#watching someone you know become unrecognizable

[deathbxnny]

Platonic Dan Heng, Welt, & Gallagher with a teen!reader that’s like Homura Akemi (From Puella Magi) but like they have a boss fight where reader is similar to Homulily (aka Homura’s witch form). Maybe after they’re defeated or when fighting them!

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

I absolutely love Homura, so I got really excited seeing this request, Anon!! I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Kind of spoilers for Homura's abilities as a witch?, vague descriptions of her abilities/appearance, angst, hurt/no comfort, blood, reader used to be under their care in some way, bossfight against reader, reader turns evil for unknown reasons, reader dies in two of them

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher didn't know how it all turned out this way, and yet, he perhaps should've seen it coming too. He usually did. Now, standing before your twisted and near unrecognizable form, he found himself hesitating to protect the very place he was created to watch over all those years ago by Mkihail. But perhaps the old man should've also just taught him how to deal with the heartbreak he experienced at the realisation that he now had to fight you. The very kid he took under his wing.

Gallagher wasn't the type to plead and complain, however. He flicked his lighter open, deciding that things would come the way they should and needed to. What was another loss in the end? You were in pain under all the layers of hate you had become, a twisted witch as you called yourself. Someone who had to get rid of the rats that plagued the world cleanse it from the evil. Unaware that you had become the very thing you hated. He pitied you, deciding it was best to end it here by his own hands before someone else did.

You raised your arms in anticipation, your voice screeching in need for battle, and he simply chuckled. You were never the type for theatrics before you turned into this... but things have changed. He decided to play along with you one more time, as he summoned a Meme, unaffected by what may happen as he was assured he'd win. Even if it meant losing you.

》WELT YANG

This isn't the first nor the last time he had to fight against someone he cared for, and yet something about it still hurt him deeply. He thought that switching worlds would save him from that heartbreaking fate, yet you proved him wrong. You were a child that was taken in and raised by the express, a young teen that deserved to live a bright life despite never having gotten as far due to the consequences of your own actions. You turned into a witch, a grotesque monster that rivaled the strength of what he had seen in honkai abominations, and yet he still couldn't find it in his to hate you. Even if you attempted to end him through your own hate as well.

The fight was still unfair, however, as despite most of his Herrscher abilities being sealed, he still was able to beat you with the small fraction he still had. You were too young to control your abilities properly, too confused and disoriented with the sudden surge of power and strength beyond your own means, until it ultimately ended you. He simply stood over you as he watched you fade away into the morning sun, your body retaining it's original form, yet even then, did he not call onto the Astral Express. They didn't need to see you like this. They didn't need to try and save someone they couldn't.

And so as you took your last breaths, your hand weakly reached up to turn back time once more, yet he stopped you by placing his hand on yours and shaking his head silently. He figured you out at last. You couldn't help but smile for the first time at that bitterly, as you finally allowed yourself to rest with a final sigh in defeat.

》DAN HENG

Dan Heng knew things were getting bad when you forced him to take on his true form to deflect a near devastating attack from you. He had to stop you, save you. But he was running out of options, and you were relentless. You didn't give him a moments rest. You didn't let him think or regroup. You didn't let him call for help from your other companions. He couldn't do anything but dodged anything you threw at him seconds before it hit him, yet his heart couldn't allow him to attack you back.

His mind ran rampant with memories of you two watching over the Databank as he taught you everything he knew. You were like a younger sibling to him, a part of the family he was able to build when the Astral Express became his home all those years ago. And now it was all coming to an end right before his very eyes, when you began charging up an ability he knew would end him and perhaps even more if he didn't stop it.

He scared himself with the thought that ending your young life would be a form of mercy. He felt disgusted at his own thoughts, wondering if he had even learned anything at all from his rebirth, and yet he still pierced your witch form's heart with a swipe of his hand, knowing you couldn't survive it. But it was alright, as a part of him died with you too.

Okay, so this one was lowkey sad to write... but I enjoy the angst, so I hope this was fine for you, Anon, and thank you again for the great request!!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr welt #hsr welt x reader #hsr gallagher #hsr gallagher x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #gallagher x reader #Gallagher #dan heng x reader #Dan Heng

[666writingcafe]

MC's Boogeyman

Solomon

As MC leaves the stand and walks over to the chest, I look over at Diavolo and Belphegor. They look as worried as I feel. You see, the test that Craxon has assigned to MC hasn't been used in many centuries, because the boogeyman has a tendency to drive people mad from fear. Some have even died. The last time the boogeyman was utilized was as a means of torture, and that was shortly after I got kicked out of the Society.

Craxon clearly wants to know what MC's biggest fear is--his prolonged silence earlier indicates that much--but I have no idea why he'd need that information. Then again, he often keeps his cards close to his chest, so it's usually hard to tell what's going through his mind at the best of times.

MC takes a deep breath and indicates that they're ready. The chest is open, and the boogeyman flies out of it in a flash of bright purple light. The room becomes pitch black for a few seconds before revealing that the boogeyman has transformed into...

MC?

At least, I think it's MC. Between the glowing eyes and sinister grin, their features are nearly unrecognizable.

I watch my apprentice shake as the boogeyman circles them.

"You poor thing," it coos mockingly. "You just can't control yourself, can you?"

"Stop it," MC whispers, causing the boogeyman to snicker.

"What's wrong? Too scared to confront the truth?" It stops behind MC and leans close to their ear. "You're a monster, darling. How is anyone supposed to feel safe around you?"

MC clenches their jaw as a few tears escape their eyes, and I have to stop myself from launching myself at the boogeyman. Judging by the looks on Belphegor and Diavolo's faces, they're having a similar struggle.

"One day, everyone will come to their senses and realize that trying to keep you alive and sane is an unnecessary burden," the boogeyman continues. "Your death would benefit the greater good."

"Enough," MC murmurs. The boogeyman tuts in disapproval.

"Pathetic."

"I'm not pathetic."

"Sure you are. Why do you think the most powerful people in the three realms are interested in you? You're like a wounded animal that they can't help but feel sorry for. They don't actually care about you. They'll turn you out the moment you become too dangerous. After all, they can't have you slaughtering their own kind just because someone hurt your precious little feelings."

"Enough!" MC glares at the boogeyman. "I may be a freak of nature, but that doesn't mean that I'm unworthy of love."

"Is that so?" MC nods.

"I have thought about ending my life on many occasions, but each time these guys give me a reason to stay. If they didn't love me, they wouldn't even try." The boogeyman bursts out laughing, but instead of cowering, MC stands their ground.

"Oh, you're actually serious," the boogeyman states once it composes itself.

"Of course I am," MC replies. "My life is not a joking matter." The boogeyman rolls its eyes, but I can tell that it's losing its power. For one, it appears a bit smaller than it did a few moments ago.

"Furthermore, a literal reaper went out of her way to ensure my survival, even though I only knew of her existence a few days prior," they add. "If that isn't a sign that I'm meant to be alive, then I don't know what is." Silence. The boogeyman continues to shrink.

"And even if I feel helpless and weak, I know for a fact that these guys will support me every step of the way. I almost feel sorry for you, because you'll never know what it's liked to be loved by even one person, let alone several. You'll just be seen as a mere object, a tool at best." MC directly calling out the boogeyman causes it to screech loudly as it quickly disappear back into its chest. Once the lid closes, MC collapses onto the ground and begins sobbing.

I look up at Craxon, and he silently nods, granting me permission to comfort MC. Diavolo and Belphegor are close behind.

In my opinion, MC has earned their star of humility.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me original characters #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

[athgalla-arts]

As much as I adore fiddauthor and create a decent amount of content for them in a romantic context, I really like them read as platonic just about equally I don't know where I am going with this at present other than I'm full of emotions about them (alas, wrist hurts and I'm very tired), but at some point I'd love to just ramble endlessly about why I find their dynamic so compelling and enjoy the ability to look at it from multiple perspectives from platonic to romantic to something ambiguous and in-between or something else that's more undefinable entirely.

#athbabble #something something it's about finding your person whatever that means it's about being understood it's about pain it's about loss #it's the incredible power of trust and the incredible pain of it being damaged and the incredible effort in rebuilding it #I love that you can have so many perfectly sweet moments with them to heart wrenching to flat out fucked up and disturbing #it's great #they have the range #blah blah blah cosmically intertwined fates #I have a full on lecture on my thoughts on Fiddleford and his role in the story as a whole too but that's yet another ramble for another da #y #when I can type more coherently and with a little less pain #something being understood and understanding #watching someone you know become unrecognizable #of risks for love and the injury pride causes and swallowing pride and choosing forgiveness and and and #yeah #idc if they're best friends or lovers or bizarrely entangled ???? somethings but whatever they have is poetic

[fandomxpreferences]

One More Second

Masterlist

Pairing: Best Friend Rafe! x female! reader

TW:18+, angst, domestic violence, mentions of blood, toxic relationship, trauma, cycle of abuse, hurt to comfort, I think thats it.

Summary: Rafe has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. What happens when he finds out the truth about the guy you're seeing?

Word Count:8.2k

A/N: I do not condone any of the behavior in this fic and If you are in a similar situation, I beg you to reach out and get help. Take care of yourself. ( @sweetestdesire YOU CAN STOP YELLING AT ME NOW)

You've been best friends with Rafe since kindergarten. Ever since you made him a flower crown that you insisted he wear, the two of you have been inseparable. You've even been welcomed into the family, with Ward calling you his daughter and Sarah referring to you as her sister.

So the fact that you're refusing to go out with the group for the third time in one week has Rafe standing outside your apartment. He isn't sure why you're dodging him all of a sudden, but he knows you wouldn't cut off the rest of the group just because he pissed you 

He rings the doorbell for almost twenty minutes before leaving with a heavy sigh. The two of you have been through the wringer, and you've never once iced him out. It causes a nagging feeling in his gut, but he still gives you space. 

He figures it has to do with your boyfriend, Everett. He's an acquaintance to Rafe; not close enough to call a friend but close enough to distrust.

Rafe tried his best to steer you away from him, but it was too late. Now you're acting like someone else entirely, and he can't help the feeling that it has to do with Everett.

The fact that Rafe hates Everett and his slimy personality has nothing to do with the fact he's spent almost your entire friendship head over heels in love with you. 

You've had boyfriends before and he was always supportive regardless of his own feelings.

He may have been unnecessarily hard on them and watched them like a guard dog waiting to attack, but he'd never outwardly expressed distaste for any prior flings. 

This time is different. He doesn't like the way Everett looks at you or talks to you; as if you're his property. It reached a boiling point when Everett grabbed your arm last weekend, and Rafe spoke up. That's the last time any of them have heard from you.

Now that he thinks about it, this has been coming for a while. You're steadily going out less often, and when you do you seem quiet and withdrawn. Everett is never more than a few feet from you and every time he looks at or touches you, you almost seem scared. 

Rafe has mentioned it a couple of times but eventually dropped it when you snapped at him. He stared at you long and hard that night, genuinely taken aback by your behavior. 

You'd never raised your voice at him like that, but he decided not to press you. Despite a suffocating feeling of dread, he let you walk away.

As he drives back home, he runs through the past few months in his mind. 

He's been watching your light slowly dim as you become a hollow shell. Your once bright smile no longer reaches your eyes and your contagious laugh is timid and unrecognizable. 

Every cell in his body screams at him to go to you, but he swallows the bile in his throat and keeps his distance. He has suspicions about what's really going on, but you're always so headstrong. 

He doesn't think any man would ever be able to break you, and he assumes if something is ever wrong you'll tell him. That's his first mistake. 

His second mistake is overlooking the way you're crying in the parking lot as Everett screams at you when he stops for a drink on the way home. He chalks it up to a nasty fight and tells himself it's none of his business. 

Ultimately he knows that anything involving you will always be his business, but he doesn't want to push you further away. 

So, he continues with that mindset as the weeks pass until the situation confronts him head-on.

Rafe blinks slowly as you stare up at him, and shifts back and forth. 

"Y/N? I haven't heard from you in three months. Why are you on my porch in the middle of a storm at eight pm?"

Before you can answer, there's a loud crack of thunder and Rafe frowns when you nearly jump out of your skin. You've never been afraid of storms, and he can't place why you're so skittish all of a sudden.

He shifts to let you through the door when he notices you shiver, and you flash him a grateful smile.

You accept the invitation silently and wait by the door as Rafe gathers blankets and towels. He returns a moment later and wraps a throw around you, letting his arms linger around your shoulder.

What once was like home to you now feels foreign and tears sting your waterline. Your eyes dart around like a scared animal and the fact that everything is exactly the same makes your heart clench. The house and man in front of you haven't changed a bit, but you couldn't be more different.

"I hate him." You whisper, and Rafe watches you carefully. 

"He's a liar and a cheater. I know he's manipulating me, and I let him. Why do I let him?" You choke, and for the life of him Rafe hasn't been able to figure out the answer to that question. 

"You have a big heart and always try to see the best in people. It blinds you sometimes." He finally responds, and you blink up at him. 

"Every time I try to say something he just screams and belittles me until I lose the will to fight. I don't even try anymore." 

Rafe hugs you closer, letting his eyes drift shut as he embraces you in safety and tries to regulate his emotions. You're not the same Y/N that took a debate class just so you could argue with him better or that fights her own battles if a man gets too close at the bar. 

"Is that why you've been avoiding everybody? Avoiding me?" He questions and the way your lip trembles is all the answer he needs. 

"He's isolating you. You need to get out before it's too late." 

You nod and wipe your eyes, trying to keep the fresh tears at bay. 

"I know."

The squeaky pitch of your voice as you talk around the lump in your throat breaks Rafe's heart. He presses your face into his chest as he cradles you and you melt into him as sobs rip from your lungs, unable to control the violent tremors wracking through your body. 

He's able to calm you down and within a couple of hours, everything seems to fall back into place. You're laughing and smiling with him just like you always have, and a dangerous glint of hope sparks in Rafe's chest.

"It's almost midnight. I should go."

Rafe tenses upon hearing your voice, and his head whips to the side to look at you. 

"Go where? You know you're welcome to stay here."

There's an underlying desperation, and it sears your chest as you give him a sad smile. 

"He'll be worried."

Just like that, the woman he loves is gone again. Any talk of leaving has flown out the window, and it's like you have amnesia. You seem to have forgotten what led you here to begin with, and Rafe shakes his head. 

"I'll be worried." 

He's practically stepping on your heels as he follows you through the house, and you stop to face him. Your hand gently cups his cheek and you give him one last lingering stare before closing the door behind you. 

Rafe is trying to convince himself you'll come to your senses, but he doesn't really believe it. You're already caught in the riptide of abuse, and he knows you're more likely to drown than swim.

He fights every instinct in his body; trying his best to ignore the way he seems biologically hardwired to protect you. He would kill Everett with his bare hands if given the opportunity, but the only thing stronger than his anger is his love for you.

At the end of the day, you hold the power. If you say jump Rafe asks how high; and if you tell him to stand down, he'll follow that order.

His hand trembles as it raps against your front door. Rafe talked to you a couple more times after that night, but it's now been almost a week since he last spoke to you. He finally broke down and drove over.

He waits for a few minutes, periodically ringing your doorbell when he doesn't receive a response. His heart rate skyrockets with each passing second, and he paces back and forth a few times.

