#SCREAMING AND YELLING I HAVE MORE THOUGHTS I JUST

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (5)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Best Friend

Warning: Heartache

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @caught-in-the-afterglow @ana-marais98 @rylea08 @astraystayastayastray @partyparty-yah @skzswife @sillyhal @blackbluerose666 @mmarusa @seungminsapuppy @chanbahng29

A/N: Let me know in the comments if you think Y/N will give Minho another chance!?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

“What the fuck are you two doing!?” You scream as you run down the stairs, just as Chan raises his fist to Minho. You place your hand on Chan's chest, looking up at him with worried eyes. He's so focused on Minho he barely notices you there, until you press your hand harder on his chest. He feels you, he looks down, into your eyes and breathes. You can see the bruise forming under his eye right before you. He lowers his fist, unleashing his hand.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” Chan sighs.

“Are you okay?” You ask, gently running your thumb over his swollen face.

“Nothing I haven't dealt with before.” He chuckles. You smile at him before turning around. “You.” You snap, pointing at Minho.

“What?” He asks, crossing his arm.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” You yell. “Why are you punching Chan?”

“He fucking deserved it.” Minho spits. Chan lunges for Minho. You get in between the two, pushing Chan out of the house. The two of you walk to Chan's car as he tries to calm down.

“He's such a fucking asshole.” Chan groans, speeding from your house.

“Tell me about it.” You sigh. You glance over at Chan, as he turns onto different streets to get to the restaurant. You watch him as he chews on his bottom lip, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives.

“What's up?” You ask, giving him a smile.

“What do you mean?” He chuckles.

“You look like you're deep in thought over there.” You giggle.

“Yeah.. I'm battling internally about bringing up something. I don't want you mad at me.”

“Just ask.”

You knew it was going to be about Minho. And this time you weren't going to lie.

“You and Minho…” He pauses. You sigh.

“Yes.” You begin. “Minho and I have been sleeping together periodically but..” you now pause.

“But?”

“but.. I'm not sure to be honest. I don't know what it is. He's never taken me out, he tells people I'm not his type, he gets jealous when I'm with other guys but he doesn't want to be seen with me.. he won't tell Jisung about us but he'll go date this Maya girl.. and still fool around with me.. and I know I should stop it, I know he doesn't treat me good, he's mean but he's protective.. and I don't know, I'm just so confused.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“Come on, I'll say what I need to say inside.” He smiles, getting out of the car. You'd been rambling so long you hadn't even noticed the car had stopped. The two of you walk into the restaurant, to be seated immediately. You browse the menu, deciding to go with your favorite brunch menu item.

“So.” Chan says, clearing his throat. “It's good that you realize he's not treating you how you should be treated - and yes, I'm giving you the ‘you deserve better’ lecture, because you do.” He says. “Y/N you're bright, and beautiful and you absolutely deserve the world and someone who is going to publicly praise you in that world.” He smiles.

Your heart flutters. Chan was so sweet, thoughtful and caring. Not to mention so handsome. You felt safe with him and you liked him, so why couldn't you stop thinking about Minho?

“I think I need time away from him.” You say, resting your head on your palm. Time away would do you good but why did it have to hurt your heart so much?

“I think that's the best idea. You're more than welcome to stay with me.” He smiles.

“As much as I appreciate that, you live with Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin in a two bedroom apartment. I don't think there is much more room.” You giggle.

“I think you're right.” He laughs.

Later that day, you had messaged Hyunjin about crashing on his couch. You vaguely remembered your drunken night together, but definitely remembered him trying to kiss you. You decided that it was just from the two of you being drunk and left it at that. He of course, said yes about 3 seconds after you texted him. When Chan brought you home, you ran upstairs to pack some things, clothes, toiletries, stuff for school, things you would need to be gone for a week or two. You ran back downstairs and left while there was no one home, got back in Chan's car and he drove you over to Hyunjin's place. You hadn't even told Jisung that you weren't going to be home. You wouldn't have been able to do it in person, when he asked you why, what were you going to say? You fucked his best friend and he continued to treat you like shit but you continued to let him fuck you? No, you weren't ready for that conversation. It was easier to lie over text, for you at least. You told him it was a school project. He believed you, of course he did. He knew how you were about school.

“So.” Hyunjin begins. “You wanna tell me why you're staying here instead of your house?” He asks.

“Not yet.” You smile. “I've got a lot of things to sort out.”

“Is it Minho?” He asks.

You nod your head.

“Take your time, sweet. I'll be here whenever you need me.” He smiles. You curled up in the spare bedroom, in the new bed, in the new sheets that Hyunjin went out and bought today, specifically so you didn't have to sleep on the couch. You told him you would have been fine but nope. That's not how he does things.

As you laid alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but feel like somehow this whole thing was your fault. You technically did start this whole.. whatever it was. But you knew it wasn't. He started it too, not just you. He's as guilty as you, if not more. You felt like you needed to talk to him to see where the two of you stood, but after what he said to you at the restaurant and then him punching Chan.. how could you even face him? You couldn't.

And you didn't.

The first week he texted you, a few times a day. He asked you what was going on, why weren't you home?

I miss you.

Did he? Or did he miss the hole that couldn't say no to him.

You never answered him. You read the messages and used a lot of self control to put your phone down and ignore him.

The second week it was mostly Jisung who messaged you. He was starting to believe it was not a school project that had you out of the house. He asked you to come home so he could talk to you. But you couldn't. Not yet. You were finally starting to feel a little bit different. Thoughts of Minho didn't fill your head at all hours of the day anymore, everyday it seemed to be less and less. You were starting to feel like it wasn't your fault that he didn't want anything more with you. You had often wondered, what was wrong with you? Why weren't you good enough?

And then on the 3rd week, you realized that it wasn't you. It had nothing to do with you and it was all him. You were worth more than what he was giving you. Jisung had messaged you, asking you what the hell was going on. Why Minho was sulking around the house, his fuse was short and he lost it over nothing. He said Minho was miserable and wanted to know if you knew anything about it.

You said you didn't.

By the 4th week, you were feeling better than you ever had. Even Hyunjin had noticed. You were brighter, happier and seemed to be more like yourself.

“You look like you've finally worked through everything.” Hyunjin smiles.

“You're right.” You laugh. “I've finally realized my worth.”

“Good. You deserve nothing but the best.” He says.

“Jisung said he was gonna be out tonight with Jisoo and..him. I'm gonna go home and grab a few other things. Thank you again, jinnie. You really saved me.”

“I'll save you anytime you need.” He grins.

Later that night you walk into the house you hadn't stepped foot in, in a month. It seemed different but the same at the same time. It smelled the same but different. You didn't know how to explain it. You quickly ran up the stairs, walking into your room to grab your things. You got some clothing items and a few other odds and ends you needed. You were going to turn around when you heard a door upstairs shut, footsteps coming down the hall. You freeze. You left your door open. You weren't facing it but you knew. You could feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

“No.” You panic. “I have to go.” You say, rushing past him, and down the stairs.

“Y/N!” he yells. “Wait!” he chases you down the stairs. “Y/N! Please, wait!” he says, reaching out. He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. You dropped everything in your hands.

“DON'T!” You yell, breathing heavily. “don't touch me. I don't want to talk to you. I'm finally getting to be in a better place.” You gasp.

“I'm fucking miserable, Y/N. I miss you.” He cries.

“Do you miss me? Or do you just miss fucking me?” You snap. Minho looks shocked.

“What?” He asks.

“Is that a hard question to answer?” You scoff.

“I miss you.” He says. “I.. I want to be with you.”

“In public? With everyone knowing? With Jisung knowing?” You ask.

“That's.. it's just..” he pauses.

“Yeah that's what I thought.” You laugh. If you didn't, you'd fucking cry and you didn't want to waste anymore tears on him.

“What can I do? What can I do for you to stay with me?” He asks.

“You seriously don't get it, do you?” You ask.

“Is it because of Chan?” He asks.

“You really don't fucking get it. I fucking loved you!” You cry. Tears rolling down your cheeks, you couldn't hold it in anymore. “I loved you and you used me. And I went along with it because at least I got you in some way.” You breathe. You didn't hear the front door behind you open. Or the footsteps quietly walking in. “But you couldn't be bothered to make any kind of effort for me. Instead you got jealous when I was with other guys, you said vile things to me, you made me feel worthless but I still let you fuck me! I loved you and you broke me! Because you refused to be honest with yourself or with Jisung!”

“You did what to my sister?” You hear from behind you. You turn around, Jisung stands there, Jisoo by his side as he shakes with anger.

“What the fuck did you do to my sister!?”

“I can explain.” Minho says, backing away from the angry man.

“Why the fuck is my sister screaming at you about how you fucked her and threw her away?” He yells.

“I never threw her away, man! I didn't do that. I love her!” Minho yells back. He looks shocked at his words. You stare at him with wide eyes, Jisung still rages.

“If you love her why the fuck would you do that to her?”

“I was scared! I was.. so fucking scared. You said she was off limits, but it was like I became addicted and I didn't fucking want too. You're my best friend, you've done so much for me. I tried to fucking stay away, I said some awful shit to her in hopes she would leave me, I tried dating Maya to move on from her but I fucking can't.” Minho cries. “I'm a piece of shit man, I know this. I fucked it all up, I should have been fucking honest from the start..I'm so sorry. I'm sorry to you Y/N, for everything. Jisung.. fuck man, I'm sorry.” He whispers.

