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#this is my own edit and vent writing!!

selamat-linting · 3 months

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another thing i forgot about the fic, is mostly how injuries are treated? well, youre not supposed to give ice cold baths for fevers. you dont want to make them shiver more than what theyre already doing. also why is there no tylenol or aspirin in the first aid kit? even my workplace first aid kit has one.

and irl, its not wise to just patch up a wound that are cause by (real) glass (motherfucker! cry me a river). there's always a chance one of the small shards embedded deep inside the flesh and really fuck you up. in a proper medical setting, severe or really large wounds caused by glass get x-rayed to make sure nothing got inside the body. disclaimer : i did not found this out because of the drama last year. i figured it out when i was researching for a shatterbird centric fic i was making several years ago. Its a totally different fandom, and i totally never use this knowledge to win any internet arguments. promise :)

another thing is, the fic has a lot of gratituous sex scenes that despite i enjoyed, was better off written as a series of one shots after the fic was done. a sequel, basically, instead of being crammed in between the plots. kinda fucks up the pacing. its good, but it deserves to stand on its own as a stand alone.

and the final stuff, geez why is every fic always have the canonical female love interest evil and then suffer in agony before dying. I know early 2010s fandom are sexist but good god its really something else when you revisit it again. like, shut the fuck up. you dont have to make her into a complete villain to break off their relationship. also its kinda glaring that [redacted]'s other best friend (who happen to be fat) is conveniently written out despite his closeness and the fact that he was just as successful even if its in a different place. 2013 fandom amirite?

on a lighter note, this fic is also doing that bit where everyone is shipped off and the random leftover characters get randomly shipped together. it usually doesnt work for me but... dean and colt actually look cute. helps that its not a case of pairing together but also a way for [redacted] to accept his feelings and a reasonable explanation on why his bestie isnt so mad that he's fucking their supposed enemy. Obsessed that theyre just as haunted by [redacted] as they are irl. tbf i am a sucker for enemies to lovers.

#sometimes... fics from 2013 is good #and you might ask ''erase why didnt you write all of this on their comments?''#well first of all. they dont ask for criticism. im not gonna shit on their cereal for being brutally honest #im just gonna give a pat in the back to them for writing something this good #and vent my own feelings of the work in my own space #sometimes i miss doing fic editing tbh #but im not sure if i could even handle the extra work aside from job and all the house stuff

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autolenaphilia · 5 months

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Edit: as hoshi9zoe pointed out, the original version of this post needlessly berated other transfems like Jennifer Coates, for which I do apologize, and I have toned it down in this edited version. The original version survives in reblogs.

Some months ago, I was searching through this transandrobro blog to see if they posted a callout of me, and i found this reblog, which I couldn't really write about for months, because what do I even write. I recently wayback machined it for posterity, and I guess this is my attempt to write a post about it.

It's saint-dyke himself, the coiner of transandrophobia, saying that the infamous (at least for me) article "I am a transwoman. I'm in the closet. I'm not coming out" is what made him coin the fucking word. It's literally bolded and underlined: "Reading this article is what made me coin “transandrophobia”.

The reason I put off writing this post is that reading that article makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. And it is poison, make no mistake, it's internalized transmisogyny brainworms dripping out of the writer's brain and onto the page.

It's a justification for why the author, known by pseudonym Jennifer Coates, doesn't want to transition, despite knowing she is a trans woman. And it's the exact kind of internalized transmisogyny that keeps trans women in repression and not transitioning. "I'm not going to pass, i'm forever going to be an ugly freak who will at best be humored by other women, the closet is uncomfortable but at least it's safe"

It's the same exact bullshit a lot of represssed trans women tell themselves because it's what society tells us about trans women, that we are freakish parodies of women, that we will never pass, and if we don't pass we have failed and are ugly freaks. It's all to scare us into staying in the closet and make others hate and fear us. Transmisogyny permeates our society, and the majority, maybe all transfems will absorb and internalize some of it.

Coates says that it all is just applicable to her, but again so many transfems believe this shit before transitioning and realizing it's a pack of lies. If this bullshit was in any way valid, a lot of trans women shouldn't transition, because before we actually transition many of us believe it word for word. And "it's only true for me" is how we justify it to ourselves. We tend to be way harsher on ourselves than others. This kind of self-hating transfem tends to think: "Other trans women are beautiful graceful goddesses, earthly manifestations of the divine feminine, always destined to be women, while I'm an ugly forever male ogre who just has a fetish."

It's all bullshit, it's poison, it's internalized transmisogyny.

And the rest of the article is bullshit too. It is not some insightful mediation on gender as some people say, it's the author confusing and mixing up actual transmisogyny with an imagined problem of misandry. She does this because she has gone full repression mode, and decided she has no other choice to live as a man, so her dysphoria and experiences of transmisogyny are actually men's problems.

It's a bad article, excusable because as Coatas points out, it's "essentially a diary entry." that was meant to be a way to "vent frustration" and she "did not intend for anyone else to actually read it." It is clearly not the product of a healthy mind.

I hope the author sometime in the past seven years eventually did transition, and that for whatever reason she didn't want to publicly repudiate her own article. Maybe she lost access to the medium account so she can't delete it.

Far worse than the article itself is the response to it. I've seen it passed around as some insightful commentary on gender by the "feminists are too mean to men, misandry is real" crowd. I have argued against this before. And other people have made insightful comments about it.

And learning that saint-dyke claiming that he was inspired to coin the word "transandrophobia" because of this article is the cherry on top of this shitcake of transmisogyny. For my thoughts on "transandrophobia" theory and how transmisogynistic it is, see here.

Of course, Saint-dyke absolutely could be bullshitting here. Claiming that Coates's article is what inspired him to coin the word might be a lie to claim that transandrophobia theory is not transmisogynistic because it came from listening to trans women.

This is why "listen to trans women" doesn't work. Because TME people will always choose a trans woman who confirms their prejudices. Blair White has made an entire career out of this. And Coates article is popular because it says that misandry is real and trans women's issues are partly caused by it, misgendering herself and other trans women.