Worry clouds his judgment and he walks around the building to peer into a side window. His knuckles blanche as his nails leave crescent moon indents on the palms of his hands when he sees the state of your apartment.

What was once warm and cozy with candles he helped choose and memories sitting on every table is now a war zone. From what he can see, there's shattered glass from your favorite photo frame and some fist-shaped holes in the wall.

It seems every piece of Rafe has been erased as he scans the area. The pillow he got you of his face as a joke a couple of years ago isn't in its usual spot on the couch, and every single picture has been replaced. 

Your coffee table lays on its side in the living room, the decorations that usually adorn it scattered on the rug. He doesn't even want to know what the rest of the place looks like. 

Obviously, he knows your relationship with Everett is toxic but he didn't know the extent of it. You showed up a few times after that first night and confided carefully selected details, but you always insist that Everett is a nice guy and would never physically hurt you. 

No matter how hard Rafe tries to convince you it won't get better and that you can't change him, you always go back.

If Everett is destroying things and punching walls, Rafe knows it's only a matter of time before he starts taking it out on you; if he hasn't already. The thought makes his stomach lurch and his heart hammers in his chest as his thoughts are consumed by the need to find you. 

He hears crying inside and his eyes flutter closed as he prepares for the worst. His feet carry him back to the front door and he jiggles the knob. 

"Y/N, I know you're in there. Let me in." 

He sighs heavily and weighs his options. On one hand, he could just break the door down; but that would only scare you more and he doesn't want that. 

On the other hand, you could be seriously hurt and unable to let him in. He runs his hand over his head in genuine distress before remembering he has the key.

He's never had to use it before; you always leave the door open for him. He quickly turns the key in the deadbolt and eases his way past the threshold.

"Y/N?" 

He slowly makes his way toward your whimpers, and each step only amplifies the weight crushing his lungs. Your apartment is completely trashed and he wonders if this is an accumulation or the result of a single rage fit.

He finds you on the bathroom floor surrounded by shards of glass, and his blood runs cold.

"What has he done to you?"

His voice is barely above a whisper, yet you hear him crystal clear.

Wails rip from your throat when you see your best friend and he silently bends down to scoop you up. 

"You have a lot of skin exposed and I need to check you for cuts, okay?" He assures you with a kiss to your temple.

He carries you to the living room and sets you down gently, blue eyes glossy as he starts to look you over. His hands roam your skin as he scours your body for injuries, and he glances up momentarily when you lean into his touch.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" 

Your head shakes from side to side with a small grin and he can't help but match your expression. 

"M'fine. Just missed you."

He finishes up and breathes a little easier when he sees you're unscathed, but his chest still feels like it has a boa constrictor wrapped around it. 

"You have to leave. He's taking his anger out on objects because of how badly he wants to hit you. Sooner or later it won't be enough, and he will." He whispers and your throat feels like you swallowed razor blades. 

"I know you think you love him, but this isn't love. I'm not trying to overstep, but I'm begging you. Please leave before it gets any worse." 

You nod slowly and a few minutes later he's watching as you pace around on the patio with your phone pressed to your ear. Rafe had insisted on ending the relationship for you, but once again, what you say goes. 

Everett didn't take the news well, but for almost two weeks things have been some semblance of normal. 

Then it all comes crashing down. 

"Who's that from?" Rafe frowns and you nearly jump out of your skin at his sudden appearance. 

"Everett."

He scoffs as he stares down at the diamond necklace, but his snarky comment dies in his throat when he sees the look in your eyes. 

It's one he recognizes well. It's a mixture of longing and hope; a dangerous combination that never ends well.

"Y/N…you can't seriously be considering going back." 

It's a pointless question, Rafe knows this. He knew the second you uttered Everett's name that he'd already lost. 

Your head tilts to the side as you blink up at him, and his heart sinks. You look sad almost; like you know this is going to hurt him but you can't stop yourself.

No words are spoken, a silent conversation between two old friends is had between teary eyes instead. 

A few hours later, Rafe watches helplessly as you take your bags and leave him once again. Too many tearful apologies and promises to get help and change have happened for him to change your mind.

A month goes by with no contact. Rafe can't seem to escape the thought of you; if it's not something that reminds him of you, then it's Sarah or one of the kooks. 

They've all grown concerned as well, and Rafe is dodging questions that he also wants the answers to left and right.

Rafe frowns when the doorbell rings, and slowly makes his way downstairs. No one else is awake seeing as it's almost one am, and he stalks forward on a mission when a loud knock rings out.

He rips the door open, ready to cuss out whoever woke him up, but stops cold when he sees you. Neither of you says anything, but Rafe is already caught up. 

The red handprint on your cheek combined with the finger-shaped bruises on your bicep clued him in. He takes a deep breath but remains silent. The way he looks straight through you causes fresh tears to burn your waterline and your lip quivers.

Rafe prepares for the dam to break and tries to brace himself for the sight of you crying. You're his one weak spot, and seeing you upset is enough to send him to war with a smile.

"You were right."

You barely choke the words out before losing control, and Rafe catches you the second your knees give out. He wraps you in his embrace and smooths down your hair as you bawl into his shoulder.

Rafe's cheeks are hot and splotchy as his own tears fall freely while he comforts the woman that holds his heart. He sniffles as he pulls you closer, finally just wrapping your legs around his waist as he supports you.

Your body trembles against his and he swears having bleach injected into his heart would hurt less than this. This is not the fearless Y/N he loves that pushed him to conquer his fear of heights on the playground, or his stubborn best friend that practiced by his side every day of football season just to prove she could keep up with him. 

"Come stay with me. Please don't go back again. You need to leave for good before I have to bury you."

It takes a second, but Rafe breathes a sigh of relief when you agree.

"Okay, I promise." 

Rafe presses a kiss to your head but doesn't say anything. He wants nothing more than to believe you, but he's heard it all before.

As if he has a sixth sense, Rafe can tell you're slipping away. It's been three weeks, and the break-up blues have only worsened. 

Three weeks later you're back in Everett's arms and the group watches Rafe wither away right alongside you. The dark bags under his bloodshot eyes are impossible to miss as stress and insomnia rear their ugly heads. Every night he resists the urge to go to you, staring at the ceiling and wondering if you're okay before the exhaustion consumes him. 

Rafe returns home from a night out to find you barefoot on the front porch with a busted lip and reaches his breaking point. He shifts a couple of times as his keys dangle from his fingers, itching to unlock the door and let you reside for as long as you please.

Instead, he shoves his hand in his pocket and swallows thickly. He can see in the way you're nibbling your fingers that you know what's coming. You know you've taken too much and are the cause of Rafe's torment. 

His eyes hold nothing but anguish as he looms over you, and he takes a second to memorize your face. Something about it feels so intimate and final. 

Rafe has to force himself to speak and the words drip off his tongue like acid, leaking down to erode his heart. 

"I can't keep doing this, it's killing me. I know I can't make you do anything, but he is never going to get better, bug."

You whimper at the use of his nickname for you. He'd always try to steal you from Sarah and you would always tell him to 'quit bugging you.' So one day he started calling you Bug and it stuck. 

He watches your sunken eyes fill with more tears and has to pinch his leg through his pocket to keep from giving in. 

"You can't change evil. I just want what's best for you, and I can't keep watching you run back to someone who breaks you every single time. If you decide you've had enough, I'm always here. But until you're ready, I need you to stop showing up here." 

Every ounce of his existence is screaming for him to take it back and just surrender to doing the same dance, even if he knows how it ends. The heartbreak between the two of you is palpable as you peer up at your oldest and closest friend.

There are unspoken emotions between the two of you, a heavy sense of grief falling over you as what might have been slips further into the distance. Something about this feels more like a 'goodbye' than a 'see ya later'.

He's hoping and praying that you relent; tell him that you choose him and you'll really stay away this time. He leans into your touch when your thumb rubs over his cheekbone, and tries to commit the feeling to memory.

"It's okay, Slim Shady. I understand."

The nickname that would usually elicit an eye-roll and a smirk now does nothing but rub salt in the gaping wound. It's a moniker only you're allowed to use following an unfortunate dare in middle school.

His nose scrunches up and he tilts his head to the side, silently pleading. There's so much love and pain in his eyes, and you know he feels guilty.

You nod your head with a small grin, a reassurance that you're not mad at him for turning you away. His hand comes up to lace his fingers through your own, holding them to his cheek for just a second longer. 

Another second is all he needs; that's what he tells himself each time the clock ticks. One more second and he'll be able to navigate his miserable existence without you. One more second and this won't hurt so bad. One more second, one more second, please God, just one more second.

Eventually, fate's cruel hands call the time of death on your relationship and the time runs out. Rafe nearly buckles when you finally retreat, and his entire world burns around him.

You turn to leave and Rafe holds your hand until it's forced to slip away, and his own hand stays hovered in the air where you just stood.

The second you're gone he crumples on the steps to Tannyhill.

He sits with his head in his hands with sobs ripping through him as the gravity of the situation crushes him. You're the only person Rafe has ever truly loved and trusted, and he just watched you walk away knowing there's nothing else he can do.

Having you show up on his doorstep was torture, but not having any contact is hell. He swears he's aged ten years in the span of a few weeks. It's been almost three weeks since that fateful night, and you've stayed away like he told you. 

Though, it hasn't helped, and he's the most anxious he's ever been. His heart drops every time his phone goes off, scared out of his mind that it's going to be his worst nightmare realized. 

He's startled out of his thoughts by Barry kicking his foot while nodding at the table. 

"Yo' phones ringing homie."

It takes a second for the words to register, but once they do he leans forward and frowns at the unknown caller ID. 

"Hello?"

"May I speak with Rafe Cameron?" A woman asks and his scowl deepens. 

"This is him."

Barry gives him a skeptical look and he shrugs, equally confused as to what the hell this is about. 

"Hi, Mr.Cameron. I'm a nurse at Kildare Memorial. We have Y/N Y/L/N here and you're listed as her emergency contact. Are you able to come in?" 

Blood rushes in his ears as he processes the information, and the entire world screeches to a halt. He's brought back by the nurse calling his name and quickly assures her he's on the way.

Barry watches as he hangs up the phone and rushes outside. He follows after him and stops when he sees Rafe heaving in the yard. 

Once his stomach is empty, Rafe spins around with tears falling hot and heavy. 

"I tried to tell her. I tried and she didn't listen. Why didn't she listen?"

He's gnawing on the side of his thumb as he cries with his other hand on the back of his neck, and Barry steps forward. 

He may not be a genius, but he's not stupid either. He knows it has something to do with you, and offers to tag along. An emotional Rafe is a stupid Rafe, and a stupid Rafe is dangerous. 

The two of them take off toward the hospital with occasional glances from Barry when Rafe revs the engine or punches the steering wheel.

Rafe takes off toward the receptionist with Barry hot on his heels, and the young woman jumps when they come rushing up. 

"I'm here for Y/N L/N."

It's short and to the point, and sometimes he hates how much he sounds like his father. When the woman's eyes widen and she starts rushing to get answers, he decides this is not one of those times.

She gives him a room number and he turns to face Barry.

"Text Sarah. Y/N is gonna want her." 

With that, he takes off and sprints to your room. Dirty looks go ignored as the aroma of rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves whips around him; unable to care about anything other than getting to you.

He stops with his hand hovering over the doorknob, trying to brace for whatever he walks into. After taking a deep breath, he forces himself to enter and freezes. 

You look so small in the large bed, and he briefly wonders if you've lost weight. You're nearly unrecognizable and Rafe doesn't know what to do.

He's known you since before he could count to one hundred, yet the person he's looking at seems like a stranger that he's intruding on. The sparkle in your eyes is gone, your loud and boisterous personality is silent and broken.

You look like you've been through hell with IVs sticking out of tender flesh, and Rafe supposes you have. There's dried blood on your nose and your eye is almost swollen shut, painted in dark purples and blues. His eyes rake over you and he notices older bruises, pale yellow and clearly in the last stages of healing. 

He hears your heart monitor speed up and takes a step forward. The despair in his chest is replaced with rage when he sees Everett sitting in the chair next to the bed. This piece of shit has the nerve to do this to you and then play the role of concerned boyfriend?

His jaw clenches hard enough to break a tooth and you look up at him. He doesn't ask the question burning his tongue. Why did they call him if Everett is here? Instead, he keeps his focus on you and crosses his arms over his chest.

"What happened?" You can hear the fury bubbling just under the surface, and almost wince. 

"I fell down the stairs." You murmur and he scoffs. 

"Fell or was pushed?" His eyes narrow in a way that lets you know he's not buying it, and you gulp.

"Fell." You reiterate and his eyes bore into you. 

He lets you squirm under his gaze for a second before leaning down. He braces his arm right above your head so his face is mere inches from yours, and holds eye contact.

You know it's not meant to intimidate you; in fact, Rafe used to do this all the time when he wanted you to really listen to him. It's a protective stance that doubles as a reminder; Rafe can have you as putty in his hands whenever he wants. 

Right now you're pretty sure he's doing it to exercise dominance over Everett; almost a taunt that says 'she'll always be mine first.'

"You must fall a lot since you're covered in old bruises." He mutters and you blink up at him, suddenly forgetting about Everett a couple feet away.

"I'm clumsy."

It barely leaves your mouth before Rafe cocks his head to the side and tsks.

"We both know that's a lie."

Rafe hears a chair scraping and moves forward to shield more of your body. 

"You should go."

It's not a request but rather a demand, and Rafe recognizes this. Still, he never wavers as his gaze stays locked on yours. 

"Baby, tell him to leave."

You remain silent, but Rafe knows you're struggling when your hands start to tremble. His large hand comes to rest against your neck and jaw, and he presses his forehead against yours before taking a slow dramatic breath in. He holds for a moment before blowing out and waits for you to take the hint and follow along.

He nods gently with a proud grin when you start to match your breathing to his, a wordless affirmation that you're okay and safe.

"Y/N, don't piss me off right now."

You start to glance over at your boyfriend but Rafe holds your head firmly in place as he shakes his head. 

"Eyes on me." 

Rafe knows if you take one look at Everett you'll cave and let him manipulate you.

"Get out, Everett." 

The man laughs bitterly but doesn't move an inch.

"Does it sound like I'm asking? Get the fuck out before I use your skull for batting practice." 

When Everett realizes Rafe isn't joking, he scoffs and storms out.

"He's going to kill you. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when." Rafe says softly and you lick your lips. 

"I know. I told them to call you when he went to the bathroom."

You can see the gears turning as he blames himself and it breaks your heart.

"It's not your fault, Rafey. You did everything you could. Thank you." 

The sound of his nickname leaving your mouth is saccharine, and he has to take a seat to prevent his knees from giving out. 

He takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your bruised knuckles and realization slams into him; you fought back. He doesn't know if that thought makes him feel better or worse, so he pushes it aside. 

"You wanna tell me what really happened?" 

You take a deep breath and nod.

"I'll tell you everything."

While Rafe listens to you bare your soul and recount the abuse, another situation is developing downstairs. 

Barry is still in the waiting room when Sarah walks in with JJ. She was with him when she got the text, and he insisted on bringing her. Barry's eyebrows shoot up when he locks eyes with the younger boy, but he doesn't say anything. 