The house is silent. So quiet you could hear your heart beating at Minho's confession. Your head was spinning, you didn't know what to do or what to think. Your heart hurt, but it also was beating for him. You were still so fucking mad at him, but you still loved him. The second you saw him, every feeling you had ever felt for him came rushing back, and you didn't know how to handle this.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.” Minho cries. “Please. I'm so fucking sorry.” He still looked so beautiful even as miserable as he was right now. Even with tears falling down his face as he begged you to forgive him.

It was too much. This was all too much.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jisung asks. The room was spinning. You felt hot, like your throat was closing up. You looked at Jisung in a panic as your eyes closed, you fell, and the world went black.

#straykidsland #lee know #lee minho #heartbreak #stray kids minho #skz minho #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids writing #skz writing #kpop fanfic #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

[blingblong55]

Jokes and all -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Also, I was wondering if you could make a story where R/n’s past is like Ghost’s and R/n just makes jokes about the past🤔🤔🤔 ---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship (no clue if this is even fluff) ----

War has always been a part of your life, much like Ghost's. It’s the constant hum in the background of your existence, the familiar rhythm you’ve grown up with. Your name? It’s R/n. But most people just call you Grim. It fits. Like Ghost, you’re a product of your past, a shadow of memories that echo through your actions.

You grew up in a rough neighbourhood in Manchester. Your father was a brute, a man who believed that fear was the best way to control a family. He’d come home drunk, looking for any excuse to use his fists. Your brother tried to shield you, but he was just a kid himself. Eventually, you learned to fend for yourself, to take the hits and keep going. The scars you carry are not just physical but etched deep into your soul. But you don’t let them define you; instead, you joke about them. It’s your way of coping, your shield against the pain.

Joining the military was your way out. The SAS became your new family, a place where you could channel your anger and your skills. You were good—no, you were damn good. It wasn’t long before you caught the attention of Lieutenant General Shepherd, and before you knew it, you were recruited into Task Force 141.

That’s where you met Ghost.

You were kindred spirits, though. Both of you had clawed your way out of hell, and in some twisted way, that formed a bond. He didn’t talk much about his past, but you saw it in his eyes, in the way he moved, always calculating, always prepared for the next fight.

One day, during a particularly gruelling mission in a remote part of Eastern Europe, you and Ghost find yourselves huddled behind an abandoned building, bullets flying overhead.

“Reminds me of home,” you quip, peeking out to return fire. “Except less screaming and more bullets.”

Ghost glances at you, his eyes crinkling slightly behind the mask. “You had bullets at home?”

“Nah, just the screaming. My old man loved to yell. Thought it would toughen us up. Guess he was right.”

He nods, understanding in his gaze. “Toughness isn’t just physical, Grim. Sometimes, it’s about surviving up here.” He taps the side of his head.

You chuckle, though there’s no humour in it. “Yeah, well, my old man did a great job then. Mental scars and all.”

You share a brief, heavy silence before Ghost gives the signal to move. You slip through the shadows, your training kicking in seamlessly. You’re a perfect team, your movements synchronized like a deadly dance. It’s in these moments of chaos that you feel most alive, and you know Ghost feels the same.

After the mission, you sit around a makeshift campfire, the rest of the team spread out, securing the area. Soap is tending to his gear, Price is on the radio, and Gaz is…well, Gaz is being Gaz.

You poke at the fire with a stick, lost in thought. Ghost sits next to you, his mask pushed up just enough to take a sip of water. “You ever think about going back?” he asks suddenly.

You snort. “To Manchester? Hell no. Nothing there for me but bad memories and a graveyard full of regrets.”

“Family?”

“Just my brother. Haven’t seen him in years. He got out before I did. Good for him, though. He deserves a better life.”

Ghost nods, understanding without prying. That’s the thing about Ghost—he never pushes, never demands more than you’re willing to give. It’s a silent respect you have for each other’s boundaries.

Days turn into weeks, and your missions grow more dangerous. Each time, you and Ghost fight side by side, your trust in each other is unspoken but absolute. You share dark humour to lighten the mood, your pasts becoming fodder for your twisted jokes.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you find yourself staring at the stars, the weight of the world pressing down on you. Ghost joins you, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll make it out of this alive?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost is silent for a moment before replying, “Sometimes. But then I remember we’ve already survived the worst. This…” He gestures to the desolate landscape. “This is just another fight.”

You smile, a real one this time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’re survivors, you and I.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you. “We’re more than that, Grim. We’re warriors. And we fight for those who can’t.”

You smirk, wanting to lighten the mood. “Look at us, all noble and heroic. Think we can get capes with our uniforms?”

Ghost chuckles softly, a rare sound. “Only if they come with matching tights.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’d look good in tights. You, though? Not so sure.”

He tilts his head. “I make anything look good, Grim. Even tights.”

The banter, light and easy, wraps around you like a shield, deflecting the darkness of your pasts. In moments like this, you feel the weight lift, if only slightly, and you’re reminded why you fight.

The next day, you’re deep in enemy territory again, the tension high. As you navigate through a maze of crumbling buildings, you crack another joke. “You know, if we survive this, I’m buying you a drink. Or ten. You look like you could use it.”

Ghost smirks behind his mask. “You’re assuming I drink.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, Ghost. Everyone drinks. Especially after dealing with this kind of crap.”

“Well, in that case,” he replies, “make mine a double.”

The mission is brutal, but you and Ghost emerge victorious, your bond stronger than ever. Later, as you sit around another fire, you share a flask, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you.

“To surviving,” you toast.

“To more than surviving,” Ghost corrects, clinking his flask against yours. “To living.”

As you lie under the stars that night, the past feels a little less heavy, the future a little less daunting. With Ghost by your side, you know you can face whatever comes next. In the end, you’re more than your scars, more than your memories.

Tags: @nyx129 @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @believeinthefireflies95 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @noodlezz-bedo

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you

[reidrum]

good night moon | s.r

A/N: hi again ! this one is deeply self indulgent i fear but who cares i hope you like it as much as i do <3 ps let me know what kinda fics i should write next !!

cw: spencer reid x bau!reader, cm type violence, reader is afab but this only is referred to when mentioning reader is a daughter, sad thoughts, hurt/comfort, talks about nightmares, spencer just wants to take care you gdm it why won’t you let him

wc: 2.4k

_______________________________________________

trudging up the stairs of the bullpen, you tried your best to use whatever sense you had left to beeline to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. thank god the bau had minimal reflective surfaces because you’re sure you look like the evil old lady from snow white. that was just, your opinion of course. to everyone else you looked fine.

fine was so subjective. what did these fuckers know about being fine? they weren’t the ones on the mission. they don’t know what you saw, how you did nothing, how you couldn’t do anything.

“FBI hands up!” you yell holding your gun and flashlight at the unsub. he’s holding the victim at knifepoint, a twelve year old girl who reminded you too much of yourself.

this unsub’s MO was kidnapping eldest daughters of families that had sons as well, because he believed the son should be the eldest child with the most responsibility and that the daughters were only there to create more babies. the team had deduced that he was the youngest child to an older sister who he felt had too much control over him, combined with his fascination with the perfect nuclear family, it slowly turned him into a sociopathic killer.

“come any closer and i’ll slit her throat!” the unsub bellowed, getting dangerously close to her carotid artery.

“you don’t wanna do that, man,” derek says behind you, “just put the knife down and we can talk.”

“there’s nothing left to talk anymore! i’m already going to prison. there’s no point.”

you called out the unsub’s name, “i know how you’re feeling, i have a younger brother too and he feels the same way you do sometimes. what your sister did to you was not okay, but not all sisters are like that. we just want to care for our family. let them have the chance to be the big sister you wished for.”

the unsub seemed to contemplate your words for a minute, then looks up at you with eyes devoid of any light, “then this one is dedicated to you, agent.” and he drags the knife across her neck leaving waterfalls of blood coming out.

you’re not really sure what happened next. a gun went off, presumably derek’s, to kill the unsub. and then it was you screaming as you rushed to the young girl to try and stop her bleeding, but it was no use. the cut was deep enough to nick that damn carotid and all you could do was hold her in her last moments.

“te- tell my family i love them, and that i’m sorry.” the young girl spurts out so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“no sweet girl, don’t be sorry,” you say through hiccuped cries, “i’m sorry i couldn’t save you.”

the last thing you remember was feeling strong hands carrying you out of the building. you couldn’t hear much, the sound of your wails pretty much masked anything in a five mile radius. you could taste the iron lingering in your mouth from biting your lip too hard and desperately collecting the salty tears and sweat trickling down your face. at first you smelled smoke and dust, most likely from being in the cave where the unsub was. but as you were being dragged away from the crime scene you were influxxed with a musky scent, and a hint of vanilla with that fresh laundry smell. spencer. the last thing you see are his worried little brown eyes staring down at you before everything goes dark.

that was monday. it is now thursday. the case had wrapped up, the unsub was dead the families were notified and now you all were in the office doing your paperwork for the case.

and all of you were doing fine, right? everyone else had already coped and processed the case, already stepping back into their normal life routines. but you, you couldn’t have it that easy, but god you wish you did.

since that day, you’d been holing up in your apartment with all the lights turned on. you sat in your living room, eating a bowl of fruit loops and watching bluey, because listen it’s a great show and we should acknowledge it. you cry out loud seeing bluey care for her little sister bingo, and it brings you back to that dusty cave and the bloodied hands.

you could feel sleep creeping up on you, yet you subconsciously found a way to push bedtime by doing menial tasks like cleaning, extra long skincare, watching a movie. when you ran out of things to do, you entered your room and just stared at your bed. how were you supposed to admit to yourself that the horror isn’t in the movie you just watched where the creepy demons kill everyone, but it’s what is waiting for you behind closed eyelids.

so the only logical solution was to just, not sleep. you whipped out every trick in the book to stay awake for as long as you could— energy drinks, coffee, splashing cold water, anything so you wouldn’t have to reface your plagued memories.

spencer observed you from a distance. he watched as you got coffee a whopping three times before 10am, you picking at your skin, not to mention the bags growing under your eyes. it was then he formed a hypothesis, he was a scientist after all. that you simply were not sleeping because of the case. it was much less a hypothesis and more of a fact because he knew exactly what it was upon first sight of you, hell he invented the sleep avoidance look.

and as the inventor it meant he knew the feeling more intimately than he would like to admit. spencer knew what it felt like to be debilitated by the confines of your brain, holding onto shreds of memories you know are not worth remembering but have somehow marked their territory anyway. and everyone coped differently, for spencer he isolated himself for days and then threw himself into work. for you? well, that was the next part of spencer’s experiment.

spencer approaches you in the kitchen as you’re pouring your fourth cup before noon, “hi.”

