#and not only that; the comfort that just with one quick google search you can see that you’re not the only one and know that other people

[luxsky]

Kicking out

Rhysand x reader

Summary: Reader tries to have a peaceful day without their partner hovering with overprotection, but destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of body aches, Rhysand being an overly protective rooster. Ignore any biological errors; I've never been pregnant and have no background in any health-related field, so everything here is either from my imagination or a quick Google search.

Autor's Note: This is my first time posting here, and I'm anxious and very, very nervous (especially because it's the first time I've written in a long time). I don't know if I like this or not, but this idea has been lingering in my head for days. Maybe I'll do a part two, but I'm not sure. Please, I welcome any kind of feedback here! (but be careful with how you say it). I apologize if the grammar is... bad? English is not my first language, and I'm not fluent (much of this had help from AI for translation, so if something doesn't make sense or is placed incorrectly, please let me know so I can correct it).

It's the beginning of fall, all you wanted to do was sit on the expensive and cozy sofa decorating the House of Wind and read a soft and cliché romance book while sipping on a cup of hot coffee. Except, you couldn't consume caffeine for the sake of the baby growing in your belly. Still, you had the option to sit and read a book, but your large and exuberant belly prevented you from sitting comfortably for too long. Well, nothing a few pillows and a blanket couldn't solve. Okay then, you didn't have coffee or a comfortable position, but you could still read your book, right?

Well, no, you've been trying to do that since the early afternoon when you sent Rhysand to his office, asking him to work a bit in his own court instead of watching over you. In fact, he had been a mother hen since the beginning of the pregnancy, and that was just one of the excuses you gave to get rid of his overprotectiveness. But it was becoming a challenging mission to concentrate on reading. You're nearing the end of your pregnancy, which is exciting in part, with the anticipation of meeting your little one consuming you, but the discomfort of carrying a baby constantly kicking your ribs has proven quite persistent.

It's been more than five minutes since you were stuck on the same page, reading and rereading but unable to focus on the book, back pain and intermittent cramps stealing all your concentration. You were used to a slight discomfort in your back since the beginning of the second trimester, but today, in particular, it was more of a significant and noticeable discomfort. You sighed in frustration and decided that maybe eating something would help. Putting the book aside, you remove the blanket from over you and swing your legs out of the sofa, prepared for the struggle it would be to get up. Normally, Rhys would help you, but if he left the office long enough to realize something was bothering you, he would spend the rest of the day hovering over you, worried and concerned.

Breathless and almost sweating, you managed to get up. At this point, the only clothes that fit you were light fabric dresses, or what you were currently wearing: one of Rhys's sweatpants and a sweater stolen from his closet. Your partner started sharing half of his wardrobe when your beautiful, stylish, and beloved clothes no longer fit you—you cried for a whole hour after trying to put on one of your favorite pants, and Rhys almost cried too, not knowing how to comfort you.

Walking towards the kitchen, you almost laughed, remembering the various times when hormones provided you with uncontrollable tears and frightened your partner. In those moments, you felt slightly vindicated by his insistence on being present for every breath you took. It's not that you didn't love your partner and appreciate his concern; it's just that he didn't know how to balance it at certain times. As soon as you told him you were pregnant, he became an overprotective mother hen full-time, and it suffocated you a bit. Of course, you talked about it, and he promised to control himself, but if you made a different move, he was already on top of you, asking what was wrong and insisting that you needed to stay in bed.

Reaching the kitchen, you pause for a moment to catch your breath and lean your hands on your back while deciding what to eat. God, this belly was weighing more than usual. Deciding to make a big, hearty sandwich, you start gathering all the necessary ingredients from the cabinets and placing them on the counter.

You feel your partner gently pulling that thread connecting you two, and the next moment, he's entering the kitchen, a furrow between his eyebrows indicating that he's thinking, and the slight contraction in his mouth tells you he's worried. "Darling, you should be resting."

You roll your eyes and let a faint smile form on your lips as you reply, "I was resting, but then I got bored." You lean against the counter for a minute, then turn to grab a knife to cut the tomatoes. When you turn again, Rhys is in front of you, reaching out towards you and taking the knife. "If you wanted something to eat, you just had to ask." You pout at him, but he ignores it and turns to the counter, starting to cut the tomatoes. "I just wanted to do something for myself; you don't let me touch anything since you found out I'm pregnant."

You're beside him, staring at the tomatoes he cut, waiting for a response. He turns his face to you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead, grabbing the bread and saying, "Because the only thing I'll let my partner do while she's pregnant is to make this baby. That's consuming enough energy, and I don't want you to tire yourself out."

"Well, your partner may be making a baby, but she assures you she has enough energy to make her own sandwich."

He raises an eyebrow, and a shit-eating grin forms on his lips. Like she had enough energy to organize the baby's clothes last night? His voice fills your mind, the thread connecting you two vibrating with his amusement. Bastard.

I only slept because you decided to intervene and didn't let me do anything else.

"Darling, I only intervened because you were asleep." He starts putting each ingredient on the bread, and you decide to sit — not because you're tired, obviously — in front of him. You go around the counter as you respond, "Well, I don't remember... Argh." The sudden pain reverberating in your back and cramping that comes and goes cut your speech in half. Damn, you really hoped it wouldn't happen now.

Rhys is in front of you before you can even move, one hand on your belly and the other gently placed on your face, guiding your eyes to meet his. "What's wrong? Is it you? The baby? Panic fills his voice and shines in his beloved violet eyes. His mouth has that contraction again.

The only response you give is a negative nod, trying to catch your breath as the pain passes. He continues with his hands on you and doesn't seem satisfied with your non-verbal answer. I'm fine, the baby is fine. It must have been just another kick in my rib.

His right hand holds the one he placed on your face, and his lips try to form a reassuring smile, which is probably just a funny grimace at the moment. He kisses your forehead, and there's still concern on his face when he pulls away just enough to put both hands on your belly. His gaze alternates between your face and your belly; he still seems reluctant, so he asks again, "Are you sure? I can call Madja just to check, and..."

''Shh." You interrupt him, placing a finger on his lips. Your gaze softened, and now you're the one placing both hands on your partner's face, your thumb stroking his cheek." I said we're fine; it's nothing serious. The baby has been restless all day."

That seems to convince him enough because he agrees and holds your hands, bringing his face closer to yours and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You pull away after a moment, this time with a complete smile when you playfully say, "Now, go finish my sandwich, or else this baby will start kicking for food." Rhysand laughs with your remark and turns to the counter, finishing your sandwich.

He starts putting away the ingredients again after placing the plate in front of you. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain? We could have asked Madja for something." He finishes putting away the last ingredient and turns to you again, only the counter separating him as he watches you take the first bite of the sandwich.

"Oh God, this is so good." You ignore his statement, too focused on savoring what might be the best sandwich of your life. He accepts your lack of response with a soft laugh and turns to the cabinets to grab a glass. "Do you want some juice?" you mumble a yes, with your mouth full of the sandwich, and wait for him to fill the glass. He has his back to you while rummaging through the cabinets.

Splash.

"What kind of juice do you want, dear? Because I think we only have orange or grape, but I can ask the House to make some other flavor." He turns to you, waiting for a response, but his face transforms when he sees your expression. "What? Is something wrong?"

Oh, well, this is going to be funny. You finish swallowing the sandwich, trying to formulate a word. He stays where he is, waiting for your response, frozen. But it's your next words that make him run towards you.

"I think my water just broke."

Another pang erupts in your back, and you realize that maybe it wasn't the baby that was restless. It was contractions.

And this baby is about to kick its way out of your belly.

#acotar #rhysand #fanfic #Rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #pregnancy #x reader #pregnant reader #Soft #rhysand imagine #a court of thorns and roses

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Doctor!Reader, Soap x Reader Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Y’all have asked and y’all have received. Enjoy! Let me know what you guys think, I always love to hear your thoughts! Reblogs are much appreciated! 😊💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst. This one might be a little sad and Ghost is a bit of an ass-jerk so be prepared.

As mentioned before, Ghost completely stays clear of your vicinity after stepping out of your office. It’s not that he hates you. He’s just slightly irritated. With himself? Or is it you and that pretty face of yours and your comforting voice and your goddamn politeness and your accent. To be honest, the whole team adores your accent. He can’t tell. Remind you, this is a man who has probably never been shown any affection or tenderness so don't expect him to fall for you on the spot. This man needs therapy, like a lot of therapy. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go through whatever it is he is feeling, finding the whole thing to be an inconvenience really. And because he doesn't know how to understand or face whatever these emotions are, he just buries it. It's easier for him that way.

Poor dude couldn’t even sleep last night, staring at the ceiling of his room and haunted by the idea that he accidentally offended you. This man may have a cold exterior but your scalpels are colder and sharper than the devil's jawline. He almost couldn’t blame you if you decided to inject some foreign substance into his bloodstream and make the whole thing look like it was a stroke. Wait, could you do that? Bloody fucking hell. This man spends too much time with his thoughts I swear.

The man spends the whole night trying to assess his feelings, or rather his attraction towards you, convinces himself you're just another pretty face. The man may be touch-starved but he knows there are other methods to handle his needs, even though it's been a long time since he's slept with a woman, like a really long time. But even then, that situation was different. There was never any intimacy involved, like a quick business transaction that finished just as quickly as it started. It only left him feeling as empty as he was before. Not to mention, he doesn't do well with human interaction and that one and only moment he had with a woman daunted him more than it needed to, and so he has remained abstinent ever since. And if he were being honest with himself, you're just a distraction. And how do you handle distractions? You steer clear of them.

So what does this man do? He does what he intended to do. He avoids you at all costs. Oh, is that you walking towards their small, makeshift kitchen to fix yourself a bagel in the morning? Guess what, he’s doing a full 180 and lurking behind a wall like Michael Myers and his stupid hedge, waiting until you’re finished so he can make himself his morning tea.

Not only that but he makes sure to take extra good care of himself, Vitamin C supplements or multivitamins, whatever it takes to keep himself in best health. He even looks up on Google for extra tips to prevent himself from having to send himself in. He had heard of the saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” and goes out of his way to buy an apple during his morning runs. But the poor chap has it all mixed up because when you walk into your office the next morning, you're surprised to see an apple just sitting there on your desk.

Ghost doesn't know that it's supposed to be the other way around and that the apple is actually supposed to be for himself. He doesn't bother to search up the meaning, nor does anyone bother to tell him because they don't even know that he's doing it in the first place. So every morning he goes on his run, he goes out and buys an apple, and so every morning you find one placed on your desk.

The first time you saw the fruit sitting there on the table where you worked, surrounded by your scattered paperwork, you were confused no doubt. You picked it up curiously in your hand, inspecting the bright red fruit before giving a shrug and biting into it, after you wash it of course. You think it's just a small little token of thanks from one of the men. Possibly Soap considering how flirty he was yesterday. Alejandro doesn't seem like the type to give fruits. He's more of a red rose and a bottle of wine kind of man.

But as days go by, each day you find an apple sitting on your desk. And as thoughtful as this gesture is, at this point, considering the amount of apples you've eaten, you're either going to have serious digestive issues or die of cyanide poisoning, as if you don't already have IBS. So what do you do? You start to collect the apples each morning, deciding to throw in your own twist to this gesture until one evening, the men come back from one of their missions to find a freshly baked apple pie and a stack of paper plates and some utensils sitting out on a table for them, including a small little card with the handwritten words "bone apple tea". What in the hell.

"What in the fucks is bone apple tea." Gaz scrunches his nose at the writing on the little card.

They're all standing around at the table staring at the pie with confusion written across their faces. All except Ghost of course, the way his eyes slightly widen once he sees it. His gut is telling him you're behind it. Hm I wonder what gave it away.

"What’s this?" Alejandro asks, tilting his head at the thing.

"Looks like apple pie." Gaz answers.

"Yes I know that." Alejandro remarks. “But what is it doing here?"

"Doubt it's from any one of you muppets." Price speaks up. He knows damn well none of these men know how to bake. There’s only one person here whose hands are skilled or nimble enough to make the braided trim on that crust. Not to mention the detailing in the center, like the way you carefully placed little leaf designs made from the crust on top of the braided design. Yup this was definitely you, unless someone else here had a secret talent they had been hiding.

Literally why are these men acting like the pie has poison it. As if Graves sent it or something. Just shut up and eat the pie before it gets cold you himbos.

"So who made it?" Soap asks, looking towards the others for answers.

"This," Alejandro chuckles after finally realizing, "this was made by the hands of a woman."

"Who, y/n?" Gaz quirks a brow, you're the only woman here.

How in the hell did you get the means to bake a complete fucking apple pie in a place like this? They always heard doctors have skilled and steady hands but what the actual fuck.

"Well don't mind me." Soap literally cuts a big ass slice for himself before going off to devour the thing.

The boys watch Soap basically almost moan once he takes a bite of your pie as he goes off yelling out something along the lines of "well tidy scran", before helping themselves to a slice.

Ghost is the last one to cut himself a slice. He was hesitant at first before finally giving in, plus he also got back from a mission and he's hungry. So when he digs in his fork and has his first taste, it's kinda like that scene from Ratatouille where the food critic Anton Ego finally takes a bite of Remy's food and is reminded of his childhood, except Ghost doesn't have a childhood.

Let me tell you these men are obsessed with your pie and are practically fighting over the last slice like a pair of siblings so don't be surprised when you wake up the next morning to the see that the plate that your pie was in is completely empty without a single crumb in sight. Jesus. Did they lick the table down too?

Also I think you may have just given Ghost a newfound sweet tooth. When he went back to his room that night, he's debating on whether he should keep his daily routine of giving you apples, so far it’s kept you away. What he doesn’t get is that you made a whole damn pie out of the apples he gave you when they were actually supposed to be for you, or him, if you look at it from his distorted perception. But wait. What if you know it's him, and that's why you made the pie in the first place? A way to a man’s heart is not only between the forth and fifth ribs, but it’s also through his stomach. And as much as he wants to deny it, he also kind of secretly wants you to bake another one. It's almost as if he's completely forgotten why he placed those apples on your desk in the first place.

So what do you see when you wake up the next morning? An empty plate and yet another apple sitting on your desk. Okay what the fuck. You've let it slide all those times but now you have got to know who's pulling this shit. It’s not that you hate apples, but the conception that you have no clue who’s behind this is making you start to view the poor defenseless fruit as an object of taunting and torment. And to be honest at this point, you're beginning to think this is some kind of joke. So with the apple in your hand, you head towards the common area where the others are currently settled.

“Okay who did it?” You call out once you enter the area.

Crickets chirping.

All heads snap towards you to see you standing there with an apple held in your hand. They're almost stunned to see you wandering about. They rarely ever see you since you're usually locked up in your office or your room.

The men have done a lot of shit so just what is it that are you asking. They stare at you with not a single thought behind their eyes, that is until their blood runs cold at what happened last night. Was the pie not meant for them? Shit.

“Did what?” Gaz gulps, trying to play it off as nothing happened.

"Who keeps leaving apples on my desk like I'm about to host a county fair?"

"Come again?" Price asks, not that he didn't hear you, but it's probably the most anyone has heard you speak that isn't related to your work. Not only that, but they’re so used to hearing your “doctor” voice that your normal voice is a whole pitch lower and almost sounds foreign and alien to their ears. Not that they’re complaining because they honestly love hearing it.

"Someone has been leaving apples on my desk every single day." You repeat yourself more slowly. "And I'd like to know who."

So you're not mad about the pie.

Ghost immediately snaps his head away from your direction and nearly chokes on his tea. It's almost a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns away.

The others are still staring at you, a tad bit scared of the expression that sat on your face. They couldn't make out if you were upset or not.

"Well?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe with your hand stuffed in your coat pocket while your other hand tossed the apple about in the air.

"Couldn't be me." Soap answers.

The others shake their heads as you squint your eyes at each and every one of them, trying to decipher the culprit. "Whoever it is, I will find out." You take a bite out of the apple before tossing it to the nearest person, who happened to be Alejandro, before starting to leave the area.

Alejandro catches the apple between his hands, staring down at the fruit with a chuckle to see where you had bit into it before taking a bite of his own.

Soap can't help but clench his jaw at Alejandro's cockiness. Ghost just turns away unbothered, it’s none of his concern. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

"Wait you're not mad about the pie?" Gaz calls out after you.

"What pie?" You turn back.