Just as Sarah is about to step forward, Everett nearly sends her crashing to the ground when he shoves past her. She whips around with a deep scowl, ready to cuss him out. 

"Watch it, asshole! I hit back." 

It's a subtle dig that causes him to falter, and JJ looks between them. He's never met Everett, but the way Sarah is staring this man down tells him he's looking the devil in the face.

Now, JJ hates Rafe with a passion and doesn't necessarily care for you but one thing he won't tolerate is a woman being shoved around. 

He was already pissed to hear what happened to you, but to now see this scum hurt his friend with his own two eyes? Everything about the class war falls to the side, and he locks onto his target.

JJ sidesteps at the last second and blocks him from leaving.

"Everett? Fancy seeing you here. Everything okay?" He asks with mock sincerity and Everett plasters on a fake smile. 

Sarah shoots Rafe a text, worried about how far this is going to go. 

JJ is squaring off with Everett. Why the fuck is he here?

Rafe pulls out his phone when it vibrates, and his entire demeanor shifts. He presses a kiss to your forehead and stands as you watch.

"Where are you going?" You ask and he hesitates for a moment. 

"To take care of this shit once and for all."

You don't get the chance to ask what that means before he's racing toward the lobby. He stops just in front of Sarah, using his body as a barrier between her and the men.

"What are you doing here, Maybank?"

His tone is lacking its usual bite, and JJ nods at Sarah. 

"Drove her and decided to stay and chat." 

There's a silent truce as they watch each other for a moment, and suddenly they're on the same team.

Everett tries to slip away while JJ is distracted, but he's stopped by Rafe's hand clamping down on his shoulder.

"Outside. Now."

Rafe smirks at the flash of fear in his eyes and tightens his grip. 

"I'm leaving man." Everett pleads, and Rafe pouts mockingly.

"So soon? I don't think you fully understand the situation you're in. You thought you could fuck with her and I wouldn't fuck with you?" 

He doesn't give Everett a chance to protest as he grabs him by the back of the neck and guides him outside. JJ follows after them and Barry jumps up. 

"Ah, shit. Stay here!" He points at Sarah before jogging to catch up with the three men.

They keep walking until Rafe finds a more secluded place and the second Everett turns to face him, his fist connects with his nose.

Everett stumbles back as blood starts pouring down his face and looks at Rafe like he's crazy. Maybe he is, but that's not going to stop him. Everett sees the deranged look in Rafe's eyes and turns to run, but slams into JJ's sturdy chest. 

"I don't think so." He grins and grabs Everett to turn him back around. He holds him in place as Rafe lands a blow to his stomach before letting go. Everett drops to the ground with a loud groan and Rafe is on him in an instant. 

Barry's head is on a swivel as he keeps a lookout and JJ stands by ready to intervene.

Rafe vaguely hears the two men telling him to stop, but he's too far gone. His skin burns as his knuckles are torn open, and a side of him that only exists when it comes to you is let out.

Blood runs together and spills onto the grass as Rafe assumes the role of judge, jury, and executioner. He imagines you begging and crying for mercy and finds a second wind. 

"Is this how it felt? Did it make you feel powerful as she cowered beneath you? How's it feel now?" He spits, picking him up by the collar of his shirt and slamming him back down.

"Rafe, stop! You're going to kill him and we can't take the heat!" Barry shouts as he and JJ try to pry him away. 

He looks down at the man as the adrenaline slows down and takes in the damage he caused. Everett is barely recognizable with eyes swollen shut and crimson smeared all over his face. 

Rafe's not sure when he went unconscious and he doesn't care. Blood is spilling from several gashes and JJ turns him on his side so he doesn't choke. 

Barry shakes his head and scratches his jaw, trying to think of the best course of action. He knew Rafe has a violent side but he's never seen it in person, and its worse than he imagined.

"You need to go shower and change. I'll tell the hospital that there's a guy who needs help." Barry finally says, and Rafe frowns. JJ nods his head towards his shirt and hands and he looks down. 

Everett's blood is splattered all over his white henley and his hands and forearms are sticky with rust-colored stains. Rafe hands Barry his keys and sighs.

"Pull my Rover around; I can't walk through the parking lot like this." He instructs and Barry takes off toward the truck.

Rafe flexes his hands a few times to make sure nothing is broken before looking at the younger pogue. 

"This doesn't mean we're even. It's on-site next time I see you."

JJ looks up and the two of them share a ghost of a smile before it disappears.

"Looking forward to kicking your ass again." JJ teases and Rafe nods with a low chuckle just as Barry pulls up.

Rafe drives back to his house in silence, mulling over the events of the night. He knows he should feel at least a little regret, but he just can't bring himself to care. 

His hands are going to be fucked, but the throbbing in his knuckles is nothing in comparison to what you went through. He'd do it a million times over. In fact, the only regret he does have is that he didn't do it sooner. 

He treks to the bathroom and turns the shower on before stripping down. He rolls his neck while releasing a deep breath, desperate for relief from some of the weight he's been carrying. His hand swipes at the foggy mirror, and he stares back at his reflection. 

There's blood that doesn't belong to him sprinkled across his face like a constellation, and his jaw is set as he processes the past few months. 

He shakes his head then drops his shoulders and steps into the water. 

His head tilts forward as the water runs down his face and chest and he tries to let the feeling ground him.

After a moment he straightens up with his hair plastered to his forehead and just stares at the ceiling. His eyes slowly flutter closed as tears mingle with water on his cheeks, and he lets every emotion from the situation rush to the surface at once. 

Guilt, regret, anger, hurt, all swirled together to form a category-five storm.

His gaze finally falls to the tiled floor when he starts washing his body, and he stares at the evidence of his vigilante justice gurgling down the drain. He wonders how many times your showers looked like this; how often the water ran red with your blood.

He wonders how often you've had to clean your own wounds and if you've mastered disguising bruises yet. The thought is enough to demolish any inkling of remorse.

Rafe is slow and deliberate as he scrubs his body clean before he shuts off the water and towel dries. 

He dresses quickly and starts to head out when he stops suddenly and turns around. He grabs your favorite hoodie of his before he carries on, nearly running to the rover. 

His knuckles ache as he grabs the steering wheel, but the dark purple bruises only spur him on and his foot presses down on the gas.

He blows past the waiting room, eager to be by your side again. He just wants to be near you where he can feel you and smell you and know that you're safe with him now.

He lets himself in this time, more confident in himself as he shoots you a grin. His heart swells at the scowl on your face, eager to be scolded by you so he can see your nose scrunch the way it does when you're upset.

"Where the hell did you go?" You ask with narrowed eyes, and in typical Rafe fashion, he tries to blow it off with a shrug.

"Worried about me, sweetheart?" 

It's meant to be a tease, but his smile drops when he notices how serious you are. 

"Yes, actually."

His features soften when your eyebrows pinch together and his thumb absentmindedly smooths over the creases.

"You know I'll always take care of you, bug. You also know that sometimes you can't ask questions." 

He brings your hand up to his lips to press a sweet kiss to your knuckles and vows to make sure your hands never look beat up again; even if it means his are busted every day for the rest of his life.

There's a moment of sweet intimacy before your eyes land on his hand and everything stops. Your gaze lingers for a second before drifting to meet Rafe's ocean eyes.

He can see the questions swimming in your mind as you stare into his soul, and he does his best to answer them. 

You tilt your head to the side and again, Rafe knows exactly what you're asking. 'Did you kill him?'

He lowers your interlocked hands back down into your lap but doesn't relinquish his hold, and slowly shakes his head.

He changes the subject, and you let him; you know better than to press your luck. 

"Did Sarah come to see you?" He asks, and his heart soars at the way your face breaks into a bright smile.

"Yeah, she left just before you came back."

He nods, and his free hand smooths over your hair as you beam at him.

"Good. Here, I brought you this." 

He holds out his sweatshirt and you take it eagerly, nearly squealing with excitement. You didn't realize how much you missed Rafe, but cuddling into his scent now feels like returning home after a long trip.

"You're the best!" 

He scoffs playfully, but the way his lip quirks gives him away. 

"Are you just now realizing that?"

He nearly implodes when you laugh, and he swears the sound alone could bring him to his knees. He hasn't heard you sound happy in months, and it's like a sweet summer song.

"There she is. There's my favorite girl." 

His finger slips down your face until it trails along the underside of your jaw, and he pretends not to notice the heart monitor beeping quicker and quicker. 

He looks at you like you hung the moon; like he would go to the ends of the Earth and back for you. There's nothing but pure adoration and longing that's reserved solely for you.

"Hey, Rafe?" Your voice is soft and whispy as you try to preserve the sanctity of your little bubble.

"Hm?" He hums, and you lick your lips nervously. 

"Thank you."

He watches you intently for a second before chuckling.

"You don't have to thank me, bug. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

His tone holds such conviction that you can't help but believe him, and nod silently. The rest of the day is spent catching up over junk food as you share fleeting glances and inside jokes.

You're held for observation overnight and the next day, Rafe drives you home. His hand is firmly planted on your lower back as he guides you towards the door, and his arm wraps around your entire torso when you stop to insert and turn the key.

As soon as you step inside, you notice the mess from before is gone and turn to face him. 

"I hired a cleaning service. The last thing you need is a reminder, and you're in no condition to be cleaning." He shrugs, and if he didn't know better he'd think the glint in your eye is the same love he holds for you. 

He quirks an eyebrow as you continue staring at him, and pokes your side. His hand freezes mid-air when you flinch away from his touch, and he peers down at you.

"Take your shirt off." He instructs and you laugh nervously. 

"That's a bit presumptuous don't you think?" 

He cocks his head to the side with a stern look you know all too well and the fight leaves you.

You sigh loudly as you pull it up and over your head before dropping it to the ground. Any other time, Rafe would make a joke about seeing you topless and leave you blushing.

This time though, he's struck silent by the sight of you in the worst way. There are large black and blue bruises on your ribcage and abdomen, accompanied by a few small scars. 

A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment before he reaches out slowly. His fingertips brush against the battered skin and you fight a shiver as goosebumps erupt.

"I should have killed him."

The deep creases between his brows and steely gaze tell you he means it with his entire being and you shake your head.

"It wasn't all bad."

His eyes meet yours immediately, unable to comprehend how you're still trying to defend that asshole in any capacity.

"Yeah?" He asks with feigned casualty. "What are the scars from?"

"Broken glass." You whisper and he nods with pursed lips. 

"But it wasn't all bad, right?"

Your fingers wring together as you stare at the ground and Rafe softens. 

"I'm sorry, that was out of line. Hell, I'm sorry for this whole clusterfuck."

You allow his fingers to tilt your chin up and search his eyes. 

"Why are you sorry? You're not the one that did it." 

His broad arms engulf you and you melt into his chest as his familiar cologne brings your comfort. '

"I should have helped sooner. I never should have told you to stop coming. Shit, I never should have let you go back the first time."

You pull back and shake your head while cupping his cheeks.

"You didn't let me do anything. There's nothing you could have done to stop me. It was a lesson I had to learn on my own. I hid it from everybody."

You feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, and his eyes squeeze shut.

"No, I knew what was happening. I could have done something, anything." He argues and you scowl. 

"You did do something. I called and you came; just like you always promised. You protected me, just like you have since we were kids."

Something in the air shifts as you look into his eyes, and realization slams into you. A part of you has always been curious if you could have something more with Rafe; call it human nature. 

Standing here now, it's glaringly obvious that Rafe isn't just a piece of the puzzle; he's the whole damn picture. Everything you can remember in life begins and ends with Rafe.

You allow your eyes to flit down to his lips for a split second, but it's enough for him to notice and his tongue darts out. There's a single moment in time where the thought that this is a bad idea crosses your mind before you throw caution to the wind. 

He seems to have the same thought before he leans in, and your lips mold together with his.

It's sweet and slow like molasses and the two of you fall into rhythm as if you've been doing this for years. His lips are soft like clouds and you savor the way his tongue massages yours. 

He tastes like cinnamon and whiskey; an intoxicating combination that already has you craving more.

His hand tangles in your hair and tugs at the base of your skull before he relents. You gasp for air when he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, your chest heaving against his as you try to catch your breath.

"I'm in love with you." 

The words slip out before you can really process them, and Rafe responds faster than you can panic.

"Thank God." He mutters, pulling you back into a heated kiss. 

You succumb to him completely, allowing him to surround you in every way possible. He's all you can think about as his hand grips your waist, and your nails scratch across his scalp. 

You don't pull away until you get lightheaded, and Rafe holds you up as you give him a blissed-out smile. 

"So you love me too?" You tease, and he groans. 

"Sweetheart, I've been in love with you since I was twelve years old."

You laugh at the confession and let your head fall forward to rest on his chest.

"We're fucking idiots." 

He nods with a chuckle, and finally, everything feels right. You're exactly where you've always belonged; safe in the arms of Rafe Cameron.

Two months later, things are finally starting to look up. Despite having Rafe by your side 24/7, nightmares have terrorized you incessantly and you look over your shoulder every few seconds.

Rafe helps you through it all, holding your hand and soothing you back to sleep at night.

Despite the suspicious circumstances of Everett's condition, nothing has come of it. Last you heard he healed up and moved a few hours away.

Things are mostly back to normal with the group; you're back to throwing keggers and surfing and it's as if nothing ever happened. 

Sometimes Rafe gets a glimpse of that broken girl on the bathroom floor and has to remind himself that it takes time to heal. 

You still flinch away from loud noises and sudden movements, and he notices the way you falter and doubt yourself. Still, he stays steady and reliable; always there to catch you if you fall. 

He has to be extra soft, but he doesn't mind. It's not hard for him to treat you gently. Despite his reputation, Rafe has always been sickly sweet with you. 

It wasn't uncommon for him to give you his last cookie during lunch in school or to dip out of class early and wait to walk you to the next period, and he had no issues beating up anyone that had something to say about it. 

Even into adulthood, Rafe has gone out of his way to make you happy. Whether it's sending the group daggers behind your back to make sure you get your choice of restaurant or taking your car to get the oil changed, he's always taken care of you.

Sometimes he gets a little too loud watching a game or hanging with the guys, and he's apologizing before you can even process what happened.

You've told him time and time again that he doesn't have to be sorry and that you could never be scared of him. Regardless, he sees that battered and bruised version of you and buys an apology gift anyway.

Rafe loves you wholely and fiercely, the way that you deserve. He protects you with his life and spoils you more than you knew possible.

You're his princess and he's your knight. You bring him warmth and he brings you peace. He's everything you ever wanted and you're everything he ever needed. Two perfect halves finally united to be one heart.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron angst #outer banks angst #obx imagine #obx angst #obx

[glaxelilly]

Hi maybe for welt, svarog and luocha (seperately ) where fem reader is oblivious to guys flirting with her and they get jealous and possessive ?