“hi.”

“how are you? feels like we haven’t talked in a bit.”

“i’m good, sorry i’ve just been. busy.”

spencer frowned internally, he knew you weren’t doing a single thing but working at the office. “are you okay? do you want to talk about last week?”

you cut him off abruptly and start walking out, “i really have to finish these reports spence, talk to you later.”

spencer knew better, he should give you space to cope by yourself. you were an adult, you can take care of yourself. but you shouldn’t have to, he thinks. spencer still tells himself he knows better as he’s waiting on your doorstep that night, about to the rapp the door.

after a minute of no answer he knocks again this time calling your name through the door, “will you let me in please? i want to show you something.”

still nothing. he continues, “i know what you’re feeling, and i want to help, please.”

he almost gives up and turns around when he hears the turn of a lock and slight creek of the door opening to see you in all your beautiful glory.

now you, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes. avengers pj shorts with a baggy uni t shirt, hair flying in any direction, and a look that spencer could only describe as grief. but god if you weren’t the most beautiful human he’d seen in his life, he’d be lying.

you were coming up on day 3? or was it 4? of no sleep. it’s not like you were not sleeping at all you took little 30 minute naps each day, enough to get you some shut eye but not enough to make it your rem stage of sleep.

spencer speaks again, “can i come in?” you nod silently and open the door wider for him to step in. he removes his shoes and it’s then you notice a big ole tote bag he’s lugging to your living room.

“what’s in the bag?”

“ah, come sit. i brought magical things.” he smiles playfully.

you shuffle over to sit a seat’s cushion away from him and watch as he starts pulling item by item from his mary poppins bag.

candles, essential oils, books, but specifically romance novels with the silly cartoon covers that he swears aren’t real books but you argue with him until he concedes, melatonin gummies, pillow sleep spray, and one more item that he’s holding onto for what seems to be dramatic effect. you’re not amused.

“and the piece de resistance,” he presents the last item, and you look confused for a second, until you recognize the item in front of you and immediately start tearing up. in his hands is a grogu weighted stuffed animal that he holds out for you to take. “i know you’re not sleeping. it happened to me when, you know. i figured it would be helpful if you had someone who could empathize how you’re feeling. and because you’re my best friend and i care about you.”

your bottom lip trembles, and you feel the ice block you’ve kept yourself in this past week start to melt uncontrollably. “spence…” you breathe out so quietly. he did all this? for you? doctor spencer reid went out to the store, and bought a grogu stuffed animal for you to cuddle at night to ease your loneliness?

the concept of being taken care of was so foreign to you, as the eldest daughter in your family it was always you taking care of others and making sure everyone was okay. but rarely did anyone check on you, how you were holding up. and you had learned to cope by yourself, to handle the big emotions by yourself, but for once, someone was willing to take all that weight off your shoulders and let you breathe. and god, did it feel so cathartic you could burst out in sobs.

so you did.

“hey,” he says scooting closer to you so he can scoop you into his chest, “was that a lot? penelope said i’d probably overwhelm you but all of the things i brought are scientifically proven sleep additives-“

“no i just, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” you whimper.

spencer’s eyes soften, “you deserve it. what happened last week… was hard. i just wanted to help.”

“thank you,” he hears a muffled response and rubs his hands affectionately down your back, “damn, all this crying is making me so tired.”

“see! the magic of the poppins bag.” he chuckles. you laugh too. spencer thinks all the flowers in a mile radius just bloomed.

“it’s just,” you start out, nuzzling into his chest deeper, “the second i close my eyes and dream, i see her. and how i couldn’t save her. and how the others i couldn’t save either.” you feel your chest seizing up again.

“okay well hey, hey. you did what you were trained to do. any other agent in your position would’ve tried talking him down the way you did. and your personal story gave you an advantage that no one else would’ve had. statistically speaking, you were the best chance at getting through to him. yeah it didn’t work, but it wouldn’t be probability if it always worked,” he cradles your face in his big hands, “we’re all so proud of you, you know. rossi’s waiting for you to be back on your feet so he can host pasta night at his hou- sorry his mansion again.”

spencer looks down at you properly to your tear stained cheeks and brushes your hair back. he sees the pain and tiredness fighting behind your eyes and asks softly, “what do you need right now?”

“i’m tired.” you lament.

“then lets go sleep.”

“i can’t.”

“why not?”

“im scared.”

“well that’s why i brought the stuff silly goose,” he taps your nose, “come on, let’s go set it up.”

spencer brings all the sleep aids to your room and sets them up appropriately, even plugging in your sunrise lamp to help with the ambient lighting. the only thing left to do is for you to get into your bed.

you both stand on opposite sides of your bed, and he’s waiting for you to get in so can tuck you in. you hesitate and look up at him with the same worried eyes he saw all those days ago.

“could you stay for bit?”

“i can stay for some time if you want” you both speak at the same time. you giggle again, spencer thinks an angel got its wings.

thank god he wore sweats and a comfy t shirt he thinks. he slid in under the blanket and holds it open for you to come in, “come on, you’re missing the cuddle party with grogu and i!” you beam widely and finally sink into your bed.

spencer pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder blade, and the other taking a spot on your hip rubbing soft circles. you lay your head to rest on his chest, right above his beating heart. you try to let the metronomic thumps lull you to sleep, but spencer can still feel your eyelashes fluttering about on his chest. he knows what you’re thinking, because of course he does.

“look at me,” he nudges you, you look up at his eyes again and see nothing but pure love and reassurance as he continues, “you are safe. nothing can hurt you. i promise.”

“are you sure?” you let out meekly,

“i’m sure. it’s okay, go to sleep,” he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your forehead. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you shakily take a deep breath, and close your eyes.

after five minutes of spencer rubbing shapes into your back, he can finally hear the soft snores coming from below. he places another kiss on your head, whispers, “good night angel girl,” and doses off.

you wake up the next morning feeling so rested and relieved you can’t help but give spencer a big hug that wakes him up. spencer thinks he’d be the luckiest man in the universe if he could wake up like this everyday.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

[nhasablogg]

Tickle fics

Fandom: Red, White and Royal Blue

Characters: Henry/Alex

Summary: Alex reads a tickle fic about them aloud and Henry is having a totally chill reaction to it.

A/N: Soooo I do admit not a lot of tickling happens in this one (if any?). It's more of those fics with (the concept of) tickling that I love writing. BUT if you're nice maybe I will write you a sequel with the thing Alex mentions toward the end ;) Actually I probably WILL write it either way, although maybe I won't have the fics be connected. I hope you like this regardless!

Words. 1.2k

Alex finds it funny, and Henry likes watching him giggle over the phone, but, respectfully, Henry is about to die if he keeps it up.

Gripping the pillow he’s fighting against covering his face with, he tries to keep his features neutral, the opposite of Alex’s animated movements. He’s all hands and expressions, all laughter and voices. Maybe it’s Henry’s silence over the voice Alex has chosen to adopt each time Henry’s character speaks - too high pitched, not even the right British accent - that finally makes him look up from the phone, eyebrow raised, sentence dying at the tip of his tongue. “You don’t like this story?”

“It’s a great story.”

“But you’re barely reacting.”

“I was simply just enchanted by the descriptions. You know-” He sits up straighter, eyes on the back of Alex’s phone. “My interpretation of the story relies on how you read it to me. What words you choose to emphasize. What tone you adopt.”

“So you’re saying the way I’m reading is boring.”

“Not at all.”

“Hmm. Okay, look.” He shoves the phone in Henry’s face. “Read this.”

All Henry sees is giggle and tickles and it makes him want to scream. “Okay.”

“Read it aloud. I wanna see how you’d read it.” He leans back, grinning at him. “Since apparently I’m not a good narrator.”

“Oh my god, Alex, that’s not what I meant. I simply thought it was an interesting observation which was entirely on topic by the way-”

“You’re trying to get out of this.”

“I am not-”

“So read.”

They’ve done this before. Henry has never cared about the world of fanfiction, which Alex finds interesting since he is a man of letters and stories. Alex, on the other hand, was looking up fanfiction about the two of them the very moment they started sleeping together, sending him links and screenshots with lewd emojis. It was only after they became official that he started reading them aloud to him, sometimes as a joke, sometimes to see what Henry thought of certain, uh, activities. Henry has never called him out on it, mostly because it’s been quite effective.