Wot

"The pie....from last night."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You put on your best innocent expression before walking away.

The men snap their heads towards each other. Have they been poisoned? The longer they stare at each other, the more panicked they get.

Alejandro glances down at the apple you had thrown in his hands and is so close to spitting out the bite he had taken.

"I'm kidding." Your voice nearly makes them jump out of their skin as they turn to see your head popped through the doorway. "The pie was from me." You walk away again before turning back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have your blood results so if you're free, come see me when you get the chance."

Shit. Ghost thinks to himself after hearing you mention the blood results. He is hoping his blood sample got demolished in some shape or form, but the way you didn't even try to pull him aside to break the "unfortunate" news tells him otherwise. He's just not going to show.

The men watch you walk away in silence after your little moment of humor. They almost don't know how to react. The way the warmth of your voice blended with the obscurity of your words threw them in for a loop.

All except Ghost have no clue who has been sending you apples, but whoever it is that is sending you the fruit, they think that person is trying to win you over. So what started out as some misunderstanding on Ghost's end has now turned into this whole peacocking ordeal. Now it's a competition of who gets you better gifts in order to gain your affection, mainly Soap and Alejandro and even Gaz, but mostly Soap. Price still shows you appreciation for your work and what you do in his own way.

Poor Ghost was just trying to manifest "an apple a day keeps the doctor away". So who’s gonna tell him?

Anyways, when you return to your office to work on your paperwork, the boys go out to get you a little something before meeting up with you to go over their bloodwork results. Despite Soap and Gaz's efforts, Alejandro is the first to leave and the first to return. And just as Soap returns with his little gift for you, Alejandro beats him to it, a smirk playing on his lips as he enters your office with a red rose in hand. Poor Gaz wasn't able to find you anything special so he gets you a cool looking rock he saw instead.

Soap is practically fuming. If you squint hard enough, you might see smoke coming out his ears.

You hear a knock on your door and look up from where you sat at your desk to see Alejandro stepping into your office, a sly smirk on his lips as he holds out a rose.

"Alejandro." You quirk a brow. "What's this?"

"For you, hermosa."

"Oh?" You cock your head back in surprise as you take the rose from his hands. "What for?"

"Oh just a little way of showing appreciation." Alejandro leans against your desk.

"Why thank you Alejandro" You blink, trying your best to push down the blush that tries to creep itself onto your cheeks.

"My pleasure."

You decide to place the flower inside the empty vase you had already set out from before when you moved your things in. "I had been meaning to get some flowers to brighten up the area."

"There's no need" Alejandro smirks. "I'm afraid the rose doesn't compare to you. You do that all on your own."

Little do you know Soap is listening in on the whole thing with a frown. If he pressed his ear any closer he'd fall right through the door. Sure the Scots have their special charm but Alejandro is different and has the most rizz out of all of them, and Soap is fully aware and has always heard they make better lovers and that only adds to his panic.

Now you're definitely not able to hide the heat that spread through your face. You can't tell if it's the state of being flustered or just social anxiety. Well they weren't wrong about Alejandro having a way with words. "Geez, thank you Alejandro. But there really is no need for flattery."

"For you, anything hermosa."

Omfg this dude.

You look away from his strong gaze, managing to shove your flustered state away and stopping yourself from releasing the sharp wit you inherited from your father. Clearing your throat, you open up his file. "Well that really is kind of you Alejandro. And since you are already here, I have the results from your blood work."

"Oh? Everything should be good yes?"

"Well yes, for the most part but-"

"But what?" Alejandro looks confused. What's wrong with his blood?

"Your cholesterol levels are pretty high." You open up his file and read over his results.

"They are?"

"I'm afraid so, but not at a dangerous level. You should probably cut out some of that fried food and red meat and watch your butter intake. Nothing too serious though. Add some greens into your diet, as well as some nuts and whole grains and definitely more fruits and veggies and you're good to go." You hand him a copy of his results before giving a look of grimace. "But watch out on the fiber though. Too much of it can lead to increased bowel movements."

"Increased what?"

"You know, a case of the shits."

The way Soap pulls his ear away from the door and slaps his palm on mouth to keep himself from letting out the most offensive laugh known to mankind. If only you could have seen it. Is he going to bring this up in Alejandro's presence? Maybe.

Alejandro looks over the papers you gave him. "Wait really?"

"Yeeaaah." You give the poor fellow a sympathetic smile. "But hey, everything you need to know is right on those papers, so as long as you cut out the foods mentioned and get a higher intake of the others listed, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Oh uh. Thank you y/n. I appreciate it."

"Anytime Alejandro." You smile. "You know where to find me."

The way Soap nearly trips over himself as he backs away from the door after hearing footsteps, as if he wasn't eavesdropping on every thing.

Alejandro opens the door and walks out of your office, eyes glued to the papers while Soap is just standing there trying not to be noticed.

The moment Alejandro is out of sight, Soap goes over and knocks on your door.

"Come in." You look up and smile to see Soap. Over the course of the few days since you first arrived here, you were to quick to warm up to the young Scotsman, finding comfort and humor in his personality. You enjoyed hearing him talk about just about anything, and his accent always helped to make whatever he had to say all the more interesting. It really is a good thing he does most of the talking since you make a better listener and love to hear what others have to say.

Soap knows you don't talk much and how you prefer to listen and hear stories, so he always makes sure to keep you entertained. This man is 100% golden retriever energy. Also he calls you lass and lassie and you just eat that shit up, he loves how you blush and that small restrained smile appears on your face whenever he says it. Don't worry, so would I. "Soap! You can have a seat if you want, this will be brief."

"Oh uh, I've actually got you something." Soap hands you a small box.

"Oh?" You quirk a brow as you take the box from his hands? What is it with everyone giving you gifts? Are they in on something you're not? "What is it?" You ask as you open the small box to see a bunch of what looks to be biscuits.

"Scottish shortbread." Soap smiles, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I brought them along with me from back home but I thought you'd like them with your morning coffee."

"Wait, are you sure you don't want them for yourself? I feel bad."

"Nah. I can always get more.......if-when I go back home. You keep em. It's for ya. Think of it as a welcoming gift.....for all ya done, and the pie ya made for us."

"Soap, I don't know what to say." You give the man a heartfelt smile. "Thank you.....really, it's very thoughtful of you. It'll give me a variety from my bagels."

"Don' mention it." Soap places his hands behind his back before noticing a small framed picture you had set up on your desk that definitely wasn't there before. "Is that you?"

"Hm?" You raise you brow to see what he is referring to and seeing him gesture to the photo.

"Oh. Yeah, that's me as a little girl." You glance at the photo as a soft smile appears on your face. It was a picture of you when you were a little girl around the age of 5, when your dad took you on a camping trip to Zion. The two of you were sitting near the tent he had set up overlooking the mountain range with you sitting in his arms while he played his guitar, wearing that same old baseball cap of his that you had grown accustomed to seeing as you grew up. The longer you looked at the picture and relived that core memory, glancing at the crooked grin that sat on your little face and the way your father beamed, the more your face began to match the fond look that radiated off your father's eyes as he looked down at your giggling state.

"That's quite the smile you got there." Soap teases, chuckling at the expression you held in the photo.

"Oh please." You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he was joking about. "I know I looked goofy. My baby teeth were falling out."

"And that's yer dad?"

"Yup. That's my old man."

"Ya have yer father's eyes." Soap smiles at you, knowing now where you inherited that certain warmth held in your eyes that was able to put the coldest man at ease by just one look.

You let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at the ground to blink away the tears that have yet to form before looking back up at the soldier. "I've been told."

"Where was this taken? The scenery is absolutely braw."

"That was taken at Zion National Park in Utah. My dad had taken me there on a camping trip."

"It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Maybe I'll take you one day."

"Ya mean it?" Soap turns towards you, a grin forming on his face.

"Why not? It's been a while since I went, not since the photo."

"I think you've just made my day lass." Soap smirks before turning to the other photo. "And I'm guessing that's you as well." Soap gestures to the other photo of you around your middle school years that your dad had taken of you, wearing a wet suit as you sat on your surfboard, a grin on your face and your hair matted with salt water while one of your hands formed the shaka sign. "I dinnae ken you surfed."

"Oh yeah, surfing was my life. This was back when I had caught my first wave in Hawaii. My dad was so proud. Took me out for shaved ice right after and couldn't stop bragging to everyone there about how effortlessly I had tube ridden that thing."

"Your dad sounds like a great man."

"The best."

Soap notices the way your smile ever so slightly dropped at one of the corners, as if some sadness had managed to overcome whatever memories that lied in your head so he clears his throat, deciding not to press on the subject any better. "So how does my blood look?"

"Good actually." You blink, his statement reminding you of what you were going to do since he stepped into your office in the first place. "Your levels are all pretty balanced." You hand him a copy of his results. "As for the muscle cramps you mentioned, try to get a higher intake of electrolytes like potassium, magnesium, and calcium. And most importantly, don't forget to stay hydrated and drink lots of water."

"Aye ma'am. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you Soap."

"No, thank you." Soap gives you one last smile before heading out. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."

It was not long after Soap left that Gaz entered next followed by Price, hearing you go over their results with intent ears. You actually really loved the little rock Gaz had given you, he had even drawn a smiley face on for you. You thought it was really cute despite his embarrassment in not finding you something better. And after the two left, there was only one person left that had yet to show up at your door. Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Not wanting to pressure the man who looks like he'd stab you for looking at him the wrong way, you decided to stay at your desk, working over some paperwork of your own until the time comes when he decides to show up whenever he sees comfortable.

Picking up your mug, you decide to get some more coffee, leaving your office and heading to the kitchen area to brew yourself a new cup. Looking up from your feet, you see Ghost walking walking in your direction in front of you.

"Ghost!" You call out to him, or as much as you can call out. You never were one for raising your voice, despite the many times your previous teachers had urged you to speak up, displeased with the way you preferred to keep to yourself as opposed to your more extroverted peers. But even when carrying out their commands to speak louder, you always hated doing so, thinking it drew too much attention towards you. It's a wonder you got through med school and became a doctor in the first place.

Ghost had heard you calling out his name and immediately his muscles tense. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him because that only meant one thing, being dragged into your office to go over his blood results until something else insulting slips from his lips. I promise he doesn't hate your guts! So in order to evade you, this man does the first thing that comes to mind, he walks straight into the nearest room, which just so happens to be the shared showers. Simon you dumb fuck. Let’s hope Price isn’t butt ass naked in there for Simon’s sake.

You blink, standing there with your mug that your friend from college thought would be funny to gift you when you started med school, the one that had the words "I have a PHD" in bold colorful letters with the finer print "pretty huge dick" right below it (of course you never used that mug back at the hospital or else you'd hear about it).

So with your mug in hand, you watch the masked man walk straight into the room where the shared showers were. Huh. Well that's weird. You try to give the man the benefit of the doubt, thinking he just did not hear you. Maybe he'll stop by later. So shrugging off what just happened, you head into the kitchen to make yourself a fresh cup of coffee. God an iced coffee sounds good right now.

Once you had headed back to your office, finishing up your work and taking little breaks in between to read your book or snack on something, an hour turned into two, and so forth. Until you looked at your clock and it was already past the time of sunset. Jesus. Where did this dude go? Getting up from your chair, you step out of your office, holding the door open and seeing not a single soul headed in your direction. What in the-

With furrowed brows, you step back into your office, staring down at Ghost's results that just sat there waiting to be picked up.

"Goddamn it." You hiss between your teeth. You have no idea what his issue is or why he avoids you as if you spit in his fruit loops or tea or whatever. But if he keeps this up, it could interfere with your own job. Looking around at your desk, an idea pops into your head as you grab two things that lied there, a sticky note and a two dum-dum lollipops, a sugar cookie flavor and a butterscotch one.

Heading out of your office, you head towards where the men's rooms are located before stopping at a certain particular one, surveying the area around you to make sure no one sees you before staring straight at the door in front of you. Taking out your pen, you write on the note "please stop by my office when you get a chance", making sure to add your initials in the corner before taping it to his door along with the two lollipops, hoping the candy will be some sort of bribe.

"God I hope this works and he doesn't shoot me in the head." You mutter out before heading back to your own quarters that was separate from the men's due to standard protocol. Throwing off your coat and your clothes, you threw on an oversized t-shirt and some sweats, eating a microwaveable dinner in your own room before getting ready to go to bed. There was nothing you craved more than to collapse onto the mattress and bury yourself under the covers. And as you finished brushing your teeth, turning off the lights and getting into a comfortable position under your blanket, all you could do was stare at the ceiling above you.

Little did you know, that same night, in that same moment, there was another who could not sleep, staring at the ceiling as you did now. He had saw the note that you had left him on his door, as well as the two lollipops. It almost annoyed him, whatever it was you were showing towards him. And it did not help that the note had smelled of you, of that perfume that oh so enriched his senses. The man literally has your note laying on top of his bedside table along with the lollipops. He'll throw it out first thing tomorrow he tells himself.

"Oh come the fuck on." You moaned as you turned over onto your side but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to shut your eyes and shut out any thoughts that attempted at keeping you awake, you just could not fall asleep until you finally give up. "Jesus fuck shit fuck." You hiss to yourself as you throw the blanket off you, sitting up on your bed and throwing on your sweatpants before getting up. Usually on nights like this where you couldn't sleep, you'd find a way to calm your nerves, whether it be reading or drawing or listening to a comforting audiobook.

So, grabbing your pillow and blanket, you open up your closet and grab your father's acoustic guitar, going back over to your bed and staring at the framed photo of your dad that sat on the bedside table before taking that with you as well. Leaving your room, you make sure to be as quiet as possible, looking both ways before heading up towards the roof of the building.

When you were little and had trouble sleeping, your dad used to take you outside to where the two of you had built a little fort, where the two of you would lay under the stars, brushed over by the cool night breeze as he played his guitar, singing old folk and slow classic rock songs until you finally fell asleep. And as you stepped onto the roof, craning your neck to stare up at the stars above you, you were reminded of those moments and the peace it gave you. Setting your bedding down, you prop the picture of your dad up next to you before sitting down with the guitar in hand.

"Hey dad." Your voice is a whisper as you look down at the photo of your father beside you. The photo was taken not even a month after you were born. He had taken you to the fire station he was stationed at, excited to introduce his team to his new precious baby girl, his first child. You could almost say it was your favorite photo of him, sitting on the front bumper of the firetruck in his uniform with you bundled up in a pink blanket in his arms.

"I know it's been a bit of a while since we've last talked." You sigh, forming your fingers into a chord on the fretboard of the guitar. "So to make up for it, I'm going to sing you one of the songs I always used to sing. You know the one, it's one of my favorites, and yours too."

Despite his efforts to fall asleep, Simon had ended up stepping out of his room, walking about the grounds to somewhat ease his mind. This was obviously nothing new to him, he always had trouble sleeping. And during those nights he had trouble sleeping, he'd take a walk to help clear his head. He found comfort in the silence of the night, when everything and everyone was asleep. He would usually go to his favorite spot on the rooftop, where he would seek refuge under the obsidian skies and the silver stars.

As he goes up the stairs that lead up to the roof, he stops at the sound that comes from beyond the door, what sounds to be someone singing and strumming the guitar. Curious to know who the hell had taken his spot and had the radio playing, he goes up further to investigate. So imagine his surprise when he finds you there instead, wrapped up in your blanket and strumming against your guitar, singing The Sundays cover of Wild Horses.

"Childhood living is easy to do The things that you wanted, I bought them for you Graceless lady, you know who I am You know I can't let you slide through my hands" Your voice is ethereal as you sing out the lyrics, your face molded into these deep emotions you can't quite explain.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain And now you've decided to show me the same No sweeping exits or offstage lines Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday."

During the entirety of the song, Simon stands there in the distance behind you, hidden in the shadows, entranced, and can't seem to explain the tingles he feels washing over his body. He thinks he has intruded upon you and wants to leave you to your solitude in what seems to be an intimate moment for you, and yet he can't seem to be able to get his feet to move. Instead he's watching you with this newfound interest. He had never expected you to play the guitar as you did, nor have the voice that you did. So as you finish your song, he almost trips over his own feet trying to back away, scared that you might somehow notice that he had been there this whole time.

"God I miss you dad." You wipe away at the tears that start to spill down your cheeks despite your attempts to wipe them away with the back of your sleeve, scanning your eyes over the stars that scattered across the sky, imagining he was up there amongst them. "I miss you so much."

