#I hope I make sense because I'm tired and I'm trying 🥲 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

python333 · 8 months

Note

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies.

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook.

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted.

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything.

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him.

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed.

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies.

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first.

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died.

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn.

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm.

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in.

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics.

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here?

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you.

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them.

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline.

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly.

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat.

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you?

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge.

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired.

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to.

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite.

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air.

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything?

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something.

That’s Ghost.

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing.

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you.

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold.

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door.

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky.

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again.

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused.

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise.

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly.

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out.

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions.

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying.

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so.

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth.

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

—

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago.

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open.

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks.

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk.

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.”

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.”

“You get asked that often?”

“I only get asked that by you.”

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?”

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat.

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?”

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].”

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Then stop trying to sass me.”

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.”

“Isn’t that what you are, though?”

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.”

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.”

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up.

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.”

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down.

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.”

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed.

“You’re too stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly.

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder.

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.”

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—”

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.”

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk.

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—”

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him.

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?”

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation.

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.”

“… No you’re not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly.

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.”

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him.

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?”

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!”

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!”

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.”

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.”

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.”

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.”

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.”

“You find them funny?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.”

“Some of them are pretty funny.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The Mayflower one.”

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?”

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?”

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?”

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?”

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything.

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips.

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin.

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go.

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.”

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.”

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…”

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.”

“Good to know,” You nod.

“But that’s only a hypothetical.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.”

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed.

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.”

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude.

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

Note

Just re-sending this ask/request! :D

Hello !! Just dropping in to say hi and maybe ask a request (I feel bad 'cause I might be swamping you or annoying you with requests TvT)

Hope you're feeling good today!

And I just wanted to share something that happened to me (might be a good idea for a fic tbh 🥲 especially a platonic Larissa x student! reader). So there's this competition that I joined, my english teacher mentored me. I was very confident with my skills, and she really believed in me a whole lot (She saw my entry for the competition and gave me a thumbs up, that's a really good thing). When the results came out, I lost. We were both confused, because we know I had a great chance in entering the top ranks but welp just have to deal with it.

When the results came out, I was busy answering some worksheets. She came up to me and asked if I was okay, and she told me that the results came out. I was laughing out my nervousness, and when she showed me I didn't know what to say. She then immediately hugged me and told me it was okay and she was still proud of me (she really brought up my mommy issues that day. All throughout the day, until the awarding program, she comforted me. Received tons of hugs from her and it makes the pain of losing a bit better really.

I'm sorry for rambling hajdbchd again I hope you're okay!!! Sending lots of love and hugs <33

- 🦝

Proud of you sweetheat| h&c

*Authors note~ I hope I do this some justice and I'm so proud of you for putting yourself out there*

Trigger warnings~ none?

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Larissa had been working with you recently to further the clear skill you had for literature. She knew you were fairly real rounded with English but your favourites were poetry and creative writing. She couldn't help but suggest you for the creative writing competition coming up, she knew you had a clear talented and wanted to help build your confidence in your abilities. She had every faith in your submission , after all she'd been reading over it to help with your thought process and brain storming.

Larissa watched how hard you worked, desperately trying to find the idea that felt best. The smile you wore the day you came to her office to inform her you knew what your submission was. Then she was able to watch you turn a rough plot into a beautiful story. Your proud but tired smile the night you finished your story and presented it to her. It was truly a joy to watch someone as talented as you work. You were practically beaming when Larissa gave you a thumbs up and a smile after reading your work.

Result day, you anxiously waited to be called to her office, but Larissa Weems was on phone call after phone call trying understand how on earth you'd lost to someone from Jericho high, she felt their entry was lacking compared to yours and truly she felt that this could be some sort of prejudice due to you having abilities. But even after all the phones calls she came up blank, they were adamant that it was all fair so she had to let you know despite how much she knew it would break your little heart.

You were called to her office around lunch time and immediately you sensed the mood due to your ability. "I didn't get it did I?" You whimpered and you received a sad nod. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" She knew it was a loaded question and attempted to keep her feelings neutral to help your ability. Your face feel which caused her to immediately come and hold you close. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry I don't understand why, I've been trying to figure it out all morning." She murmured stroking threw hair as you accidentally projected your disappointment and sadness at the woman.

"You will always be my favourite palm tree and my favourite writer, when you get that book of your published I want a copy, and when you become all famous I hope you remember me and know I'll come to every signing to show you my support. I couldn't be prouder of you and I have so much faith in your ability darling, never give up." Her words rang around your head all day, anytime she could she would find ways to comfort you and reminded you of how much she enjoyed your stories.