“Look,” he said earlier that evening, tapping Henry on the arm. “I found a tickle fic of us.”

Henry nearly broke his own neck from how quickly he turned toward him. “S-sorry?”

Alex took his spluttering in the wrong way and nodded eagerly. “I know! Apparently that’s a thing. Listen to this.” He cleared his throat. “This is in the middle of the fic, it doesn’t start like this. Henry managed to call out a panicked, “No!” before Alex had switched spots, fingers curling over the area and making Henry howl with laughter, much different than June’s quiet pleading, but nowhere near Alex’s yelling. I don’t yell by the way. Also it’s a little weird that June’s in here. But oh my god, I need to read you the whole thing, it’s glorious. It’s about me compiling a list about my favorite things about you and putting you being ticklish on there, which I guess is kinda true. The author’s this weirdo called N-”

Henry grips the phone tighter now, scanning the screen. “Where did you stop?”

“About here.” Alex points and Henry tries to breathe.

“‘I should pin you before you fall off,’ he said, and Henry positively whined- I don’t whine.”

Alex waves his hand. “You do. Keep reading.”

“‘You liked that?’ ‘Let go of me, you brute.’”

“It does kinda sound like you, doesn’t it?” Alex has his cheek pressed to Henry’s shoulder, eyes on the phone. He can probably feel the heat radiating off of him and Henry tries to calm down, he really really does. “You’re certainly just as ticklish. Not sure if you like it when I tickle you, though.” He turns to grin at him, all cheeky innocence and Henry deserves a prize for the way he doesn’t look away.

“Right.” The prize should promptly be taken from him due to the way his voice wavers.

Alex sits up, as if he only just now realizes how not chill Henry has been during this entire interaction. “Wait, do you?”

“No.”

“Baby.”

It’s so unfair when Alex baby’s him. “I don’t.”

To Alex’s credit he seems to be trying very hard not to smile now. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s very hot in here.”

“Come to think of it, you’ve been blushing this entire time.”

“I have not.”

“Did you write this fic?”

“What? No!”

“But it’s not far off, is it? You don’t mind when I tickle you.”

Henry finally covers his face with that stupid pillow. “Please god, what did I do to deserve this.”

Alex is laughing as he pulls at the pillowcase. “Come on, don’t hide. It’s cute. I swear I didn’t pick this fic to embarrass you. I hadn’t connected the dots until literally just now.”

“There are no dots.” Henry gives up on the pillow and lets Alex take it. “This fic is simply not good.”

“Oh, come on now.” Alex makes a move as if to touch him and thinks better of it. “You almost never protest when I tickle you. You always seem to be in a better mood afterward. You don’t have to be into it or anything to not mind it.”

Henry whines - stupid N being right - and shuts his eyes. “I- okay, fine, I don’t fully mind it. Not when you do it.”

“Baby, that’s so cute.”

“I will literally murder you.”

“Tell me.” Alex is suddenly closer. Henry can feel his breath at his neck, but he refuses to open his eyes. “Did it do something to you to hear me read that fic?”

“Alex-”

“Did you enjoy it? I certainly like watching you squirm.”

Henry opens his eyes and Alex is right there. “I won’t answer that.” A breath, and, “You already know the answer.”

“Oh, that I do.” A fingertip on Henry’s thigh. Henry imagines it moving further in, touching his most delicate skin. He rarely allows himself to think this - shame and guilt always gripping him - but sometimes, when he’s alone in bed or has Alex sleeping beside him, he imagines what it would be like to fully lose control to teasing fingers.

He’s never thought this fantasy will play out. He doesn’t know how to approach it now.

But Alex is there, so certain with it. So nonjudgmental.

“Tell me,” he says now, finger still but still touching. “What would you want me to do to you, if you could have me do anything? Pin you? Tie you up? Tickle you so gently you nearly scream? Or maybe you’re more into the playfulness of it. Maybe you like it when I’m quick and brief.”

“I don’t know what I like.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Alex grins, all teeth and glee. “Maybe one of those fics can help us figure it out. Combined with some experimentation, of course.”

Henry doesn’t know if he should curse N out or thank her. Maybe both.

#tickling #ticklish!henry #firstprince fic #tickle fic #rwrb fic #n writes #tickle fics #lmao idk what else to name it

[lagncx]

Dad! Astarion x reader

Tw:Cazador,thigh biting (chat….erm giving??), something else who knows I’ll edit it, oh yea….trauma, crying vampires

You stood in the middle of the room listening to the screaming match between your son and your husband. Your son had broke something, it wasn’t even expensive or sentimental but your husband and child have been boiling and keeping a tight seal on it so everything that came out was from a deeper wound. 

  “You know dad all you do is try to control me!!” Your son yelled, his nickname was Kay. It was a little thing you gave him after he would beg you to tell him the story of you, hero of faerun but your friend, Karlach, was the one he loved hearing about. “I control you? Don’t you even try that with me Kay! I’ve given you freedom totally appropriate for your age!” Your mind buzzes itself out of the conversation “Mom!” Your son looked at you, begged you to step in. You turned to Astarion who shook his head signaling for him to handle this. It was a respect thing. You don’t downplay Astarion in front of his son, not even if you disagree. It was so your son could understand the respect he gives you is also given to his father. So you stayed silent. “Seriously?!” Kay scoffed “yes seriously, you know you always have an excuse for doing anything kay it’s always ‘it wasn’t me dad’ ‘it’s not a big deal dad’ you need to be cautious and careful. What if that meant a lot to me?” Astarion asked, trying to be calmer for your son. “But it doesn’t so what?” Your son snapped “All you do is complain about how much you do for me. I hear about it all the time!” Your husband laughed tiredly “yea well I wish my son wasn’t some stubborn idiot!” You slapped Astarions shoulder “Hey, that’s eno-“ 

“well at least I’m not weak.” Your son's tongue was moving like a snake. It was going to sink his words into your husband like a fang. “That’s enough” you said but then Your husband pushed you “no, no tell me! What do you mean?!” Your husband walked over towards your son, your son stood up straight puffing his chest, his hands balled up and you felt that…rage. From both of them. Rage and pain. They were both looking at each other waiting. Your son decided he was going to take it farther. “La’zel told me about you dad. Before me, with the tadpoles, You and mom, but she also told me about Cazador.” You saw Astarions face twitch. “You just suffocate me dad! You tell me what to do, what not to do, how to act, stand, sit, behave. Not because your my father! You keep me under your foot because you don’t want me to be some victim like you.” The words slipped off his tongue like a slur and you were tempted to grab it. You stepped forward “Both of you! We’re all just tired and you are saying things you don’t mean.” You sighed one hand on Your son's head and the other on Astarions side “no…no he meant it. He meant all of it.” Astarions usual face of disgust and sadness stayed on his face “you have one more time to disrespect me, after that your going to uncle gale in water deep for winter. I pray to the gods that I do not rip the tongue of my only child right here.” You sighed your hands flopping over your face “both of you,please we’re all just tired.” 

  “Shut up! All you do is try to fix it. You can’t! He obviously thinks of me as some weak victim. Maybe he’s right.” Astarions voice shook and broke “Kay. Go prepare for bed.” Astarion hands shook as he pointed to the stairs watching your son walk off. 

  What a shit show

You had begun talking to yourself in your thoughts like The dream visitor just for some comfort? You turned to your Husband halfway out the door “Star where are you goin?” You chased after him “I’m going to kill that gith!” He stormed towards a traversal sigil “Woah! No no my love! Don’t do that, she is our friend, remember?!” You stood in front of the sigil. Your husband's striking eyes were like a force pushing you to move, but you stood there. You saw the way his eyes watered some tears trickling before he went full into a breakdown “How dare she? How Dare She!” He sobbed falling to his knees and you immediately were at his side shushing him “That wasn’t for him to know! Till he could understand! How could she release that to My child?! I’ll kill her!” He cried into your shoulder “shh..my star. She probably didn’t mean bad by it. She was telling him your story.” You rubbed his hair giving his droopy ears a small kiss “yea, a story about a broken man.” He gasped barely getting the sentence across “yes, a broken man. A man who pieced himself together took back his identity, met people, made freinds, learned that there is good in the world. Released vampires that suffered your same peril. And he wasn’t a victim. Wasn’t weak. He was a survivor and he was strong. One of the most fearless strongest of us all. And he didn’t see how selfless he was till the end. And seeing all the good he did all the people he saved all the lives he freed.” Astarion only sniffled looking up at you “then, our hero had another journey, love…learning what it is to be loved and not just lusted for. And after that scary journey he put himself in another challenge…being a father having a son.” You whispered in his ear it twitched against your cheek as it perked itself up Astarion still shook from his previous tears you sighed “My little star. You are magnificent.” You hugged him rocking him, kissing him down his cheek to his lips with his permission the small taste of salt slipped past your lips from his tears they continued to fall. “Hush my love…hush now.” You kissed under his eyes earning a small “hun” from him kissing away the tears pulling away and looking at those puppy eyes. You pecked him harder a few times hearing his sobs turn to giggles “There you are.” You said with a  smile getting up pulling Astarion with you. “Come my star…do not let someone or something. Separate you and our son. Cazador doesn’t get to take this away from you too.” You said sternly looking into his eyes he nodded silently his small “I know..” how could he explain what Cazador did to him to his son…he already thinks he’s weak. That he probably isn’t even a man. “Darling” you said, pulling him away from those thoughts, Cazadors grip. “I’ll be right next to you.” You wiped some dirt off his cheek and he only leaned into your touch. You guys were a team. 