Fluff to nsfw

Gonna do the same headcanon format as I did for your last request love hope you enjoy🫶

{ sorry this took so long }

How they would react to someone flirting with oblivious fem!reader — Welt, Luocha, Svarog

Welt Yang

He doesn’t really mind it if the guy is being respectful

Honestly he finds it amusing watching you completely ruin a man confidence unknowingly

But if the guy trying to flirt with you gets too aggressive about it, Welt almost becomes unrecognizable

He’s instantly at your side, hand on your waist with a dark look taking up his usually kind face

Normally his sheer presence will make the man back off, stuttering out apologies as he flees

But if the guys hitting on you stay to try and brave your boyfriends scary look, he’ll quickly fix that

“I suggest you walk away before you find out the real reason I carry this cane around.”

Afterwards he’ll gently explain to you why he’s threatening men trying to talk to you

Luocha

Imma be so real with you, I genuinely think Luocha would scare off the guy by flirting with him and suggesting a threesome LMAO

But if we talking jealous and possessive?

Luocha will dead stare any man who comes up to you, letting them squirm uncomfortably under his glare

Some will get the hint, or just get plain scared, and back off you

But others will glare back and ask him what his problem is

His response? Looking at you with a sweet smile and saying,

“Dear, I’ll be right back, I have to go grab my coffin.”

That does the trick

And when you turn to him and ask what that was all about, he’ll just smile and say it was nothing to worry about

Svarog

He doesn’t really care tbh

Svarog knows you’re serious about him and he can scan both your levels and the guys

So he knows when to step in if necessary

That is, until this random human touches you

The guy flirting with you could either bump your hand with his, or straight up grab your thigh, doesn’t matter Svarog will immediately see it as a threat to you

He will grab the man’s wrist in his large grasp, not watching his inhuman strength

“It is impolite to grab strangers, mind your hands.”

And one look at who (what) Svarog is will have the man running

I’m finally posting something again omg

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #welt yang x y/n #welt yang x you #welt yang hsr #welt yang x reader #hsr luocha #hsr luocha x reader #luocha x reader #luocha x you #luocha x y/n #hsr svarog x reader #svarog #hsr svarog #svarog x reader #svarog x you #svarog x y/n

[sircrocodilespersonalwhore]

Not Tonight

| Nanami, Kuzan, Fatgum, Smoker, Macro, Katakuri, King, Benn, Rayleigh, Aizawa, Yami, Shanks, Mihawk, & Anyone else

☆⋆·˚ ༘ *________________________☆________________________⋆·˚ ༘ *☆

Looking out the coffee shop window, you take in the lively scene. The shop usually closes around the late evening hours of seven making it the perfect time to see the night come alive. You watched as the calming sun-kissed sky slowly turned into a mystical night. The streetlights turn on illuminating the dark streets. Taking a slow calming breath, you relax and sip the remaining coffee in your cup before returning to work. Lost in the scenery, your eyes gazed towards a man outside the shop’s window.

Your attention was taken by a man who dressed in the finest suit you have ever laid eyes on. Eyes continue to pan as you take in his height. The calming demeanor he carries is reciprocated through his style of dress and the way he takes care of his appearance. Your eyes couldn’t detach from the man as he walked into the store. Adjusting his suit, he orders a hot cup just before the shop closes. The staring must have become noticeable as he turns in your direction to see who is looking. Embarrassed, you turned your face only to realize that you were standing in a sea of nothingness, being the only person in the direction he was looking in.

The slight smile he gives sends an arrow through your heart. He motions you to come over, but your body betrays the command. You begin to feel as if you’re strapped down to the ground. Feet heavy as boulders refusing to move. The words you want to say remain trapped by anxiety and paranoia. A shower of terrifying thoughts and the smell of dread wash over you as you start to fantasize about the different possibilities that can take place. Your heart races as the thoughts run rampant in your mind, “*What if he doesn’t find you interesting? Attractive? Time worthy?*” the criticizing words flood my mind. Overwhelming to the point of no return. Your face flushes red as you notice him finding you in this position feeling like a fool. Looks of concern take over his face as he begins to question his actions.

Defeat raises more in both of you as hesitation sets in. Losing breath with every passing second, trying to figure out what the next move between the two of you is going to be. Your courage is hiding deep inside as you barely must use it. You’ve never been in a relationship, and always find yourself backing out of it for fear of being reminded of the cruel past of failed attempts. You want to scream just one word, a simple "*Hey"* would be enough for you, but you can't bring yourself to it. Choking on words and crumbling deeper into yourself. Forgetting your surroundings, a light hand places itself on your shoulder while the other engulfs your tense hand. His voice was just as attractive as his looks, "*Are you okay?"*. All you could find yourself doing was being wide-eyed and embarrassed that you couldn't speak in his presence. He smiles to bring comfort. Your eyes close as he embraces you and tells me I have nothing to be afraid of. Sinking deeper into his chest, you melt as you’ve never felt this before. Especially from someone who doesn't even know you. Blood rushes to your heart as you muster the courage to utter a, *"Thank you."*.

Letting go of the warm embrace, you stare at him again. Lost in his eyes, a new emotion you find unrecognizable creeps in. As you open your mouth to speak, he cuts you off. Slipping a piece of paper in your hand before bringing the hand up to his soft lips and kissing it gently. He looks you in the eye and smiles one last time taking his coffee and leaving with a nod of his head. Coming back to reality, you mindlessly stroke the kiss stain on your hand and look at the writing on the note, *"Whenever you're ready. -XXXXXXXXXX.".* The words on the paper float around in your mind as they bring ease to the overbearing thoughts. You begin to ease out any lingering worry and find breath again.

You scold yourself one last time for not speaking up as you become grateful for being granted another chance to speak to the lovely man. Running your fingers over the handwritten note as you look back at the night through the window. You wished he had come back, so you could go right up to him and tell him how you feel but you assume tonight is not the night for this princess to find her knight in shining armor. Smiling at the note kissing the same spot on your hand as he did you whisper, "I'm ready, but not tonight.".

_ˏˋ°•*⁀➷________________★_____________ˏˋ°•*⁀➷__

A/N: Thank you all so much for taking time out of your day to read my first short story. I really want to do a part 2, but I'm sure if I should. Anyways thank you again!

#shanks x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #x reader #reader insert #quick write #op x reader #jjk x reader #mha x reader #slight angst #nanami x reader #aokiji kuzan #fatgum x reader #aizawa x reader #kuzan x reader #one piece smoker x reader #nanami kento #katakuri x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #yami x reader #black clover x reader #marco x reader #rayleigh x reader #benn beckman x reader #king x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #mha fluff #op fluff

[lorephobic]

the comfort that etho finds in bdubs is so unique and special like i cant stop thinking about him coming up to bdubs and declaring that they race horses and how he literally never talks like that with ANYONE!!! i have so much to say about this but i just started crying

its the way that for as long as ethos been doing collab content, hes been so afraid of asking for things, let alone demanding them. but that bdubs has always seen thru that and very calmly held ethos hand and not given up on him even when he was so quiet about what he wanted.

its about how etho’s rftw went so disastrously that guude just assumed that etho was going to stick to solo content and didnt even bother to ask if he wanted to join mindcrack. but bdubs was watching ethos videos and heard him talk about wanting to join an smp. so he begged guude to let him join. and he did. and he was so scared. and meeting new people went so badly so he just stuck to himself. but bdubs kept showing up and interacting with him without ever being dissuaded by etho being awkward and quiet because he KNEW!!!! he knew that thats not how etho wanted to present. so for years he slowly coaxed etho out of his shell by making sure he was included and making him know that he was appreciated. its that meme thats like “if etho has a million fans i am one of them” except real for bdubs.

he was his only fan (in the cc sphere) for so long, or at least the only one with enough patience and understanding to do the slow gentle work of loving and believing in etho until etho loved and believed in himself. and even now, he won’t ask people for things. he doesn’t ask to be included. bdubs is still the one reaching out, still inviting him along. but meeting new people isn’t scary anymore. he can hold his own, but only because bdubs supported him for so long. and it’s that trust and understanding implicit in their relationship that lets him confidently demand that bdubs race with him. he wouldnt with anyone else in the whole wide world. and bdubs is so!! thrilled by it! he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but he does make it an immediate priority.

even now, more than ten years later, he is helping etho grow his confidence. with a simple gesture, he’s telling him that he can ask for things!! and people will do them!!! because they love him!!!! because he is so loved!!!!

this is what ppl miss when they talk about bdubs being an ethogirl. he loved etho when it was not easy to love etho. he loved etho before etho loved etho. he has had such a profound impact on etho that he would be completely unrecognizable without bdubs in his life.

there is nothing more loving in this world than showing patience to someone who is growing into who they want to be. and there is nothing more rewarding than letting that person grow into you and take your better parts and become a happier human being because of it. and thats what bdubs has done for etho for a decade and will do for him over and over until the end of time.

#fuck it we ball

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere Alphabet: Mitsuya Takashi

It was so much fun to write something for him. I really like him a lot. I´ve had it finished quite a bit ago, and thought now would be a good time to share it. I actually finished quite a bit pieces, when I had the time. But in October my university started back up again, so I now I´m posting what accumulated in the inbetween to give myself a little breather...

Mitsuya Takashi

That boy can play innocent. And he knows it! I believe, that Mitsuya is genuinely someone, that uses his reputation to manipulate everyone around him. He carefully cultivates the image people have of him as well. A little two-faced snake. By the way, I honestly believe, that he feels fulfilment whenever he can take care of someone. He is used to it, and he loves it.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Taking care. He shows his affection for his darling in taking care of them. Whatever they need, he will be there to provide it for them. He wants to be needed by his love, and so he does everything to make sure, that he can´t be replaced. He has an eye for details, and he uses it. Small annoyances will just vanish out of your life, because he will already have dealt with them, before they can get to his love.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He is more used to violence than he lets on. While he tries to resolve tension peacefully at first, it won´t take long, before he decided that a good old fist to the face won´t have the same result. He clearly isn´t above brawling to get someone to back off. Though his fights are always disturbingly clean. He knows how to get someone down quickly, and how to keep them down. Afterwards, he will be careful to touch his love, not wanting to get anything on them.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Rather than abducting his love, they simply won´t leave again. Why would he go to the trouble of abducting them, when he can simply invite them over to his house? He just has to find enough excuses to ensure, that they never leave his side again, and then he will have them. Here. With him. Of their own free will. This is exactly how he does it. A small invitation to his home, becomes the same as if you suddenly agreed to live with him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He will do a lot of things, that at the beginning of the relationship would have gone against what his love wants, but nowadays align pretty well with each other. Mitsuya slowly manipulates his love, so that their wants and need start to align more and more. Another thing he is quite fond of is slipping his love some sedatives every once and a while. It will make him feel useful, when he can then flit around you to nurse his love back to health. But not only that, it also makes him feel safer.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He believes that a good relationship is dependent on a good communication. This in turn, will make him quite open. He adores a good conversation with his love, and craves to know their thoughts and feelings on any topic. While he won´t always agree with your opinion, you can be sure, that he will always take it into account, when making a decision. He wants to know their feelings as well, and in turn shares his own frequently with you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Seeing his love acting like this makes him angry. He is close to loosing his patience with them every time, they start screaming at him again. You become unrecognizable to him. In the end, he isn´t above to use medications to let them become docile again. After all, he doesn´t mind, when they can´t take care of themself and need him for everything. It gives him ideas to keep his love always like this.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He will let you try to escape exactly once, even if they won´t realize what they are doing counts as an escape attempt. When they are on the run, he will play on their sympathy so badly. He will make the world outside his domain seem scary and cruel. He will act as if the result of them leaving will be his literal suffering. Sometimes he will offer them to go out, and relish when he gets a „No“ from them.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Hindsight. The scariest and most disturbing thing with Mitsuya will be hindsight. You will never notice what he is up to in the moment. It´s hard to catch even when you start looking for it, so it always fly under your radar. Though looking back, thinking clearly and with the time between you and the situation, things start to clear up. More and more you can tell what was happening around you the whole time. And it´s disturbing. But at this point you´re not in any position to do anything against it. Not any more.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

When Mitsuya thinks of the future, he can never get an actual image to come to mind. In the end he chases after impressions. The sunlight filtering in through the half open window. Laughter, that never seems to leave the halls. Your limbs tangling with his own. He wants to hear them breath and the rhythm of their heartbeat. A future that he wished for is safe. Almost cozy. And always with his love by his side.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He doesn´t want to waste his emotions on something, that will never happen anyway. He is confident enough in himself to know, that you cheating on him is a low possibility at worst, and a downright hilarious thought at best. His manner of thinking in that way his more practical. Doesn´t mean, that he doesn´t want to keep his love all to himself. He does. But not because he is jealous. At least not of other people. But he wants to keep them close. Always.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He dotes on his love. And sometimes acts more like a parent than a lover. It certainly caused an argument before. But he still never changes his way of acting. He flutters around his darling and tends to keep an eye on them. He encourages them to try out new things, as long as they can be done in the comfort of home. He creates for them, and has a plethora of nicknames for his love, though he always circles back to the same one. He is a constant presence, but never becomes suffocating.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He takes them on dates. All the time. He wants this to develop like a normal relationship would. Because of that he pays attention. What are they saying? What do they like? What do they hate? He makes it clear, that he is aware of the preferences of his love, and likes to show it to them every once in a while. It´s almost adorable. Sometimes he will tease. Other times he makes sure that they know, that they are an inspiration for him.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He always managed to hide it well. Even the people closest to him will be mostly unaware of it. But he is a lot more controlling and manipulative than he lets other people see. It mostly shows itself in wanting to know where the other person his all the time. Most people won´t even realize that he is digging for more information when he small talks. He wants to be in control, and he can even get it quite easily.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He won´t punish his love, but he can get annoyed. If that happens, he will try an keep his distance for a while. Either because he doesn´t want to hurt them right now with carelessly chosen words or because he is trying to understand their point and needs a bit more time to mull it over. But if it got really bad between his love and him, he will simply make them regret it by purposefully putting himself into dangerous situations.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Mitsuya wants to become the primary caretaker of his love and so he will do everything, that he can to actually achieve that goal. It doesn´t matter to him if they will even realize what is happening around them. He is stubborn in that regard and pursues this with a rare single-mindedness, that is almost never seen by him. One day, they might realize that all medical decisions are done solely by him, but this could take quite a while.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very. He is here to play the long game. It doesn´t matter to him, that this means, that he has to wait several weeks or even months to get to his goal. He will wait. In the end, he is sure that this will all be worth it, because his love won´t even suspect a thing.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Mitsuya is heartbroken in that moment. He can´t quite understand why they are doing this to him. What went wrong? But he will not drown himself in self-pity for long, before he comes after them. He will get them back. That they will leave him behind forever, after all that he did for them, is not even a possibility in his mind. There is no way, he will let that perfect love escape him. Not now. Never again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Considering that he never really abducts his darling, he can´t really feel guilty about it either. He invites them over one day and then simply makes sure, that there are enough reasons for them to stay. Indefinitely. Of course there is a bit guilt, when he sees them crying over him because of his manipulations. He feels bad in that moment but tries to soothe his own guilt with comforting you.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He had always loved to take care of his little sisters when his mom simply couldn´t. And over time he would develop a possessive streak and some sort of separation anxiety. He can hide it very well, but it never goes away. He wants to be as close as possible to the people he loves, and wants them to dependent on him as well. Because then, they could not leave that easily, if they really need him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Somehow it makes him feel incompetent. He hates to see his love like this. And no matter what he does, nothing seems to be working. He will try so hard to cheer them back up again. But when everything seems to fail, he will become despondent over time as well. Just sitting next to them, as he tries to plead one last time with them. You will have to pull yourself out of this slump and him with you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Soft. The one thing, that differentiates him to a great extent from the classic yandere is that Mitsuya is soft. He doesn´t want to hurt his love and instead always makes sure, that they are well taken care of. He doesn´t force his presence onto them, when he can tell, that they don´t want him close. He is gentle and kind, and he weaves an unnoticeable web around his love that they can never escape.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Mitsuya at his core is an incredibly soft and gentle man. He wants to take care of the people he loves. It never matter to him, what needs to be done, he will do it, if it can benefit his loved ones. This is his strength, but also his only vice. He can be manipulated, he can be convinced. But if it fails, he will be hurt. And this hurt might make him cold.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He will never hurt his love in a way, that would show. While he can get angry with them, he tends to become louder instead of physical. In a fight with his darling his words may grow sharp and he will purposefully keep a distance between them, to not even accidentally hurt his love. But there is one thing he will always do, not caring about the side effects. Some days, he will just slip them something, just so that he can watch them sleep without any tension for as long as he wants. Just so he can stop being afraid, that they will just leave him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Mitsuya adores them. He sees them as the love of his live. There are few things he wouldn´t do to keep them by his side, and most of them he would do if needed anyway. He loves them so deeply. But while he never puts them on a pedestal, he still sees them always as their best version. He always wants them to be the best version of themself they could be as well. He never outright worships his love, but he will sometimes just sit there and appreciate them being here with him.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He is someone, that goes out of his way to court his love. Taking them on dates, and letting them fall in love with him is so important to him. He wants them, to want him. He will take them out to walks in the park, picknicks, getting a coffee, stargazing. Everything he can think of, that he believes will be romantic. Maybe he will show of his skills to them as well. He doesn´t snap. He lays a trap, that is designed to go unnoticed.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