And it's popular for another reason. Coates has thoroughly internalized transmisogyny, and thus her article presents a trans woman that is exactly as transmisogynistic patriarchal society wants her to be. She is suffering, but ultimately accepts her assigned role. She truly believes that her biological sex dooms her to forever be male. She literally "manages her dysphoria by means other than transition" as conversion therapy advocates want us to do. She never makes an social claim on womanhood by actually transitioning, so she doesn't invade the sacred women's spaces. Yet she performs the role of woman perfectly by serving men, by defending them from supposed feminist misandry. And she fulfils the ritualistic role that the rhetorical figure of "trans women" sometimes serves in progressive spaces, of giving a blessing to TME people's pre-existing views and actions, all while actual flesh-and-blood trans women are destroyed by those same deeply transmisogynistic spaces. This time it's a blessing for the same "misandry is real" soft-MRA bullshit that has infested the online left and created the transandrophobia crowd.

That is why this article and the positive response makes me sick, makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. This is what its fans want trans women to be like. I'm acutely aware this kind of self-denial is exactly what transmisogyny wants from me and tried to indoctrinate me into doing it. And I want none of it. I want to live, I want to be a woman.

#my writings #transmisogyny #jennifer coates #this is a lot more emotional than i usually am #but i'm so angry and disgusted

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exuvianen · 1 day

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dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well.

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next.

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you.

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water.

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth.

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved?

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you.

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers.

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head.

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply.

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you.

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of.

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out.

#exuvia works #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #dr.ratio x reader #hsr headcanons #blade x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr blade #hsr aventurine #hsr dr.ratio #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 3 months

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krisis wiping away your tears

i wrote a shitpost fanfic in the gc about how i put my sani pape in the microwave and somehow what was what kickstarted the urge to write as opposed to. yknow. the hour of writing and editing i did before the microwave

tags: hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, established relationship, reader is crying for unspecified reasons

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🧻 Vezalius Bandage

uses a handkerchief or tissue to dry your tears

a medic handles with care, just as how he gently presses the cloth to your eyes

it kills him to watch you cry alone, so he takes your hand and guides you to his lap where he can give you all his undivided attention

rubs your arm while you hiccup, and places a hand on his chest so you can calm down to the feeling of his heartbeat

when you aren’t in the mindset to vent or hear him talk, he’ll hum to you. especially if you’re so tired you’re about to cry yourself to sleep

once you’ve cried it out he insists on getting you some water, a snack, and a shower (or change of clothes) to make sure the basic post-cry needs are met

“love. when i say i care for you, i mean it. i want to hear everything you have to say no matter what, and i’ll never, ever get upset at you for it.” it looks like zali’s eyes are closed, but from where your head rests in his lap, you see a hint of gold peer through his lashes. a surgeon’s hand brushes underneath your own eyes, patting away the tears. “so let me take care of you for now. breathe in and out.”

your body feels heavy from exhaustion and emotion. you curl up closer to him as you breathe. “tired, love?” when there’s no response but a nod he rubs your shoulder and clears his throat. the melodies of your favorite songs lull your to sleep.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔪 Vantacrow Bringer

lets you get his shirt dirty without hesitation

drops everything to stay by your side when he realizes you’re this upset

he wraps you into a bear hug the second you start tearing up. he’s not great with words and he’s scared of saying the wrong thing, but actions don’t lie

he’s not gonna break the hug any time soon while you cry, but he traces shapes along your skin and strokes you hair as he holds you

he knows you’re always doing your best and supports it, and if you did anything wrong, he’ll let you know once you’re in a state to hear it, not now when you need comfort

it’s hard to hear what vanta’s saying. it’s hard to hear your sniffles, too; it’s all muffled by fabric crinkling and the sound of vanta combing back your hair as you sob, careful not to let it get caught in your mess of tears and snot. his throat vibrates against your ear while he speaks.

“no one in their right mind would say you’re overreacting.” that’s the first thing you can decipher, and the only thing you need to hear. “no matter what. and i’ll remind you any day of the week that you’re doing fine no matter how you handle it.”

your sobs are interrupted by a squeeze as vanta holds you closer. reassurance that you’re his world even if you did everything wrong. “let it all out. i’ll be here every second.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🥽 Yu Q. Wilson

holds your face in his hands so he can thumb the tears away

the best thing he can do right now is let you talk, and be the one willing to listen

if your thoughts are too scrambled to explain why you’re upset then he’ll gather any comfort items you need. snacks, stuffed animals, physical contact, anything

he lets you get it all out first before he even thinks of saying anything since he doesn’t want to cut you off. instead a lot of his responses are nonverbal. he nods and squeezes your hand when you need encouragement

your breath is haggard by the time you finish spilling your guts. the storm of choked sobs has passed but now emptiness has taken its place, a hollow, dreadful feeling lodged in your throat as you hiccup. the only warmth you can feel is wilson’s jacket over your shoulders and his hand in yours.

his eyes have been closed for a while as he took in your feelings. it’s unusual seeing him so composed, but right now? it’s a welcome sight when the world feels like it’s crashing around you.

when wilson opens them again he holds you a little tighter. “thank you for trusting me,” he says slowly. “i’m not going to forget it, and i’m not going to ignore it either.

“but you don’t need to be tough all the time.” with his free hand he reaches out. his palm cups your cheek as a thumb curls around your tears, gently wiping them away. the corner of his lips curves up as he tends to you. “it’s going to work out in the end.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#vezalius bandage #vezalius bandage x reader #vantacrow bringer #vantacrow bringer x reader #yu q. wilson #yu q. wilson x reader #krisis x reader #krisis #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #4402 writes

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t0ast-ghost · 5 days

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You know this has got me in a pretty deep (Obsession) which is the name of S2 episode 13 of Star Trek tos.

Better luck next time on that opening:

- Kirk’s on edge…

- Star Trek horror episode when?

- is this inspiration for when Doctor Crusher fucks a ghost

- god I love Chapel

- Hot new redshirt is probably the shapeshifter (edit: this is just wrong)

- The fucking gas is sneaking up on ‘em. Of all the things to die to it’s the vampire gas

- Kirk’s boyfriends both think that they should leave and deliver the supplies. Two versus one AND it’s the two that always fight against their favourite idiot

- Kirk ignoring both McCoy AND Spock is not a good sign

- The chief security guy dramatically flopping on his bed is so relatable bbygirl

- Kirk getting paranoid about his bridge crew “conspiring” is like. haven’t you learned trust? Haven’t you learned love? I guess he’s still a soldier at heart or smt

- “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Doctor.” “Interrupting another autopsy report is no disturbance, Mr. Spock. It’s a relief” I just remembered that they’re married and in love

- Spock outright asking McCoy for his advice/opinion is like. YEAH he respects you, he has his own beliefs and ideals but he wants to hear from you! And when he’s worried about your (boy)friend he wants you to be on the same page as him. He wants you to validate his thoughts.