Regaining his footing, Ghost is careful to open the door leading back into the building, that is until he hears you let out what sounds to be a choked sob. He turns his head back towards you, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest as you cry out, mumbling something he can't quite understand. With his hand still holding the door open, he looks down at the set of stairs, turning his head back towards you for one more time before going down the steps, being careful to shut the door without any noise possible.

Part 3

Tags: @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @joceymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @marvelmysterywoman @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @nananarc @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff

#ghost x female reader #ghost x oc #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x f!reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #Simon ghost #soap cod #soap x reader #soap x you #soap x oc #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

ok here i go full hc prompt🥳🤩🤩

m6 in the ✨✋Future🤚✨ or at least to them, relatively, from their medievaissance-y mixed bag nonspecified time period to something resembling our times! i personally like to consider it still Their World, fictional, which just progressed to look like ours now (it literally makes zero difference to anybody except the inner machinations of my annoying ass but yeah ifykyk) basically yknow shooting a medieval peasant into 2023 & giving him mountain dew type beat

The Arcana HCs: M6 in the Future

~ @tetsuooooooooooo this was so much fun, thank you for sending it in and I hope you enjoy these!! ~

-- for headcanon purposes, MC is from the future and is tasked with taking care of M6 during their 24 hours there --

Julian

It takes him less than two minutes to figure out where (read: when) he is and his response is nothing short of enthusiastic

Please, he's been around the world, and he's got a delightful guide, and he really, really wants to know if his theories about leeches ended up being correct

He actually gets a little emotional when a quick google search shows him how wrong he was and you end up having to take him exploring to cheer him up and distract him from his failures

You have a really hard time explaining to him that clinics don't allow doctors without medical degrees to waltz in and observe random patients getting treatments

You take him to see a movie and he's transfixed

The screen is so big. The actor's faces are so clear. The drama is so much more than anything he could have imagined. And they come with music?? Hums the soundtrack for the rest of the day

If you show him that one version of Jurassic Park with Jeff Goldblum in it Julian will imitate him sporadically afterwards

Enjoys fast food way more than he should. Especially instant noodles. Will spend half an hour trying to pack some to take back

Fascinated by the concept of typing

You hit a button to make the next letter appear instead of writing it? But MC, this means that everything he wants to communicate through text could be easily readable. Imagine!

Freaks out a bit when you try to take him in a car. He's surprisingly comfortable in a metro, though, so you'll have to do with public transportation and bicycles

Oh yeah, he loves bicycles. He only crashed into three trees, a wall, and a stranger's parked car before getting the hang of it

He's convinced that earbuds don't actually play music, they just trick your brain into thinking that you can hear it

Almost exploded when you gave him coldbrew coffee

Asra

They know instantly that they're in a different version of reality. Sure, they've never traveled through time, but they've traveled through plenty of other dimensions

He's the least ruffled, and unfortunately, the least impressed. Don't get him wrong, this looks super cool, but this isn't any more otherworldly to him than the otherworldly places he's already been

Wants to go on a food tour immediately. Not the nice stuff though

No, they want the questionable food. The is-this-going-to-make-me-regret-existing food. The food that, if it was shown in an anime, would be pixelated and have threatening auras around it

So chill about what you tell him to do it's almost concerning

"Here Asra, climb into this four-wheeled hunk of metal that can travel over 100 miles an hour and hold yourself in with a single fabric strap while I pilot this through hundreds of other things just like it, driven by people we don't know and can't predict."

"Cool. Where do I put Faust?"

Don't tell them about edibles unless you want them to spend their day hunting some down and absolutely going to town on them

You swear you saw his hair stand on end the first time he tried popping candy

When you took them to get their radioactive meal (a.k.a. the closest fast food chain with the fewest ethical violations) they insisted on picking up one of every sauce packet to try them all

... and when he saw a nine-year-old mixing two different fountain drinks, he of course grabbed the largest cup available and went down the line so he could taste all of them at once too

You've never seen them this jittery and sugar high, so of course the next place to go is a trampoline park, with the bright lights and loud music and bodies hurtling through the air

He should not be getting the amount of air time that he does

Has a meltdown over modern fluffy blankets. They're so soft

Nadia

Gobsmacked. As in, she's a highly intelligent woman, and therefore able to really wrap her head around what she's seeing

The future!! She's in the future, Arcana help her

But she's got you and she adores you and she knows she can trust you so she's going to be okay. That said, start explaining. Now.

First things first: how's the infrastructure? She can't see any canals or aqueducts. Or fireplaces or lanterns, for that matter, what do you do for light? And cooking? (Cooking uses fire, right?)

Literally cannot walk past anything new without stopping to try to figure out how it works and if there's a way to recreate it herself

Bicycles on a rack? She's spinning the pedal and trying to figure out the balancing dynamics of two-wheeled movement

Almost lost it when she found out that it was possible to lift the hood of a car and look at the engine inside that makes it go. You decided to take her on public transportation instead

Which turned into all kinds of excited brainstorming about public carriages, and gondolas built for 20 people ferrying people along the aqueducts, and new and terrifying uses for the catacombs

Wasn't very impressed with the fashion she saw

She knows what good quality cloth looks like. This is a women who grew up in silks and fine linens, polyester does not impress her

Except for the stretchiness. She does like that

The perfume counter, on the other hand, takes up a good hour and a half of her time. She's smelled plenty of fine scents before, but she's never been in a shop where she could sniff so many at a time

This one smells like Prakra. This one smells like Vesuvia. This one smells like the beach. This one smells like the woods. This one ...

Yeah, it was an excellent opportunity to take a nap, if you're the napping sort. You wake up to her testing perfumes on you because she ran out of space on herself

Gets so frustrated when you explain your government setup to her

Muriel

Oh no, please be very gentle with him

He likes to live in the woods because it is peaceful and quiet and it's one place he doesn't stand out in

He stands out in this place very, very much and he doesn't like it

Refuses to leave the room he appeared in until his appearance is as unremarkable as possible (which is not easy to do, by the way, the man is a mountain. modern clothes in his size are hard to find)

Does not want to go in the car. It's way too fast and it makes him seasick when he closes his eyes to shut it out

Buses are somehow easiest - they feel the least claustrophobic when they're not crowded and it's rude to stare on them

You two end up going to a natural history museum in the middle of a weekday when hardly anybody is there, and he lights up

There are so many animals, and there are enough other people in the world who find those animals interesting that they gathered so much knowledge people had to make a building to hold it all

Has never heard evolutionary theory before and is fascinated by it

Once he starts talking, it's hard for him to stop

He's not being loud at all - you can only hear him so clearly because you two are holding hands so he can't lose you - but he's being quietly submerged in his own special interest and he loves it

He just wishes there weren't so many skeletons. But he's glad the species they belonged to aren't forgotten this way

Long story short, Muriel's inner Nerd is unleashed and he goes hoarse from the amount of murmuring he does all day

Does not like getting food in public. Does not like eating food in public. Does not like being publicly perceived. As soon as it gets into afternoon and it gets busy, he wants to go home

Which is where you show him what the internet is and he's in awe

People can work from home? People can make friends without leaving their house?? People can talk without being seen???

Portia

Spends five minutes hopping in place and squealing into her clothes to let out her nerves and excitement before you can decide what to do

Then insists on taking half an hour to hear you describe every single fun or interesting thing to do so she can make a list

Yes, she's determined to hit every single one in one day

First things first: food. Take her to a cafe and watch her sigh over all the baked goods and sugar-loaded caffeine beverages

Then (if there is one nearby) a mall, so she can see all the stuff that people buy so they can have the lifestyle they do. You have to drag her out of both Bath & Body Words and Bed, Bath, & Beyond

Please, it's full of fluffy fuzzy things and good smelling mystery goo, she wants to live in it also what do you mean "no stopping at the pet store", what even is a "pet store" -

Oh. OH -

You will have to physically pull her away before she adopts all the kittens. She does cry about it later, just a for a bit, they're so cute

Next is a library and cafe, of course, because she lives for books

This place is way bigger than the Palace library! The one in the Palace is just a large room, this is a whole building!! And people get to come here, whenever they want, just to read, for free?! What?!

You had to remind her about the "no loud noises in the library" rule several times. She's doing her best, she's just passionate

Completely demolishes her first chocolate croissant

Goes feral at the amusement park she has you take her to afterwards. This woman is an adrenaline fiend. You're cursing the pop up add for it by the fourth consecutive free fall ride

The only way to get her to leave is to tell her that one of her favorite stories was turned into a movie and that you'd have to go home to watch it. Don't take her to Target to get snacks. She'll disappear

Flicks the lightswitch 30 times in a row because she can

Lucio

He's immediately panicking. Not because he's in the future, no, but because of what it's done to his arm

It's changed. It's not running on magic any more. The only way to resolve his design is for it to be some kind of high-tech electrical prosthetic that even modern scientists would have difficulty with

Once he's adjusted to using it, you're good to go

Lights up like a firework the first time he rides in a car

MC. MC how fast does it go. MC that's a very high number. MC, he wants to drive. Please. Please! Pleeeaaaassssseeee

DO NOT LET HIM DRIVE.

Makes you pull over after seeing ads for Sephora because he's convinced that he could pull off that eye makeup even better

Tries every single makeup sampler and then gets offended when one of the poor employees suggests an anti-aging cream

Him? Aged?? How dare they - oh wait that really does brighten his eyes. He'll take ten, please, they're so small, they can't cost much -

You'll have to pull him out before he sees you use a credit card, because once he does he's going to keep asking to use it and you're not sure he understands why maxing it out is a bad thing

His arm does run out of battery at one point, which does cause some panic. All of a sudden he's stuck with a limp hunk of metal swinging from his shoulder, it's not ideal

You're able to find the retractable charging cable on the side and plug him in, but then he's stuck sitting in the same spot for two hours and a bored Lucio is a dangerous Lucio

There is a solution to this, of course. You can give him an iPad with games on it. He won't move a muscle after that

The caveat is that he will turn into an iPad kid and get glued to every single screen he sees afterwards. You don't know how to fix it

Falls in love with vending machines and tries Cheetos because the leopard on them looks cool. Develops an artificial cheese addiction

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana shitpost #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulatin, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You realise you don’t know where you’re going. That you don’t have anywhere to go. You pull into an empty lot and lean forward, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Your face is raw with the streaks of your tears, your clothes still damp from the wasted lemonade.

You take out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Coworkers you only call in emergencies; your mother who you only call on holidays; and friends you haven’t talked to in years. The twins won’t be much help, not by the looks of their Insta stories. They never offered much more than alcohol and dancing and you’re not in the mood.

You just want to curl up and sob until you fall asleep. You wince and glance in the mirror as your face aches. You see your reflection and gasp. Your cheek is swollen and the left side of your mouth. Oh, god. It really happened. He really hit you.

You start the car. You don’t want to waste gas driving around in circles. After a quick Google search, you think you have a solution. Temporarily. Just one night to be alone. To just detach before you have to figure out what comes next.

You stop at a grocery store you pass along the way. You grab a single bag of food to last you the night and then some. You follow the automated voice guiding you to your destination. You pull into the motel parking lot and heave again. 

You never imagined yourself being in this position. This isn’t Gone Girl. This is pathetic. You grab the paper bag and your purse and get out. You check in, the price making you question the integrity of the accommodation. 

You get to your room and lock the door. You go over everything with the cleaning wipes you tossed in your basket at the store. Then a cursory look over the bed. Nothing terrible, you suppose.

You undress and wrap yourself in the robe. There’s a laundry room just down the hall. It’ll have to do. You take your wallet and room key, along with your former outfit, and go to find the machine. When you're back in your room, you set a timer and flip through the channels on the small flatscreen.

You settle on a 90s sitcom you never really got into and dig through your bag of goodies for what little comfort you can find. You eat a few too many cookies and go through a small carton of chocolate milk before the alarm goes off. You go to switch your load and come back to search for whatever entertainment is left on cable TV.

When the load is finally dry, you retrieve it and leave the clothes folded by the door. You set out one of the paper cups beside the kettle with a tea bag in expectation of the morning before you turn out the lights. You keep the television on, volume at low, not wanting to feel as alone as you really are. You drift off the to buzzing commentary of an overplayed romcom.

Exhausted by the week behind you and the emotion of the day, you sink down into the turmoil of vivid dreams. Your day plays over and over, each time more demented and twisted to the last, until it ends with Johnny’s hand crashing into you endlessly. A pounding draws you from your subconscious horror.

Shit. Morning already. You grab your phone. It isn’t checkout time yet. You get up, still in nothing more than the robe, and go to the door. You crack is open just a little, expecting to tell the room service that you don’t need anything. 

Instead, you gape through the tiny space between the door and the frame at your unexpected caller. You try to close it but Lloyd slaps his hand against the wood, keeping it ajar. In his other hand, he holds a paper bag with handles. You can smell maple wafting from it. You see the stamp of an upscale breakfast place you pass every day but never go to.

“What do you want?” You croak through your dry throat, “how did you even know I’m here?”

“Can’t tell all my tricks,” Lloyd winks, “trust me, the complimentary breakfast isn’t much of a compliment. So…” He raises the paper bag.

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you in,” you sneer, “you ruined my life. You–”

“I sent you a nice gift. Expensive, actually. Not my fault Officer Cuck can’t do the same.”

“Please–” 

“I’m offering you a free meal. You’re shacked up in this rathole, I’m sure you could use it. French toast or waffles?”

You glare at him with one eye. You suck in your cheeks as you consider the offer.

“Sure, leave it in front of the door and I’ll grab it when I’m gone.”

He laughs, “I get it, you’re not used to being taken care of but let’s try a little roleplay. You want the goods, you gotta take me with it.”

“I’m good. I got tea–”

You try to push the door shut again and he forces his foot into the gap. You huff and let out an exasperated growl.

“Really, I can’t handle this right now. Please just leave me alone.”

“Should I tell you how this turns out or do you want to solve that riddle all on your own? If you can find a place, you won’t be able to move in for another two weeks. And in that time, you’ll spend at least twice that in this hole. So, if you can afford first and last right now, I’m not sure you will then. 

“But I digress. You gotta go through and turn off those automatic payments for that box you shared with the douche nozzle. And you can’t get back the bills that already came out, huh?

“Maybe you’re the stubborn type. Maybe you sleep in your car for a few weeks, maybe you crash with a friend, that won’t last forever. And in the end, you go crawling back to the pig. 

“Or you go with Plan B.”

You stare at him, trying not to show your defeat.

“Me,” he smirks.

You don’t say anything. Your stomach growls so loud he can hear it. You close your eyes. You just want to be left alone.

“You don’t have to decide today, but you do need to eat something. So, you can go hope there’s some instant oatmeal left at the front desk or… you can put up with me for an hour.”

You brace the door and drop your chin. You put your hand on your hip and slowly retract your other. You back up and sit on the end of the bed. You fold in half, holding your head.

You don’t have the energy to argue with him. One hour. Fine. Whatever. He’ll figure out you’re not that special.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #the club #carpe noctem #the gray man

[thewonderingbard]

how do boys react to sick s/o? With like something that doesn’t make them SICK but mildly uncomfortable, like. Hmmm… pink eye, known for itchy-ness and eye gunk. Making it hard to even open your eyes when you wake up

-🌽 anon :-)

Currently watching Ninjago , Living life rn.

Sorry it took a bit 🌽 anon ;)

(I’ve personally never had pink eye or anything like that but a quick google search shall help)

———————————————————————

Undertale Sans -Vanilla

He is tries to help but he is not great at healing magic.So he goes to the doctors for S/O and gets the medicine S/O needs. As a skeleton he can’t really get pink eye so he just uses as an excuse to lay in bed with S/O.He tries to keep S/O’s mood up by telling jokes.He also keeps getting S/O water and snacks aswell.

Undertale Papyrus - Paps

Yeahhhh…S/O is not leaving that bed until he knows S/O is better.He is actually quite good at healing magic so he uses that quite often.He can’t stand seeing his S/O in pain.When he first saw S/O infected eyes , he and S/O we’re at the doctors in record time.Once given the medication and being told it’s not serious,only then will he calm down.He ,the ever generous skeleton,puts the eye drops in S/O’s eyes.