Word count~ 761

Tag list ~ @enchantressb @fortheloveofaproditesblessings @medeaswifey @scream-queenlover @larrisalessopet @briennethebeautysstuff @xx-state-of-mind-xx @i-write-sometimes-maybe @farahtissaiamyloves @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes

#v3nusxsky answers #anon answered #fanfic #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #weems #weems x reader #anon requested #🦝 anon

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sicjimin · 10 months

Note

AU where yoongi is a famous rapper and jimin has a normal job and yoonmin are exes who meet after almost a year of breaking up when jimin is pregnant but hasn't told yoongi because they broke up because of yoongis career.

But then yoongi supports him through an episode of morning sickness and jimin realises that he NEEDS him and yoongi genuinely wants to support him too so they get back together?

Is this too elaborate of a request 😭 I'm so sorry

a.n : another very .. old .. request have been fulfilled 🥲 im sorryy again it takes so long, i hope you're still around anon .. AND This is a very long one (25k words). I even considering to make this into 2 parts as i got carried away and yeah .. the story dragged on. in part 2 will be Yoongi takes care of Jimin during his morning sickness, more like a drabble i guess. i dont know if this story makes sense bc im afraid the longer story goes the more like rambling i got going on there .. (and i havent write the part 2 yet, so im open with any suggestion about what kind of morning sickness episode that jimin is going thru, and where (maybe) bc i feel like ive been using lots of scene ab morning sickness, a fresh idea would be very welcomed 🫶)

⚠️ a long read ahead ⚠️

tw : mpreg, emeto. (lots of it), most of it with detailed description of vomiting

Jimin should have known—should have realized and learned from his past 3 years long relationship with Yoongi, that the older is smart, meticulous, and attentive ; especially towards him. He should have known that even after a year going with minimal contact, his Yoongi won't change too much. He would still be Yoongi that always keeps his gaze towards Jimin—carefully trailing every single of his body movement, with hands ready to catch him if he almost fall after laughing too much, or if he trips over his legs, or if Jimin's glass of wine already empty but he's already curled in cozy on the couch, or if they sit close enough and Jimin starts to feel sleepy ; it would be ready to trace the younger locks, gently massaging his scalp because he knows it would help Jimin fall asleep, or over his arms ; rubbing an absent-minded pattern that would instantly melt the knots in Jimin's muscles after a long day.

Jimin should have known that. And should've been careful with his act—or Yoongi would catch up on it. On things he had been trying to hide, even make Taehyung and Jungkook swore to secrency.

But it's hard.

It's hard when his friends cologne starts to mixed with food, making a weird combination towards his already sensitive nose. And it doesn't help that today was the day that his baby want to act and make his lives harder.

So he only sighs, tired .. and not thrilled about the conversation that going to happened as he found Yoongi outside Seokjin's bathroom door—Jimin doesn't want to think how long he had been standing there and probably has listened to him, to his gross gag throwing up his little lunch.

"Are you okay?", Yoongi asks, gaze trailing over Jimin's head to toe, making Jimin squirms uncomfortable as his hand secretly curled more possesively towards his middle. Hoping the dim light of Seokjin's bedroom and his loose cardigan and shirt combo would conceal his protruded belly enough. He's still early, it shouldn't showing a lot .. right?

"How long have you been here?", Jimin rasps, as he walks passed him and sit on the edge of the bed. Throwing up always left him a little bit dizzy, and for some reason, a whiff of Yoongi's cologne—that he used to love years ago—is making his stomach churn a little.

Yoongi walks slowly, a little hesitant to approach the younger. "Enough to hear you ... throwing up?"

Jimin sighs. He can feel that his baby isn't done. "I'm fine .. just today lunch not sitting well", he mumbles. It didn't sound convincing at all, but Jimin hopes Yoongi would let it go—along with him, maybe back to their friends in the living room ; so he can bring back his senses to normal and finish his "morning" sickness peacefully. But the hopes went into vain, as Yoongi takes Jimin's silence as an acceptance to sit beside him. His cologne waft in a small breeze as he plops into the soft mattress, and what he said before heightened the growing nausea, "Tae said that you have been sick a lot .. you sure it's only food not sitting right?"

Jimin scrunched his face, eyes squeezing shut as his brain torn in between wanting to murder Taehyung or run to the bathroom as saliva starts pool in his mouth and—"Uurrk", a gag escaped his lips, as Jimin tries to keep it down but couldn't as nausea was starting to rise. "Sorry", he croaked out, muffled under his palm before he run back to the bathroom. This time barely managed to close the door, as water already rushing pass through his lips before he even settled himself properly in front of the bowl.

"Uurrkkk—", a bigger wave of nausea rushed through him, and he threw up again in the toilet. "Oh my gosh."

He could almost feel Yoongi hovering behind him, worriedly patting his back like that mother hen, while muttering some words of comfort that Jimin didn’t bother to listen—his stomach didn't let him anyway. Only 2 heaves thats productive, mostly bringing out water, but Jimin still feel nauseous—like there's something bigger needed to out. But he doesn't know what.