- whatever the fuck this is

- “Mind if I come in?” McCoy you shouldn’t be able to just enter people’s quarters like that. Can’t you see he’s writing his diary and listening to Mitski in bed?

- Oh my Bones pulling out the big guns.. AND SPOCK. Oh they really were conspiring. You know if they worked together like this more often, they could literally do anything. Like kiss.

- Genuinely unsure if the gas is intelligent or not. I like the mystery of this one.

- “Jim, we’re not trying to gang up on you.” They are though and it’s probably for the best

- Love how the entire bridge crew is just like “this isn’t healthy. Kirk, this is concerning behaviour.”

- OH WOW Kirk came so close to blowing up his own ship

- “Self pity’s a terrible first course, how about you try the soup.” Christine Chapel is literally the best. She also knows how to make threats, not even McCoy knows about (I love how terrifying the medical department is)

- I want a pair of those slutty boots

- McCoy is fucking furious

- “I’m sorry, Jim. I was wrong.” McCoy in short sleeves <3

- Spock genuinely trying to comfort Kirk cause he has an unhealthy obsession with the creature and Kirk dismissing it

- Spock then trying to comfort the ensign

- He breaks the vent controls with his strength then tries to COVER IT WITH HIS HANDS. Spock, babygirl, that is not logical

- “Don’t misunderstand my next question. Mr. Spock, why aren’t you dead?” Happy to see you too, Jim

- “Bet he left a bad taste in the creatures mouth.” “Colloquially expressed, but essentially correct.” That is a fucking banger line

- KIRK HEALING ARC

- Spock and Bones at odds once again

- Of course Kirk is gonna be self sacrificial and Spock is going to try and self sacrifice himself.. admittedly Spock had the more logical thought process

- HE FUCKIN KARATE CHOPPED HIS NECK . WHAT THE HECK NEW GUY?!?

- I’d love if I lived on the enterprise and got little updates through the comms by Chekov “stand by for shockwaves.” Of course thank you :))

- Spock is like “I’m to thank, not god, thank me Jim.”

- Kirk healing <3

Better episode than I thought it would be :)

Masterpost

Episode written by Art Wallace

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #tos kirk #captain james kirk #tos spock #s'chn t'gai spock #spock #tos bones #tos mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #tos chekov #pavel chekov

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straycalamities · 6 months

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alright i been meaning to do this so:

what is and is not allowed to be done with any of my characters! this includes art, fics, edits, headcanons, whathaveyou

[general content/trigger warning for uncomfortable, possibly-triggering topics because this is mainly the gist of what i dont want to see]

x = never ? = ask for permission

do nots: x - no noncon (if you engage to work through your feelings, never make my characters the perpetrators, it skeeves me out) ? - no genderbends/sexswaps/whatever they're called anymore? idk just don't mess with their gender, pronouns*, or assigned-sex-at-birth as a general thing unless i already have or okayed you directly. triple-especially if they're not cis x - respect their romantic orientations/sexualities! if you don't know a character's then you can ask me, but yeah. ie: don't ship andrew with women, he's homosexual x - [NSFW] absolutely no ageplay kinks or anything like that with my characters. no raceplay. just..nothing like that. x - no pregnancy. no mpreg. no omegaverse. none of it. (i've come a long way from it being straight-up a trigger but still, yea,) i have had some of my characters naturally be pregnant/have babies but i'd rather handle it myself, if you know what i mean x - this is a duh, but nothing hateful/bigoted using my characters. like, for instance, i do joke abt shit and say mainverse!entre is a conservative but don't unironically use him for anything awful like that. joking/memeing around about his terrible political stances is fine though x - i would never write or have my characters telling anyone to "kill yourself" so please don't have them say stuff like that. even if it's a joke. it makes me uncomfortable. (there may be a few exceptions in my giant roster of ocs but as a general rule just avoid it) x - never use my ocs likenesses or art of them as art for your own ocs. that's never okay. my ocs designs are for my own characters only.

*it's okay to have neopronoun headcanons

okay! generally anything i havent said isn't okay IS okay, but just so anyone reading this has a clearer idea

it's okay to use my characters for expressing yourself, venting, or just personal stuff like that. if my characters help you through something, go ahead and express it. i'm happy they help :)

playing around with gender presentation (not gender) is perfectly okay with any of my characters

shipping in general is fine as long as it doesnt go against the don'ts list. i dont care who you ship them with

[NSFW] i'm okay with pretty much any other kinks other than anything that goes into noncon, bigotry, or underage so go wild even if it's not my thing personally i don't care. (ie: the swagtre piss fic? lol im not a watersports guy but chase your bliss)

my characters are all free game for anything horror themed as well. horror as a genre, body horror, psychological horror, whatever. go for it. i have a personal major squick for eye gore but i can handle (and enjoy) pretty much anything else in this realm. go as gorey or not as you like (just tag appropriately for other ppls sakes)

handling self-harm/suicide idealization themes is technically? okay? for my characters? just uh...be respectful i guess. and definitely tag appropriately. this theme is canon for a few of them so i am okay with it just handle it with care is what i'm saying

go ham-buck-wild with mental illness headcanons or projections or anything like that. i dont think i have an oc that doesn't have at least something, so if you see yourself in their symptoms, go for it. only some of them i have personal labels for some of their stuff but otherwise it's whatever. just be respectful, again.

kinning is also okay! kin, synpath anything like that. go ahead! go wild with it. i think it's neat. just be respectful.

and an important note to all of this, other than being respectful to others and the characters themselves, is to respect me. just because it's okay that you do it with my character, doesn't mean i have to agree with it or make it canon or anything like that. it just means i gave you permission to engage like that. so please don't come to me trying to ask or force me to change something about my own characters or get so lost in your headcanons you start to disrespect what i've established myself

and if you ever have any questions about them or any of this, just let me know. i'm always happy to help

also yet again DONT REPOST MY NSFW ART ARGHHHH!!!