———

  The conversation was hard. Astarion had to take a few breaks to step out of the room. He didn’t want to cry in front of his child. But when he got through it your son had questions you let Astarion answer them which was his right. But when it was heavy Astarion would grip your hand almost like he had wylls contract on his tongue but he was asking for your help. 

 “Why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance?” Kay asked a little confused and maybe some of it went over his head. No worries. Astarion gripped your hand tight. “Well son, it wasn’t so easy. Cazador was the one who turned your father and so Cazador was his master. Your father tried to run once before me and him met but he was punished by spending years in a grave, alive. Scared” you rubbed astarions knuckles with your thumb soothing him subtly “it was to teach him…no…scare him, to make him never run off again. That his purpose was to serve cazador. And the abuse your father went through” A death grip on your hand. Warning you not to go into detail to not make him relive those restless nights. Those torturous days. You let go of his hand pulling him closer by his waist and he scooted comfortably against you. You rubbed his side comforting him. His hand was on your waist also, he trusted you. “…the abuse your father went through. Well it was horrible and horrific. That’s all you need to know.” You squeezed Astarion a little and he breathed a sigh of relief. Your son nodded climbing out of his bed and to your husband hugging him shaking and sobbing “I’m sorry dad I didn’t mean anything I said. I know your not a victim and none of it was your fault.” He sobbed his ears drooping in shame. He knew his father was strong and you knew the boy looked up to him. You were the only one to see it. Mother knows. Your son copied everything about his father from his attitude to his confidence and even some of his flaws…speaking out of anger. “oh my sweet little one…thank you it’s okay…and, I’m okay.” Astarion rubbed your son's tears off his face “I’m not an idiot right da?” 

“No little one.” Astarion held him close and he looked up at you mouth saying ‘thank you’ he closed his eyes. You went to go eat it seemed inappropriate but you wanted them to have some time. Time to cry in each other's arms and realize that when you passed…and you will. They will only have each other. 

/——

/——

You walked in your son's room seeing Astarion get up and walk to you “watching him sleep huh?” You chuckled. “Hush now, let's go to our room, yes?” He sighed tiredly and you just laughed picking him up on your back walking to the bedroom and laying him on the bed you helped him undress not in a rough sexual way. Just taking his clothes off as he lazily lifted his arms above his head “darling…” he whispered you were busy taking off hiss shoes and rubbing his feet pushing your thumb into the bottom of his left foot moving it up and down hearing him sigh. “Darling..” he whispered again and you took off his pants folding them neatly like how he showed you and feeling you kiss from his ankle up to his inner thigh nibbling softly on the tender skin “mm~ love..” he asked for your attention this time you acknowledged it “yes my star?” You said rubbing away the red mark on his thigh “will you please come cuddle with me already?” You smiled “of course.” You smiled before grabbing a few more nibbles and pecks on his tender thigh he  giggled kicking you off “stop it, you’ll bruise me!” You kissed his hips and up his stomach crawling onto him his legs wrapping around your waist holding you down “behave…” he warned and you pouted whining into his stomach he rolled his eyes “darling let’s rest…please” and you looked down sadly “do my kisses not satisfy you anymore?” You sniffled and he covered his mouth to hide the awe. He said his eyes sparkling from Your cuteness “my love your kisses nurse me back to health. But it has been a…long long day baby. And all I need is for you to hold me and I do the same…you can kiss me the whole night while we cuddle.” He let his legs relax and you smiled laying next to him pulling him close his back to your chest and he got into a fetal position “there just perfect” he purred 

…..

“Love, did you just bite me?”

….

“no.”

   ———-

 Hopefully you enjoy this guys like you guys enjoyed other papa Astarion but erm. Idk this is a bit angsty. I think it’s easy to write good fun parts but I always find I like the conflict and the resolve and I thought it would be important to have Astarion explain his past to his child unfortunately because of la’zel and her literal attitude she didn’t think before saying anything and well yea but it was out of pure love and admiration for Astarions perseverance and strength but it was supposed to be on his own time and I think that’s what made him so upset…I’m saying this like I didn’t write it.

#writing #fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #baldur's gate #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion #astarion imagine #bg3 tav

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 3!

Here, have some awkward flirting by two absolute lovestruck losers (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Oh how I love writing them being absolute disaster around each other asdsgsdhdff

@neo-kid-funk I managed to finish this part before I thought, I hope you like it!!! And I hope it fuels your inspiration for new art *evil laugh*

(For everyone who hasn't seen it yet, go to Neo's blog and enjoy her beautiful art!! This fic was inspired by her perfect design of older goth Nico <33)