Underswap Sans - Blue

He first thought S/O had been crying and went to comfort S/O . Once S/O tells him it’s pink eye he surprisingly is not panicking.But now S/O is forced to rest on the sofa and eat Blue’s soup…(It tastes horrible).He is right on time when giving S/O medicine.Don’t let him do the eye drops or the liquid will end up in your eye brown for some reason.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey

“Awww,Poor little Bee…”

He feels so sad just for S/O . He like Vanilla gets all the medicine S/O need sand gives it to you aswell.He also hand feeds S/O and holds the bottle of water S/O drinks out of. He is doing every for his S/O.He is such a mother-hen when it come to people getting ill or sick. Honey is not the best at healing magic but he uses it on S/O if it stops their irritated eyes from hurting.

Underfell Sans - Red

He is super weirded out! How did your eyes get like that? Why do they look that way?Once all his questions are answered he takes S/O to the doctor to get checked out.Let me give you some advice NEVER accept Reds offers to make you food.You know one time he set the COFFEE MACHINE on fire.Anyway,he is not the best at healing magic so he makes Edge help s/o. He ,like Vanilla, uses this as an excuse to nap with S/O, not like he can get pink eyes when he has sockets.

Underfell Papyrus - Edge

One of the only time you see him worried is when S/O has an illness.He is surprisingly good a healing magic so he uses that on S/O’s eyes.He literally makes S/O sleep on the sofa instead of his room but he does sleep on the floor of the living room just so he knows S/O is safe.He is very organised when it comes to giving S/O medicine and eyes drops.He even goes out and runs errands for S/O.He may or may not give S/O’s work a very rude notice that S/O is ill and won’t be coming in.

Horrortale Sans - Seaweed

He is a bit confused when S/O tells him.How are your eyes pink?They are not normally pink are they?Once S/O tells him he really tries being helpful.But he can’t go out on his own so he can’t really get S/O medicine, he can only really go and get it if S/O is up to it or if his brother will take him.Other than that he stays by S/Os side constantly, asking if S/O is okay every 10 minutes and if S/O needs anything.

Horrortale Papyrus - Papaya

Oh no.If you thought Honey was a mother-hen get ready for Papaya because he becomes the ULTIMATE another hen.He instantly knew something was up with S/O it’s like a sixth sense.As some one who takes a lot of medicine himself and makes sure his brother takes his medics what makes you think he would forget about S/Os medicine and eye drop times. S/O need water?Here have 12 bottles .Hungry? Be ready you’re getting a feast. S/O warns him to not pull his back or hurt himself and gives S/O a death glare.

_________________________

This was fun to write!

I hope it’s alright!

Thank you for requesting - Morganna

#underfell #horrortale #undertale #underswap #undertale headcanons #sans x reader #undertale imagines #papyrus x reader

[plagueoffools]

toxic mentally unstable nikolai with a fem reader that just has enough of him? angst to fluff? or maybe no fluff? your choice!!

"INSANITY IS THE MENTALITY! SO DENY SANITY TO UNEARTH THE RAW VITALITY."

(REQUESTED) TOXIC! NIKOLAI GOGOL/ GN! READER

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

[ slight ANGST/ FLUFF ] 1.3k WORDS

⸺A/N // I figured since Nikolai is already quite literally unhinged I would just write what I depict of the normal Nikolai but with a twinge of toxicity. I'm not quite fond of my sloppy writing but motivation is kicking my ass. //

⸺TW // Google translated Ukrainian, correct me if there's any mistakes you spot. //

⸺INFO // Reader is implied as FEM regarding request but never stated. //

You're not sure how it had come to this, you're not sure how you had expected it to not come to this.

Either way, you want it all to end. All the worrisome days where he does not answer nor visit you and when he does he's quick to brush off your questions regarding his abrupt disappearance. It's an endless cycle that you've found yourself caged in, no matter which key you prod the key lock with, it'll never open for you to leave.

You've realized for the past few days that you're a sitting duck in a cage, willingly waiting for a man who will not wait for you.

You're not sure how it all even started, you recall blurry memories that you used to reminisce with so much vibrance and brightness; have now dulled. You're able to reminisce back when it was all much simpler, where he bombarded you with teasing remarks and when you humoured him. Humoured him, all because you'd thought to stimulate his need for an audience.

However, you're no longer amongst the audience. You're now propped and dressed for a role you've never wanted to be casted for.

He had to admit it to, he never thought his jocular advances would go anywhere-

- but the seed he has planted; like a flower, flourishes quickly. Standing tall and vibrant. All he wants to do however is to so desperately starve it of its sun, thirst it of its water. He attempts to bring himself to cut it down, his heart prevails, rebels against him.

Won over by his ever so fleeting but dreadful emotions nonetheless, he flees cowardly. Confrontation was never his thing anyways, he'd rather just run until the sun sets and he's no longer plagued with the heat of it all. He figures that if he cannot bring himself to destroy what leashes him to the ground he will run until the leash merely snaps. But who knew the same leash he was running from would lead him straight back to you.

After a heavy day with a heavy heart, you return back to croak your problems to your pillow. Burying your face so deep you've wished that was all it took for it to asphyxiate you but you tweaked the position of your head to allow yourself to breathe properly .

You feel cowardly, sulking about a clownish man that made you feel like the clown. Retreating back to the warmth of your bed hoping it would dissipate your thoughts; turning and turning you search for a position to get comfortable in. Your slumber is prolonged due to your restless behaviour, your body aching and seeking for the warmth of the man that not even your bed can replicate.

You groan before pulling the blanket over your head. 'This is something future me can worry about .' you sigh out before shutting your eyes and hoping to find peace by listening to the rhythmic thump of your heart instead of the blaring silence your room offers.

⸻click!

Your eyes groggily shoot open at the sound, your breathing stills as you register the sound . You lay still for a second, figuring if you should continue your slumber or investigate the sound. Your body only runs cold when you notice the breezy wind ghosting over your skin. You're absolutely one hundred percent sure that you did not leave your window open . You hastily shut your eyes as you focus on picking up a sound but when you do you restrain yourself from not letting out a blood curling scream when you hear soft thuds of footsteps growing in proximity towards you.

You're frozen, you internally cry for your body to move, scream for it to do anything, to get away. Your breath subconsciously picks up when you feel the weight of your bed dip just right beside you.

A hand fit with a tight glove presumably leather from what you can feel off of the texture. It gracefully dances across your face, sliding across your skin as If they're testing their boundaries. You start to internally scream when the perturbator leans close, you're aware because you can feel the heat off of their skin right agaisnt you.

-and it is one you undeniably recognize, the heat your body soughts out for.

You hear an amused chuckle before slowly translating to a full heinous laugh,

"You're so cute when you pretend to be asleep."

Your breath hitches, it's him. You're about to jump from your rigid position and tackle him after not hearing from him for so long but your conflicted emotions stops you, restrains you. You're still upset and justifiably angry at his disappearance, you only huff before turning your back to him.

He dramatically gasps, him and his theatrics. "My dove has forsaken me! " - ironic. "My, what will I ever do to regain my doves affection?".

You roll your eyes, "Isn't that what you're trying to abolish? Why run back to something you wish to rid from your life fool." you hissed back at him.

He diverts the topic at hand to something else, hoping to distract himself from facing another dilemma. Just this once, I'll embrace the cage you've trapped me in.

Chirping out he leans closer to you, "Kolya wants a hug, don't you think he deserves one?" he only further whines when you push him away. Pouting childishly as if you've just denied a child ice cream.

Grabbing you at your wrist, halting your pushy motions as he sets it aside and clumsily maneuvers to your side. With a soft thump he lays beside you facing you with an annoyingly mirthful smile, with those stupid big doe eyes he tries to reel you in with.

"I've missed you dovey, do you miss me?" he flicks your nose when you take too long to respond. Groaning you send a short lived glare before muttering out a 'no' and returning to the comfort of darkness behind your eyelids.

"Are ya sure?" you hear him whisper amusingly right next to your ear, he was close, so close to the point you could feel the vibration of every syllable he uttered.

That's just him you suppose, pushing people's limits to see how far he can venture. Your train of thought is halted when a thin sheet of an object falls on top of your arm that was resting outside the safety of your blanket, confused you opened your eye.

The first you noticed was that Nikolai was no longer present, not in your sight atleast. For a man who was so daringly close to you just a few moments ago, he sure knows how to be as far as possible as well. The second were the sharp edges of hundreds of Polaroid photos that are piling at the center of your bed, some you've noticed have already fallen off of your blanket to the floor.

Your hand curiously reaches out and takes a closer look at one polaroid you managed to pick out, your breath hitches as you recognize the figure of the person in the picture. It's you. Snuggling cozily in your bed just the day before this. You'd know because you wore a new set of pajamas that had just arrived on your doorstep just the day before. Your eyes wander more and you noticed a scribbled out date at the back with a number, #689. Six hundred eighty-nine? You gape at the number.

Your hands scramble and you sweep up a couple of polaroid photos in your hand, #520, #638, #459, #381.

Each and every one includes you both outside and inside of the comfort of your house, each and every polaroid coming with their own personalized doodles and notes scribbled from front to back. Hearts being doodled on your sleeping figure, messy scribbled of notes in cursive and some you recognize in his native language, Ukrainian. Scribbled either outside of the border of the picture or behind the polaroid. Never across, you figured he didn't wanna block the actual picture with his writings.

Your hand curiously ventures out to take one more, it's a common occurrence of most of the mass amounts of polaroid photos to include you doing mundane tasks such as this ; watering the flowers you keep near your living room balcony. You flip to look at the back, it seems this one is one of the older ones ; you noted.

22/7/2006

#143

"𝙄𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙢 𝙄 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

"мій голуб полетить, і якщо його зупинять, я пожертвую власними крилами."

#nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai gogol x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,214

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Death

———————————————————————

I walk out of the abandoned building, the sounds of my gunshot and the now-dead drug lord's screaming still ringing in my head.

Nowadays it seems that these sounds comfort me more than Bruce ever could. Fucking Bruce. I hate him. I hate Batman. I hate the Joker. I hate myself for letting Y/N die. For dragging her to her death. For not being able to save her. For me being the one that's alive.

I can't let guilt cloud my mind right now. It's hard to kill someone as you're feeling guilty for causing the death of someone else. I need something to clear my head, something to reset myself. Coffee should help, it always did when I was originally alive.

I glance around, trying to get my wits together and figure out where the nearest coffee shop is. I tug my phone out of my jacket, taking a glance at the time. Nine thirty-two. Late but not too late, except for coffee. I don't know if anywhere with a decent cup of Joe will be open. I don't need that watered-down bean soup shit they serve at gas stations.

Pamela's cafe will be open. They're always open. I don't want to go there though. The last thing I need is more memories of Y/N.

I do a quick Google search, hoping to find any other cafe open, but I don't. I don't need coffee, but I do need something to eat and a donut sounds so good right now. I can't even remember what a donut tastes like. I'll just have to eat my feelings alongside the donut then.

I pull up Google Maps, glancing over it quickly before heading towards the cafe. The plus side of Pamela's is that the staff is pretty chill with anything; heroes, villains, and citizens alike.

It seems that in the past couple of years, the girls on staff have been adopted by some of the villains. I see Ivy, Scarecrow, and Harley coming and going from there a lot.

When I was at the Iceberg Lounge - aka Penguin's bar, strip club, and not-so-underground business - he mentioned that he "keeps up" on the girls and pays some of their tuition. He also mentioned there's a new girl that started a couple of months ago and that she's "a feisty little one that doesn't fear shit". That coming from Penguin is a bit of an honor. Not many people can get a compliment like that from him.

Maybe I'll meet this feisty new girl tonight. Maybe I'll take her home. I could use the distraction. However, I don't usually end up doing anything with them when I do get them home. I usually just lose my shit cause it's not the same as it was with Y/N.

I switch between being mad and being indifferent about being unable to move on from her. She died only ever loving me, why can't I live only ever loving her?

The neon lights of the cafe cut into my line of sight along with cutting through my thoughts. I forgot how obnoxious all the neon was. Standing right outside the cafe is Penguin and a young girl. She's in the 50s dinner uniform Pamela's staff wears. She's also wrapped up in a fancy-looking coat.

I feel half bad for the girl. If she's working at a cafe, she can't afford a coat like that, which means it's from the Penguin. It's never good for anyone - much less a young girl - to be in debt to Penguin.

My pace slows as I approach them. "Come on Feisty, just let me pay for your courses. Then you wouldn't have to work so much."

"No, I'm good. I don't mind supporting myself." The girl's voice is soft but firm as she speaks. Maybe she isn't as stupid as I thought.

"Listen here you little bitch-"

"No, you listen here you fucking flightless bird," the girl yells back, causing a bit of laughter to brew in my chest. "I already told you I don't want your money and unlike most of the other girls, I don't owe you shit so back off."

"And if I don't?" He asks, starting to turn the head on his cane. Under the head is usually a knife that Penguin is known to use on people when he doesn't get his way.

The girl yanks the cane away before any damage can be done, causing shock in both the bird and me. "If you don't I'll stab you to death with your own cane. Go back to your dumb pimp square." Penguin stands there for a second, just staring at the girl before he walks away mumbling to himself. His wobble is more present than usual now that he doesn't have his cane to support him. The club owner wasn't kidding about this girl not being scared of anything, or at least she was good at pretending.

Now that the fat man isn't in the way, I'm able to see the girl he was talking to. As my eyes scan over her my mind both empties and explodes. Standing in the neon lights is the spitting image of Y/N, which is impossible... because she's dead.

Or is it? I'm technically dead and yet here I am. But if she was alive, she would have looked for me, right? Like I did for her? She would at least be at the manor, right? Bruce would take her back in or at the very least Dick would... right? Or maybe she didn't want to go back to them. Maybe she's mad at them too.

Y/N - I think it's her - turns on her heels, heading down the road. I need to follow her. If she is my Y/N I need to know. I need to be a hundred percent certain. At the very least, if it's not Y/N I should still watch the girl get home safe after she disagreed with Penguin.

What if it's not Y/N? What if it is? What if this is a trap? Is Al Ghul fucking with my head again? Did he set this up to trap me back within the League? Even if he did, I need to know what's going on. Just in case it is a trap, I stay hidden. I'll have the element of surprise if shit does go south.

I follow this girl, not paying much attention to where she's going but making sure to keep pace with her. If it is my Y/N I can't lose her again from careless mistakes.

My mind runs a mile a minute as I trail her. I need answers, I need to hold her, I need her to be Y/N.

Maybe-Y/N turns, making my heart race. Fear of losing her around the corner mixes with the joy of a split second of light enveloping her.

I catch a glimpse behind her ear. When we were twelve, right before Bruce took us in, we thought it would be a good idea to give each other stick-and-poke tattoos. We tattooed each other's names behind our ears. My name is there, behind her left ear, in my chicken scratch handwriting. It has to be her. There's no way Al Ghul could know about that. I don't even think Bruce knows about our matching tattoos.

My pace quicks as I slide around the corner after her. I need her. I need to tell her I'm here. I need - it's a trap.

Hands land on me, throwing me to my right. My boots slide against the gravel on the sidewalk, aiding in me losing my balance. I fall hard, harder than the Roman Empire.

On my way down, my helmet comes into contact with a trash can. The noise echoes within my disguise, promising to give me a headache.

"What the hell?" I bark, quickly getting back to my feet. I should have known this was too good to be true. I should have known it was a trap. I should have known to pay attention to my surroundings. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Once the sound rattling around my helmet quiets some I'm able to get a grip on my surroundings. Standing in front of me is Dick Grayson in his signature black and blue spandex suit. "Fucking Nightwing," I husk out, shaking my head to get the last of the echoes out.

"Hood," he answers, positioning himself for a throwdown.

From my last run-in with Bruce, it's evident he knows who I am. Despite his attempt to hide it, the Bat was throwing his punches. I'm guessing from the greeting that he didn't share his findings with Dick.

But fine, if a fight is what Nightwing wants, a fight is what he'll get. It shouldn't be difficult to get him down.

I cautiously walk toward him, preparing myself to swing. One easy hit. Just one to knock him down long enough for me to sneak off and find Y/N.

I swing at him, but he ducks. What a little shit. I don't want trouble, I just want to go find - he thinks I'm stalking her. Dick thinks I'm stalking Y/N. Does he know it's Y/N?

"Just move aside, Wing, it's not what you think," I call out louder than I meant to. I throw another punch, trying to get him down again. I don't have time for this. I don't have the want to explain who I am and who I'm chasing after.