#txt #important

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

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I am so tired of the TikTok-ification of fandom. By this I mean the disingenuous reblog comments of "yassss, slay, bestie" that are a barely concealed ploy for the recipient to engage with your work too. The story didn't mean anything to you, if you even read it, you're just playing the popularity game.

I am so tired of the competitive nature of fandom, and how unsupportive others are. If you see someone is about to publish a fic or write for a certain character, instead of offering words of encouragement or helping to nurture their story, you rush to post your own. You have to be first, god forbid the attention not be on you.

I am so tired of the pressure to network, having to be up everyone's arse constantly. You're in so many people's DMs, how can you possibly hope to foster a meaningful connection with anyone, when you've got so many different conversations going at once? But it's not about that, is it? It's about making sure you're seen, that you stay relevant.

I hate the falseness, the pressure, the fact that it is more about cultivating numbers than honing your craft. Where is the passion for your craft? When did notes and follower count become the goal? We are writers, artists, not mathematicians.

I am insular by nature, I find what modern fandom has become so very stressful. I appreciate that the crux of this post is weighted in negativity, but ultimately for those that do take the time to engage with me in a meaningful way, who foster actual friendships, who care more about the story they want to tell than marketing their brand - you know who you are - thank you. You make this hellscape worth sticking around for. Please don't let what fandom has morphed into snuff you out.

Edit to add: this post serves as my own personal vent/commentary regarding behaviour of fellow creators in fandom that I have been privy to. It is not a critique of behaviour of readers.

#fandom rambles

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tamayakii · 10 months

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Simonrileyscockring aka Maxim is a liar and claims frogchiro stole their ideas. Here's proof he lied.

@simonrileyscockring Now since you dont wanna acknowledge me or my post calling you out, i decided to make it its own post so more people can see it. I don't like liars. i don't like virtue signalers "dni proshippers" we interacted tons of times, i sent you asks, my own art, we talked in dms, i even checked on you when i worried about you and now you're worried about "proshippers" and realize the term i identify with, which means "anti-harassment, respecting peoples fictional preferences" and not whatever tiktok-brained bullshit you think it is? So convenient you say that AFTER i send you an ask asking if you were gonna acknowledge what the hell you did. edits: the only edits i did was "@/" Konigsblog cause they said they apologized and acknowledged what they did, whether or not the apology is accepted is not up to me.

original call out below: you absolute dunce. i LOVED your writing before but the drama on your page, responding to hate anons rather than just deleting their asks drove me off. I have so many words for you

EVERYONE can see your personal posts, they just don't LIKE them cause who the fuck wants to like a post that's a vent post? it feels wrong, people see it and choose not to react, people see you vagueing about someone stealing "your" concepts (which theyve written BEFORE cod fandom erupted on tumblr and aka before YOUR popularity) they'll want to know cause stealing writing is very serious!! but oh wait!!! they didn't steal shit!!! They never wrote about a teenager, which btw when you say all this shit and show no proof it fucking sucks!! cause people are so tiktok-brained that they will believe anything!

Because you decided to pull a fuckin mean girl move with @/konigsblog you ruined someone's love for writing and this fandom. "no one got harmed" my fucking ass. You as a writer should know that motivation comes and goes, and that hyperfixtations can be the closest thing to people. So rather than acting like a fucking man, you vague and claim they wrote about a minor as well, btw heres the teenager you claim is well, a teenager

Scaramouche is a puppet made by Raiden Ei, over 500 years ago to the current time in genshin impact. When Raiden Ei's sister had passed and she wanted to make a puppet to be the archon but she left him in a slumbering state, free from her own control cause he came to life crying which puppets aren't supposed to do. He woke up and thought she abandoned him, then OVER 5 HUNDRED YEARS AND THREE BETRYALS LATER. The fandom baby-fies him admittedly, but he's not obsessed with his mother nor does he have a teenager mentality. He's a bitter and aloof character, only getting mad when his creation or betrayals are brought up,

"a teenager physqiue" Okay lets challenge that, In the game this model is called Short_Male, it been used for Cyno, Tighnari, Kazuha, Xiao, Albedo, Mika, Chongyun, Bennet, Xingqiu, Heizou, Gorou, Venti, Razor, and even the male traveller.(I'm gonna use basic terms since you obviously never played the game if you think he's child like) Cyno is basically an officer in the game for the Akademiya, aka an adult. Tighnari is basically like a forest ranger, an adult. Kazuha sails around the sea while being a poet AND a sword expert because of his family line, becoming an expert swordsman takes YEARS even in real life, he's an adult. Xiao is over 5,000 years old and a "deputy" for an Archon. Albedo is a synthetic experiment human made 500 years ago from the current timeline in the game. Heizou is also a cop, an adult. Gorou is a fucking ADMIRAL, an adult. VENTI is literally over 2k years old. an adult. The traveller is AT LEAST over a thousand years old, cause the traveller that you choose slumbers for 500 years.

The rest are hinted to be late teenagers or early twenties depending on who you ask.

I even took pictures of these models in-game compared to a Tall_Male model!

Here's scaramouche, compared to Diluc and Tighnari! who aren't children! Now let's see an actual model of CONFIRMED children, why don't we?

here we have klee, who despite being something like 50 or 75 years old, is still mentally a child!! So she has the child model since she is still physically growing up, unlike Scaramouche AND Albedo.

Scaramouche isn't a child. he doesn't have child-like features. He's not obsessed with his mother, cause he does not have one cause motherfucker is a 500-year-old puppet, he's mentally an adult, physically an adult that was prepared for archon duties.

Sorry, i droned on about this for so long but i just fuckkking hate it when people are wrong. So blindly like you are,

here's proof that you said that, incase you go on a deleting frenzy.

Now let's talk about the point system, point systems are so widespread in real life and in fiction, even i used a point system once before. So to see it, in a COMPETITION(cause they are in the pervy AU) between men isn't weird to see. If you genuinely had a problem with this, Kin would've LOVED to talk it out with you as they're lovely and understanding human being.

the stray cat au? i even remember reading about it on both of your blogs but heres the thing.... the last time they wrote about it was in October.. of last year.

i had to search your blog just in case i was wrong in thinking they wrote it before you did.

as you can see, this is march of this YEAR. checking your archive, you made your blog back in February of this year. To claim they stole your concept of stray cat is beyond fucking insane, as well as bringing up the post with scaramouche in it cause.. that was over at least 10 months ago, cause Kin had went on a hiatus when December came around and came back with a COD hyperfixtation.