This is not something that he outright wants. On one hand, he wants to always take care of his love. So does this mean, that he can never treat them cruelly enough to break them? Or does this means that he will break them, because taking care of them will be easier then? In the end, he is more likely to pick the hard way. He likes them after all quite a bit. A bit of struggling can be fun too? Right? Don´t make him regret this decision, he can always change it after all.

#yandere #yandere mitsuya #yandere alphabet #xreader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #mitsuya takashi #yandere headcanon #mitsuya headcanons #mitsuya x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev

[ashesandhackles]

Dumbledore and Reflections of Himself

I am in the middle of an HBP reread and boy do I have feelings about Dumbledore and Tom Riddle's first meeting.

We see that Mrs Cole piques Dumbledore's interest by mentioning that Tom is a bully, but that doesn't immediately dictate Dumbledore's conduct in the room. When Tom first commands: "Tell the truth!" (a behaviour Harry considers shocking), Dumbledore's move is to remain unfazed and pleasant. Something that makes Tom warier (Tom senses that he has met an adult who would not only not react to him, but will act like he is unaffected by him, the boy who wants to be special). It establishes the push and pull in the scene, where Tom tries to take control of the scene (as much as a 11 year old child can) and Dumbledore consistently undercuts it.

The scene changes in tone when Dumbledore reveals that Tom is magical, and I find Dumbledore's reaction to Tom's response so interesting:

“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

“Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.”

Why does Dumbledore, who was perfectly happy to smile pleasantly and weather through Tom's wariness and suspicion, suddenly become more intent and unsmiling? It is because he understands Tom's need to be "special", a reflection of his youthful self who felt bitterness and resentment when he was responsible for his family.

Here is Dumbledore, in a confession of his greatest mistakes to Harry in Deathly Hallows: "I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory."

The scene progresses, and Tom asks Dumbledore to prove that he is a wizard in the same commanding tone: "Prove it!"

Dumbledore, who has become fraction colder, merely raises his eyebrows and insists that Tom uses respectful honorifics in addressing him ("Then you will address me as professor or sir"). And then Tom in "an unrecognizably polite voice" which Dumbledore (and Harry who is watching the memory) recognises as non-apologetic way of getting what he wants.

Then Dumbledore does something that establishes his total domination in the scene, something he admits to Tom later: "“The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. ... I wish I could. ...”

He burns Tom's wardrobe, and unnerves him with proof of his thievery. This is the only time in the scene Tom is cornered, and I don't think he ever forgets how Dumbledore made him feel(and why Dumbledore is the "only one he ever feared"):

Open the door,” said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

“Take it out,” said Dumbledore. (...)

“Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?” asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. “Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

“Open it,” said Dumbledore.

Dumbledore admits to Harry that what made him uneasy about Tom was "obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy and domination." (He does become gentle with Tom when Tom expresses desire to know his parentage, and the gentleness is remarked on in the scene).

But, like I demonstrated with wardrobe burning, there is no scene in the books where Dumbledore is not in control, even when he appears not to be (whenever someone makes the mistake of assuming as such, as Draco in the climax of the book - "you’re in my power. ... I’m the one with the wand. ... You’re at my mercy", Dumbledore reminds him: "It is my mercy, not yours that matters now.")

That's not the first of Dumbledore's reflection. Who else has instincts for secrecy, like Tom Riddle?

“I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus ... he was a natural.”

What Dumbledore fears, what Dumbledore is wary of, what Dumbledore cannot forgive are reflections of himself in another person ("Was I better, ultimately, than Voldemort?" he asks in DH). And this is entirely because Dumbledore cannot forgive himself for what happened to his family - his indifference to who Grindelwald was, his hubris that cost him his sister.

It is exactly why he is also surprised (and taken aback) at Harry's empathy for his parent's murderer: "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?" (it is also where his respect and love for Harry comes from: "I've known for sometime, you are a better man")

We see this even in Harry's attempt to save Voldemort's soul ("Try for some remorse, I've seen what you will be otherwise"), whereas Dumbledore is more unforgiving of Voldemort's final fate ("You cannot help" Dumbledore says to Harry). It tallies well with what he tells Voldemort in OOTP:

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit — ”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore. “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness — ”

Voldemort's final fate, a mutilated soul that is stuck in King cross limbo, unable to go on is the fate "worse than death" that Dumbledore is referring to. It is the fate Harry tries to save Voldemort from, by asking him to repair his soul with "remorse."

Remorse

I would be remiss to not talk about another young wizard that Dumbledore reacts quite personally to - young, wayward Death Eater Severus Snape. @urupotter had made a lovely observation in one of his metas about how Dumbledore's response to Snape: "You disgust me" is far more personal than him reacting to someone like Fenrir Greyback.

Snape's indifference to evil, his hunger for power (the trait that made him join Death Eaters and follow Voldemort ) "disgusts" Dumbledore. For Dumbledore, he has gotten his sister killed because of his own refusal to listen to his conscience, his passion for Grindelwald that led to poor judgement: "Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true."

He sees the same indifference and selfishness in Snape at the beginning of his arc: "You do not care about the lives of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you can have what you want?"

Snape, of course, grows into someone Dumbledore relies on ("How many people have you watched die?" "Lately those who I cannot save"), someone Dumbledore considers redeemed with his casual: "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon ..."

Which brings me to the most commonly misunderstood/ poorly analysed scene in Deathly Hallows:

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

“After all this time?”

“Always,” said Snape.

This is not Snape's declaration of romantic love that goes beyond time lol. It is declaration of his guilt that will forever haunt him, his role in Lily's death that he wants to atone for. He was protecting Harry out of remorse, and he gives up this very personal desire for atonement in service of "greater good" to defeat Voldemort - by passing on the knowledge that Dumbledore gave him to Harry.

Dumbledore's own reaction - his tears- aren't because he is moved by Snape's undying love. It's because, once again, Dumbledore sees a reflection of himself, of his own guilt, his self-inflicted tragedies in Snape. He is moved because Snape was "never free", like himself. As Harry astutely reads Dumbledore's painful guilt:

“ ’Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn’t want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn’t he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the — ”

“He was never free,” said Harry.

“I beg your pardon?” said Aberforth.

“Never,” said Harry. “The night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there. ‘Don’t hurt them, please ... hurt me instead.’ ”

Keeping "Hurt me instead" in mind, here is how Dumbledore offers a way forward for the self-destructive, guilt ridden Severus Snape:

"I wish ... I wish / were dead. ...”

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.”

Dumbledore understands this self-destructive, suicidal guilt very intimately and very personally, and he is harsher and colder with Snape as he is with himself. (He also interestingly, never magically fixes the crooked nose - a mark of his brother's blame at their sister's funeral) Dumbledore, as Hermione notes in the scene with Harry, "Maybe he did believe these things when he was seventeen, but the whole of the rest of his life was devoted to fighting the Dark Arts!"

What use, indeed his own guilt, if he doesn't fight for the Greater Good?

This is reflected in the quotation he chose for his mother and sister's grave:

Harry stooped down and saw, upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words KENDRA DUMBLEDORE and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, AND HER DAUGHTER ARIANA. There was also a quotation: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

#albus dumbledore #tom riddle #voldemort #severus snape #hp meta #you do not want dumbles as your enemy

[mari-lair]

What got you into HanaKou? Any head canons? :3

Their early dynamic! Hanako being flirty and condescending is so good, and Kou acting super suspicious and confused, switching between "EVIL SPIRIT IS TRYING TO DECEIVE ME!!" and "...oh he knows a lot, he is helpful??" is charming.

Honestly, they are just plain fun.

I stayed in this ship for the soul-crushing implications as the manga went by but I do love their goofier dynamic just as much.

And I do have headcanon Anon! Strap in:

Hanako has mixed feelings about Kou growing up. He likes that he is alive and that he gets stronger with time, not experiencing the pain of being a ghost, but there is an unbalancing feeling that comes from watching the 'kid' grow up, slowly shaping into a new person, an adult, through the years while Hanako is forever 13. It is hard for him to adapt to. He hopes to be exorcised before Kou is unrecognizable from the boy he decided to trust, he hopes to see him grow all the way into an old man. He mostly tries not to think about it.

Hanako said "I can't wait for when you exorcise me" when they met, but he didn't care all that much about who exorcised him at the time, he just thought it would be useful to have someone to get the job done near. Now it needs to be Kou, he really wants it to be him. He is full of self-hatred so he will accept if someone else kills him without fighting, but it won't be the same.

Hanako has internal homophobia since he experienced being alive in the 60s, but it is a strange, oddly 'passive' kind. When he gets a crush in the young exorcist arc he does not register it as a crush, chalking it as part of the admiration/respect/trust package, which is a hard bag of feelings to process, considering how apathetic and isolated he has been in his afterlife. He is convinced this pull towards Kou is not that strange for friends and can think things like "If Kou was a girl, or I was a girl, it would be fun to seduce him~" without batting an eye. (I am still not over the genderbend Hanako chapter.)

Touch, and Quality Time are Hanako's main love languages. Kou's are Acts of Service, and Words of Affirmation.

Hanako gets plenty of quality time and his touch is never rejected, so is hard to get insecure about Kou not liking him, he mostly gets emo about not deserving his love. Kou does not get many words of affirmation, the Mokke has heard more compliments about Kou from Hanako than Kou has, this can make him insecure and extremely confused about how Hanako sees him, or how trustworthy Hanako is, so he is rarely soft or vulnerable with Hanako.

Kou gets so surprised he either goes speechless or embarrassed when Hanako gives him sincere compliments without hiding behind his "I am such a mischievous and playful ghost! am I being honest or am I being condescending?~" attitude. (It's rare and never last much)

Kou bakes him donuts when Hanako is sad and the ghost bothers him when Kou is sad. Hanako is a bit weird when it comes to comforting others, if what makes the exorcist sad is directly his fault or he feels like it is his fault, the ghost grows very guilty and invested, if it's not his fault in any way, Hanako becomes somewhat detached, still worried but not obsessed over it: He will help, but his worry isn't visible, is easy to believe he doesn't care about the problem at all.

If Kou ever met Amane he will be '???' cause the idea of a alive Hanako does not compute. Amane will find him rude, but kind of funny.

#sorry it took so long to answer Anon #the hanakou ghost posses me at random #also it is 30ºC (at 9pm???) so i am melting sorry for any grammar mistakes #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hanakou #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #kou minamoto #tbhk hanako

[cecilysass]

Shine On (13/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 13: Revival

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 9:05 am

For fifteen minutes neither of them moves.

They sit on the floor soaked in their son’s blood, Mulder’s arm limply around her, staring at the boy’s body lying before them, still and unmoving.

*** She knows they should stand up. She knows this. They should make calls. They should clean up the glass from the shattered door and the broken coffee pot. They should take showers and prepare for the house to be a crime scene.

But she can’t. She can’t look away. With his eyes closed he looks so much younger. More like a little boy, and she never saw him as a little boy. The slope of his cheeks, the delicate thin skin of his eyelids: this is what remains of her baby, that baby she loved so much and expected to raise.

His lips are stained with blood, but they are round and perfect and look just like Mulder’s. Just exactly like Mulder’s.

***

After fifteen minutes she becomes dimly aware of the sound of footsteps on the porch through the jagged maw that was once the front door, and she knows she should be concerned. She should at least turn her head to Mulder and look at him. They should appropriately evaluate the situation.

But she doesn’t lift her eyes from Jackson. She can’t, yet.

She feels Mulder’s arm pulling away from her. He seems to be trying to get eyes on the person approaching the house.

“Hello?” he calls half-heartedly. His voice is weak, almost unrecognizable. It sounds like it belongs to an old man.

The creak of footsteps grows closer, and Scully has the thought that maybe someone has come back to finish the job, to kill her and Mulder. To make sure there are no witnesses after all, despite all the cryptic statements about flesh and blood and old allies.

She reaches out and tentatively touches some of Jackson’s soft dark brown hair, in a way she never did in his life.

Maybe I deserve to die. For failing to protect him.

The footsteps crackle over broken glass as whoever it is walks into the house, walking right up next to them. Scully bows her head, allowing some tears to drop onto Jackson’s mangled chest.

She closes her eyes now. Waiting. Preparing herself for whatever additional violence is about to come.

“You’re too late,” Mulder says dully to the stranger. “He’s gone.”

Hearing his voice distantly reminds Scully of something, nudges awake a thought inside her: Mulder. Mulder is here, too. She can't just meekly watch him die. 

She forces herself to look up.

It’s not an armed man, but a petite woman in a black coat, staring down at them impassively. She doesn’t seem very dangerous.

Ah, she thinks listlessly. The mysterious Rose. What does it matter now? Scully looks back down at Jackson’s motionless face. None of his secrets matter now.

“He’s not gone,” the young woman tells them suddenly. “We need to revive him.”

Scully and Mulder say nothing at first, as though they haven’t heard what she has said. Neither of them move.

“Did you hear me?” the young woman says. “He’s not gone.”

“He is,” Mulder says shortly, his head snapping up towards her. Then he shakes his head, and his tone grows softer and more despairing. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry.”

“I would know if he were gone.” Rose’s answer rises in pitch just slightly. She looks at Mulder significantly. “Maybe you can tell, too. Try and see. Reach out.”