He just feel so queasy, and it's annoying.

Yoongi stopped rubbing his back, as Jimin peels away from the bowl, resting his head over the seat. "Is there anything I can do?", Yoongi asks, as he quietly tidy up the younger's hair that falls and sticks over his forehead. He looks so pale .. and it clenched his heart.

"No ... i still feel nauseous", Jimin mumbles tiredly, grimacing as he coughed wetly and spit up a mouthful of watery vomit. "Gosh ..", he can't help but groans.

"Water?", Yoongi tries to offer, but it feels like a wrong one as Jimin shakes his head and immediately gagged without getting anything up. "Don't mention food or drink", he scolds after the wave passes.

Yoongi nods, pulling himself away slightly—not wanting to upset the sick male even more. They sat in silence for a minute or two. Jimin coughed a few times, keeping his face aimed into the toilet. And Yoongi was only there, watching how Jimin keep aggresively rubbing his stomach, and how his heart would leap if some of cough morph into a wetter gag ; his instict to jump in motion and ready to pull his hair back and pat his back.

"You don't have to stay here .. you know", Jimin breathes out, barely can keep his eyes open too look at the latter. Every words feels like it was hard to utter, heavy and laced with sickness. Yoongi is worried—something is definitely wrong with his Jimin. "Namjoon hyung must've sear—", his words cut off as an intense wave of nausea comes, leaving him with a long, deep belch, and puke showered into the toilet. He began to cough again, gasping for breath. "Fuck ..", Jimin curses.

"Are you done?", Yoongi asked as he stand up, quickly wiping Jimin's chin clean with his sweater sleeve, avoiding the spot that Jimin spat, and took out a tissue to wipe the puke down. Jimin felt a little guilty at how Yoongi had wiped his mess, and that made him want to cry a little. "Want water?"

Jimin shakes his head, blew his nose, tossed the tissue into the befouled toilet, and flushed. "No .. i don't think i'm done yet. It will just come back up", he mumbles quietly. "You really should go back. They must have been searching for you. I will join in a minute", Jimin said, waving away the hand that tried to touch his shoulder.

Yoongi frowned at him, looking like he wanted to say something but decided against it. "I can go get an anti-emetic suppository, if you want," he said, completely ignoring Jimin's words. "Jin-hyung also must have something for stomachache"

Jimin's eyes widen. "No ..", he hisses, loudly than he expected. He coughs a little. "I already took one before coming here. It doesn't work today"

"Today?"

Jimin nods, taking a deep breath. "Can you open the window a bit? The smell is trapped here", he said, gesturing to the toilet. His throat was starting to feel like sandpaper by now. Yoongi opens the window, letting a cool breeze flow into the dorm, which seems to relax Jimin further.

"Don't think too much about it", Jimin mumbles tiredly.

Silence washes over them. And Yoongi feels awkward by it—he keeps looking over the younger, that currently counting his breathing. "You want to go to the doctor?"

Jimin scoffs, "Already went", he answers, and finally opened his eyes, locking gaze with Yoongi—and it was a fault as it's almost makes him want to breakdown and spill everything. "Stop fussing over me hyung .. i will be fine"

Yoongi sighs, rolling his eyes. "Stop pushing me away"

Jimin didn't get to retort back as nausea coming back. "Fuck ..", he breathes in, hoping that it would quell the wave so he didn't have to throw up. But he still propped himself back over the toilet, shoving Yoongi a little, that was sitting near to it. "I'm going to throw up again", he mumbles, feeling a lump forming at his throat. He closed his eyes again and hung onto the toilet seat as his body shook with a violent heave. Thick torrents of vomit showered into the water. Jimin paused, belched loudly, and threw up some more. "Hyung ..", he chocked out mid heave. "My stomach hurts"

The response was immediate, as Yoongi's arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulder, and Jimin's fingers that been gripping the seat pelled away, changing with Yoongi's hands. "Breathe .. it will be over soon, and you will feel better", he murmurs softly, stroking the younger's hair. Jimin barely can register everything as he's fighting with the ringing and pounding all over his head, along with the turmoil in his stomach, as he rocked with shuddering retches—chunks of vomit fell from his mouth and splashed noisily into the toilet again and again.

It takes him few minutes and tons of Yoongi's reminder to breathe and comforting words, before the heaving tapered off, leaving him exhausted but feeling slightly better. This round was more intense than the first, but over more quickly. Yoongi quickly guided him to rest against the bathtub and brought the younger a cup of water to rinse his mouth and flushed as he spit it back out. "Thank you ..", Jimin hums , closing his eyes for a moment before slowly opening them again, feeling dizzy still, but at least not nauseous anymore.

"Let me drives you home", Yoongi says, trailed behind him as Jimin stood up on shaky legs. A sudden tug at his arm made Jimin flinch before glaring at the older, who was already holding onto him tightly. "Please?"