Onto the stealing the hubull concept! Searching their blog I can't find any evidence of them even writing a bull-like idea, at all. So you seemed to pull that one straight out of your ass.

So let's go over this real quick! one more time for the people in the back!!!

@simonrileyscockring made a post vagueing that someone stole their concepts and ideas, @/konigsblog replies below asking, hey who is it? maxim responds saying its @frogchiro and claiming that they wrote about a teenager and stole their point system for an au. Publicly. Instead of going to Frogchiro and trying to work it out, like a 23-year-old should. You keep drilling on about it, claiming that people trying to defend them are being your entertainment now

sure some people shouldn't have come in attacking you, i won't defend people who throw cruel words at you. You can claim this to be an attack but all i'm doing is calling you out, cause as you claim "it doesn't affect the way you live your life" you let it go and ruin someone else's way of life, destroying their love for fandom and writing. As a writer yourself that ive SEEN struggle with motivation AND hate anons, you of ALL people should fucking understand that getting your love for writing ruined is a terrible thing to happen especially when its an outlet for stress.

"i wanna talk shit in peace, not have my shit gossiped about." .. that is noooot how the internet works OR how shit-talking works, as the biggest shit-talker in MY family, i understand that when i talk shit, there's another person behind me talking shit. When YOU post vagueing about someone, and then continue talking about them, people will gossip about you. End of story. You should've blocked them in the first place, you also should've messaged Kongisblog PRIVATELY if you really wanted to avoid all of them. The only screenshots that i know that kin was sent, were you confirming that they "stole" your ideas and that they wrote about a teenager. How can they refute your claims without knowing what your claims are. They had to defend themselves from people in their inbox.

So, really in the end here, you fucked up. As a previous fan of your im highly disappointed in you but seeing how you act i doubt that will affect you, i make this post-DEFENDING frogchiro from pointless claims, AND in hopes that anyone who wants to follow you. Will find this post cause you are a fucking asshole to the core. Step back and realize that while it may not affect you, your actions affect others.

#call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty headcanons #abo 141 #141 abo #pervy 141 #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #call of duty mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #phillip graves x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader

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hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 22 days

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Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-

"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

#supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester #writing prompt #fandom #supernatural fanfiction #dean fan fiction #dean x curvy!reader #dean x chubby reader #dean x reader angst #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst

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worldwide-simp · 8 months

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Here, take some of my writing from when I was brain dead // Yandere Scp x reader

military au

The last shot

not edited Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of violence, mention of death “Open fire!” Clef commanded, a barrage of bullets releasing on the word, piercing repeatedly through the invaders skin, flesh and bone.

Blood painted the ground a beautiful red as bodies decorated it like a woven tapestry. He clipped on the safety feature back onto his own double battles shotgun, thinking to himself how life would be so much easier if it didn’t exist.

“I hate my job.” He mumbled, swiping the flecks of red off his face, accidentally smudging it even further in. A rapid fire of quiet curses were released to vent his growing frustration. The dirt under him crunched as he made the slightest of movement.

Kicking at an arm of a fallen enemy soldier, Clef glowered down at them, remembering the time that their bullets pierced his own skin. The difference was that he didn’t fucking die.

“Commander!” A soldier in training shouted to him, the distance between them blurring their words. Nevertheless, he heard it loud and clear, being a sort of mantra that repeated everyday and became his apparent sixth sense.

“What.” His tension filled voice amated the soldier as they closed the large distance between them, standing two metres away. A respectable distance.

“Have- have you not heard the radio..?” They stuttered slightly, shifting their feet below them. Clef’s expression became one of curiousity and believe it or not, apprehension.

“No, genius, mine was blown up.” His gruff voice breathed out, annoyance lacing it like fine poison. As he moved to place his full attention on the soldier, his blond neck-length hair ruffled with the slight breeze and the shorter strands rested on his face.

“Well- um, someone on our squad got shot.” Clef whipped his head to them, eyes widening in shock. If he wasn’t surprised before, he was now.

“Who?!” He demanded, pointing a finger towards them. They spluttered, overwhelmed with the sudden burst of energy from their normally stoic but eccentric commander.

“I don’t know! I just heard about it, they refused to elaborate on whether they are dead or alive.” Clef was extremely confused. Why wouldn’t they say anything about it if someone was injured? They would of had to be immediately taken to Y/N (assuming that they were alive).

“Have you not checked on who is missing?” He snapped, pulling at his hair as a coping mechanism, and it was certainly a painful one. The soldier winced when blood trickled from his scalp.

Clef stopped his erratic tugging and beckoned the soldier to follow, stamping on the bodies of the fallen as a sign of disrespect.

The rest of his awaiting squadron were already on their tanks, preparing the last of the equipment when they arrived, Clef dashing at immense speed while the soldier behind him struggled immensely, chest heaving in shortness of breath.

“Does anyone have any fucking information on that injured member?” Clef inquired, slipping into the entrance, his voice echoing through the tank. Dimitri nodded, answering the question that Clef wanted so desperately answered.

“He is fine, Y/N retrieved him, had a talk with them and it appears that he is in stable condition, it was a shot to the leg, but still something to be concerned about. It is apparent that he won’t step foot in military ground for quite some time.” He answered, Dimitri’s voice a steady calm, his Russian accent slipping through.

Clef nodded in silent thanks, heart rate becoming steady once again. Honestly, the thing he was most worried about was the fact another casualty would’ve slipped under his belt and become another ornament that he had failed his squadron once again.

Even with his seemingly uncaring attitude, Clef valued each and every soldier like a rare gem, their uniqueness shining through and defining their personality. He would never admit that if someone asked him.

The rumbling of hard ground against sturdy tires snapped him out of his delusional thoughts, and he peered out of the small hatch that was the only source of natural light and view (not counting the scope connected to the roof).

A broken static resounded through one of the radios that so happened to be connected to Dimitri. He looked at it for a few seconds before turning the comm on and increasing the volume.