Dick needs to get out of my way before I lose Y/N. I can't lose her again. I'd burn the Earth to a crisp before I let that happen.

My thoughts distract me, making me lag as Nightwing tries to sweep my feet out from under me. I almost managed to avoid it but do end up tripping a bit from my late reaction.

"You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" Grayson calls, his cocky attitude present in his words. Well, that answers my question; he doesn't know it's Y/N. Or who I am. Or maybe he does and doesn't want me to know that he's connected to her. I hate the hush-hush behaviors we both inherited from Bruce.

I stumble back, again causing my helmet to come into contact with more metal. I'm definitely going to have a piercing headache for the next couple of hours. Great.

As the object behind me catches my fall, my guns slide across it, reminding me of their presence. If he's not going to go down with physical force, a gunshot sure as hell will work.

Nightwing approaches me, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He's mumbling, probably answering whoever is on the other end of his coms. Great, I'm going to have to go through Batman too to get to Y/N. If that's the case, so be it. Bruce's name is as good as carved into my bullets if that's what it takes to get Y/N back.

I take Nightwing's distraction as a chance to get the upper hand. Being the asshole I am, I sweep Nightwing's feet out from under him. It's what he deserves and quite good karma. He stumbles back, landing on his back a couple of steps ahead of me.

No time is wasted as I start closing the gap between us. My gun feels heavy in my hand as I pull it out. Richard made his own grave trying to get between Y/N and me again, but that doesn't mean I like laying him in it. I watch as he grabs for one of his sticks as I tower over him. He can try all he wants but it won't stop me; nothing will stop me. Y/N will be safe from him, from Bruce, from the life I dragged her into it.

I level the barrel to his head debating if I should just end it here. It would be quite the message to Batman. "Lady don't!" A young voice screams out.

I glance up to find who else is present but before I can my eyes lock on Y/N. She's rushed and flustered as she races towards me. Before I can stop her, she's shoving the gun up towards the sky. "Don't shoot!" She shouts, her words followed by the sound of the gun going off.

Fear flickers through me before my senses come in. Y/N isn't shot, she can't be, the gun is pointed too high.

She stands in front of me, anger rooted in her eyes as she looks at me. There are flickers of green mixed in with her normal eye color. I take in the rest of her, letting my mind go silent as I look her over. Y/N has a strand of grey mixed in her hair, just like me. She has to be alive because of the Laza pit. She has the same greying hair and recent green added to her eyes, just like me. Mine were caused because of the pit, so hers have to be because of it too, right? Is she suffering from the same side effects I did because of the pit?

"What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" Y/N yells, tugging the weapon from my hand before I can stop her. I have to stop myself from laughing at the situation. It's too much like it was when we were younger. Dick and me going toe-to-toe and Y/N swooping in to break us up once again.

"Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats herself, her attention turning towards the gun.

I shift to point it down, so she doesn't accidentally shoot herself, but she beats me to it. The barrel is pointed at the open pavement between our feet as her hands work on disconnecting the bullets from the gun.

Y/N's fingers look smooth and soft as they work. I want to touch them. I want to hold them in my hands. I want to press kisses into them. I want to touch her. I want to know she's real.

"I..." I start, my mouth feels heavy and suddenly full of cotton. "Hi." The word sounds loud when it tumbles out.

"Hello," Y/N says back, her eyes sparkling. The color I've grown so used to comforts me despite the newly added flickers of green. She's so bright and here and alive.

Her focus stays on me for a beat longer as she hands me back my gun. Our fingers bumping into each other, sending shivers up my spine. She's alive.

I let the feeling envelop me as my eyes switch from her face to staying locked on the shitty tattoo behind her ear. My mind is on overtime, running through a million questions even as Y/N moves up and down in front of me. I can hear her voice as she talks to Dick but it's hard to focus on processing her words.

My eyes snap back up as Y/N stands. She whispers something, the words lost in her uncomfortableness. Am I making her upset? Is Dick? I glance around her to hopefully see what shifted her tone. Since being distracted, Bruce's new Robin has appeared in front of us. Is he making her upset?

Y/N starts walking away, causing panic about losing her to wash over me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, my hand wrapping around her arm to stop her movements. "Let..." I start again, my mouth still feeling dry, and it gets drier as Y/N turns towards me. "Let me walk you home." The words come out quieter than I thought they would.

Her eyes harden as she looks at me and shakes me off of her. "What the fuck is with all you superheroes? Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" So she knows I was behind her? Does she know it's me? Does she not remember Bruce is Batman? What does she remember?

I shake my head again, trying to Etch-A-Sketch the thoughts out of my head. I focus my attention back on Y/N. Her hands are on her hips, her right one popped out. I want to touch her again. I want to put my hands on her hips. I want to feel her between my fingers. I want to feel her warmth against me. I want-

My thoughts are cut off again when Dick starts touching her. "I... Y/N?" Dick says his tone as quiet as mine was. All the love-struck feelings wash out of me and are replaced with anger and jealousy. I don't want him touching her. I should be touching her. She's mine. She's always been mine. What the fuck does Dick think he's doing?

"Good guess," Y/N answers, her figure relaxing some. Does she remember that Grayson is Nightwing? Why does she remember that but not that Bruce is Batman? Does she like him touching her?

"Y/N?" He repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion. He needs to stop touching her before I lose my shit.

Almost as if Y/N can read my thoughts, she shrugs him off and starts walking away again. "That's my name, don't wear it out." Her tune is light and happy, making butterflies flap around my stomach. Nightwing and I stay frozen, watching her slip out of the alleyway before vanishing from our sight.

Dick's attention turns back towards me. His eyes are watery. Apparently, I'm not the only secret Bruce has been keeping from him, how in tune for the bat. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" He asks, a sad laugh following. It tinges my heart, almost making me regret being willing to kill him a few minutes ago.

I hum a bit, turning towards the direction Y/N went in as I think about what I'm going to do. I start heading after her before changing my mind. I know she's alive and in town. That's all that matters. It'll be best for her if I back off, give her time to think over the event, and give Dick time to tattle to Bruce so I can see how they'll react. I glance at Nightwing behind me before opening my mouth again, "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

I let the words hang behind me as I walk away. Waiting to go after Y/N also gives me time to think over what I'm going to do. If she doesn't remember parts of her life - if any of it - I don't need to scare her away by coming off too strong.

———————————

My heart jumps around as I walk up the path from the other day. The neon lights are still obnoxious as fuck, but I don't mind. Y/N will be there. I know she will. I've been watching her, keeping tabs on her, getting the hang of her schedule. I know, I know, I know. I sound like a stalker. But it's not stalking. It's... intel collecting.

I know she'll be here. She works until nine-thirty, so unlike the other night, I come in earlier, so I have time to see her. Time to talk to her. I also know they're not too busy at night so the cafe will at least be mostly empty, if not completely deserted.

From my stalk- intel collecting, I know Dick came in earlier to talk to her. I don't know what they talked about though. I don't know if I want to know. It pissed me off seeing Dick with Y/N. Pissed me off seeing him touch her again. Pissed me off seeing the smile that stayed on her face even after she left the cafe for class.

What does Dick think he's doing? I'm not stupid or blind. Hell, even a blind man can see how down-hard Dick is for Y/N. Even when we were younger, he pretty much had hearts in his eyes anytime Y/N was around. She wanted me last time; she'll want me this time too... I think.

The jingle of the bell on the door competes with my heartbeat for space in my ears. Sitting in one of the bar chairs at the coffee island is Y/N. Scarecrow is next to her, helping her with her chemistry homework. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement but at least Y/N is getting the academic help she needs.

"Hello!" Y/N peeps out, sending a smile at me as her attention turns away from Scarecrow. Her eyes soften when she focuses on me. "It's you again."

"It's me again," I mumble, taking slow steps towards her.

Scarecrow stands up, placing himself between Y/N and me. He's always been a small man, even when I was a kid, but he seems even smaller nowadays. "Again?" He asks, trying to look intimidating. He's barely intimidating when he's in his suit, and definitely isn't when he's dressed like a civilian.

"Again," Y/N peeps up, her voice still airy and soft. The same voice that used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep most nights. "Helmet man here walked me home after I argued with Penguin the other night."

"You got into an argument with Penguin?" Crow asks, turning his attention from me to Y/N. "What did he want?"

"You know, the usual. He wants me in debt to him for another body to do his bidding," She teases a soft smile on her face in an attempt to comfort Crow. Scarecrow shifts around a bit glancing at me a few times.

I step aside, standing next to the skinny man and joining him looking at Y/N. She's so pretty, even out of her style and in the dumb uniform for the cafe. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask her, slowly tugging my helmet off as well as making sure the mask under it stays in place. The last thing I need is Scarecrow knowing I'm Jason Todd.

"Look at you, pulling all the guys today," Crow half teases, sending glares my way.

"I guess so," Y/N says, her smile even bigger as she scans over my face. Maybe she does know who I am.

"I have something to deal with. Will you be okay if I leave?" Crow asks, his attention not being pulled from me.

"I'll be fine. I'm pretty confident that I can take him if need be." Y/N giggles at herself, pulling a soft chuckle from Crow as well. He nods at her before turning on his heels and walking off. "What do you want to drink?" She asks, standing up and sliding behind the counter.

"I'll have whatever you're going to have." She hums, starting to make whatever it is she's making. I watch her move around, my eyes drinking in every moment. Memories flow in and out as I watch her. Memories of her hands on me, her lips on me, of her laugh, of her. "What do you think he's off to go do?" I ask, being careful not to call him Scarecrow in case she doesn't know. It would be better if Y/N didn't know; it would be one less person to protect her from.

She hums, her hands working at pouring our drinks out. "He's probably going to go line the fog machines in the Iceberg with fear gas. He gets pretty pissy when Penguin fucks with the staff." So, she does know. Is that good or bad? Probably good in this situation. "Here you go," She murmurs, pushing my cup towards me before walking back around the counter with her drink.

Y/N slides back into her seat, patting the one next to her. I obey, sitting down. Her eyes stay locked on me, the flickers of green swirling around them as she stares. The space is quiet, the only sound being us sipping on our coffees. "Are you stalking me?" She asks, filling in the space and causing me to choke a bit.

My lungs force out a cough in an attempt to counteract my choking. Y/N's eyes stay locked on me, the green standing out as she watches. "I... no?" Why the fuck did that come out as a question? That's pretty counterproductive. "No, I'm not." That's better... maybe.

She hums again, sipping on her coffee as she thinks over my answer. "Defiantly seems like you're stalking me. Most people don't sneak around and follow me all day." Once again silence falls between us. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Y/N sits in silence, enjoying her coffee as she watches me. Even though I know she's suspicious of me, I still find comfort in her gaze. "I don't remember much of my life before six months ago so if I'm supposed to know you, I'm not avoiding you. I just don't know who you are, so you don't need to sneak around me; you just need to talk to me. Well, and be patient please." She says, being the one to break the silence again.

Oh... So, she doesn't know anything. That's... scary. For many reasons. "Is there anything you do remember?" I ask, gently pushing my coffee back and forth between my hands.

"Snip bits of stuff. Though some things have started coming back since I ran into Nightwing and you. Some more came back after my coffee chat with Richard Grayson too."

Don't fucking say his name. Don't say it. You should be saying my name. Should be remembering stuff because of me. Not because of fucking Dick. "Oh ya?" I peep out, glaring ahead of me at the menu instead of focusing my anger on Y/N.

"Mmhmm..." She falls silent, nodding her head back and forth as if she's trying to wiggle her thoughts around. "Helmet man-"

"Red Hood," I say, cutting her off with my correction.

I turn my attention back to her, being met with her eyes already on me. "You're my Jason, right?"

"Ya," I push out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The word 'my' repeats nonstop in my head, bouncing around my brain as I try to sort through my feelings of bliss.

"I think I love you," She whispers, her hand dipping back behind her ear to mess with her tattoo.

The bliss is all washed away once the words hit my ears. She thinks she loves me? Does she not remember loving me? Of course not, Y/N doesn't remember anything. Well, at least a small piece of her remembers me. Remembers me enough to know she's supposed to love me and that's good enough. There's enough hope there for me to build on.

"Well, I know I love you," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on her to see her reaction. She's still looking at me, her eyes shining.

She hums a bit, tilting her head as she scans me again. "Can I take your mask off?" Y/N asks, her hands slow and gentle as they slide over my cheeks and come into contact with the mask covering my eyes.

"Ya."

Her fingers are soft as they snap off my mask. The joy drains from me as the warmth from her touch is removed. "Your eyes are green... I remember them being blue," Y/N says, her fingertips soon back on my cheeks.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, both from a blush and the hands present on my skin. "They used to be, now they're green." Y/N hums, running her fingers over my cheekbones before sliding them into my hair. I let my eyes close, soaking in her touches. It's calming, being able to be so close to her again, feeling her touch me again, feeling proof that she's alive. I lean forward a bit, getting close enough to feel Y/N's soft breathing coat my face. "Can..." Asking to kiss her might be a little much right now. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

"Can you what?" Y/N prompts, her hands dropping down to my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and once again they're met with the familiar color and the newly added flickers of green. Why did she only get slivers and mine completely changed color? "Can I take you on a date?" I finally ask, shifting a bit so our noses are touching. God, I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her in every way possible. It's going to kill me having to work back up to that.

"I'd like that, Jason."

Yes. God, yes. "Say my name again," I mumble, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Jason," She whispers, bopping my nose with her own before pulling away from me.

———————————

Butterflies flap around my stomach, threatening to come up in a not-pretty way. My hands shake as I lift one to knock on the door of Y/N's apartment. The knocking feels loud as I do it. Maybe I knocked too loud.

The door swings open soon after, the door frame filling with the image of Y/N. She's dressed up with her hair down to cup her face. "Hi," I breathe out, my eyes drinking her in. She's so pretty, so perfect, so alive.

"Hello," she answers back, her eyes glancing at my hand. "You got me flowers?" Y/N asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh ya," I bark out, definitely too loud, as I push the bouquet toward her. I couldn't decide what flowers to get so I ended up getting three different bouquets and had the lady mix them. "Your favorite flowers are orange roses, but I didn't know if you still liked them or not, so I panicked and got more flowers than you probably need or want." That was dumb. Why did I say that? I feel like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush again.

"I still like orange roses," Y/N tells me, taking the flowers from me before walking back through the door. I follow after her, making sure to close the door behind me. Her apartment is small but cozy. There's not much in her home either but I guess that's expected since Y/N doesn't know herself.

There is a small couch and one of those old, bulky, shitty TVs tucked into her living room. The apartment smells nice, like pork and chili pepper. A million different dishes are stacked up around her countertop in the kitchen. "What are you making?" I ask her, sliding my jacket off before laying it on the couch.

"I'm making Pozole. I remember you liking it. Or I think you liked it. Somebody did at least," She mumbles a bit, keeping her attention to the pot on the stove in front of her.

"I like pozole. Alfred and you used to make it for me all the time."

Y/N's eyes light up at my words, making my chest fill with the warmth of joy. I walk into the cramped kitchen, making sure to stay out of her way as I stand in her presence. I watch her like a hawk as she works away, letting the warmth of the stove and the smell of dinner fill the space between us. For the first time in two years, I finally feel okay, finally feel at peace.

"You didn't answer my question the other day," I voice, sliding in closer to her. I want to hold her; I want to wrap my arms around her waist. I debate it for a second. I don't want to scare her off.

"What question?" Y/N asks, glancing at me before turning back to her project at hand.

"Is there anything you remember from our - er - your life?"

Y/N snaps the heat off, continuing to stir the pot as she thinks it over. "There's not a lot I do remember. I'm starting to remember this dude named Wally, I think. I don't know. I'm going to talk to Dick about him tomorrow. I remember a bit about Dick too but not much. I remember a bit about you... about us." Her eyes glance at me, before turning back to our dinner. She picks up some heat absorbers, wrapping them around the pot before setting it on a cutting board on the counter.

She's talking to Dick? About her memories? Or lack thereof, I guess. I don't want her talking to him. What's he going to say to her? What has he already said to her? What ideas is he putting into Y/N's head? Has Dick tried anything with her?

"What do you remember about us?" I ask, trying to push for more information as I try to forget my worried thoughts.

Y/N floats around the kitchen, taking out dishes for our food. My eyes trail her as she moves around the small space. "Umm... I remember us kissing a lot."

