefore adding in reluctantly, “I once was told a story ofhow some twat murdered an elder lady in the nextapartment over, but that’s not somethin’ a kid likes t’imagine.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

What's one of your biggest insecurities? △

“I tend t’ depend on people the closer I get t’ them,much like I did with my father. I fuckin’ hate that feelin’.”

[lestanjager-blog]

He didn’t recognize the accent at first but now he caught it, it was similar to his, they used to call that accent the “inner isle folk” accent. Lestan couldn’t help but smile at a familiar accent. Suddenly, this place felt a little bit more like home. 

“Weh, dose damn trees.” He returned that faint smile, his smile, despite everything, still had that warm quality of the shade blocking out the worst of the summer heat and instead you were just warm to the bones. There was still a kind man deep down inside him somewhere. “Mais, I’d love to stay for teah.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

It wasn’t often Oren allowed another to merely sit and speak with him. Eventually, he’d get up and leave, make some petty excuse because anything was better than sitting with a stranger and having that awkward small talk he hated so much. At least there was a sense of familiarity here.

“What part o’ Lousiana are ya’ from, mate?”

[captainheroism]

[the-write-ideas]

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

[museinspo]

the-write-ideas:

They’ll have to:

Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question.

Answer that question.

[destructivemeadow-blog]

Ashlee fixed Oren with a cold stare - all she knew about him was that he was one of the resident doctors, and so far, he was irritating. Besides, he kind of reminded her of Max, at least physically, and that instantly made her not trust him. “Well, you asked about it, so I’m sorry if you don’t like the answer.”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

“I only meant to ask so that I could suggest, perhaps, some caution when going outside these walls. The dead aren’t the only things that can kill you. “ He smiled then, too saccharine-sweet. “I am concerned for your well-being, that’s all. Excuse the intrusion.”

[destructivemeadow-blog]

“Hunting? It’s… you know, mainly filled with waiting. It’s pretty boring for most of the time. Why?”

[orenmacnamus-blog]

“Boring? Aye, I suppose that’s why most end up with a scrap or two and come to the Doc for some pain killers.” A small and thoughtful hum escaped from his throat, “Definitely sounds borin’ t’ me.”

[peekasso]

art is just art

[ofblairs]

Stupid, stupid, stupid. She got hurt, of course. It wasn’t anything fatal, her hand had just gotten sliced with a shear while she was tending to the field, but it would be the scar that’d leave her imperfect. She already wasn’t flawless enough, Richard made sure she knew. A scar would just be something ugly. Pressing the towel in her hand, Arabella found one of the doctors with tea as her fist curled around the small rag.

“That’s very nice of you, thank you. Got anything that’ll help heal this up?” She laughed nervously, holding up her hand and the almost soaked rag. The nurse couldn’t do much, but she wasn’t expecting much help.

Cringing at her own bad joke, Arabella sat down, quietly taking a cup and a bit of sugar. “You’re one of the doctors, right?

[orenmacnamus-blog]

The drenched rag may have been disturbing to others ( the way it seemed to turn a darker shade of red the more the wound remained open fascinated him in some strange way; red had always been his favorite color ), but Oren was so desensitized to it that he merely looked at her hand once with an aloof expression before meeting her gaze.

“No, not a doctor. I’m just sittin’ here drinkin’ tea in this office-like room.” He offers a bland smile as if to lessen the blow of his sudden sarcasm. “Well, we can’t have ya’ bleedin’ all over the place in here. If ya’ want it stitched up, ya’ll have to follow me.”

He stood up, carrying his tea along with him, and moved from the room into the dimly lit hall. The room he led her to was much smaller than the last, but at least there was an exam table for her to rest on, along with the equipment he needed to actually help her. “How’d ya’ cut yourself?” he glanced up at her with interest. “Ya’ work on the farm, right?”

[captainheroism]