“This is Y/N speaking, for your peace of mind, be assured that Gerald is doing well.” Your voice broke through the tension filled silence, just the fact that you spoke made their hearts fill with warmth.

Clef turned towards the mic, staring at Dimitri expectantly. Dimitri in question glanced up, feeling the gaze of Alto Clef piercing his radio.

“Dimitri, could I talk to them.” He asked, well more so demanded, his attitude turning a 180. A slight creaking of the hull was ignored, the silence tense once again.

“Take it.” He said, glowering towards Clef. Throwing it with a steady hand harshly towards him, Clef caught it with expected ease.

“My my, jealous, Dimitri?” Clef taunted, cooing in a mockingly soft tone. The soldier that had hopped aboard watched the spectacle unfold, waiting for a bloodbath to commence, whispering in the mic that so happened to have you on the other end.

Dimitri glared daggers, but said nothing more. Clef was quite the nasty person when it came to the concerns of you, maybe because you were the only person he trusted in the hellhole, two years was quite the amount of time to know someone. But there were always secrets that could be hidden with a mask and nothing more.

He clipped on the mic, the quiet, unnoticeable conversation between you and Iris was put on a standstill as he switched on comms, a gentle clicking sound indicated it was successful.

“Hello!” You spoke, uncertainty in your tone as the background noise of scissors snapping roughly through flesh and the words of gentle reconciliation reverberated, giving the illusion that it was louder that it actually was.

“Hey Y/N, how are you and Gerald?” Clef smiled, his heart racing through a full F1 track. You paused, though the cutting of flesh resumed, making up for the lack of communication.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, I think Gerald is the one you should be more concerned about.” You jabbed.

He laughed, it was a bit forced but what wasn’t anyways.

“I believe I also asked about the well-being of Gerald, am I wrong?” In Clef’s mind, he believed you were starting a light-hearted banter, and it was like that, just with the aftermath of atmosphere tension, similar to the fragility of string. When it is woven, drawn taunt and held straight, it turns sharp (not literally).

“Nothing nothing, you don’t understand. Now get over here and we can talk.” You hummed, the shuffling of metal equipment heard and you mumbled something under your breath.

part 1 of 3

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meimi-haneoka · 3 months

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{drabble} I'm here - Akiho/Kaito

Alright, how do you do any of this...😂

I guess what you need to know it's that it is a Akiho x Kaito / YunaAki drabble, it's based on canon (set 3 weeks after the series ended), and it's based on the assumption that, differently from what the ENG translation said in ch. 80, in the JP Sakura affirmed that thanks to his stopped time Kaito wouldn't be hurting more than that...this means that his seizures would continue, just they wouldn't get worse than what we've seen till now.

This is mainly a hurt/comfort drabble, with glimpses of happiness. After all, Akiho is happy with him. And it's mainly a way for me to vent some complex feelings about the finale of Clear Card. I have a Kaito POV on the way (edit: here's the link, go read it after you finished this one!), but it's more difficult to write for him (and, uh, more depressing) so it'll come in the next days.

Easter egg: a line is a direct reference to the lyrics of Anata by Hikaru Utada. 😉

I'm not a native English speaker so forgive me if any line sounds weird!

Finally, I have to thank the "enabler" dandelion-stuff-and-fluff (not tagging in case you don't want to!) for giving immediately support to my whims! 😂

Excerpt:

I could feel the tears emerging, but I kicked all of them back, as I threw my 13-year-old self out of the window and summoned the part of me that helped me survive all these years. The resilient one.

Akiho's POV

Three weeks had passed by, from that fateful night.

Most of our stuff was packed, and our days were spent between checking everything for the imminent departure and hanging out with Sakura-san and the rest of the group, making the most out of the remaining time. Everyone was so lovely to us, showing all the support we needed. I really felt like I had acquired a family in Tomoeda, and the thought of it made me incredibly happy. I was going to miss them so much. Just like I would miss this big mansion full of memories.... and mysterious protective forces, apparently, as I was told by him.

Kaito-san revealed to me that when we came to Tomoeda almost one year prior, he had chosen this mansion specifically to protect me, as I was carrying a dangerous magical artifact that my own clan had engraved in me. We talked quite a lot over the span of those three weeks, and swallowing the truth had been hard, at first. But all of that was gone now and like waking up from a nightmare, the memories of it were getting more and more hazy as time went on. Only a permanent scar remained.

Both of us were in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The clang of kitchen utensils, the sizzle in the frying pan made me strangely happy. It sounded warm. It sounded normal. I love cooking with him. This was the corner of the house where we declared to each other how much we cherished one another, without even fully realizing it.

“Akiho-san, could you hand me the salt?” “Here you go!” I said, smiling brightly at him. He smiled back at me in that soft way that made my knees weak. God, please, give me this for the rest of my life. Every day, immutably.

“Done! We’re ready.” Removing our aprons, we were getting ready to bring everything to the table.

And then I saw it.

He stopped in his tracks, his complexion paling by the second.

Another one was coming. My blood ran cold, and I rushed to the other side of the room, while he slowly crouched to the ground, out of breath, groaning in pain. Each cry stabbed me in the chest like a knife. I could feel the tears emerging, but I kicked all of them back, as I threw my 13-year-old self out of the window and summoned the part of me that helped me survive all these years. The resilient one. I hastily opened a cabinet and took out a finely decorated small box, toppling other items in the process. I didn't care. Hiiragizawa-san had sent us, through a magic portal, a series of pills he made weaving a complex magic spell over them, to help Kaito-san cope with the seizures. He said they wouldn't do any miracle, but hopefully they could reduce the duration of the seizures and ease the pain a little bit. Cause the pain he was experiencing wasn’t caused by anything ordinary, and no ordinary medicine would’ve been effective.

I grabbed a towel, flung it over my shoulder and ran back to Kaito-san with a glass of water, spilling some of it in the process. I watched him as he struggled to swallow both the pill and the water.

How many times did he experience this excruciating pain, completely alone? How many times did he force himself to not crumble down in front of me, to protect my peace of mind? Just thinking back to all the times I could feel something was not right, and how he tried to deceive me to keep dealing with it all alone.... it brought back in me an anger I didn't know what to do with.