“Jackson hemorrhaged,” Scully replies, monotone, emotionless. Whoever this Rose is, she obviously needs to understand. “The bullet likely hit an artery. He bled out fast. There’s no possible way. He’s gone.”

“He’s not,” Rose repeats back to Scully in a fierce voice. “Try to revive him.”

“I’m a doctor,” Scully says, her voice a flat line. “I know when someone is alive or dead.”

“That’s not always true. You have to try.”

“Scully,” Mulder says, his tone suddenly different. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You feel it, too, don’t you? His shine?” Rose turns her attention to Mulder. She crouches down next to him. “You can tell he’s still here?”

“Maybe,” Mulder says quietly, his eyes bouncing from her to Scully. “Maybe. I feel … something. I can’t tell what it is.”

“A person can’t be alive after having lost so much blood,” Scully recites robotically. “He needs the blood to sustain basic life functions. He hasn’t been breathing. For fifteen minutes.”

“Jackson isn’t like other people,” Rose says. “He has a set of abilities, some of which you know about, and some of which I don’t think anyone knows about. Maybe including the ability to survive more than human beings can survive. To go into temporary stasis. Like … some of the hybrids can.”

“Like you can?” Mulder interjects softly.

“Yes. Like I can.” She turns back swiftly to Mulder. “Which is how you were misled … back then.” Her next words are low and urgent. “You can’t be misled again. Please don’t be. He’s still here, Mulder.”

“Yeah,” Mulder responds, furrowing his brow, his face beginning to come into focus, to take on an intensity Scully doesn’t understand. “Yeah.” He takes hold of her shoulder. “Scully, we need to try to revive him. Right now.”

“When we were misled back when?” Scully repeats, bewildered. “What’s she talking about? Who is she?”

“We should try CPR,” Mulder emphasizes.

“Right now,” Rose agrees. “Who will do it?”

Scully blinks, looking from Mulder’s gaze to the young woman. “Me, of course. Me.”

It feels ridiculous, sad, against every bit of training she’s ever had. To try to revive her obviously dead son feels like a pathetic act of futility.

But Mulder’s eyes are close on her, so she leans over and begins the process of trying to keep Jackson’s circulatory system alive, even knowing that for the past fifteen minutes no air has been filling his lungs and no pulse thumping through his veins.

She begins chest compressions, the sickening squelch of his pooled blood under her fingers. The only thing she can do is keep her mind empty. Don’t dwell on anything but the familiar movements. She tilts his head, giving him two rescue breaths. His mouth is still bloodied, and she tries not to think about the copper-penny taste on her lips.

Then she pulls back, watching his chest in silence to see if it moves.

It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

“Nothing,” she whispers. She looks up at Mulder’s face. His eyes are on her.

“Now you do it again, right?” he asks. “That’s how it works?”

Scully twists her mouth, nods. She can’t possibly let him down, not when he is looking so hopeful. Not when she failed to protect his son to begin with. She’ll do any irrational thing he wants.

She positions her hands on Jackson’s body for the chest compressions again.

Press, press, press, press: her hands rediscover the required rhythm, the natural backbeat of life.

Each time her hands bear down she feels more hopeless. She wonders if she will break his ribs, if she will damage the body of this poor child of hers further. She tries to empty her mind again. When she can’t do that she tries to think more like Mulder; she tries to will herself into believing it might work.

All along she can feel the young woman Rose leaning tightly over her shoulder, her breath drawn. In a different situation, Scully might be curious about this. As it is, she can only focus on what she must do.

Thirty compressions, then back to the breaths. She takes careful hold of his chin and tries again, pushing air forcibly into his lungs with her own.

She brought him to life the first time, in Georgia, years ago. It was a miracle then. Maybe she can do it again.

She stops, waiting and watching.

With a sound like an inflating balloon, Jackson suddenly gasps, his eyes fluttering open.

Scully’s mouth flies open, too. Not possible. The boy’s chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, as he tries to gain control over his lungs again.

“Jackson,” Mulder says shakily. “Jackson, can you hear us?”

Scully stares. Her hands, still smudged with blood, are still extended unsteadily in front of her, as though they’re about to do more compressions. She’s afraid to trust her senses, afraid to move.

Jackson, wheezing a little, looks at Mulder and begins to cough violently, pushing himself up on his elbows. Blood foams from his mouth.

“Oh Jackson,” Scully whispers. She makes herself move, dabbing at the blood on his chin with the sleeve of the tee-shirt she’s wearing, which is covered in blood already anyway. “Jackson, it’s going to be okay.”

“I’ll get him water and a washcloth,” Mulder says, leaping up.

“What’s going on?” rasps Jackson. More blood dribbles from his mouth.

“Just wait,” Scully says in an artificially high voice. “You’re okay. You’re… going to be fine. Just let us take care of you for a moment.”

He sinks backwards again on the floor, wincing a little.

“I don’t understand. What about the entry wound?” Scully whispers in horror to Rose. “What about the bullet? Internal damage?”

“I think he must heal fast,” Rose says, sounding perplexed. “He must. You could … look at the site of bullet penetration.”

Scully reaches down and examines Jackson’s torso, visible through his ripped shirt. She runs her fingers over his rib cage, sticky with blood, but she can no longer see the site where the bullet pierced him, no source of bleeding.

“It’s completely closed,” Rose observes in a whisper. She seems to be surprised by this, too. “That makes it … hard to kill him. Maybe impossible. This changes things.”

“I got shot,” Jackson mumbles in shock. “That man shot me, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t kill you,” Scully says. She touches the hair on Jackson’s head affectionately, not caring for a moment about giving him space, not caring about the blood on her hands. “You’re alive. You’re going to be okay.”

“There’s blood … everywhere,” Jackson breathes, sounding panicky. “Is that my blood? On the floor and all over you?”

“Here’s a damp washcloth,” Mulder offers. He crouches down to hand it to Jackson. “You can wipe some of the blood off.”

“Did you save me, Rose?” Jackson croaks, accepting the washcloth and wiping his mouth.

“You saved yourself,” Rose says with a small tight-lipped smile. But, Scully thinks, Rose did save him, or at least her unlikely advice did. “You seem to have the ability to bounce back from death.”

“Wow.” Jackson stops wiping his chin. “Really?” He looks at Scully for confirmation, which she finds oddly touching. She nods weakly, and he turns back to Rose. “So I’m, like, immortal. Like a god.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Rose says, her smile brightening. “I have some of the same abilities, you know, so you’re not that special.”

Scully raises her eyes to study Rose more carefully, noting this dynamic between her and Jackson. Didn’t she imply she was a hybrid? Where did she come from? How does he know her? The girl’s eyes, alight now with happiness, are very clear and very blue.

Jackson smiles crookedly. “We’re superheroes,” he mumbles, dazed. “Like the brother and sister in The Incredibles.”

“Something like that,” Rose says. She looks like she wants to cry, but she presses her lips together into a tiny smile instead. Scully frowns, wondering. Part of her is tempted to begin pressing for information right now.

But Jackson is still so pale. First things first.

“Let me examine you, Jackson,” Scully says crisply. Nothing here is normal, everything is upside down, but her tone is all business. A personal specialty. “And let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

Jackson is remarkably healthy for someone shot a half hour ago, although he’s suffering from what Scully might describe as low level shock. After he rinses off in the shower and dresses in Mulder’s old sweat suit, they wrap him in Scully’s quilt. He sits bundled on the couch, a slightly stunned look on his face.

Scully crosses her arms over her chest, trying to formulate the right series of questions, when Mulder clears his throat and wipes his palms on his pants.

“We should probably figure some things out,” he says. All in the room look at him. There are still visible tear tracks on his face. Scully imagines there must be on hers, too. “Do we need to take Jackson to the hospital, Scully?”

“I don’t see why,” she says. “There are no signs of serious trauma. We can monitor him here.”

He nods. There’s an abrupt frigid gust of air from the hole that is the former front door, and Mulder speculatively looks it up and down. “We need to consider this problem, then. It’s freezing out,” he says, gesturing to the destroyed door frame. “I either need to find a way to make this weather proof, or we all need to relocate to a motel tonight.”

“Yes, agreed,” Scully says, nodding, trying to keep up with what he’s saying.

Rose is sitting silently on the desk chair, and Mulder walks to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what about you, Rose? Do we need to be worried about your immediate safety? Are there going to be more Walled Garden operatives coming for you?”

“No,” she says blankly. She looks like she is about to say more, but her eyes land on Scully. “No. I don’t think so.”

Scully’s eyes dart in the space between her and Mulder. The relationship between Rose and Jackson is perplexing enough, but this interaction is even harder to interpret. Mulder seems almost protective of Rose, like he knows her.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Scully says softly to Rose. “But … who are you, exactly?”

There’s a pause, and no one answers. Rose looks at her feet, her discomfort apparent.

“Yeah. All right, Scully,” Mulder says, placating. “We should talk about it.” She hates the tone of voice he’s using. It’s the one he uses to calm her down when he thinks she’s being unreasonable, and her question isn’t unreasonable. “I think that first I should get some plywood I have in the shed out back. Maybe I can board the door up for now. Then—I don’t know, we can sit down and talk, make a plan.”

Scully does not like this at all. But she raises her chin up and down in a reluctant nod. “Do you need help?” she says.

“Why don’t you take care of Jackson?” Mulder suggests. “Rose, why don’t you give me a hand with the plywood?”

Rose nods shortly, glancing again at Scully.

“It will just take a second,” Mulder assures Scully, clearly reading her expression and body language. “We’ll be right back. We’ll all talk.”

“All right,” she says. She stands, watching as Mulder silently bundles up in his winter coat and smiles at her, then walks out the gap into the cold morning.

Rose follows him, burrowing her hands in the pockets of her coat again. She pauses, angling backwards, and her blue eyes shoot back inside towards Scully for a moment.

Almost like the curiosity is mutual.

Scully realizes she’s gnawing on her bottom lip as she meets the young woman’s eyes. She gives Rose a cautious smile instead.

Even after both Mulder and Rose have disappeared from sight, she stands there, facing the gap in the wall.

Her hands run slowly up and down her arms. She’s wearing a clean oversized shirt of Mulder’s, but there are still streaks of dried brown blood everywhere on her skin, even in her hair, and she feels cold and uneasy. She tries to warm herself as she puts pieces together.

She thinks over what she heard Mulder say to Rose just minutes ago, about operatives from something called the Walled Garden. She wonders if that’s the same organization the hybrids who came for Jackson were from.

“I know,” Jackson says in his hoarse voice from the couch. “You hate not knowing the whole truth, even for a few minutes. Right?”

Scully has the inappropriate urge to laugh, remembering suddenly that Jackson hears all of her thoughts. She really needs to get in the habit of remembering. Feeling suddenly very tired, she walks back to the couch and sinks down next to him. He is watching her with an intent, serious expression.

“That’s right,” she admits. “Is that something you saw using your shine, Jackson?”

“Yeah,” he says, “but even if I couldn’t, I think I could tell from how your face looks right now.”

That does make her smile a little. “I’ve always tried to appear inscrutable,” she says, “but people often seem to be able to tell when I’m upset.”

“Me, too.” Jackson pulls the blanket tighter. He eyes her. “I’d like to have a poker face, but I just don’t have one. My face gives away more than I want to, I guess.”

Scully’s smile deepens. “Exactly.”

“That’s not always necessarily bad,” Jackson says.

“No,” agrees Scully. “Not necessarily.”

Jackson pulls in a breath. “Mulder’s worried about how you’ll feel about what he's going to say. He’s worried that … you’ll be upset.”

“Oh.” Scully leans her head back against the couch, feeling rising trepidation. She doesn’t look at Jackson, continuing to stare instead at the wrecked door frame. “What do you think?” The wind rattles into the heart of the house again, sending a deep-reaching chill through her. “Is he right?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson says. “Maybe.” His brows knit together. “You know… you know how you told me you’d tell me the story of your first kid—of Emily—but that it was a sad story?”

“Yes,” she says cautiously. She squints as the light filters through the front windows, becoming suddenly more starkly bright.

“Well,” Jackson says, swallowing. “It is a sad story. Just not in the exact way you thought.” He hesitates. “You know how genetic brothers and sisters sometimes have the same traits. The same abilities.”

In slow motion Scully turns her head to look at him.

“That’s what it is, I guess. Although … I don’t know if her having those abilities and me having those abilities is actually because we are brother and sister,” Jackson says. “Because she has them because she’s a hybrid. And I have them … because of some reason nobody understands.”

Scully stares at him blankly. She thinks about Rose, all sorts of details from her memories now coming into crisp focus. The strawberry blonde hair, the blue eyes. Mulder’s hand on her shoulder. Mr. Potato Head. The brother and sister in The Incredibles. How we were misled back then.

“I didn’t have any idea I had a sister,” Jackson continues. He turns to face Scully now, his voice turning secretive and important, like he wants her to know. “But I think she’s known about me for a long time. I think she’s been watching out for me. She’s the one who saved me after my parents were killed.” He’s watching her face now. “You get what I’m saying, right?”

“Yes,” she says, the word whisper soft.

But she’s not sure she does, not really. That woman, that adult woman. It couldn’t possibly be. She was dead. It had been confirmed. They knew she was dead. It was the only way she would have ever left San Diego and not looked back.

She becomes aware that Jackson’s expression is changing—his eyebrows arching, his lips drawing together. He looks concerned for her. Worried. Tender. He looks just like Mulder.

“She’s not Mulder’s kid, like I am,” Jackson says curiously. He’s clearly listening to her thoughts. “Is she?”

“No,” replies Scully again.

Jackson seems to consider this a moment. His eyes slide over to her again, worried.

“I can tell you’re upset. But … I thought you’d want to know so you didn’t wonder,” he says uncertainly. “And I thought… maybe somehow me telling you would be better than them telling you?”

He’s watching her so closely. She knows she needs to think straight here, to pull it together.

“I did want to know,” she says, her voice brittle. “And you’re right, Jackson, you telling me is better. It’s just …”

A shock. The nauseating discovery that she’s failed to be a mother for two children, not just one. That this child went from being a cherubic preschooler to a stoic young woman in black without her, with whatever chaos happening in her life, just because Scully wasn’t brave or wise enough to question what was conventional and safe.

“Okay,” Jackson says suddenly. “Come on. Jesus. Stop.”

Her eyes focus back on him, on his pale face.

“That’s what my therapist would call negative self talk,” Jackson adds, rolling his eyes self-deprecatingly. “And, uh, I’m hearing all of it.”

She feels her lip trembling. “Jackson,” she manages. “I’m sorry. It’s just …”

“Rose probably hopes that you’ll be happy to meet her now,” he says pointedly. “Because that’s a pretty good thing, right? After all this time. That you get to finally meet each other. Maybe even be … something like family. Isn’t that kind of badass? Isn’t that a pretty good thing?”

She doesn’t need a shine to see into his thoughts right now.

Silent tears are on her face, and she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it. Looking into his eyes, she lets him feel her joy, her real joy.

“It’s more than a pretty good thing,” she agrees simply. “It’s a miracle.”

She realizes, somewhat to her surprise, that she believes what she’s just said.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. She notices there are silent tears on his face, too. “And like the third one today, too.”