I chuckle a bit at that response. We do - did kiss a lot. We did other things a lot too. "Ya, ya we kissed a lot. We were very... touchy." Y/N giggles a bit as she makes our plates. My eyes keep glancing from her face to her hips. I really want to touch her. Before I can stop myself, I push off the counter I'm leaning on and wrap her up in me. My hands are firm on her hips and her back is pressed into my chest as I bury my head into her neck.

Y/N stiffens a bit in my hold before relaxing her muscles again. "We danced a lot too," I mumble into her neck, softly shifting her hips so we can sway together. She sways with me, her body weight feeling so good against mine. "You liked to read out loud to me too."

"Do you not know how to read?" She teases, shifting in my hold so we're face to face.

"I know how to read, I just read too slow for your liking."

"Oh ya?"

"Absolutely not, I just like your voice," I answer, lifting my head from her neck and placing our noses next to each other.

Y/N's hands slide up my arms, resting on my shoulders. "Our favorite book is The Great Gatsby, ya?"

My heart swells a bit at her words. "Ya, it is," I whisper, trying to focus my eyes on hers instead of her lips. It doesn't work so I decide to close my eyes, letting myself focus on her body heat instead. We stay silent, sitting like this, with me holding her. I could stay like this forever.

"Could you kiss me?" Y/N mumbles, shifting in my hold.

My eyes snap open, taking in her face. I roll the words over in my head. I already thought holding her was much for a "first date" and now she's asking me to kiss her? Maybe this is a trap. Maybe I'm making her feel like we have to move fast. Maybe Al Ghul is fucking with my head somehow. "Why?" I peep out, loosening my grip on her.

"Well, my therapist says doing stuff I used to do can help with my memories coming back. We were together ya?"

"Ya, we still are." Her face pinches some as her body stiffens again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It isn't fair of me to expect a relationship from Y/N. She doesn't even know who she is, let alone who I am.

"Well, I thought maybe kissing you again would help. We don't have to-"

"I really want to kiss you," I say, cutting her off, and tightening my grip on her again. Y/N's hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers shaking a bit against my skin but her body relaxes again. "Close your eyes," I mumble, sliding my nose against hers again.

Y/N obeys, fluttering her eyes shut. I take my time, trailing kisses across her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks, before placing myself above her mouth. I soak this scene in for a second before closing the gap between us. Her lips are soft against mine and taste like mint gum.

I shift my hands up, cupping her neck with one and softly dipping the other into her hair. All my need and want and love is boiled into the kiss. Our lips shift against each other for a while, the kiss getting heated way more than it meant.

As my lungs start burning, Y/N pulls back, making me a bit sad. I'd gladly suffocate to death from her kiss. "Jason," She murmurs, her words a little slurred.

"Say it again," I whisper back, tilting my head so our lips are close again.

"Jason," She mutters again. Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

Fucking Christ. This is too hot, too heated, too much for her right now but I can't stop thinking about hearing her whisper my name all night. "I can't wait for you to fall in love with me again," I say, keeping my tone at a whisper as I glance over her face.

"Why is that?" Y/N asks, her fingers tangling into my hair.

"Because I still love you so fucking much."

———————————————————————

#jason todd #dick grayson #redhood #nightwing #jason todd oneshot #dick grayson oneshot #dc comics #dc oneshot #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #redhood x reader #nightwing x reader #redhood oneshot #nightwing oneshot

[callsignhoney]

outranked ➤

pairing ➤ jake “hangman” seresin x reader

genre ➤ fluff

summary ➤ hangman lays the flirting on heavily before he realizes who you are, and what you are to him

———

After several minutes too long, you finally turn to face the man who had sat himself beside you. A quick glance at his uniform told you everything you needed, his rank and surname. You hadn’t come here tonight expecting to take anybody home and you were keeping by that. But this man had caught your attention just as much as you had his.

“You got something to ask me, lieutenant? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me all night?” you asked.

The blond man who had been stealing glances at you long before he came to sit by you actually had the nerve to scoff. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“You’re literally in uniform.”

“So, you know the Navy?”

“I’m familiar, yes. And all it takes is one Google search to know what the little stars and bars on your collar mean.”

“You from a Navy family?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here.”

“That’s the point.”

“Is the point to make me lose interest? Or make me more interested?”

“What do you think, Lieutenant Seresin?”

You tried not to sound flirty; that’d be much too easy. He should be able to tell you were interested based simply on the fact that you were humoring him and not telling him to shut up and leave you alone. This would lead nowhere, you told yourself firmly. You knew who he was and why he was here on North Island. But a little good natured flirting never hurt anybody.

“I think you’re acting uninterested but I saw you watching me from across the bar,” he said.

“Maybe I was just amazed by how you managed to balance such a massive head on your shoulders.”

“They’re pretty broad. I think they can handle it.”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. “I’ll give it to you: you’re good.”

“Some would say I’m too good to be true.”

“Who’s some?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Women, mostly. Particularly the ones that have seen me out of uniform.”

“I’m sure your civvies are impeccably stylish.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, sweetheart.”

You eyed him but said nothing. You took a long drink from your cup. The lieutenant shifted to face you more comfortably, leaning against the bar and facing you to give you his full attention.

“You got a name, stranger?”

“What makes you think you’ve gotten that privilege?”

“You know mine. It’s only fair.”

“Well, in the name of fairness, it’s Grey.”

“Is that a surname or…?”

“It’s all your getting is what it is.”

“Well, alright then, Grey,” he said with an emphasis on the name that was technically yours, “can I buy you a drink?”

You held up the half drunk cocktail in your hand. “I’m all set.”

Lieutenant Seresin hung his head with a chuckle. His ears were tinting red. Whether that be from frustration, embarrassment, or alcohol, you didn’t know.

“Then, maybe I can give you a ride home,” he offered.

“Ooh.” You sucked in air through your teeth. “I actually drove myself. Sorry.” The grin you barely tried to hide behind your glass said otherwise.

“What’s it gonna take for you to give me a chance?”

“‘A chance’ and agreeing to sleep with you are two very different things, lieutenant.”

“They don’t have to be. Who knows where the night might take us.”

You laugh. “You really are good.”

“You know what they say.”

“That you’re too good to be true?”

“See, you’re starting to catch on. So how about it?”

“Still no. But thank you for the ever so gracious offer. Penny?”

You set a five on the bar top and gave a wave to the bartender you’d come to know from your occasional layover in North Island. You slid out of your seat and slung your jacket on.

“It was nice talking to you,” you said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, lieutenant.”

“Don’t count on it. One night offer.”

You sent him a smile that called his bluff on your way out the door.

———

“Grey. Captain!”

Your call sign came from Grey’s Anatomy, or rather it came from your Navy friends’ obsession with the show and them all but forcing a themed call sign onto you after you began pursuing your doctorate following basic training. Regardless, it was technically your name. It’s what you would most commonly be addressed as by the class of students you had been assigned to for a short while, the class which you were to monitor the health of during their training.

“Captain L/N!”

You turned toward the call to find exactly who you expected. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, call sign Hangman, approached you. You had to applaud how well he held onto military conduct, feet planting as he stopped in front of you, hand raising to a salute.

“Lieutenant,” you said, waving him to ease.

“You weren’t lying about your name being Grey, then,” he said.

“I find it’s bad practice to lie to your patients.”

Hangman’s jaw clenched. Despite his obvious embarrassment and irritation at the situation you had put him in and the obvious fact that you had been well aware of who he was the previous night, he still seemed intrigued by you. It would be a lie to say you didn’t feel the same.

“I wasn’t joking when I said it was a one night offer. Can we put it behind us? Captain?”

“Luckily for you, I don’t sleep with my patients, either.”

Hangman cocked his head at your not-answer. “Bad practice?”

“It would be considered so.”

“And you’re a strictly by the books kind of doctor?”

“I try to be.”

“You try?”

“Every so often something makes it difficult.” You give a lilt to your words.

Your demeanor was entirely professional. The flirtation you leaned into last night was absent from your tone and words. Somehow speaking to him like this made your heart beat even faster than previously. It felt even more like flirting when it couldn’t sound farther away.

“I only hope to make your job as easy as possible,” Hangman said.

Bullshit. “I look forward to it, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

You watched him go. He didn’t turn back to look at you once before he disappeared around a corner and was gone from sight. You breathed for the first time in several minutes. This would be an interesting three weeks.

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #hangman #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman x reader

[katsukikitten]

Pure smut and sad hours. Master list here.

You feel stupid, so fucking stupid. Opening the distasteful gag gift someone has given you after your break up. A knock off cock in the shape of your ex boyfriend after some fan analyzed a picture of him in gray sweats one day.

They were close, it felt right in your hands and they guessed about his tattoos on it but had them wrong, didn't have the forking veins you used to lick in the right spots and missing something you just couldn't put your finger on. Desperate in your drunken haze for intimacy that your string of other drummer fuck buddies couldn't supply. Couldn't never fucking dream to provide like he could.

Placing the suction cup base on an old candle plate as you desperately try to ride it in the shroud of night in your bedroom. Accidentally edging yourself like you would have done riding the real thing, expect he'd plant his feet into the mattress and fuck so hard up into you your tits would bounce and your eyes would roll.

Only furthering your frustrations, tears in your eyes as you try to listen to very old voice memos from when he was on the road. Lewd sounds of him spitting on his hand or cock before he fisted it, groaning to the pictures or voice memos you sent moments before. Seeking his comfort and needing it as your drunk hazy thoughts try to ruin your good buzz. Stupidly hitting the little mic icon to record a small voice message.

"Hakuji." Breathy and desperate before a small whine leaves your throat. Sticky sounds echoing back as you slide down the silicone with a pout.

"Jiji, I can't stand it. I can't cum without you either. You've ruined me." You sniff, another breathy moan, "Gave me so much princess treatment and no one can fuck me like you. Or hold me."

The end of the sentence is so quiet, phone still recording and all that can be heard are your fan, the soft sniffles of your pout and the clicking slick as you bounce.

"This is so stupid." You hiss, going to delete the recording from the message box before a fat tear falls just right onto the glass and hits send. Making you clench around the toy as you frantically Google search if an android can unsend messages and it can't. Figuring out the airplane mode trick far too late and horror paints your features as you see the message is not only delivered to your ex.

It's on read.

Frantically typing back in caps that he should just delete it that it was a mistake to send it but just as quickly as you do you receive a voice message back that opens with a growl.

"Princess, can't believe yer playin with my pretty pussy without me. Need my help? I can talk ya through it or I can show up. But first put those pretty clawed fingers on yer clit for me okay? Better right?"

The sound of his voice makes you arch and stupidly you listen to him, carefully placing the pads of your fingers on your clit and going in slow circles.

"Y-yes much better." A quick voice memo back heart beating out of your chest and you keep thinking of his offer that he'll show up.

"Good fuckin girl."

His praise makes you gasp and shake, shudder running down your spine when you play it a second time.

"Not fair. Not gonna let me hear ya moan?"

One escaped your throat before you record a small memo of you moaning loudly, part of it his name, although it's his stage name he doesn't care. He's more than happy to help you, "Akaza! Akaza!"

"Careful princess, one more time and you'll summon him."

Purposely, louder than your others on the cusp of cumming as you record your down fall, "Akazaaaaa!"

And just like that he's checking if you're home, smiling when he sees your little red dot there before he's speeding over on his bike. The roar of the engine heard from the comfort of your bedroom before you hear the tires bump against the lip of the sidewalk. Sound of the engine dying quickly before your balcony door is sliding open.

"You should really lock this princess." He almost purrs as he locks it behind him, putting in the wood to keep the door from being jimmied open.

Worst part is he isn't even winded, not from his sprint from the parking spaces nor from the way he had to scale to the third floor.

Stopping at the foot of the bed as he drinks you in. Eyes aglow in the low light commiting the sight to memory. You were in one of his old shirts, sitting so pretty as you try to bounce on some sort of silicone cock before he decides to rid you of your misery. Inked fingers digging into your ribs as he pulls you from the toy, lying you down on the bed beside it before he's picking it up.

"Hmm? This mine?" Smirk growing on his lips as he weighs the toy in a broad palm, "I've held the real thing enough times to know it's mine."

"S-stop. Don't tease Kaza." Trying to pull down the hem of his shirt to hide your body but he just smiles. Puts the toy to the side, working at pulling his gray sweats down freeing his heavy aching cock.

Pressing his palms on to your knees to make room for his imposing body, "Aw but ya get so fuckin wet when I tease ya."

"Sides I'm the only one that can fix yer problem right? Can't cum without me huh?" But there's no malice in his voice, no smugness or tease like his words suggest, if anything he sounds a little sad, maybe even relieved.

Squeezing the base of his cock as he runs it through your folds, heart racing as he debates if this is a good idea. Icy eyes flicker up to your face and how desperate you look, needy and ready.

"Girth's a bit off, that's why it's not helpin. Still want my help princess? Gotta use your words." He tries not to feel numb, tries to focus on everything that's happening between the two of you now as he comes down from the high of a fight.

"Yes, please help me Hakuji." And that's all it takes before he's sliding his cock in nice and slow. Making sure you feel it, inch by inch of him sinking into you, him making you arch off the bed to meet his hips more, him making you claw and fist the sheets.

Him making you feel this fucking good and that there was no fucking person or thing in this world that could imitate him.

"Thaaat's the stretch you needed. Feels just right doesn't it, princess?” Finally after a few more moments he's perfectly nestled into you. Feeling you clench around him making him squeeze his eyes shut.

You feel just as wonderful as he remembers, maybe even better thanks to his celibacy he's had since the two of you separated over a very big misunderstanding but Hakuji couldn't blame you. Would never.

Relishing the moment the two of you were reunited even if he knows it's temporary. That the clock is winding down yet still he forces himself still despite your whines and desperate claws digging in the sheets. Moving for his skin as you squeeze your legs around his waist making him smile. Hooking the back of your knees as he leans forward. Forcing your calves to rest on the crook of his arms so he can be closer to your face.

Pushing down into your slowly and roughly as his fangs find your throat. Nipping and sucking as he lets his cock head drag over that spongy spot that has you clawing up his shoulders and back. Already you feel close to cumming, throbbing in how he folds you, pressing you into yourself before adding his own body weight. Crowding your vision as he lets his lidded gaze hold yours not even hiding what you do to him as his eyes flutter when you clench around his cock. He leans his head down by your ear so you can hear him moan and growl.

"Such a good fuckin girl. Stayed molded to me." Your toes cramp from his praise, legs shaking as you cum the first time as he goes on, "Made for me aren't ya princess? Made for me to have and hold. To protect always til I fuckin die."

Your divine cunt always had that effect on him to get in to ramble praises and possession into your ear but it always made your vision spot when he did as you arch again, creaming around his cock that he fucks you through.

Those agonizingly slow thrusts that still somehow don't give you a chance to breathe as his pelvis grinds into your clit with each rocking motion.

Eyes rolled to the back of your head as he selfishly starts to chase his own release only after he's sure you've cum a minimum of three times, counting four when he sticks his tongue in your mouth so he can taste your sweet moans one more, or last, time.

"Cause ya love me most right? That's why ya need me. Fuck cause I love you." Hips starting to snap as he fucks into you roughly, wrapping his arms right around your middle forcing your legs that much wider from his grip as he hooks his fingers on your shoulders for leverage. Listening to your moans and feeling how you try to milk him after another body wracking orgasm makes you shake in his hold. As if his strong arms were the sole reason you hadn't completely fallen apart.

"Fuckin- God I love you I love you so much Princess." He's moaning trying to pull out in time before you look up at him with the saddest, most pleading eyes.

"Cum in me. Please, please Hakuji." And he's never been one to tell you no as he shudders. Painting your walls in his sticky hot seed as you whine from how good he makes you feel.

He tries to keep his full weight off of you, thinking he doesn't deserve to feel your comfort as he pants. Even with your nails raking over his scalp, slowly releasing your legs from his hold before he tries to pull away all together.

"Don't." A warning bite as you glare up at him, "Don't be like the others."

"They don't stay?" Growl back to his voice, how dare they, how fucking dare they use you to their content and then have the audacity to not pamper you.

"Never." Tears welling in your eyes that have Hakuji seeing red, that have him wanting to tuck away his spent cock quickly, just so he can beat the shit out of them. Hospitalize them at the very least. But first he had to take care of you.