Yes, I didn't get over it yet. The wound was still so fresh. But we agreed that we would’ve dealt with this together, from now on. ...And just like that, the fit of anger quickly vanished, as a gentle feeling got a hold of me, and I began unbuttoning the collar of his shirt to let him breath better, then dabbing his damp forehead with the towel. "It's okay.... it's okay... I'm here" I whispered softly, like a lullaby.

As if surrendering himself to me, he held onto my arms and leaned over, trying to regain control of his breathing. I supported him, thanking in my head a hundred times that his time was halted. Yes, we were trying to look for a way to eventually make it flow again, but it was in moments like these that I remembered how numbing the fear to lose him again was. I couldn't live with that. With that feeling of hollowness. Not again.

That's why, I said to myself, this time I would've done anything in my power to not lose him, come what may. I wouldn't have spared any effort. Losing him would’ve been a hundred times more devastating than the pain I was feeling in that moment, seeing him in those conditions. After all, he was feeling like that because of me.

“Momo...please give me strength”, I thought, missing my beloved bunny more than ever. Who knows how many times she had witnessed all of that, and how she dealt with it. I could’ve used some advice in that moment.

His ragged breath became more regular, the pill was starting to kick in. He raised his head and looked at me. Those eyes I loved so much, now covered by a mysterious dark fog - a remnant of the dragon appearance, as they explained to me – seemed to regain finally focus. His face was so close to mine. In another situation, in another more oblivious period, there’s no doubt my heart would've exploded from embarrassment, red in the face like a tomato. But right now, I was preoccupied with something completely different, as I looked at him holding nothing but worry and sadness in my eyes.

"I'm sorry...", he whispered.

I could feel my heart catching fire, and it reminded how much I love him, despite being so hurt by his reckless behavior. But I didn't answer to his apology. Cause that wasn't what I wanted to hear from him.

Instead, I asked him “can you stand up?” and helped propping him up when he nodded. We proceeded slowly towards the couch in the living room, where I helped him lying down. Despite having tons of lovely memories here, this house was starting to be a bit too big for us and for emergencies of this kind. Hiiragizawa-san's pills had a sedative that inevitably caused Kaito-san to fall asleep, to recuperate. He looked so exhausted. I arranged some cushions on the ground and sat down beside the couch, watching him closing his eyes and drifting quickly into sleep. I moved some of his hair to the side and dabbed the towel over his forehead one more time. Then I went back to stare at his peaceful face, lost in thought. Was I truly prepared for this, when I decided that the life I wanted was this one? Probably not. Would I have chosen anything else? Absolutely not. Being with him is my happiness, after all.

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peachsayshi · 2 years

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Hiya Peach! Hope you’re living your best life!!!

Not sure if you’re still taking drabble requests for dad!gojo, but if so I wanted to see what your take on “Gojo finding out his s/o is pregnant” would be? I go back and forth on my imagining of his reaction to the situation-positives and negatives-and I’d love your take! You always write him so well 🤩 and I love using your fics for my own character hcs 😆

Also thank you for posting the Gojo drabble tonight-I screamed when I opened my app and saw it!! Your writing is so fantastic and I’m so excited whenever I see updates to your series or a new drabble on your blog. Keep it up! Honestly live for your JJK scenarios!!!! ✨

Thank you!! 💕

Dad Gojo x Female Reader (prompt: finding out you’re pregnant)

- minors & ageless blogs dni -

A/N: First off, I’m swooning over your comments right now! 🥺 I always feel like my Gojo can be slightly ooc because I write him soft and sweet, but honestly to me he’s such a good guy that I can’t help it! 🥺 I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get through these requests, I have so many of them half done/almost complete (including this) but I’ve been behind on actually cleaning and editing them for post! I hope you still enjoy this drabble, and I’m so happy that you enjoyed the previous drabble posted! 💕💕 You guys really help keep me motivated, especially on days when I just don't want to write period. So, I’m going to take the time to say THANK YOU. *please accept this 🍑 as a token of my affection.

TAGS: pregnancy, discussing kids, alludes to abortion, angsty, fluffy, slight mention of smut

Satoru sat with his back pressed against the bathroom door. He tapped his fingers along the floor, his heart racing as he nervously tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“...ok, it’s done…” he heard you speak from behind the frame.

“Can I come in?” your boyfriend asked a little too eagerly while still trying to maintain his calm demeanor despite feeling like he was about to combust.

“Five minutes,” you sternly replied. “We…I…have to wait.”

Satoru sighed, a tightness pulling across his chest from your particular choice of pronouns.

Did you really think that he would abandon you at such a crucial moment?

He rubbed his hands over his strained face, recalling the night you both had sex without any protection. Your boyfriend was sloppy too, completely losing himself to the intimacy of the moment being inside you that he didn’t pull out fast enough.

How could he when he was staring deep into your lust-blown eyes filled with nothing but love for him, when he could feel the tips of your swollen breasts brush over his chest as your bodies molded into one, and how you sang the most sensual notes as you clenched around him?

Your apprehensive behavior is completely valid - he knew that.

Despite being in a committed relationship together, you knew that you could never have a traditional future with the head of the Gojo family. You accepted him even after he told you that he can’t marry you, but the possibility of children…that was something neither of you ever took into consideration.

Not yet, at least.

“I’m right here,” he replied upon clearing his throat, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Seconds passed, the deafening silence only making the sorcerer grow even more nervous as he shifted uncomfortably in his place.

“I-I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

He perked up, “I…don’t either.”

“I forget to feed myself when I’m too busy…” you vented, “How…How am I expected to take care of anyone else?”

“You take care of me,” he kindly reassured, “Just like how I take care of you.”

“This…this is different. This…is permanent.”

Satoru drew in an unexpected breath, digging his nails into the flooring as his eyes widened in shock.

Why were you speaking like this?

“What makes you think that we are temporary?” he questioned defensively.

“I just…I don’t know if this is what you want. I would never ask for this kind of commitment from you, Satoru. You’ve told me many times that being tied down isn’t easy for you, and I know just how troublesome this will be if anyone were to find out…”

“Troublesome?” he blurted with a surprised laugh.

The quiet found its place between you both once more, and your boyfriend had a sudden urge to rip the door out of the frame to close the distance. Instead he closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, channeling all his rational thought as he used his words to soothe you instead.

