Just in case you’re naming any of your Hallowe’eny characters Samhain or find yourself talking about the origins of the celebration, it’s pronounced Sow-in/Sah-win. If you call it Sam-Hayn, Irish people will appear from the trees and thoroughly slap th’bejaysus out of you. It’s the law, I’m afraid.
Adam Parrish: Okay, I find a guy in a dumpster who turns out to be some kind of magician who can do all of this really weird shit like bring things back from dreams and speak to trees. Slap on top of that, he can take an unbelievable amount of punishment without one damn complaint.
This drabble from Seamus’ point of view for sparrowsace since that’s how she imagined the prompt being written and I’m a sucker for writing Dean putting his hands on Seamus see examples one and two =)
Seamus stood grumpily under the shade of the tree as he slapped sunscreen on his chest. There was just no way he could take the chance of getting sunburnt, first of all because Hermione gave a speech about skin cancer every time she saw someone sunburnt, and also because he was pretty sure his mam would find out somehow and either write him a howler or appear at the school herself.
He squished some more of the hated substance onto his hand and then tried reaching his back, straining with his pointy elbows sticking into the air.
“Oi, I think I the castle has a new ghost!” he heard Dean call.
Seamus scowled at Dean. To be fair, Seamus was incredibly pale. Being in the sun somehow made his skin look even paler, and he practically glowed when he stood in the sunshine. He heard the trio laughing and then heard a splash and a shriek, meaning that Ron and Harry had succeeded in getting Hermione’s hair wet.
My hands shaking
Someone’s telling a story in the next room
I swear I hear my name
Winds slapping trees back n’ forth
I stare out the window and think about all the things I’ve been putting off
I grind my teeth
Someone ask me a simple question
I laugh and tell them to fuck off
They walk away confused
I wonder what’s wrong with me
How have I become so bitter?
How have I become my own arch nemesis?
What do I think I’m holding onto?
Someone sends me a text
I look at it and sigh
Tell myself I’ll reply later
Always telling myself I’ll do it later
I feel sick
I look into the mirror and want to vomit
I drink when I don’t feel like drinking
I smoke when I don’t feel like smoking
I walk from the kitchen to the bathroom
From the bathroom to the kitchen
Just so I can pretend I’m doing something productive
I look out the open screen door and can hear cars humming on the parkway
I think of clever things I could’ve said in an argument I had three days ago
Angry at myself
I want to punch myself in the face
I want to rip my hair out
I want to take a baseball bat and destroy every possession that’s ever meant anything to me
I’ve become a ghost of my former self
Haunting finances and sociability
Everyday goes by quicker than the last
Everyday the horizon drifts farther away
I lost my appetite
I love life
I love people
I don’t want to die
I don’t want to make anyone’s day harder than it has to be
I don’t want to make anyone feel bad about themselves
I don’t want to feel like I have to lie to people when they ask me how I have been doing
Things will fall apart through out your life
Habits will shift and settle
Not just for you
But for everyone