Part 1, Part 2

~~~~~~

Nico didn’t expect it to become a habit. He expected it to be a one time thing, the kind of thing that turns your world upside down for a while but doesn’t really change anything in the long run. 

He expected to go back to work the next time for his shift and to not exchange more than a couple of words with Percy.

Even in his wildest fantasies he had not expected Percy to actually go and make conversation with him. 

“Doesn’t it drive you crazy? That you’re always on the beach so close to the ocean yet you can’t go in the water?” 

Percy had his usual drink in his hand, and Nico had been ready to wish him a nice day and watch him walk away as it always happened.

That was how things usually went. Not this.

Nico could feel his world shift around its axis (a little dramatic, yes, he knew, and he also had no doubt that Leo would tease him nonstop if he told him), and an annoying blush creeping up his neck to his face as Percy looked at him with a curious look.

He looked away, trying to find something, anything, to do that would make him appear busy and give him an excuse to avoid those way too perfect eyes.

He had not been prepared for this.

“Uhm”, he started, remembering that he had been asked a question.

He could almost hear Jason’s voice in his head yelling at him that it’s your chance, it’s your chance, talk to him!; together with Leo’s voice screaming go make him fall for you, goth boy!

Shaking his head a little, he tried to shoo them away.

“I’m not a huge fan of the ocean”, he said in the end.

And, well, that had been perhaps the wrong thing to say, judging by Percy’s horrified expression. Eyes wide wide and mouth hanging open there where he had been about to take another sip of his drink, he was looking at Nico like he had just admitted that he liked to kick kittens in his free time. It was equal parts comical and mortifying.

Before Nico could decide if he wanted to laugh at that expression or regret every life choice that had led him up to that point, Percy let out a shocked “What!?”

And for some reason, that made him chuckle, left him smiling behind his hand.

“Was that the wrong answer?”, he asked, trying and probably failing to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. 

Percy took a moment to answer. He was looking at Nico carefully, a weird expression on his face now that Nico couldn’t read. It made Nico feel a little unstable on his feet; he didn’t even realize he was staring right back at Percy until he noticed the slight red on his nose and cheekbones and found himself thinking that it was cute how Percy still got sunburn even when it seemed that he basically lived on the beach under the sun.

Percy cleared his throat, and the world started moving again around them.

“Yes!”, he said. “How can you not like the ocean?”

Nico shrugged, and threw a glance at the immense expanse of water before him. There were a lot of reasons he wasn't really fond of it, but he wasn’t sure Percy would appreciate them.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t like getting in the water”.

“That basically means you don’t like it though”.

Nico rolled his eyes. His heart was beating a little too fast, his hands were sweaty, and he kept playing nervously with the rings on his lips. And he wanted nothing more than for this moment and this conversation to stretch on for as long as possible.

“It seems you’re taking this pretty personally”, he said, smiling. 

Percy smiled back, and Nico’s heart replied with somersaults. “I am, I take the ocean very seriously”.

Nico had guessed, but it was nice hearing it directly from Percy, adding this information to his mental list of things I know about him. For some reason, he had the feeling that that list would keep growing from now on.

His eyes fell on the trident tattoo on Percy’s left bicep. It made Nico feel weak in the knees every time he saw it, his mind immediately offering him the haunting thought of what it would feel like under his fingers. He sort of wanted to bite it.

No, not the time for this kind of thoughts!

He was definitely blushing now - he just hoped that the shadow of the kiosk's little roof was enough to hide it. 

You’re the worst, Nico di Angelo, shame on you.

Percy must have noticed where he was looking though, because he glanced at his tattoo too. “Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious”, he laughed. 

Oh he had such a nice laugh. 

“You’re a big fan of the Little Mermaid?”, Nico asked, because for some reason that was the first thing that had come to his mind.

It made Percy laugh a little more though, so Nico counted it as a victory.

“That’s definitely part of it, I think I must have watched that movie a thousand times when I was little”.

Nico mentally added that new information to his list.

“Maybe you were a mermaid in your past life”, he suggested. “Or some sort of sea god”.

Those last words escaped his mouth before he could hold them back. He had not meant to say them out loud - damn his brain and his too fast mouth and his stupid huge crush. Percy did look like a sea god but that didn’t mean Nico had to say it out loud and expose himself like that. See, that’s why he didn’t want to talk to Percy, he knew he would make a fool of himself. Maybe the ground would be so nice as to open up and swallow him whole right now.

(Oh, he knew his friends would laugh at him like crazy for this later).

When he found the courage to look back at Percy, he found him still smiling, an amused look in his eyes. 

Nico’s stomach curled painfully on itself in a mix of embarrassment and stupid fondness. He was so weak for that look.

“In that case that would mean you just told a sea god that you don’t like the ocean”, Percy said. “That could be a problem”.

“I never said I don’t like it”, Nico pointed out, surprised at himself for how he could still speak despite his internal turmoil. “And also, I said you might have been one in your past life”.

Percy waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter. You know gods aren’t that reasonable”.

“Are you saying I should apologize?”

“Precisely”, Percy said, nodding solemnly.

That was such a weird conversation to have with someone you barely knew. Yet Nico couldn’t hold back the smile growing on his lips. Despite the continuous maelstrom raging inside him, he probably hadn’t stopped smiling for a second the whole time; it made him feel like a fool, but it was alright because Percy had been smiling for the whole time too.

“And how should I do that?”, Nico asked. 

Percy seemed to think about it for a moment. “You could let me teach you how to surf”.

Nico stopped. Time stopped, the whole world stopped, even the waves of the ocean itself probably stopped moving.

In the least useful way possible, his mind conjured the terrible image of himself on a surfboard in the water with Percy wet and handsome next to him, holding him to show him what to do.

No, nope, no way. He would end up drowning after two seconds, either because surfing was definitely not his thing, or because letting the ocean swallow him would be the less embarrassing option.

“Uhm”, was the only thing that came out of his mouth“I… don’t think that would be such a good idea”. 

Why is he asking me this though, oh my god what’s going on here.

His embarrassment must have caught up to Percy, because suddenly his smile turned awkward and so was also the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“I was just joking of course!”, he said quickly. Nico watched the way he rubbed his neck, the way he wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Well, then-”

“I mean!”, Nico cut him off without thinking. 

That well then sounded way too much like Percy was about to leave, and Nico didn’t want that.

The relaxed feeling from before was gone, replaced with awkwardness hanging heavily in the air around them. If he had let Percy leave now, Nico was afraid he wouldn't see him again.

Don’t ruin this! It’s your chance!

This time, he tried his best to listen to his friends’ voices in his head.

“I- I mean”, he said again. “I’m really not good with water”.

He hoped his smile came out more apologetic than absolutely mortified and embarrassed. The pounding of his own heart was deafening almost, he could feel it in his throat, making it hard to breathe and push the words out. “Thanks for the offer though…?”. It came out more like a question than anything.

Idiot idiot idiot.

“Ah- uhm”, Percy, said, letting out an awkward laugh. He wasn't looking at Nico anymore, his eyes fixed on his still half full drink. “Yeah, sure”.

You have to fix this!

“I'll just- look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar for now”.

Weird, that was weird! Had he really just admitted that he would just stare at him? Maybe drowning in the ocean really was the best case scenario for him. No way his blush wasn't visible right now. 

Percy must be thinking that he was the weirdest and creepiest guy right now. Nico wanted to die.

But then, Percy looked back at him, and the look on his face wasn't creeped out or uncomfortable - just surprised, eyes blinking slowly and mouth hanging open like he wanted to say something but didn't know exactly what. Nico watched as a small smile made its way back to his lips. The red sunburn on Percy's cheeks was mesmerizing.

“Sounds good to me”.

And okay, perhaps he hadn't ruined everything completely. Perhaps he would get to talk to Percy again.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, making Nico almost jump out of his skin. He had forgotten there was a whole world outside of himself and the man in front of him.

“Nico, we have to switch, it's time for your break”, Jason's voice reached him, bringing him back to reality. His friend was looking at him with a clear question in his eyes and badly veiled excitement - Nico knew he would want to hear everything about his conversation with Percy later. 

“Yeah, right”, he replied, half relieved and half disappointed that the moment was over.

He turned to Percy. He couldn't read the expression in his eyes. “Well, I have to go”, he said.

Percy nodded. The soft smile was back on his face, and Nico felt his heart melt at the sight. “It was nice talking to you Nico”.

“You too. Have a nice day, Percy”.

It was the first time he called him directly by his name, he realized. It sounded way too nice ok his tongue.

He kept staring at his retreating figure as he walked away, feeling unstable on his feet like someone had suddenly changed the gravity on Earth.

“You okay?”, Jason asked.

“Uhm… I think so? I'm not sure what just happened”.

Jason laughed and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“You can tell me everything later, alright? Come to my and Leo's place after work”.

Nico grimaced at the prospect - he could already feel the teasing that would come of it. But he did need to talk about it, so he nodded.“Yeah, alright”, he agreed. “But I really need a smoke now”.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #percico #nicercy #pernico #pjo #percico fanfic #goth/surfer percico #official tag for this au!!

[venturelovebot]

A/N: I felt bad yesterday so I did some comfort writing to make up for it! I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but maybe someone else will find comfort in it like I did. （◞‿◟ ;）

Premise: Reader has a massive sensory meltdown. Luckily caregiver!Venture is there to comfort them! ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ ) Use of feminine nicknames for reader, but otherwise completely gender neutral!

Warnings: Mentions of self harm (not graphic), vent age regression, lots of angst in the beginning!

"I'm going to bed early tonight." You call from the bedroom doorway. "Goodnight."

"Okay! Chat, say goodnight!" Sloan replies.

You watch as the side of the television screen erupts into a wave of cheerful emotes and various forms of "goodnight". A wave of exhaustion hits you once again and you make your way to your shared bed before collapsing onto the cool sheets below. Your body and brain feel like they're on fire from the endless sensory overload. Everything was entirely too overwhelming to deal with, and before you knew it, you were crying into the blanket as you succumb once more to the fiery abyss of sensory hell.

"Oh God, just let today end already." You murmur. "I can't take it anymore."

You wrap yourself up underneath the sheets in the fetal position as more hot tears spill onto your pillow this time. All sense of rationality had been ejected into the void– there was nothing you could say or do to yourself to prevent the oncoming meltdown today has brought upon you. You groan in discomfort as your skin begins to feel uncomfortable on your own body, wishing you could just unzip it and crawl out and hide away forever. Your fingernails desperately claw into your agitated flesh as your condition continues to spiral out of your control.

You can still hear your beloved laughing and making jokes in the living room. A sadness strikes your heart, wishing you could be next to them laughing and having fun like you usually are.

"Ugh!" You grab the other pillow and wail into it like no tomorrow.

"Stupid! So fucking stupid! Stop feeling bad already!" You grumble in a soft voice.

You're still careful not to make any loud noises though. The last thing you wanted to do is draw any attention to yourself. Although, you could hardly contain wanting to yell at the top of your lungs for it all to go away. Thousands of angry thoughts begin flying through your mind like a swarm of agitated wasps. You instantly cover your head with the beaten up pillow and scream as loud as you can before tossing it in a random direction, knocking something off the nightstand by accident. Whatever it was, it falls to the ground with a loud crashing sound and for a moment you're frozen in fear.

"What was that?" Sloan calls out from the living room. "Are you alright?"

"It was an accident! Sorry!" You answer in the most sober voice you could manage.

