[teaser] chapter 3 - Wipe Your Eyes
Read at your own risk - I'm hurting my own heart here too.
Y/n rolls onto her side as the doctor pulls her hospital gown to inspect the wound. “Looks a lot better than last time.” She pulls the gown back in place, helping Y/n in a sitting position. “Mind if I do some vital checks?”
“Sure,” Y/n answers, looking at the doctor who is looking at Kiyoomi.
“I’ll be outside.” He got the message, leaving the room.
As soon as the door clicked, the doctor exhaled deeply, “is he always that tensed?”
Y/n giggles softly, “no, I think he’s more nervous than me. One, there's a lot of germs here and two... his anxiety flies high because he is reminded how I was here for a few weeks.”
Y/n follows the doctor's light, to the left and then to the right. “Well, vitals look good. Now, you feel tired? How is everything at home?”
“Good, Kiyoomi has been carrying me for the most part throughout the apartment. I just got my wheelchair two weeks so… but he still insists on carrying me.”
The doctor gives her a weird look, “well, you might have yourself a keeper there.” She pressed her stethoscope against her chest, “breathe in and out for me please.”
“There is… one thing I like to ask you after you're done.” Y/n whispered as she tried to continue to breath in and out as normally as possible.
She takes her stethoscope off, hanging it around her neck. “What’s up?”
Her fingers fumble and Y/n inhales sharply before whispering, “can I take a pregnancy test?”
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I do get some different audio lyrics when listening to a song but the whiplash I felt when I found out that Maroon 5's "Wipe Your Eyes" does not have Adam Levine going wild asking for somebody (My assumption was Somebody Somebody Somebody bad, Sombody Somebody Somebody find me) but rather it is lyrics in a different language altogether at the start of the song was really something that surprised and caught me off guard. (Sabali Sabali Sabali yokonte sabali sabali sabali kayi ni kera mogo)
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imagine being a gavinners fan from like wisconsin or some other place like that. vermont idk and they announce a world tour, so you buy tickets for the nearest location. and they start off in LA, their home city, makes sense.
but then you get an email that says NEVERMIND and you get an immediate refund on cashapp. and you look it up and apparently someone was fucking shot at the first concert and klavgav got set on fire and the bassist went to jail for drug smuggling and murder charges. and now they’re announcing a breakup. what do you even do with that fucking onslaught of information
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ModernRoomate!Muriel x Reader, where Muriel collects you up after you've returned from a party. Perhaps you're exhausted, perhaps you're drunk, but you swat the lights of the room until it's turned off, and you flop onto the nearest large-enough surface you can find. Maybe it's the couch, maybe it's the table, maybe it's the floor. You don't know, and you don't care.
Muriel on the other hand, does.
Of course he does.
He collects you up off the floor. Not scooping you up, lest your delirious brain swivel and swirl in your skull, till your eyes ache even worse, and your stomach flips upside down—no, he simply ushers you up and off of your sloppy sleeping place, offering an arm for you to lean on as he slowly guides you to your bedroom.
You mutter something, drowsily, incoherently, and in that warm, rumbly hushed voice of his, he hums, asking you what you meant with as little sound as possible.
"Makeup," you manage to mutter and grumble. "need t'take of my makeup...just take me to the bathroom."
He does as you ask, and the lights of the bathroom are flickered on. Miserably, horribly bright, but mandatory for your needs.
You're about to paw the area for your makeup wipes, but Muriel tugs you back before he pulls out a little unmarked bottle of... something and begins to clean your face, letting you close your eyes, as he wipes away the smears and marks your makeup left behind, running lukewarm water over your face, enough to build little puddles of water around the small sink. You feel clean when he's all done tidying you up, a little dry perhaps, but that might've been from the drinks, or the sweat. You expect him to lead you back to the bedroom then, but he fishes a more familiar bottle from the messy shared sink space, and rubs your moisturizer into your face.
Finally done with that, he leads you back into your room, drapes a blanket over your shoulders and helps you to tug the worst of your party outfit off. You're mostly covered by the blanket, but whatever skin shows is covered by the lights still left off in your room, though the washroom lights linger, exposing a sliver of skin to any eyes who may choose to pry.
Muriel's green eyes catch gold from the old bathroom lights. Even in the dark, he still looks away, insistent to give you your privacy.
Maybe you're naked in the end. Maybe you manage to worm at least some portion of your pajamas on. Regardless, Muriel simply tucks that blanket around your shoulders to cover you better, and helps usher you into your bed.
He's about to leave, but you hold him back, clinging to his clothes, perhaps, or wrapping your fingers around some of his own before he can pull away.
It's dark. You're exhausted. The only coherent thing you can manage to say is, "I didn't know you could do that."
"Do what?" His voice feels lower somehow. It's certainly quieter, but the low rumble of it makes you lean towards him, towards the sound of him, even as your head continues to ache.
"Remove makeup. Didn't know you knew how to do that."
He hums, soft and deep just like before, and he hesitates by your bedside. Maybe he wants to reply, maybe he doesn't want to explain. You don't care either way. You want him to linger by your side.
He leans closer towards you and you can feel it more than you can see it, the brush of his clothes as they drape closer towards you, the warmth of his chest, of his hands, the tickle of his hair against your skin.
Light passes through the window, gold and red illuminating him for a moment, to confirm your suspicions, but halt his movement. He hesitates, still standing over you when the light fades from the window, that car somewhere far away by now, and he leans back, squeezing your hand as he goes, soothing his thumb over a patch of your wrist, as he leaves.
and all too soon, he pulls away.
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oh yeah, i think it's important to differentiate between the ideas of a "jewish ethnostate" and a "jewish homeland", as a jew myself especially --
of course we deserve a place where we feel safe, a place that puts emphasis on caring for us and not treating us like dirt. but that is not the same as a place that allows ONLY us to be there. (and we are talking about a mass of land, not an affinity club or anything -- we're talking about somewhere people live. who gets to be a part of it is not something you should be policing on lines of race or religion.) we have no right to lay claim to land and force other people out of it. we have no right to a jewish ethnostate.
"oh but if there are any non-jews in our land they'll treat us badly like they always have!!!" no, that's just cynical nonsense. if anything, you're letting the antisemites win by agreeing with the omnipresence of their bigotry. yes, tons of people have been horrible to us. that won't get better by running away from them and hurting other people in the process.
also, it is very worthy of note that jews and their ancestors have lived in palestine, for a great portion of history in fact, but were conquered multiple times by multiple empires and expelled to the diaspora. of course jews want to live in palestine! of course! but palestinians are just as indigenous to the land as we are -- we have absolutely NO right to kill them and kick them out and say it isn't their home (which is exactly what so many empires did to us, in the same land no less).
endorsing zionism and anti-palestinian rhetoric, as a jew, is hypocritical, cruel, and wrong. let palestine be free, as they (and we) deserve to be. they are facing the same terrors we have; let us stand with them.
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