Because you always came first.

He doesn't even ask if you want him to stay, just pulls you to him as he lies back down. Palming your skull so you'll nose his throat as inked fingers trace up and down your spine. Until he's sure you're asleep, forcing his tired eyes open despite how much comfort you bring him. Unable to miss a second of contact with you but fate had other plans.

Pulled undertow quickly, falling into a deep restful sleep for the first time in over a year. Only for him to wake up in your bed a few hours later.

Alone.

#kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month - Aug 2023: ao719

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @ao719. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: ao719 Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Anitah

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I first started playing in June 2018. The Royal Romance was the first book I played, and I got hooked from the end of the first chapter. At the time, they were midway through releasing TRR book 3, so I binged books 1 & 2 and finally caught up on the day of the wedding, where the chapter ended with the attack at the boutique. Then I didn’t know what to do with myself because it was the first time I had to wait a week to find out what was going to happen.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

Finding Tumblr was a complete accident. I was googling something really dumb about Liam and TRR and happened to stumble across a link for a fic on Tumblr. At the time, I didn’t know what Tumblr was; I’d heard of it but had no idea what it consisted of. The fic I came across was around 40+ chapters, and I was in my glory reading this angsty story about Liam, but it wasn’t finished, so when I reached the last updated chapter, I was like, “I need more.” So I opened Tumblr and searched for more Liam fics and found a trove. I lurked for another month or so before finally making my account in September 2018.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

I wish I had some good story for it, but it’s the most basic thing, lol. It’s just my initials and a significant date. I think if I came into the fandom with the intention of actually doing something with the blog, I would have tried to come up with something a little more clever and creative, but I had zero intention of doing anything but reading. I thought about changing it a few years ago, but when I learned that I’d have to relink everything in my masterlist, it didn’t seem worth the hassle.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

It’s from the day TRR 3 ended and it’s about how I was sad that it was over but was glad that I had all these stories to read.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I’d never written anything until I joined the fandom, so I’ve only been writing for almost five years now. The thought of writing didn’t even cross my mind when I joined the fandom, but within a couple of weeks of making my blog, I had a random idea pop up in my head, and for some reason, I decided to write it down. A few days later, after talking myself out of posting and then talking myself back into it, I bit the bullet. For me to post a story that I wrote was entirely out of my comfort zone. I’m pretty shy and tend to be more of a wallflower, so I don’t usually put myself out there, especially like that, and I’ve never been someone who does something where I intentionally set myself up, knowing there is a very good chance that I will fail. And social media on any platform can be a pretty intimidating and terrifying place when you open yourself up, especially to strangers, even by way of posting a measly little fanfic. So to say I was terrified of posting that first fic is an understatement, but I’m so glad that I did.

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

The Royal Romance will always be my favorite. It was the first book I ever played and was the only one I played for well over a year (I just kept replaying over and over and over until @cocomaxley convinced me to give MotY a try, which I fell in love with). It’s my comfort book. And like every book, it definitely has its flaws, but I love it and the characters so much. And TRR is my favorite book to write about. Liam will always be my number one guy.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

The first fic that I wrote was I Dare You. It’s not an all-time favorite of mine, but I like it well enough that I wouldn’t change anything about it.

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

This is tough because I have a few that I love for different reasons, but I think Always You will always be the most special to me because it was the first series I wrote that I can truly say I poured my whole heart into. I love that story, and I love the history between Liam and the OC, their bond, and their relationship. 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

When I decided to start Hopeless Hearts, I didn’t think it would be received any differently from most things I’d written before. It was an idea I’d kept on the back burner for over 2 years prior to writing it because I didn’t think it was anything spectacular or out of the box. It turned out to be my most well-received series, and it became one of my personal favorites as well.

I don’t think anything I’ve written has left me feeling as though I wished it had gotten more. I’m still surprised to this day that anyone wants to read anything I’ve written at all, so any love that my fics get is beyond appreciated.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Angst (but with a HEA). I love putting my characters through the wringer before giving them that happily ever after they deserve. Whether I’m reading or writing, there’s something about feeling the pain and longing they’re going through that gets me emotionally invested. I think that’s why I love the second chance romance trope so much, too. It’s a really versatile trope, but there’s a lot of room for angst in those kinds of stories because of that established history between the characters and a past that tore them apart the first time around.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I think I sprinkle a little bit of myself into all of my MCs/OCs. It’s usually something small like a favorite food, a hobby, certain mannerisms, etc. I think the one that I’ve added more of myself into than any other and can relate to the most personality wise would definitely be Charlotte.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I struggle with all of it here and there, and I’m constantly questioning whether something makes sense, if it’s flowing together, if it’s too descriptive or not descriptive enough, etc. I think the one area I most consistently struggle with is deciding where and how to end because I always want to leave my chapters with a cliffhanger or if I’m finishing something for good, I want to give it the ending it deserves. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

I have quite a few that are unfinished that I know I more than likely won’t ever pick back up, mostly because I just lost my mojo for them, but there are definitely some that I want to finish. I’d really like to get back to Past Meet Present one day. I don’t even remember why I got off track with writing it, and it’s been at least two years or more since I last updated it 🫣 so I’m not sure if anyone would even still be interested at this point, but I’d really like to finish that along with Breaking Point and Us Again.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

No. Maybe. I don’t know, lol. I try to be a “never say never” kind of person, but writing is something that I’ve done for almost five years that literally no one in my real life knows about. Not my friends, not my family, not a single soul. It’s like my dirty little secret. And it’s a little tough because it does get lonely sometimes when you have something that you love doing so much but you just feel like you can’t share or aren’t ready to share that part of yourself with even those closest to you. I’m a pretty self-conscious person, and posting on here where I can hide behind a screen is hard enough; I get nervous and have a good spike of anxiety every time I post something, no matter what it is. I don’t know if I could handle someone who knows me personally even knowing that I write, let alone actually reading something I’ve written. I’ve got the bubble gut just thinking about it 🥴

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

I’ve been lucky enough to talk to and befriend some amazing and talented people in the time I’ve been here who I’ve certainly looked up to when it comes to their writing talents. And there are also those writers who I got to know after I’d been writing for a while that not only continued to inspire me with their amazing stories and talent but who also became a huge support and really close friends. They were and/or are always willing to brainstorm, look over snippets, help in those moments when I’ve been extra critical of myself and feeling very unsure, and/or have just been the absolute best cheerleaders and constantly supportive and encouraging to not only me but others as well. I don’t want to make a list because I always end up forgetting someone and I don’t want to leave anyone out, but anyone that fits that bill above, you know how much I love and appreciate each one of you.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

I’d say either Always You or Hopeless Hearts for a movie. Series I think Full Disclosure with some Charlotte shenanigans would be pretty fun 😂

17- Do you write original fiction? 

I haven’t. I’ve been asked a few times about whether I’ve thought about turning a couple of my series into original stories, but I just don’t think I’ll have the confidence to ever do it 😬

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I do photography. I love calligraphy and making hand drawn quote signs on wood or canvas. I love to read — I’m currently in my fantasy girl era and have been obsessing over the ACOTAR series for months, lol. 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

I use so many to express myself in conversations that I think it would be hard to pick just one. My most commonly used ones: 💀 😂 🥲 😬 😍 🥴 🥹

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

I just want to thank CFWC for working so hard to help keep this fandom active and supporting everyone here. 

To anyone who’s taken any time to read my stories and interact with me in any way, I appreciate it more than I can say. 

This place has been such an escape for me over the past (almost) five years, one I’m still very much in need of. So, whether you’re a content creator, writer, artist, reader, whatever the case may be, whether we’ve interacted before or not, thank you for what you’ve done to help keep this fandom alive.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc writer of the month #playchoices #choices the stories you play #writer of the month #ao719 #august 2023 #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

[karistiltskin]

i don’t care that the lakes is only now getting its recognition i just care that it’s about MERLIN and ARTHUR.

little teeny tiny analysis incoming:

“Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me

I’m not cut out for all these cynical clones

These hunters with cell phones”

First of all, this is set in Merlin’s POV. The first line talks about Merlin becoming a myth and how he’s praised as the most powerful wizard alive. He is a staple as the start of “magic” and “wizardry” after his legacy is passed on. The use of the term “romantic” seems sarcastic as if he’s saying “isn’t it romantic that after my kind was hunted down and killed for believing to be evil, now I’m the optimum of good? Shouldn’t i be over the moon from this appreciation?”

Moving on to the second and third verse, “cynical clones” and “hunters with cell phones” refers to modern time. These people have twisted Merlin’s story, didn’t get it right, missed out on details, and changed him. Because his history is not correct he feels uncomfortable but is also placed in a position where he cannot clarify or speak out on it because he’s supposed to be, well, dead. People are using his story for fame and no one is receiving the truth. It’s just been turned into a myth to be broken apart, analyzed, and criticized.

“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don’t belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I’m setting off, but not without my muse”

(only doing the chorus once)

if the first line doesn’t speak for itself I don’t know what does. Merlin is a poet!! He is. A quick google search for the definition of poet reads: “a person possessing special powers of imagination or expression.” hello??? We all knew he was good with words whether it came from enchantments, comforting words to his friends, his followers, or when speaking about himself. “special powers”—he is magic. “imagination”—he creates, he is creation.

He is the original poet who went to the lakes, not necessarily to die, but the other half of his soul was taken from him there.

Now, Merlin of course believes Arthur was not meant to die. He doesn’t belong there. He belongs at Merlin’s side. The lakes = Avalon and Merlin did not ever want to go there in the situation that Arthur may die. The both of them weren’t meant to wait for their purpose to begin again at Avalon when “Camelot needed Arthur most.” They were supposed to stay together in the time of a human life span and their story was supposed to continue.

“Windermere peaks.” I’m not gonna dive too much into this so here’s one word: England

The last line is that Merlin could not have stayed at the lake forever. I mean he could’ve but, I don’t think he would. So he lives his life in the most physical sense he can. He does go to visit Avalon tho and his life, his soul, doesn’t restart until Arthur’s does. He carries Arthur with him everywhere at all times, and he doesn’t forget that as he leaves Avalon and he never forgets the reason why as he also goes BACK to Avalon. Also, Arthur being Merlin’s muse>>> I mean, the whole “my magic. i use it for you. it was supposed to be yours.” EVERYTHING Merlin did was for Arthur.

“What should be burrowed under my skin

In heart-stopping waves of hurt

I’ve come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze

Tell me what are my words worth”

The first two lines refer to his early life in Camelot. Moving there, making friends, growing in his magic, Arthur, trust, betrayal, his lessons. He thinks because so much time has passed (he’s immortal) he should at least be over it or it should stop hurting but it doesn’t. It stays with him. It’s a part of him and who he is.

Now for the next two lines. Although the past will linger in him, he does grow and become wiser over the years. He has so many experiences and has lived through so many lifetimes and is still finding the strength to continue. But he’s had to watch people get his life absolutely wrong, the narratives of his friends and enemies, his character, etc. I like to think Merlin dropped some real pieces of evidence of the truth in a manuscript or a symbol or anything but the ones who found it, abused it. Instead of appreciating art and life they looked for the income and how to profit off it.

“I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

‘Cause I haven’t moved in years

And I want you right here”

Merlin finds memories in the hurt. He finds comfort in it. He wants to stay in the past because as much as it pains him, it was a time where he was the most happy.

Wisteria = a plant that can live for centuries (symbolism: resilience and longevity)

“help i’m still at the restaurant.” is Merlin. He has not moved on at all, that poor soul. He wants Arthur forever but also ALIVE and physically, mentally, emotionally with him.

“A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief”

Merlin has a shield around him. Actually, plural, shields. His pain, anger, and hurt made him become this shell. But the red rose, his love, it’s still there. Always there. His love for Arthur and his narrative is still ongoing and no one knows. It’s his to keep.

His “calamitous love” and insurmountable grief” although sounds horrid are both stemmed from the purest thing he has. His love. It’s so passionate because he feels and cares so much. So his love is used as a metaphor with cliffside pools and the water in it because it (his love) overflows and spills over (i think? do cliffside pools do that?)

OKAY I’M DONE. mostly cause im tired, it’s 3:26 am, and im fried. the keyboard has been smashed quite enough and this makes one lengthy tumblr post (i can write more). i don’t even know if most of it makes sense i just wanted to get it out there.

also don’t take this too literally of course there are a million interpretations to this song, i associate it far more than just an immortal warlock and a dead king, as well as my opinions. I just wanted to share a little bit of where my mind was going. just a little.

props to you if you read this, thank you, and thank you bbc merlin

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin fandom #merlin and arthur #merthur #morgana #lady morgana #queen guinevere #king arthur #camelot #lancelot #percival #sir leon #sir gwaine #sir elyan #morgwen #colin morgan #bradley james #katie mcgrath #angel coulby #merlin wizard #the lakes #the tortured poets department #taylor swift #folklore #avalon #excalibur #the sword in the stone #Spotify #warlock

[shiroganeryo]

Hi there. So don't mind me, I was going through your dazatsu art a while ago (both you and your husband I think?) and also saw some of the captions. You said you two met when you were cosplaying dazatsu? I don't mean to sound stalkerish so please feel free to ignore me, but that is about the sweetest thing I have ever heard😭❤️ I would like to draw one of your cosplays as our favorite couple. You could send me a picture you like- paint over your faces if you don't feel comfortable or-

And again and I emphasize, feel free to straight up reject this or ignore it, because I know it's odd. Just wanted you to know how you warm my heart, and I love your artwork as well<3

Have a nice day or night

Hello there! First of all, don't worry about "sounding stalkerish", it's very sweet of you to drop by just to let me (and by extension, us) know about your thoughts! 😊 The thing is, it's not that we met when we were cosplaying; perhaps me saying we weren't a couple yet gave that impression, but since you asked, I might as well tell you the full story?

You may want to sit, it's a little long (though I'll do my best to be brief) 😅

We already knew each other, we had been acquaintances for a long while, actually! We met when we were 14/13 or so (we're 31/29 now, I'm the older one). We weren't really that close, but we were on friendly terms and all that.

I'll skip the very personal bits which includes (but is not limited to) us getting closer to each other and stupidly pining mutually, but the sequence of events that led to it is one (!) of the reasons why I tend to say we're a "dazatsucore" couple. Because:

He was into me > I noticed on the spot, and did nothing > I was into him > he didn't know because I hid the fact > leads to him blurting out a confession thinking he'd be turned down > I do not turn him down but ask for some time to think things through because I want to be sure of my feelings first > not too long after I have an answer.

By the way, everything I'm saying gets even better (and funnier) when you consider I'm the "Dazai" one, while he's the "Atsushi" in this.

Anyways, about the cosplay shenanigans you inquired about; back when we were getting closer to each other (2016ish), I had become interested in BSD but knew nothing about it; I knew he had watched it, asked what were his thoughts on it, he said it was nice, recommended it, etc. He then commented that he planned to cosplay Atsushi, showed me the character and shared his cosplay plans.

I had only watched the opening so far (the thing that led me to ask him if the anime was good), and Dazai was the one who had caught my eye the most, so I said, very offhandedly, that 'hey, I'd be down to go with you to the con, I do entertain the idea of cosplaying Dazai'.

He was like 'woah, really?! That would be so fun!' but also got extremely nervous on the spot. I obviously noticed. You see, my spouse isn't really the type of person who can hide his feelings very well + I'm good at reading through people. We've always been a funny match in that regard, ngl.

From a quick Google search I did to gather references for the outfit, I could tell the two characters were a somewhat popular pairing, so I made 2+2, I also already knew he had a crush on me and just did nothing about it, like I explained above. So he had gotten nervous that people could mistake us for a couple because the two characters are (were? sadly) a popular pairing.

Which I did know... And again, did nothing about because while my suggestion to cosplay together was sincere, having no intentions of manipulating him or anything, that did work in my favor as well so two birds, one stone.

In the meantime, what I told you above happened and we started dating. And, for obvious reasons, we decided to go ahead with the cosplay plans 😌 I've never posted a clear picture showing our faces because we're not the best photographers out there, but here's one of the least terrible ones:

The icing on the cake, that doesn't have much to do with us, but is still something we remember about fondly: we're Brazilian, and Brazil is a very big country. The anime con we were going to attend was the biggest in our country but also some good hours away (a 9 hour travel away to the capital, to be more precise), so we took a bus ride with some people headed there as well. It's common for people to make these "con attendees" group rides and they're always really fun experiences + very cost efficient.