It wasn't technically a lie– you really didn't mean to break it– but now you feel the guilt and anxiety flooding your system right alongside the frustration and sensory overload that caused a toxic concoction of emotions running wild through your nervous system. More tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you peek over at the broken object. It was a beautiful hand made glass statue you had been gifted for your birthday from your family.

"Oh God, why me?" You whine as you pick up all the broken pieces with blurred vision.

One of the pieces slides across your finger and accidentally penetrates your skin, causing you to drop everything from the pain. Luckily none of it had splintered off, but you're still left with a particularly nasty cut that was starting to ooze blood. Inside your head you were thinking that you clearly did something to deserve this, but you sincerely wish you could remember what it was. You wipe away more tears with your blood stained hand before finally standing up and making your way into the bathroom.

The first thing you do is wipe the blood off your face and hand before tending to the wound on your finger, all the while trying to ignore the bright stripes across your arms created earlier by your fingernails. You splash your red, puffy face with a little bit of water to help you calm down, but the water droplets dripping down your irritated arms only made everything worse. You ball up a towel and viciously wipe yourself dry before tossing it haphazardly towards the towel rack you had gotten it from. It lands half way onto the floor, forgotten.

You hear a soft knock on the door, but it sounded more like nails on a chalkboard at this point. Uncomfortable chills run down your spine.

"Is everything okay, mi tesoro?" Your beloved asks from outside the bathroom.

"Yeah. I'm fine." You respond bluntly.

They slowly open the door to check on you. Guilt stops you from looking directly at them.

"You're bleeding! Did you hurt yourself?" They point out orb of blood that reformed on the tip of your finger.

"Not on purpose..." You explain. "I was just trying to pick up what I broke..."

They clean off your finger with soap and water before applying a little medicine to help it heal, wrapping it all up with a cutesy printed bandaid. Their touch feels pleasant on your scratchy skin.

"All better!" They smile at you.

You wish.

Their smile faded again. "What's wrong, cariño? What happened? Did I upset you?"

Your heart leaps in a panic. "No! Of course not! I'm just... not feeling well today..." Your vision blurs once more trying to explain yourself.

Sloan's arms wrap lovingly around you and pull you in for a comforting hug. You can feel yourself starting to slip as the tears arrive once again– falling with no warning, sobs escaping your stressed throat as your meltdown hits you full force. A soothing hand rubs your back in gentle, repetitive motions and you reach to throw your arms around their neck in a frantic attempt to console yourself.

"It's okay now, mi pollita. Let's get you back to bed, yeah?"

They steadily guide you from the bathroom and back into the bedroom where you spy the broken gift inside a cardboard box with the pillow placed back in the proper place on the bed. You collapse again onto the mattress and they lay down to join you, grabbing your hand and placing delicate kisses to your knuckles.

"You can cry as much as you need to, chiquitita. I'm right here." Their voice is so soft and genuine, like the embodiment of safety itself.

You move over to lay by their side and they protectively wrap an arm around you to hold you close. You bury your face into the fabric of their shirt as you weep out all the awful emotions built up inside from the aftermath of today. Tiredness weighs heavily on your eyelids with every tear shed, barely able to hold yourself together enough to form a sentence at this point.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you earlier, but I'm here now." They reassure you. "Nothing can hurt you anymore. I promise."

"Not your fault..." You mutter in response.

You sniffle as the metaphorical faucet of your eyes slowly turns into trickles, before stopping completely all together.

"Feeling any better?" They ask.

"Head... hurts..." You mumble.

"I'll go get you some aspirin." They lean down to place a kiss to your forehead and head towards the kitchen.

All is finally quiet: mind, body and heart.

"Here." They hand you a small pill and a cold cup of water in a plastic Sanrio bottle.

You drink it without hesitance. The water is refreshing to your fatigued throat and body. Every last drop makes into your mouth before you set the now empty container on the table side. Their hand reaches for the top of your head and ruffles your fluffy hair affectionately, causing you to giggle in response.

"There you are! My happy bebé!" They grin.

They reach down to nuzzle you before peppering your face in kisses, coaxing more gentle laughter out from your chest.

"I'm glad you're feeling a little better." They add.

You open your mouth to reply but all that escapes is a yawn.

"Someone's tired!" They playfully tease you, tugging back the covers for you to lay down inside of. "You've had a long day. Get some rest, mi amorcito."

As soon as your head hits the pillow and close your eyes, you're already half way asleep. You feel them tuck something fluffy and soft in with you before placing one more kiss to your forehead. Out of the corner of your vision you see stars and planets lighting up the wall as they turned on your favorite star projector for extra coziness.

"Buenas noches, dulces sueños, mi bebé. I'll be in bed soon." They promise.

#i almost didn't want to publish this because i was afraid of backlash but... we ball #sloan cameron #sloane cameron #venture x reader #venture x you #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #venture #venture overwatch #venture ow2 #overwatch fanfiction

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Alright, for your event

May I get the song Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton, with either Dogma or Fox, please?

And Congrats on your followers!

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

Ahhhh my love, thank you so much for putting in a request. It makes me so happy.

I wrote it with Dogma, simply because I hardly ever write about him, so I hope I did him justice.

I'm not sure if you'll appreciate my interpretation of Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton, but I do hope you enjoy this.

Love oo

Ordinary Day

Warnings: feeling overwhelmed, stressed, a little anxious, angsty, fluff, unexpressed feelings, mentions of prison. I think that's it. If I miss anything let me know.

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

You sat on the edge of the basecamp just needing to breathe, to find a quiet moment that was surrounded by talking, yelling, screaming (either in pain or otherwise). It was just constant, a constant drone, and all you wanted was silence. It took some time, but you finally found it, here at the edge of the field, as you breathed in the fresh breeze, while looking up at the night sky. Everyone else was running around too busy to actually take a moment to admire the view, and you couldn’t blame them really, there was a battle that needed to be prepared for, medics needed to make sure they had the supplies needed for the eventual loss of life and injuries to be sustained. 

You had your own preparations too, as the communications specialists, it was your job to make sure everyone knew what they were doing or where they were supposed to be positioned. However, General Skywalker was kind enough to realize you were on your last tether. 

He told you to get lost for at least two hours, and if anyone had a problem with that, well they could just talk to him about it. Although he didn’t look it, he was a really nice and considerate General. Well… some of the time. 

You simply closed your eyes, smiling as you felt another burst of fresh breeze brushing against your face. 

You couldn’t help it when your smile grew bigger as you heard those familiar footsteps. The sound of his movements were so strict and firm. So Dogma. 

“You’re not suppose to be out here”

You tried to fight back your giddiness even though it never worked, “I have special permission to be out here. I’m taking a mental break before I shoot someone.”

There was shifting and you felt rather than saw him sit beside. 

Dogma looked at your beautiful face, and despite himself, despite knowing it was against regulations, despite the fact that he could get in trouble for this, he couldn’t pull his eyes away or stop his hand from brushing an errant hair back into place. 

“You still shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone, you’re here” you still hadn’t looked at him, because you knew the minute you did, your resolve would crumble and the only emotion in your eyes that would shine as clear as day would be your admiration for him. 

“You got me there.” He smirked as he looked at you, “I had that same dream again.” You turned this time to look at him, listening as his eyes held just as much adoration and feeling as your own did, “I was just an ordinary guy, not a soldier, not a clone. I reached over and held your hand, feeling as though this is where I was meant to be. With you, under the stars.”

You felt the heat rush to your face as he kept talking and staring at you with those warm brown eyes, those eyes that said more than his lips ever could. 

“Stupid right?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Not stupid.” Your smile widened as you thought of your own sentiments and emotions, “It sounds like a perfectly ordinary dream, an ordinary dream that could be solved just by holding my hand.” You moved your hand towards his, offering it for him to take. 

His eyes drifted down to your palm, Maker, how he wanted to reach out and take it, how he wanted to rip off his gloves and feel your warmth against his own skin. But he was a good soldier, and good soldiers followed orders. His gaze shifted and looked up to the stars, “It’s an ordinary dream for an ordinary boy. Not a soldier.” He stood brushing off the dust, “We should head back in, it’s against regulations to be here outside of the camp after dark.”

You focused your eyes away from his and nodded, slowly standing, as your tears fought back against the warm bubble rising. You turned to look at him, but those affectionate eyes were gone and now there was nothing but the soldier. 

You jolted from your bed, looking up at the ceiling rafters, as the warm sun spread over your bed. You rubbed your eyes, trying to remember where you were, calming your racing heart, when you heard him clear his throat. You didn’t bother to fight the smile that appeared on your face, as you slowly turned to look at Dogma as he leaned against the door frame.

“Morning, mesh’la. Caf’s ready.” He walked over and placed down your mug on the bed side table, something he did every morning ever since you broke him out of prison and ran away to an outer rim planet. 

“Morning, gorgeous”

“Come on, time to start the day.” He smiled as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You pulled him closer, “I have a better idea.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, you stay here with me.”

“Hmmm sounds perfect,” he leaned closer, pressing his lips to yours, “like a perfect ordinary day.” 

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone @totallyunidentified @griffedeloup @leotatombs @leotawrites

#575 follower celebration! #Jukebox Roulette #Love oo #I hope you guys have fun with this #Follower Celebration #Star Wars Fic Roulette #Fic Roulette #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #star wars #starwars #the clone wars #the Mandalorian #Andor #Book of Boba Fett #original trilogy #Obi-wan #Ahsoka #The Bad Batch #star wars prequels #Didn't expect to do another follower celebration so soon #pick your character #tell me your favourite song #clone wars dogma #dogma #clone trooper dogma #dogma x reader

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

______________________________________________________________

It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved. 

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making you feel strange. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park. 

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.” 

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back. 

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” 

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne. 

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red. 

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.” 

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from. 

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.” 

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.” 

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…” 

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. 

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?” 

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”  

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.  

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?” 

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California. 

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home. 

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart." 

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?” 

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver. 

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively. 

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently. 

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters. 

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent? 

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you. 

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.” 

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul. 

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard. 