“I don’t see anything troublesome about a little baby that looks like you, angel,” he exhaled before resting his head against the door. “Pretty eyes, round cheeks, bonus points if it's a girl too…”

You sniffled, “not a boy?”

“And release another menace to society?” he half joked. “Although, I’m sure that my daughter would be chaotic in her own right…”

That earned him a small laugh on your part which he found relieving.

“How would this even work? We aren’t married.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that this baby will be ours.”

“But there’s so much to figure out and this is so…we didn’t plan for this, we haven’t even talked about this…”

“We’ll figure it out together.”

“But…” you kept insisting, trying to find the wild card in your relationship that’ll prove your worst fears crossing your mind. “What if you’re saying this now but you change your mind later on? I-I don’t want you to feel trapped. I don’t want to force this obligation on you. I’m not asking you to take care of me, or…or this child…we would only burden you with more responsibilities…”

“You seem so concerned about me, what about you?” he interrupted. “Do you want to have this baby?”

You chose to be silent.

For whatever reason you weren’t sharing what was on your mind, and it was driving your boyfriend nuts.

“Look,” he said, “We both were careless. If you’re not ready for this, then we’ll do what needs to be done. I’ll be there for you, and I won’t stand in the way of your decision. You matter in this too, but if you’re truly only concerned about my feelings…well, I think it’s cute how you’re getting all worked up...

He tapped his index finger against his chin while thinking over his words.

“Honestly, with everything I deal with, this is actually an easy problem for me to fix. I can leave you to raise the child on your own. God knows that might actually be the ideal option. I can just...support you financially, if necessary…” he breathed out a chuckle as he stared into the middle distance. “…it’s a good thing I’m loaded, right?”

“I guess…” you nervously replied.

“My life has always been burdensome, you see. Everything requires me to think twice, and I can see why you’re so worried about how this would reflect on me but really you are the one dealing with the ramifications of my problems…”

Satoru smiled to himself, “I’m sorry you had to settle for a man who can’t devote himself to you wholeheartedly but my love for you…has and always will be, the best decision I’ve ever made.”

He stood up, unable to keep himself grounded as leaned against the frame of the door instead.

“Let’s…let’s think about another scenario instead, hmm?” he proposed, “Maybe you move in with me, and we turn one of the rooms into a nursery. I’m sure you’ll have a great time redecorating. I’ll offer to pay and get it done, but I know you’ll want to paint the walls yourself and assemble all the furniture while forcing me to partake in such unnecessary labor…but I think we can build a home together...”

“I’ll be here as much as I can, and you know that there are a few good people who I trust who can look out for you on the days when I can’t. We’ll go to every doctor’s appointment, and I’m not ashamed to ask questions even if they sound stupid…” he carried on, “and it’s not like I’m completely clueless, right? I practically raised Megumi myself…so, technically we have a free babysitter considering I kept him alive all these years…”

He could hear a muffled giggle coming from behind the door, and knew you were listening intently to his words.

“…so yeah, maybe this…this situation is an opportunity for trouble. You’re not just having a child, after all, but my heir. These are things I should be taking into account but…for the first time in my life, I don’t see the implications of my decision. I just…I just see myself coming home to the love of my life and our adorable little menace. Sounds like quite a lovely picture to me...”

The door swung open, and Satoru finally relaxed his shoulders. Your eyes were brimming with tears and you immediately cupped his face in your palms before pulling his lips down to meet yours. His hands met your waist, and he hauled you closer into his body as your fingers tangled through the soft peaks of his snowy hair.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you murmured against his lips, and he smiled into yours.

His slender fingers moved to spread across your belly, “really?”

You nodded your head in confirmation before stealing a second kiss, then a third and by the fourth one you felt a dampness on your lover’s cheeks as you gently caressed over them with your thumbs.

“Satoru?” you questioned in surprise, but your boyfriend merely brushed his nose over yours as a heart melting grin tugged the corners of his mouth.

“I’m so happy, angel,” he reassured. “I’m so fucking happy.”

#scheduled post.🍑#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo x female reader #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk fan fics #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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foressfaction · 7 months

Note

autism blast me on why you like toby

*Cracks knuckles*

he's literally me

Ok good day

No but for real ever since like 5th grade, (i was around 11???) i remember finding his story after very unmonitored internet access through DA (i was and still am addicted to DA) and after reading it, it was like, wow. Okay- thats really relatable. I struggled with severe family issues with the same problem of alcohol and gambling, along with also losing a sibling. I went through severe bullying and everything else what not, not to make it about me or anything but i didn't have much of an outlet at all, i never got into anime, fashion(basic fashion), never had many friends irl. I was already 'in the fandom' but didn't know much about him til i genuinely sat down and found it on accident while searching fandom tags. (back when kastoway actually posted there still)

I would literally stalk the acc man it was BAD. i always used him to vent and as an outlet, i loved the art style and my art would occasionally be influenced by it unconsciously. I would write and roleplay a ton and eventually developed my own take and interpretation. I find tons of comfort in anti-hero like characters and this fandom has been the only thing i ever felt welcomed in. And the only thing i seem to like as i am still not into much else but horror and cosplay. I wish i was my age now (19) back when the fandom was really booming. Where the nostalgic styles were around and the 'cringey' lol ask blogs (i would've been doing one dgmw)

I would've been a big hit back then but now its just harder to be known. (not that its my main purpose i just wonder how far i would've gotten when this fandom was more alive)

Moral of story, I've always related to him, i mean the guy quite literally gave me a reason to keep going? He inspires my aesthetic, my career (story making, film and writing) honestly if it wasn't for me stumbling across him..tbh I'd probably be normal LMAO but i would've taken a different route with my art and writing if...At all? He kinda kept me a reason to do everything so.

As i got older it only seemed to get worse tbh. Hell i own like 4 hoodies help me, its literally. I have i have

I have like a 10 page doc on JUST headcanons and a 30k word long rewrite i am not okay. Hes in my mind

He's in my ears

Hes in my eyes

He is in my tears

You would literally have to pry him out of my cold dead blue fingers.

I could go on but my brain literally died mid sentence. Mighy edit later jusy remond me omg typing is hard now, look wjay u did.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #slenderverse #foressfaction

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