One of the people we befriended on the ride was this girl who, coincidentally, was cosplaying as Chuuya. Since we're a queer couple (nb sapphics who go by he/him pronouns) we didn't know what amount of gay was okay in public, but this one girl knew we were a couple, 100% sure of it and it was genuinely beyond funny seeing her and her friends waiting on us to just do something, anything, that gave the answer away.

We kissed like... once, when they were nearby, and the reactions were priceless, ngl. The euphoric I KNEW IT faces.

Back then we weren't married yet, so no telling rings or anything, but this Chuuya had gotten the vibes somehow. When I asked her how she knew before we even did anything, she said, just like this: 'it's the way you look at each other 🥺'.

I need you to imagine Chuuya Nakahara saying this, with this expression. Makes it all 20x funnier. Also the reason why I usually write him as a wingman/enabler in my fics.

Oh, and about the "he had no idea I knew all along", I did tell him... last year 😂 We were reminiscing about things and he went on a tangent saying something along the lines of 'I feel kinda bad because it was selfish of me but I liked the idea of us being seen as a couple back then so I didn't tell you the characters were a popular ship'.

To which I replied: 'Oh, I knew, don't worry.'

Cue shocked Pikachu meme for my spouse's reaction. I then explained that I was fully aware of everything all along, and he was like 'thank GOD you decided to play along then because I had no idea how to charm anyone' 😂

It feels good to put our silly story out there, I had told this story only to one person in the fandom so far (I won't tag her, but Katsu can confirm we're two dumbasses in love) because I don't usually talk about personal stuff publicly like this unless on a whim but also because, like I said, it's a very long story even with skipped parts.

I hope this was fun to read, at least? 😅

As for what you asked about drawing us, I'll apologize, but neither of us understood exactly what you want to do. If you could elaborate more on it, we'd be grateful and could give a proper response! All in all, thank you for sending the ask, it was really lovely of you to stop by just to say that! 😊

#I'll need to tag the ship because of the cosplay picture inside the read more #but feel free to ignore all the babbling if you came here just for the ship tag #dazatsu #dazushi #cosplay #+ personal story because why not #but there's only so much exposition I can take at once so I'll probably be thinking about this for a while #please be nice to me I get antsy whenever I overshare but the world must know why we call ourselves dazatsucore #and also why this ship means so much to the two of us (besides being a really wholesome ship ofc!) #ask

[hindahoney]

Hey, I hope you have a nice day :)

I am considering converting but I'll take some more time to overthink that. What do you think are some, or many, questions I should ask myself, before deciding?

I saw some people recommend to just go to a rabbi, even if you are not 100% sure, but since there are very little jewish people in my country, and only a handful of conversions a year, I assume it'll be something new for a rabbi too and I don't want to bother anyone.

So, I think this is a good time to address this. This is absolutely not because of this specific anon, but it's something that I get sent asks about on a daily basis.

I am no longer going to be answering questions about conversions. I will answer any other questions or concerns about Judaism, but I'm not giving advice about converting anymore. There's a few reasons for this. Namely because it's too close to proselytizing for me. Even though anons are coming to me to ask questions, I never want to come off like I am advocating for or influencing people to become Jewish.

I have answered the same questions multiple times, and still to this day get the same ones. I tag all of my stuff, so if someone really wanted to know something about conversions they should do the work to just search through my blog for what I have already said. It's not just me, either. Essentially any Jewish blogger has, at one point, had gentiles sending them questions about conversion unprompted. I strongly believe that if you really wanted to learn about Judaism, that if you were sincere and serious about converting, you should at least read up a little online before going to ask basic questions to random Jews online. Not every Jewish person is comfortable with this, not every Jewish person should be expected to be the spokesperson for the tribe.

Every question about conversion can be answered with "Ask your Rabbi." If you have too much anxiety or other obstacles in your way that prevent you from speaking to a Rabbi, you cannot convert, and that's your answer.

By no means does this mean that I don't like or appreciate converts. I've made a lot of posts in support and admiration for those who have completed the process. But at this point almost all of the asks I get are from people asking me basic questions about conversion that 1. I have answered multiple times, and 2. That would take a quick Google search to find the answer for. If you're not willing to put in the work for a Google search, or for a search through my or other bloggers tags about conversion, you do not have the drive to get through the conversion process. Which is fine, it isn't meant for everyone! But expecting a random Jew online to do the legwork for you isn't fair. I've taken many hours (weeks, if you include reading through all of them) compiling sources of books, podcasts, websites, etc all dedicated to learning about Judaism and have posted links to all of them. There are a million books out there for really any question you might have, even free articles from places like Chabad, Sefaria, or myjewishlearning.

If you have specific questions, other than just "advice about converting?" I will gladly answer those, but I will no longer be answering question about conversion resources, how to convert, should I convert, etc.

#again this is NOT BECAUSE OF THIS ANON #ask hinda #jewish conversion #jumblr #judaism #jewish #frumblr #jewblr #jewish convert

[whumped-by-glitter]

Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / “Is that blood?!”

*for those of you that are following along and had to skip day 5: Whumpee was had a sonic based power awaken due to fear and stress. They were also turned into some kind of living art project by one extremely creepy whumper.

⚠️ CW: Hand Injury, Blood, Emotional Whump/Angst, Creepy Whumper (Mentioned)

Day 6 Here <

Leader was pacing in his office. He often did that these days. It had been 2 weeks since Whumpee went missing, and just under a week since Youngest ran off. Honestly, Leader was shocked that he hadn’t worn a path in the floor yet.

He heaved a sigh; he’d been doing a lot of that too. The failed mission where Whumpee went missing was all his fault. Why did he even bring them along on that? Now Youngest had run off. His team was dropping like flies, and it seemed like not only was he powerless to stop it, but he was also the cause. He slammed his fist into the cement wall out of frustration.

There came a gentle knock at the door, his second in command, Jace, barged in without waiting for an answer.

“Sir, we got another package this morning,” Jace said grimly, handing Leader yet another brown envelope, hands shaking.

Leader drew a deep breath in before taking it. It matched the first one that they had received. He paused before opening it, “has there been any progress tracing the first one?” he asked hopefully.

Jace shook his head sadly, “whoever sent it knew what they were doing.”

Leader barely acknowledged the reply, it was not the answer he had hoped to hear. He steeled himself and began to tear open the envelope.

He could tell Jace was holding his breath same as him as he slowly, reluctantly, began to pull out the contents. Both men were afraid of what the envelope held.

The first thing Leader pulled out was a sheet of paper. Upon inspection it read:

‘My Dearest Team:

You are cordially invited to the art exhibition “Falling Angel” featuring the art of the talented Mr. Whumper. The exhibit will be open to invitees for a private viewing on Sunday April 14, 2024. It will then be open to the public April 15-17, 2024. There will be live demonstrations and refreshments served throughout the event.

The location and map are included in this packet, along with tickets for each of you good for the private viewing tomorrow.

We understand that it is short notice, but we do hope you can make it. After all this exhibition couldn’t have been possible without Leader and your team. We sincerely thank you for your contribution to this truly magical event.

~ Whumper’

Leader’s mouth went dry, and his head swam as he numbly dumped the tickets on the table, along with a map with an address. “I guess that proves my theory right,” he muttered, completely gutted. “there’s enough tickets to include Youngest, they’re not together.”

Jace picked up the letter that Leader had laid face down, so he too could read it. He didn’t know what to make of it. This Whumper person seemed completely unhinged. Then something made him realize something. He quick grabbed Leader’s chair and hopped on their computer. Sure enough….

“Hey, Leader, come look at this.”

A quick google search revealed that Whumper was a convicted murderer and was recently let out of prison on good behavior.

“FUCK!” a fist slammed the desk, denting it.

“It’s not your fault Leader, you couldn’t have known,” Jace tried to comfort him best he could.

“You know good and fucking well it is! You even told me not to take him!”

Jace gently wiped a tear from Leader’s face, “well get them back, both of them.”

“Just go tell Caretaker to be in my office ready to leave by 5 am, same as you, rest of the team stays, we need people to stay to look out for Youngest. I also refuse to risk losing anyone else.” Leader hardened his face and ordered sternly, pulling away from Jace.

Jace turned and left without another word, at a complete loss for what else to say.

Once he was certain he was alone again, Leader broke. The end of the letter just served to further twist the knife of guilt that was already firmly imbedded in his chest.

He turned back to the wall he had punched earlier, and just unloaded. He let loose punch after punch. Soon he started to leave the white wall decorated with bloody fist marks, but Leader could not stop. He kept going, in a desperate attempt to numb the internal anguish.

‘thud’

‘thud’

‘thud’

Blow after blow landed on the wall, until Leader could feel bone shattering. He turned and sunk against the wall, fists dripping blood. He had hoped the pain would clear his head, but it only served to make it so that there was pain in his hands and his mind. They had to get Whumpee back tomorrow, they just had to.

---

An hour or so later there was another knock on his office door.

“Go away,” Leader ordered. He noticed he sounded drunk, despite being more sober than he’d ever been.

“I’m coming in, sir.” Caretaker replied, ignoring their commander.

“I told you to fuck off, didn’t you hear me, you have your orders for the morning.”

It was no use, Caretaker barged in anyway. “I don’t care what you told me; I deserve to know what’s going on,” They noticed Leader was not at their desk before their eyes fell on the wall behind leader. “What the hell?! Is that Blood?!” they exclaimed, rushing over to Leader. “What happened?” Panic was evident in their voice.

“Nothing, it’s fine, get some rest,” Leader gave a halfhearted shooing motion.

Caretaker’s concern increased when they saw the state of Leader’s knuckles. They immediately set to healing them. “What were you thinking? We’re about to attempt a rescue and you what, bust up your knuckles? How did you plan on fighting like this?” Caretaker lectured.

Leader had no answer for their questions. He wasn’t thinking, he was just in pain, pain from wounds that Caretaker couldn’t heal. Nothing would heal them but their two teammates’ safe return.

Once his knuckles were fixed as best as caretaker could, they were not a miracle worker after all, they turned back to wanting filled in on Whumpee. “What is going on? Jace said we have a location on Whumpee?”

Leader nodded and waved to his desk where the contents of the package were still scattered.

Caretaker followed the gesture.  They picked up the letter and read it. Tears welled up in their eyes. “hell, this is almost certainly a trap,” they said, barely above a whisper, voice cracking.

Leader nodded, “that’s why It’ll just be Jace, you, and me tomorrow. I don’t even want to take you, but I have a feeling your healing is going to be essential. I cannot lose anyone else,” He sounded resigned, broken. His face looked so weary.

Caretaker came and slid down the bloodied wall next to Leader. the two friends sat in comfortable silence. Each realized sleep was going to be an impossibility that night.

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#tw blood #tw creepy whumper #tw emotional whump #wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 7 #bloodied knuckles #wounded #“is that blood?”

[melodiesofmidnight]

I want to talk about violence in Phantom of the Paradise for a moment.

Paul Williams once said in an interview that:

"You go back to, in our society, we were, as Americans, sitting and watching the footage from Vietnam. There were cameras following the fighting. We're sitting there with our TV dinners watching the war in Vietnam. And, at some point, it felt like something really evolved at this point.

But the news was becoming entertainment. And the line between the two, between the news and entertainment, our reality began to blur. And so when that amazing moment in the movie, when Beef was killed on stage and the kids think it's part of the show, I think that's a really pivotal moment [...] and it just feels like that was basically the heart of the picture."

It seems to me that this truth, which, at the time, may have seemed to be an overly-thoughtful consideration of the film's intended meaning, has now been augmented into something of so formidable a magnitude as to seem so obvious that it hardly warrants mentioning: and that is intentional.

*Further commentary under the Read More.*

In an ideal society, of course, this aspect of the film would be lost to us, a symptom of a bygone and barbaric society whose methods of entertainment would find themselves comfortably classified as having evolved from those of the Romans.

The "heart of the picture," as Paul put it, however, has only become more familiar to us as Time has steadily marched onward, and may now be so ubiquitous a phenomenon that we suffer the same blindness as those inhabiting said ideal society: we simply do not really analyze the violence. It is hardly mentioned in pertinence to this film in the realm of critical analysis, as that is just standard film fare: we hardly pause to consider its position within the film, or what the depiction of this violence may be trying to say: it is simply not particularly remarkable to us.

And why should it be?

Since the advent of the Internet, real violence has become so easily accessible to us that even a quick Google search can bring you within a finger's breadth of witnessing atrocities mankind was never meant to see.

Many of us grew up in the nascent, more unregulated days of the Internet, where kids passed shock sites between them like naughty magazines, and when places like LiveLeak consolidated into one convenient location the truly horrific realities of the world: beheadings, murders, war crimes, car crashes, cartel torturings...if it featured real, unadulturated human suffering, it had an ever-growing audience. People In the Know referenced these videos to one another, winking at the in-jokes made at the expense of real humans whose horrific deaths they had themselves witnessed.

Even in the current age, these things blur the lines between fantasy and reality for modern youths the way war footage may have for the youths of the Vietnam era: death is a spectacle, be it real or simulated.

We tell ourselves vehemently that we can distinguish between the two - between real and simulated violence - and, while this may be true in parsing the difference between fantasy and reality, can we parse the difference between its effect on us personally? Is every instance of real violence we witness truly as raw to us as it was the first time we saw it?

Ostracized teenage boys gather together to idolize school shooters the way horror fans may gather together to admire their favourite fictional slasher. People respond to a low death toll in mass shootings the way they may react to saving nearly all the characters in their favourite horror game: "Oh, just two got killed? That's not so bad."

Sure, it seems silly to us while watching the film that the audience doesn't recognize that Beef was truly killed whilst onstage, because of course they should have -- we would have. However, would we have cared? There have even recently been instances of people continuing to party on while their friends lie dying of alcohol poisoning on the couch, or of people livestreaming the murder of their partner while their viewers cheer them on, or even people who have displayed the body of a celebrity at a nightclub event.

People trample each other over 5% off sales on televisions and shoot each other's children over a perceived slight on the roadway. People commit random acts of violence against each other every single day, and, of late, have been livestreaming it: recording it for people all over the world to watch -- and they do. They gather en masse to watch, and, when a half-hearted attempt is made to remove the video from being accessible, people scour the Internet to find it: to be part of the group In the Know--to have something to talk about. An assassination live on television, coast to coast? Now that's entertainment!

I think the violence aspect of Phantom of the Paradise is terribly overlooked, and such really only speaks to the relevance of that particular criticism against our society, which still rings so true as to be invisible to us. Haha, the person in the movie killed another person with a bird hat, isn't that silly? Haha, the singer onstage got electrocuted to death, that's so absurd. Haha, that girl put on Winslow's mask after he died without even checking on him. Haha, everyone's partying even though four people just died. Isn't that silly?

And why shouldn't we find it silly, rather than horrifying? After all, we saw worse than that when we were six.

#phantom of the paradise #potp #brian de palma #paul williams #winslow leach #swan potp #beef potp #film analysis #meta

[lazar-codes]

24/08/2023 || Day 71

LeetCode

Ok, I 100% jinxed it yesterday saying that yesterday's problem was easy, because I spent 3 hours today working on a problem and ended up looking up the answer because I was starting to get a headache (the problem was 3Sum Closest). The frustrating thing is that I thought of the correct way to do it, but then was too stubborn to change what I was already working on and spent a lot of time and energy to get that done, only to realize I should've just tried the other way. Oh well, the comforting thing is that I did come up with 3 different ways you can (theoretically) solve it, and 1 of them was proven to work because other people solved it that way.

React To-Do App - Log #7

I meant to solve a bug today and I think I did, though idk what caused the bug...? I think anytime I'd press the "add task" button in quick succession, it would create tasks with the same timestamp, and I used the timestamp as a task's unique id so when it saved the task description of a single task, other task's description would change to be that one. Well, I decided to just add another field in the task object to hold an actual unique ID and changed my functions that use the timestamp as a unique ID and voila, problem solved. I used the crypto.UUID() function to generate an ID...a quick google search suggested that.

But yeah, I think I'm now done the project. I might want to change the placement of the "add task" button to be more at the top than at the bottom, and maybe change some CSS stuff, but honestly I'm pretty happy with how simple this looks.

#codeblr #studyblr #100 days of code #programming #coding #lazar blogs