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?” 

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.  

“I mean…” "I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you. 

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?” 

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up. 

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face. 

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.” 

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.” 

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x oc #dacre montgomery #stranger things smut #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #dacryphilia #slow burn #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n

[heavensmortuary]

not even joking one bit but reading Trigun was like. It's ok to grieve and burn at the cruelty and overwhelming pain that you see and feel and know you're capable of immense evil and it's normal to feel disgusted with your own capacity for evil (even if you're trying your BEST not to hurt others) and it's ok to grieve about how broken the world is, as long as you don't go to those dark places, either in your mind or wherever your path leads, alone. As long as your anger doesn't lead you to sin. As long your despair doesn't pull others into despair.

That your own capacity for good and peace can be shattered in an single weak moment, and that's just your nature, but it has to be fought against regardless, and you can't do it alone. That grief and struggle are not things to keep to yourself, they're nothing to be ashamed about, that embracing them will help others too.

Trigun really said that joy ISNT happiness, and should never be confused as such. Joy is a bloody, dirt and glass shard covered thing. It's not just for yourself, but for others around you. If you have joy maybe they can hold onto it too, hold it close to them too. Because sometimes hope simply isn't enough. Sometimes things are hopeless. But joy makes a hopeless fight worth struggling over. Joy makes you abound in hope. Patient in tribulation. Lacking nothing.

To quote N.D. Wilson in 'Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl', "Tragedy must be destroyed by someone willing to be swallowed by it, willing to be broken, torn out of the flesh, but able to return to it."

It's holding nothing back. Willing to face to most horrific parts of your own self, the worst of this world, the things you are desperately scared of, the things you hate, to suffer long, and hold nothing back. To live like you're meant to die. Meant to be ragged. Run until there's nothing left, until everything is burned away and even the bones don't remain. That's how life is supposed to be lived. Nothing held back, thrown into the darkness. Biting and tearing screaming into the sunlight

#krakens croaks #trigun posting #SCREAMING AND YELLING I HAVE MORE THOUGHTS I JUST #gnaws on my own arm like that one reaction picture #thinking about #the scene with his scars and knives is like 'look what theyve done to you' and vash is like 'ill do it over if it means ill save just one #more person' #or something along the lines #to be used up. not to live life in comfort. its being of constant sorrow but endless joy #bite bite bite #'i cant stay. as much as i want to. i have things that arent finished' ROLLING AROUND ROLLING AROUND and he could have just stayed!!!

[jojo-schmo]

More Schmojo!! And I decided to name her dark matter friend living in her bubble rod, “Beauregard.” >:3

Plus some doodles I thought of during work, and a lighthearted poke at myself lol.

#like the adhd I have irl they are not evil or broken. just something that coexists alongside me. #I can yell and scream at it to go away and get frustrated at its existence #or I can learn to understand and cooperate with it so we can draw strength from each other #…..or something. hahaha they’re not true personifications of my diagnosis or anything but it’s just something I consider #like talking to myself almost haha. my inner thought process. and how I sometimes feel like I have two different halves to my personality. #not like I’m two faced tho! #like…. I experience opposite extremes of emotions sometimes #-twirls hair- can’t help being a Gemini!! #ANYWAY here’s more directors commentary for you #again they are not personifications of my diagnosis. I will throw both versions of my sona aro #*around my head like jumping beans teehee #kirbysona #art #Kirby series

[flintstill]

I don't know what it is about this lil 'stache on him, but it makes me absolutely feral

#Good God #*bites fist* #I came across this pic a couple of days ago #and have not been able to stop thinking about it #like the Phileas 'stache always did it for me #but I thought part of it came from the waistcoats and period dress? and wet cat nature? #none of that here.. and yet... this pic is significantly more powerful #this window of the month is not helping matters #HNNNNG #ok backing away #David Tennant's moustache #come yell at me about it #David Tennant #i also didn't sleep much last night so cut me some slack #Phileas Fogg #thirstposting #screaming crying throwing up #etc #also does he have v mild hetetochromia? or is it just the lighting and/or me? #I apparently saved this in my drafts #yesterday evening #I’ve since had some spearmint tea and calmed down #(it’s all still true) #whatever—send it #no tag editing we die like men

[todayisafridaynight]

whatever og text i had in mind for this post about ko shibasaki looking like sayama in this movie is completely cancelled on account of utsumi (this character)'s first name being kaoru and i only found this out cause i was looking up her name just to be sure when making this post

like jesus christ i legally have to make this post now

#snap chats #they literally never say her first name in the movie. i think lol LIKE WHEN I FOUND OUT I WAS JUST 'NO FUCKING WAY' #i do have to be tbh and say her face /is/ a little more round than sayama's #and its absolutely predominantly because of how her bangs and wardrobe are so close to sayama's that i think she look like her #BUT I CAAAANT THE WHOLE MOVIE I WAS JUST THINKIN ABOUT SAYAMA... i miss her... #OH RIGHT THE MOVIE THOUGH noooo fuck you this movie was so good it actually made me want to write a summary for it LMAOOO #LIKE I LIKE WRITING SUMMARIES BUT IVE JUST BEEN SO LAZY ABOUT IT WITH THE PAST FEW THINGS IVE SEEN BUT GOD. #ignore the fact i finished this movie two hours ago i was too busy fiddling with a card holder kit but. ill make a post about that next-- #THIS MOVIE THOUGH NOOOOO IT WAS SO GOOD //SCREAMS AND YELLS AND DESTROYS A SNOWGLOBE// #god the part where ishigami and yukawa are walking by the homeless and it just lingers on an empty spot.. LIKE I THOUGHT I WAS WACK #CAUSE I WAS LIKE 'hang on wasnt there a guy there last scene' and obviously there was since the shot lingered right #BUUUUTT WHEN IT WAS REVEALED DOWN THE LINE SHUT UPPP I LITERALLY YELLED IM SO GLAD. my roommates arent home.. #on god i thought the movie was gonna end with utsumi and fukawa's convo from the beginning #and i was gonna make a gaf about how fukawa was acting irrationally because he was too in love LMAOOO #BUT THEN IT KEPT GOING AND. im so glad it did. ishigami valid tbh #id also cover up and take blame for AND ACTUALLY commit murder for a girl if she said hi to me and made me lunch while i was trying to kms #while fukawa and ishigami were talkin that first night tho i just thought of after the rain.. lol... maybe the mangaka was inspo'd by that. #anyway. this movie was great. it reminded me of sherlock but if it was directed well and actually let you solve the mystery too #CAUSE WHILE I WAS WATCHING THERE WERE POINTS WHERE I TOO WAS JUST 'hang on' AND I JUST POCKETED THE INFO FOR LATER #i kicked and screamed when ishigami was talking abut how he formats his tests LIKE I SAID 'oh you fucking slipped' #when ishigami called and told her he had a white envelope in there bitch i knew it was gonna be the stalker letter i YELLED #LIKE I LIKE HOW THE MOVIE SETS THINGS UP SO ABUNDANTLY. IT'S FUN SEEING IT FIT IN THE MOVIE LATER ON #the twist of there being two bodies was so fun tho cause at the start of the movie i was sure two murders happened the same night #so when it was played off as just one i was like Oh. Ok. im still stumped on how he snuck a body out of the apartment #but yk what one detail is like. whatever in comparison to the rest of the movie being fun to watch #god im running out of tags POINT IS. PLEAAASE watch this movie if you got two hours #ive left some minor warnings on my Watchlist doc but there's nothing. TOO extreme ?? #i mean there's an aforementioned suicide attempt but aside from that it's nothing too grotesque. for an rgg fan ig #ok bye i have to ramble about the card holder i got <3

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

#parenting #internet culture #self compassion #i'd also want to teach them critical thought of course - there are varying ideas of what constitutes mistakes or ignorance or harm #and that's a messy subject which is often a challenge to teach and is beyond the scope of this post but it's important #to avoid being subject to manipulation or becoming reactionary #but anyways #to clarify something in the tags here: it's okay of course to feel bad. that's a normal response. but it's not necessary. and a culture of #shaming people for their mistakes isn't helpful in the same ways it isn't helpful to do that to a child. people become defensive and/or #self-hating. divisive and reactionary and more easily manipulated. fearful and ashamed and avoidant. afraid of disagreements or of trying #anything new. increased all-or-nothing thinking and blowing things out of proportion. it just doesn't help in the long run #sometimes when someone says something i want to express hatred and mockery towards; i think of my trans friend who's full of light and love #and compassion. who came from a smaller more conservative community and used to have some of those same stances (and may still hold some of #those feelings/anxieties). and i remember that i can be firm on my boundaries and spread love and acceptance and safety *without* spewing #vitriol at anyone who makes even a minor mistake. i want people who were impacted by oppression and bias to have space to grow and #find safe communities and be able to think for themselves. i dont want to push them away or be another person in their life screaming at #them. there's always a person behind the screen. #like that doesnt mean i have to interact with them. in fact in most cases it's better to step away. and there are still unsafe people out #there- but yelling at them won't do any good either. saw a tip to focus on the people you want to help rather than the opposition #and that's been super helpful for me

[unreality-monster]

You know, it started as suspicion and hypochondria but now i'm like convinced i'm actually autistic and constantly masking and experiencing burnout and severe social anxiety as a result of it and now i kind of want to see a psychologist

#me two weeks ago: yeah i don't mask like at all lol #me today realizing that i literally used to say i 'intentionally developed social anxiety to stop being so awful' #which is LITERALLY what masking is #me two weeks ago: i don't have meltdowns lol i don't lose total control like that #me now having learned what shutdowns are and remembering that i literally also did have meltdowns as a child #and also i ACTUALLY HAD A MELTDOWN LIKE LESS THAN A YEAR AGO #oh #bruh i stim constantly but my more extreme ones are heavily suppressed like i HAVE to be subtle about it or people will yell at me #abd i was bullied as a kid and i was too socially inept to even realize it was happening until years after!!!! #i just knew tht sometimes people said mean things to me and i didn't like that but i was just playin in the dirt man!!!!! #i got in a fight once because i didn't know that what i was doing qualified as 'fighting' and then suddenly i was on the ground with a boy #screaming at me tjat he was gonna kill me😭 #and i had no idea when was an appropriate time to be loud and when told i just didn't listen and a teacher literally thought i was #mentally r-worded to quote her but obviously #i'm NOT but i was a little girl so they didn't bother checking if i was AUTISTIC #bro i sucked my thumb until i was like 7-10 and had a scar on my thumb from my teeth digging into it #THAT WASNT NORMAL

[tothefiniteyou]

everyone's takeaway from blind sight should be this single message i sent my best friend at way too late o'clock while slightly delirious /hj.

slight spoilers:

obviously what splinter was really getting at is that the poison already wore off, and this is just a more psychosomatic issue due to leo's guilt from thinking he killed an innocent man, but like. these issues are riddled with daddy issues and it isn't subtle. i already talked about it in my little think piece here, but you can realistically say that none of this would have happened if splinter hadn't trained them. or if he hadn't been so set on getting revenge.

gripping the bars of my enclosure, resisting the urge to talk even more about blind sight. there's so much i didn't even touch upon

#tmnt mirage #2u thoughts #or rambling. either one #tmnt 1984 #i could talk about blind sight all day do NOT test me #i was crying screaming throwing a fit for more than an hour in my little banishment channel #2003 was good at showing it but goddd mirage leo really was acting like a mother of three at fifteen and beyond #it's not just “i need to keep them safe” to him #but also “we're all we have in this world." does that make sense? #leo is all about control and this is no different. his self-worth is tied to being a weapon to protect #< yelling into the void #this reminds me that raph and leo actually butt heads because theyre literally the same and it was never really about leadership #it's just their different ways of wanting to protect the family that clash