They don’t let go of one another’s hands. They wait in silence for Mulder and Rose to return.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[the-bisexual-a-genda]

(This is self indulgent fic about the Thistlesprings killing porter there’s blood mentioned but idk any other trigger warnings)

The Thistlespring tree shakes as Gorgug’s head connects with the top of the doorframe. Windows rattle with the force of impact. And the truly massive stack of books clatters from his arm in a rowdy cacophony. 

“Whoa, there bud,” Digby says rushing into the room. 

“Been awhile since you bumped the ole’ doorframe. What’s going on? Do ya need some ice? Or-”, Wilma says fussing over her son.

“No, I don’t need ice. I should actually get to work I didnt get it all done at Fabian’s”, Gorgug’s voice was tired.

“Get to work? Well, jeez there kiddo I love the hustle but it’s the first day! Come, come sit a bit let’s talk about it”, Digby says.

Gorgug puts up no resistance as his parents shepherd him into the kitchen. His chair sticks out like a sore thumb from the set sized for his parents. But it’s still a bit too small. 

“So what’s going on? How can we help?”, Gorgug can't tell whose saying what. They both use this phrase so much that it blends together. Help. Gorgug needs help. He knows he needs help. But what can they actually do?

“I just had a long day. I’m fine”, Gorgug cringes as the lie leaves his mouth. 

“Well, bud-” They know. “ Your Mom and I know-ya know. You’re a young man. You’re entitled to your privacy-”

“I think I hate Porter. And I know what you’re gonna say. Hate is a strong word. And you need to use your words and all that and I do! I did! I told him- I told him,” Gorgug’s face was hot. His eyes going black with rage, as tears stream down his face. 

“Hey, I know you tried kiddo. I know”,  Wilma’s voice is soft.

Gorgug tenses as she reaches out a hand. The Thistlesprings share a look at this, full of concern and a desperate need to help. Gorgug knows this look. The look accompanies his rage more often than not. A strange bittersweet reminder that while his parents love him they do not understand him. He sighs. 

“Sorry. Ok here’s what happened.” Gorgug is careful as he recounts the event. Keeping the rage in check as he tells them everything. Tells them about his MCAT being denied. About the 4 years' worth of classes he has to take. About how he’s still the kid from freshman year who sings songs.

As Gorgug mentions their song, a change begins. In perfect harmony, the looks of concern fall from his parents' faces. Replaced with a look he was intimately familiar with. Dark dilated pupils that swallow their irises. Blood pumping hard enough in their veins you can see it move. And each of their tiny hands curled into fists. 

A chill runs up his spine as he watches them become unrecognizable. Any trace of the kind, patient, loving parents he knows so well is gone. Replaced by these stone-faced automatons whose purpose is to contain this emotion. Rage.

“Hey, hey it’s ok. I got it. Artificing is all about perspiration. I can handle it. And you guys can help w-with stuff,” Gorgug’s voice has never been this soft.

Digby is the first to return. Shaking his head slightly like he’s brushing something away. His smile is shaky but sincere as he reaches for Wilma’s hand. 

“Mom?”, Gorgug reached for her other hand.

“I’m gonna take care of it,” her smile was unnerving with her eyes still so dark. She hops down from the table and turns toward her son. “Here’s what’s gonna happen you’re gonna go straight to bed and get some rest. And then tomorrow we’re going to go down to the school and have a chat.”

“Mom, are you sure you’re ok?”, he’d never been scared of someone else’s rage before.

“Think we’re gonna have a lot more to talk about from now on,” her smile is different than it used to be. The devotion there is no longer blind. There’s knowledge there that she didn’t have before. Allowing mother and son see each other in a new light.

🛠️

Gorgug’s alarm doesn’t go off the next morning.

Or rather it does but a tiny clockwork toy muffles the speakers. Gorgug’s sleep is uninterrupted as the bells of Augefort chime. And two gnomes slip out the back door.

Wilma stalks forward clad in armor that hums with energy. Adjusting the calibrations on her gauntlet as she walks. Digby scrambles behind her looking guiltily between her and back toward their home.

“I just think ya shouldn’t have lied”, Digby insists

“I didn’t lie. If Gorgug wakes up before noon and comes down that’ll be just fine. If he’s mad at me for gettin’ a headstart that’s fine too. But I just wanted some one-on-one with this Porter first.”, Wilma’s lip curls as she says his name.

“Now I don't see why you’d need all this armor just to talk to the man.”, Digby says.

“Oh, I’m gonna talk. I got quite a bit I wanna say.”, Wilma brings out a set of whirling ion stones as she speaks. They swirl in a dark halo around her head. Just as agitated as their master.

“Wilma I think we should take a minute before-”

“I’ve taken plenty of minutes. I got a full eight hours, made my breakfast, and now I’m on my way to meet the man who made my son cry. Made him cry, Digby! Do you know how many times our son has cried in his life? Six. And we have been there for him every single time! And that’s not gonna stop now!”, Wilma’s voice raises with every word until she is screaming.

“Please just let me take the lead. I know you don’t wanna do anything to embarrass Gorgug. It’s his teacher Wilma he’s gonna see him all year! We gotta at least try to keep things civil”, Digby says placatingly.

“You wanna take the lead on this you can take the lead on this. But I’m not taking the armor off.”, Wilma says walking through the school's doors.

Digby knocks on the door hoping silently no one is there. No such luck. A powerfully built stone genasi opens the door before the second knock. The barbarian looks down at the pair and raises his brow. The silence is violent as Digby struggles with what to say.

“Mr. Cliffbreaker hi I uh my wife and I wanted to talk to you about our son. Gorgug Thislespring.”, Digby’s voice squeaked.

Porter barely bothers to hide his smirk. 

“This is about the MCAT I denied I take it”, Porter says walking back towards his desk. Digby spares a glance back a Wilma before following. Her smile is a tightly coiled spring, tense and metallic.

“It sure is! We just don’t quite get what it is that’s going on here. We were hoping to hear it from the horse's mouth”, Wilma pipes up.

Digby chokes. Porter laughs. 

“You know if your son showed a little bit of that kinda fire in class we wouldn’t have this problem”, Porter chuckles.

“But we do have a problem Porter. We have a problem and a little thing about me. I’m quite good at dealing with problems”, Wilma’s voice is ice cold.

“Is that right?”, Porter says.

“Well! I think we just gotta, we gotta start chattin’ and figure it out huh gang!”, Digby is desperate.

“Alright, I’ll put it plain. If Mr.Thistlespring has what it takes to multiclass I haven’t seen it. Now if he wants to break his back doing all that Articifer stuff I can’t stop him. But I haven’t seen the rage I need to believe that”, Porter says kicking his feet up onto his desk.

“And that’s fair but what we’d love is just some clear-cut goals that he could be working towards. Cause he’s a straight A student, so from our standpoint, he’s doing plenty already”, Digby says.

“I’m sure you all feel that way but I don’t. So we’re done here.”, Porter says walking towards the door.

“Well now wait a minute! I’m not done talking!”, Digby insists.

Porter keeps his pace carelessly bumping into Digby. A slight he’d experienced a thousand times. It doesn’t bother him there’s still a chance here if he could just make him listen.

🎶”If you just give this song a chance

Our words will do the conversation dance

Let’s talk it out, let’s talk it out, let’s”-

“Enough”, the strings of the ukelele snap in Porter’s grip, “I’ve heard enough of these fucking songs from your son.”

“I don’t think you have”, the office door locks behind Wilma.

“Mrs.Thistlespring what is it you think you’re doing here?”, Porter says.

“Funnily enough I find rational thought quickly leaving me”, Wilma punctuates her words with a snap of her fingers. 

Chains streak from Wilma in a silvery blur. Porter barely manages to bring his hammer up in defense from them. When Wilma herself flies at his face gauntlets rippling with electricity. He snatches her from the air a second before she reaches him, hand wrapping around her throat. 

A ukelele splinters across the back of his head. Wilma tumbles from his hand. As Porter whips around to his second opponent. Digby tosses the ruined instrument aside as their eyes meet. 

“What the hell is wrong with-”

“Enough talk!”, Digby cuts him off with a wild punch.

Porter loses hold of his hammer as Wilma gives a powerful yank. Porter stumbles and growls. Sending Digby careening across the room with a backhand. He wheels around kicking Wilma hard in the gut. She grabs his ankle sending a vicious current of electricity into her adversary. 

Digby bleeds, turning on a white hot blowtorch. A look of dark determination on his face. Wilma giggles. A mirthless noise is as sharp as the sawblade she brings out. They work in perfect tandem. Taking every injury in stride as they go to work.

They analyze his weaknesses and exploit them mercilessly. Their movements brutally efficient as they take him apart in every sense of the word. They are mechanists and he is nothing more than a pile of parts. 

⚒️

Gorgug has never been late to class. Worry fills his stomach as he rushes into Porter’s office. 

“Sorry Mr.Cliffbreaker my alarm, it didn’t-”

Gorgug stops speaking as he sees his gore covered parents in the middle of casting revivify on what looks like a pile of rubble.

“What the fuck is going on?”,Gorgug had never been more confused in his life and he’s been pretty confused.

“Hey there bud! We’re just about finished up here!”, Digby says finishing up the spell.

The pieces snap back in place in a flash of light. Porter gasps back into life. Jolting to his feet as he looks around wildly. 

“We just wanted some time with your barbarian teacher here”, Wilma says patting Porter's arm. 

“Uh, Gorgug why don’t you and I talk about that MCAT?”

#dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #gorgug thistlespring #wilma thistlespring #digby thistlespring #porter cliffbreaker

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[starandcloud]

Not Worth My Batteries

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Hard of hearing!reader

TW:

COD Masterlist

Masterlist

Y/N "Sharp" L/N was a special forces operator. Someone not to be messed with, someone who seemed super human. Who would've thought that they had a diability?

Loud crashes, bangs, and explosions weren't something that bothered you often. Only when you "had your ears on" did they bother you. Your ears were something you deemed and accessory if anything else. Something pretty to decorate, especially since they were as useful as a paperweight most days. Low humming, buzzing, and voices that sounded like they were underwater were something that you heard often. Along with the occasional accordion, but that was rare. You heard that obnoxious "Peppa Pig" theme song more often than accordions. Though you typically tied that back to, and blamed it on, having a plethora of younger siblings. You see, your brain often made-up noise so you wouldn't go insane. Which was normal for most people, but it was more common for you since you were hard of hearing. It came with it's ups and downs, such as with most disabilities. But you didn't really see yours as a disability, most of the time anyways. More of a mild inconvenience than anything else really, sure it annoyed you when your hearing aids died and everyone sounded muffled as hell; but other than that it wasn't that bad. One of the few things you enjoyed about this disability of yours is that you had the choice to be in certain conversations. If you decided you didn't want to listen? You'd shut your hearing aids off, honestly a good thing when you were in loud environments too. Afterall you could simply just, turn your ears off. Why damage your hearing more? Just turn them off, and it was one less thing you had to worry about.

Sitting on the couch you groaned as your back popped in the most uncomfortable way possible. You tilted your head and felt your neck pop.

"Mother fucker..."

You, thought, you mumbled.

"Heard that Sharp."

The voice was so distant you turned your hearing aids up. It was distant, not unrecognizable.

"Shut up Gaz..."

You mumbled as you relaxed against the couch and eventually slumped over and winced at the feedback of your hearing aids as the fabric of the couch rubbed against them.

"You should keep those turned on Sharp, we're not safe just yet..."

Gaz warned, his voice gentle and concerned but held some sort of superiority as you rolled your eyes.

"You won't let me get shot Garrick, plus you already know my view. If I/you die then I/you die." "Yes, I know Sharp. But damn, at least pretend you care about yourself."

He said, dropping onto the couch next to you and laughed when your socked feet hit his ribs lightly.

"Don't kick me, I'll tickle you again."

He heard you shift then the gently clicking of your hearing aids hitting the side table before a few quiet giggles. You quietly got up, shuffling your feet along the floor and watched as Kyle frantically signed at you to "sit now right now" and that you "wouldn't dare to shut the lights off". You smirked and flicked the lights off as you watched him drop his head back against the couch and you could practically hear the sigh he gave as he got up. Fun fact about losing a sense. Your other's become heightened. So while your had lost most of your hearing, your sight had enhanced. You moved quietly away from Gaz as he tried to grab you, knowing damn well that his sight in the dark was much worse than yours.

"Come on Y/N don't fucking do this..."

You could hear Kyle beg distantly as he fumbled over his own boots, you couldn't help but laugh as you watched him fall. This game of yours went on for a while until you lost sight of Kyle, you had gotten worried for a moment before you felt his arms wrap around you.

"Found you"

Kyle's voice bounced between distant and close as you squirmed against him.

"Fuck you Garrick..."

You said as you relaxed against him, the darkness around you was peaceful and comforting as you smiled gently. Your eyes slowly closed as you smiled and hummed gently in content. You could feel Kyle gently pepper kisses on your neck making your smile grow as you melted into him more. He always had a way of making you feel safe and loved with him, you were so glad you had taken him up on his offer for coffee a few years ago. You never would've thought he'd learn sign or buy you sensory things, he was a good friend and an even better boyfriend.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #kyle garrick #cod #COD #cod mw #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod 141 #cod fanfic #cod mwf2 #call of duty #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x disable reader #Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Hearing Loss reader #Disability awareness #disability representation #actually disabled #faeriesberries

[acotrash]

Too late - Eris

Eris hasn’t been himself since you left him 6 years ago

You had big dreams of going to college and making something of yourself, dreams you’d only whisper to him under the soft glow of your phone flashlight under pillow forts

He lost touch with you sometime during college, you left him behind to inherent his family’s business and you barely came back to visit after graduating college

He still follows you on all of your socials and he’ll be the first person to like all of your drunken, blurry shenanigans, all of your coastal pictures with bright waves and sunshine, all of your new friends and new boyfriends

Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t even recognize the person you’ve become when scrolling through your profiles, remembering how you said you hated snow and yet he sees you in ski gear, or how you were one for a small, close knit group and yet you posted a picture from a large friend group a bright side smile on your face

You’re unrecognizable in your pictures yet you look like you haven’t changed at all, your smile is still so wide your cheeks must hurt, and you still wear those dirty now-brown white converse and that vintage band t-shirt, your hair is still messy and you still make that goofy face in almost every photo; eyes crossed and cheeks puffed out

It’s easy to tell that he regrets not leaving with you

It’s not like you didn’t offer, in fact you almost begged him

He remembers that day in vivid detail, right down to the shadows dancing in your eyes, begging him to ditch his no good family behind and start over

“Come with me” you had whispered, his hands on your waist, you were watching him so intently and he wanted nothing than to run away with you, but deep down he knew he couldn’t just leave

He couldn’t leave his brothers even if they were beyond help at this point and he couldn’t do that to his mother, leave with no explanation

So when you were biting your lip, making promises of how it’s you and him against the world, of never looking back and headed towards a bigger and brighter future, he found himself taking a step away from you

The next morning, he wanted to call you, to drive over, to beg to take it all back, he’d go anywhere with you if you’d let him. But he didn’t know what to say, so instead he kept silent

If someone were to ask him about that night, how you left soon after, he’d say he didn’t regret it but the truth was that he did. He regretted it deeply, but the truth was that he didn’t let himself feel the regret

It was too late for him to do anything about it anyway

He hated seeing your face when he said he couldn’t go with you, how he said he had to stay here, and you both knew it was an empty promise that you two would stay in touch, make long distance work

Long distance didn’t last long, he didn’t even drive you up to college like he promised he would

He couldn’t say goodbye to you, he didn’t know how to say goodbye

So he sent a text to you the morning of, knowing you’d be packing up your blue Toyota, a quick ‘drive safe. I’ll miss you. See you soon’

Sometimes, after he’s had a few and feeling like talking a walk down memory lane he’ll pull up the text conversation between you and him. That morning he could feel the anger and hurt through the simple ‘thanks.’

To your credit, you tried to do the long distance, tried the phone calls and text messages but Eris had already let you go at that point, and when you had texted ‘coming home for thanksgiving. want to do something?’ He didn’t even let himself feel happiness at the prospect of seeing you again, he didn’t even answer

By that point he has forced himself to move on with some girl who’s father his own father was close to, and so when you stumbled into him while grocery shopping, he watched your face harden and your eyes turn to ice

He could tell how much you hated him, and that was the end of it, maybe before that but when asked when it was officially over, he’d point to that moment

He never heard from you ever again

And like those months before, he felt like he should’ve reached out to you, to apologize and take everything back

But like before, he didn’t know how, didn’t know what to say, so he left it go

So now he does what he has to do, he learns the family business, prepares to take over the business and watches you from a distance

He isn’t himself, his father and brothers may not notice as much, but his mother can see and can see the hurt and sadness he carries with him

He drives around at night, through the surrounding town and areas, reliving every aspect of your relationship, of happier and simpler times, back when he drive a 10-year old Chevy and you liked blasting the radio way too loud

He doesn’t let himself hope for a happy ending with you, he knows that time has passed, but he hopes that you are happy, he hopes that with every one of his likes on your photos and with every unsent text message he types out to you

He knows he won’t be happy without you, but he hopes you are, because you deserve to be happy, even if you can’t be that with him, here

Knows it’s too late, no matter what his mother might try to tell him, telling him he’ll regret it all if he doesn’t at least try

He hasn’t had the words for 6 years and he’s unsure if he’ll ever find them

But if he ever does, if he ever lets himself be somewhat hopeful, he knows you’ll be the first person he’ll text

But for now, he just drives and wonders what you’re doing now, what you’re thinking about, and if you’re okay

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses headcanon #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar modern au

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to get revenge on the people who ruined me?

…I used to be worth something. I wasn’t perfect— far from it… I know that now, but I… I was good. Even though I wasn’t easy on the eyes. Even though most people didn’t like me. Even though I was a tad selfish. At least I had a friend. At least I tried my best to be kind.

But they took all of that away from me. And for that, I’ll never forgive them.

You see, I was Queen once— of a country that hangs in the clouds. It wasn’t always easy… like I said: a lot of people didn’t like me, but at least I was someone. I was important. I did my job, just like I was supposed to.

It all changed one day when he got me a gift… my best friend that is. He didn’t know it at the time— neither of us did, but there was something dark and evil inside of that brilliant mirror, and it soon decided to use me.

Dark forces warped me from the inside out, slowly distorting my perception of reality and even my feelings. I began to become a caricature of myself— nothing more than a selfish monster. I became paranoid, then self obsessed. I killed the rest of the royal family, terrified they’d try to take what was mine. I began to terrorize my people, and even mistreat my best friend. I stole countless bodies, making them own in a desperation to become perfect somehow, all the while the forces in the mirror watched on and SMILED.

You see, I was a pawn. The goal was…- well, I think it was something like “if we can get a queen under our thumb, then we can use that to vie for control of her world.” That was power they wanted, and they were willing to throw me under the bus to attain it.

Eventually, I was beyond saving. They distorted me so well and truly that I was practically unrecognizable. Running on only blind instinct and egomania at that point, I had the ruler of a foreign country kidnapped, senselessly tried to kill the man who was once my best friend, and then attempted to murder everyone both in my country and the foreign country.

…Needless to say, they put me down. The ruler of that country, his companion and my friend, that is.

I should be gone. But I’m not, thanks to him. That… that foolish, naive idiot! I can’t believe what he did. Still refusing to give up on me, even after everything that happened, my friend sook Death out and found a way to resurrect me, insistent I still deserved a happy ending.

Death ensured I was in my right mind again, but there was only so much it could do to mend me overall. I was and am broken. I always will be after what happened, I think.

My friend explained what happened, reassured me it was all okay now, and took me home. He said I’d be alright— that none of what happened before was my fault, and now I could finally be free.

But that’s not true. That’s not true at all.

First and foremost, my body… it’s hideous. Always shifting, at any given time it’s something between my despicable ‘true form’ and my monstrous Frankenstein’s creation. If you saw me, you’d gag. I can’t stand to look at myself. No matter how I appear, I always see someone evil staring back at me in the mirror. Someone who’s as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside. I hate her.

A few of my friend’s companions— ones far better than me, hypothesized it’s because I don’t know who I am anymore. As such, my sickening, parasitic body doesn’t either, and merely improvises in a futile attempt to capture ‘me.’

And saying I no longer know who I am is correct. I’m not just a stranger in appearance. It feels as if the girl I used to be has long since died— replaced by a callous monster. I remember it. I remember everything. I’m still touched by it, even having been ‘made right.’

I recall killing my family. I recall subjugating my people. I recall abusing my best friend, and I recall just how much JOY I felt doing it. He says that I’m not respond for any of that— that I wasn’t in my right mind, but I know that was still me. My innermost, darkest, sick and twisted desires. I’ll never be able to wash the blood from my hands.

Constantly, it feels as if I’m followed by ghosts. My skin writhes— and I swear I can feel my victims tugging at my limbs, demanding I return what isn’t mine. These hands… I don’t recognize them. I don’t recognize anything about myself. When I think about it too much, I get sick.

I’m broken. I’m ugly. I’m evil. And the people who made me that way have names and faces.

My friend… had actually met one of them. Sickeningly, they shared a mutual friend. When he learned what this person did (long before I returned), he attempted to get revenge himself, but was stopped by the group and reprimanded. He was told that the person who destroyed me— the person I’ll call ‘D,’ could still become a better person, and that he deserved as much a chance as anyone to improve.

Ahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHA.

D wasn’t the mastermind, to be clear. His king, who I’ll refer to as ‘DM’ was. DM is the person who corrupted me. DM is the one who made it so I could no longer love. But D was still an accomplice.

He watched on. He watched on, and made sure I was spiraling properly. When his master ordered it, he’d whisper suggestions in my ear.

Having come to terms with how unsalvageable I am, I decided I needed to make them pay.

D occasionally leaves his domain in the Mirror World, while DM doesn’t, so I started with the former. I ambushed him, took him down and took him hostage, hoping to draw out his master by forcing it to come save him.

But it didn’t even do that. Of course it doesn’t. I was imbecilic to believe something like that could ever care about anyone. D was just a puppet, too… it didn’t care if I disposed of him. It would just find another.

I was devastated. All my work, and I couldn’t make DM suffer. The anger overwhelmed me. Someone had to pay. I decided if it wasn’t him, then D, as his accomplice, was the next best thing.

I viciously attacked D and fully intended to torture him, but was caught in the act. My friend’s companions became aware of what I was doing and stopped me by force. They told me I’d done something evil— that D didn’t deserve that, and was trying to do better, just like I was.

In what world!? HE made me this way! He and his worthless master are the reason why I’m broken now… why I’m evil! How can it be wrong to punch back?

They’re why I’ll never be good. They’re why I’ll never be happy. They’re why I’ll never be a good friend. They’re why I’ll never be beautiful.

I’LL NEVER BE BEAUTIFUL. I’LL NEVER BE BEAUTIFUL. NEVER! NEVER EVER! THAT PERSON KEEPS SAYING I AM, BUT I KNOW HE’S LYING TO ME. HE THINKS I’M DISGUSTING. HE THINKS I’M A MONSTER. HE’S AFRAID OF ME. EVERYONE IS!

I’m worthless. I’m worthless and I’m broken and I’m SICK.

…Was it really so wrong to try and break the people responsible for that in return?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[jebewonmorelike]

The Baby Project (A Series)

(part two) (part three) ~ coming soon! wc: 1.2k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: light swearing, angst, ricky is not too nice in this chapter, the premise is raising a fake baby together, i don't think it's suggestive but that is the premise so if you're uncomfy with that then you have been forewarned! this will get fluffier and funnier like my other works with some angst mixed in summary: ricky and ex-friend!reader are forced to put aside their differences in order to successfully complete their assignment of raising a baby (simulator) together; chaos ensues. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ SURPRISE! it's a short series. I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS PLOT. of course, all credits of the actual concept of "the baby project" go to that popular story on the app episode from a couple years ago lmao. this will probably have about 3 parts i think and i'll keep them all short like this so its digestible-- it seems to be people prefer this. i love writing ricky in an academic setting, it just works so well for him. :) thank you as always for reading!

"Ow," you mumble, hand reaching to rub the spot on the back of your head where the sudden pain was felt. You look to your left, an eraser on the floor beside your desk that hadn't been there before. Behind you, a familiar snickering sounds and you turn around to glare at the culprit.

Ricky smiles back at you smugly, eyebrows raised as if he's challenging you to make a fuss. But you know better by now than to get into it with the tall, blonde boy-- white, collared shirt unbuttoned at the top and red, striped tie loosened fashionably around his neck.

It hadn't always been this way. You study his smile, trying to find any remnants of warmth hidden beneath the cool surface. How did someone once so familiar to you become suddenly unrecognizable?

You turn back around to face the front of the classroom, picking your pen up and doodling in the margins of your quiz that you'd completed only ten minutes into the allotted half-hour. A few months ago, Ricky would have been done with his quiz early too.

Now he doesn't even have to take it.

Carefully, you glance over your shoulder again at the boy who used to be your friend. You watch as his group of popular friends joke with him in the back of the class, a pretty cheerleader passing him a small piece of paper with a shy smile on her face. Ricky smirks at the note as he unfolds it, putting his pen to the paper and writing a response before passing it back to her.

You're watching him so intently now that you forget that you were trying to be stealthy and you're only reminded when his eyes meet yours unexpectedly. All of the air leaving your lungs, your eyes widen in shock and your cheeks heat in embarrassment. Ricky narrows his eyes at you suspiciously and you turn back around as quickly as humanly possible.

"Pens down," your teacher announces, signaling a chorus of frustrated groans from your classmates who weren't able to finish the test in time. She collects your tests-- clearing her throat disapprovingly as she passes Ricky, who undoubtedly hands in another blank paper for the umpteenth time this semester.

After Ms. Seo places all of the tests on her desk, she returns to the front of the classroom and picks up a marker from the whiteboard. In big red letters, she writes:

THE BABY PROJECT

A wave of curious whispers flows throughout the classroom as everyone turns to their friends to figure out what these words could mean. Your brow furrows as you try to work out what project you could possibly be assigned that had to do with babies...

"I have some very exciting news to share today," your teacher announces excitedly, clasping her hands together under her chin. Ms. Seo is one of those teachers that's incredibly invested in learning and desperately wants all of her students to share the same passion-- and when they don't, they're in for some serious consequences.

Though there were apparently exceptions to everything.

"This week, I received word that our class was approved to participate in The Baby Project!" Ms. Seo exclaims, waiting for the class to react. When all of her students just stare back at her blankly, she sighs. "Maybe you kids are too young to remember when our school used to participate in this several years ago. The Baby Project is an assignment in which two students will work together for two weeks to parent a newborn baby together!"

The gasps and protests that ring throughout the classroom are deafening and your overly optimistic teacher bounces on her toes jubilantly, mistaking the roars of outrage for enthusiasm.

"Yes, I know: it's all so exciting!" Ms. Seo exclaims, walking over and retrieving a large box from behind her desk. She drags it to the front of the room and opens the top to reveal:

"WAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Ms. Seo pulls what appears to be a baby doll out of the box, clad in a little teddy-bear-printed diaper and screaming bloody murder.

"Do you wanna be my partner?" You hear the pretty cheerleader from earlier ask Ricky behind you. After a long moment, you hear Ricky laugh flirtatiously in response and you have to work to keep from audibly scoffing.

"Yeah, I'll raise a baby with you if you want," he jokes and the way his friends react boisterously paints the scene for you without having to steal a glance. You roll your eyes to yourself at Ricky's newfound "rizz" (or whatever). You knew for a fact that, at least before this semester started, he hadn't even had his first kiss yet.

Of course, by the looks of it, that probably wasn't the case anymore.

"Pairs will be randomly assigned, regardless of gender, and you will receive one baby simulator that you will be responsible for parenting for the next two weeks," you teacher explains, cradling the screaming doll in her arms until it finally quiets down. "The baby is monitored carefully by an internal computer system that will record specifics such as care events, abuse, temperature, and clothing changes."

"The baby will begin to fuss at realistic intervals throughout the 24-hour period and you will need to figure out the baby's particular need in that moment in order to calm them," Ms. Seo says, reaching into the box again and pulling out a baby bottle, as well as two onesies and a little cap. "This bottle contains a sensor that the baby simulator will recognize and the thin onesie and the thick onesie and hat provided will have to be used depending on the baby's temperature."

"How does this sound to everyone?" Your teacher asks excitedly, to which she is met with another outpour of outrage. "I'm so glad you're all just as eager to start this assignment as I am! If there's no further questions, I'll announce the pairs for our project."

You look around the room nervously, not sure who you'd like to be assigned as your partner for two weeks. If you were being honest, you didn't know anyone in your class very well...

Except for Ricky.

Being assigned the boy that hadn't handed in an assignment for three months for such a time-consuming and painstaking project would be far worse than being paired up with a random peer. You nod to yourself, exhaling deeply as you try to convince yourself that working on this project with a stranger might not be so bad. Maybe you could finally make a new friend.

"Our first pair is... Elizabeth and Ally!" Ms. Seo announces happily, waving for the girls to come up to the front to receive their baby simulator. The girl named Ally holds the baby by one arm and Ms. Seo stifles a scream as she rushes to position the simulator correctly in the student's arms.

Ms. Seo laughs nervously. "You kids are gonna be in for a rude awakening! Our next pair is... Eungi and Sam."

The process continues of your teacher calling the project pairs and the students receiving their baby simulators. Your leg shakes with anxiety as you look around the room to see who hasn't been called yet. There's a girl to your left that you think is named Marissa who had smiled at you a few times before...

"The next pair is... (Y/N) and--," Ms. Seo squints, seemingly unable to make out her own handwriting as she draws the paper closer to her face. "Oh, I see now..."

Smiling, she calls:

"It's (Y/N) and Ricky!"

#zerobaseone #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone ricky #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone drabbles #zerobaseone angst #zerobaseone fluff #zerobaseone series #boys planet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet imagines #bp999 #bp999 drabbles #bp999 imagines #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop #bp #boys planet fics #boys planet x reader #bp999 fics #ricky #zb1 ricky #shen ricky x reader #shen ricky drabbles #shen ricky imagines #shen quanrui #shen ricky #zb1 angst

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school