Jimin could only sighs, all of his energy already flushed down the toilet, all he wanted to do is curled in his bed after drowning his morning sickness pills. He couldn't even dare to imagine how it would be sitting in his ex car and being sick on top of that. What if he throws up again in the car? No .. he can't let Yoongi saw him like that ever again. "No, dont ..", he answers, and immediately feel guilty when he sees Yoongi visibly deflates. "Just .. call Tae here, please hyung? I will go home with him"

Yoongi frowns, obviously confused but nodded anyways. Jimin could tell that the elder was reluctant, but he knows Yoongi won't push him. "Okay .. rest and wait here", he says, and Jimin nodded silently before plopping to the bed, closing his eyes as exhaustion creeping up to him, while he listens to Yoongi's footsteps and the closed door.

***

"You and Yoongi hyung WHAT?", Jungkook shrieked, his sandwich that already halfway going to his mouth halts in the air. Jimin rolls his eyes, before giving the youngest pinch in his arms, causing him to yelps. "Hyung!"

"That's you and your boyfriend fault", Jimin sulks, taking a sip of his pregnancy milk in his tumblr and biting a little of cookies. That's all he managed to eat today. His morning sickness hasn't eased up yet. "I already told you that i'm not feeling good, but you insist for me to go"

"Sorry hyung ..", Jungkook pouts, chewing down the sandwich, as he realized that their lunch time is limited. "You know hyungs always want us to be complete as seven .. Namjoon hyung about to leave too, you would be sad if you're not seeing him, right?"

Jimin sighed. Jungkook is too cute. "I know .. it's just .. you know, i'm afraid that Yoongi hyung might know", he mumbles quietly, looking down to his stomach, and rubbing it gently.

"Would it be so bad if he knows .. hyung?", Jungkook asks carefully. "He's still Yoongi hyung .. you know he won't do anything ill to you and the baby. He would feel happy", he continues.

Jimin shrugged, "Happy? Or he would cursed me out and keeping us secret as it would damage his career"

"You know hyung won't—"

"Hyung won't .. but his agency?", Jimin mutters softly. Jungkook's lips form a thin line, his eyes darken. He knew what that meant, but there was something stopping him from telling Jimin this. Something that stopped him saying 'don't' or 'you'll regret it'. He knew that Jimin wouldn't give up on Yoongi.

And vice versa. They just need to talk, but they both so stubborn.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, "Just .. tell him hyung. It doesn't have to mean or laced with anything. It's better if he knows from you, not from anyone else", he says, putting a little emphasis on the last two words. "We are all friends.

Jimin gives him an unreadable look, then nods. "I will remember that, Kook, thank you", he smiles, ruffling the younger hair before standing up back to the counter.

"You need help?", Jungkook asks, patting the sandwich crumbles off his apron as well, "No, it's fine", Jimin waves him off, and starts welcoming the customers as the bell above the door ringing.

***

Jimin thought he was fine. The calculated and small portion of food he consumes today, along with his prescription shouldve make him feel fine. But maybe because it was hot, and customers went in and out so fast this afternoon, he starts to feel bad.

Jimin huffs.

His feet hurts from standing for too long. He starts to feel dizzy and queasiness also building up. A whole package. And like how the world likes to play a joke on him—Yoongi's song blasted through the convenience store. "Can you change it", he hissed, glaring at the youngest that strolling around the counter as his tasks in the back already done.

"No .. maybe the baby would recognize his father's voice", Jungkook giggles—and Jimin about to kick him on the shin but another customer comes barelling their groceries.

"Can you take over for a little", Jimin breathes out as the customer leaves. The shop is empty now. His dizziness has started to become unbearable. He feels nauseated again and his chest heaved as if he needs to puke again.

Jungkook frowns, "Are you okay hyung?", he asks, immediately standing up and circled his arms around the older waist ; guiding him to sit on the small stool. "Dizzy .. and nauseous as usual", Jimin smiles weakly. "It's okay, i just need to sit down a bit", he mumbles, leaning against the cabinets as he starts to count his breath. Jungkook frowns, looking worried. "Should I get Taehyung?", he asks, and Jimin shakes his head. "No, don't"

Jungkook take a last look on him before another customer coming again. Jimin tuned himself out from all the noises around him. His stomach demanding too much of his attention. He keeps counting, breathing, but it feels like his baby wont compromised other solution than throwing up, as his mouth starts to feel bland and thick with saliva.

Jimin huffs, starts to fumble around searching for a bag to hold. Their bathroom is a bit far, he doesn't know if he could manage to walk there, and the nausea is almost unbearable now.

"Hyung", he hears Jungkook calling out, and Jimin turns towards the voice. "What are these for?"

"I think i'm going to puke", Jimin whispers, trying hard not to throw up on the floor. It feels as though his insides suddenly turned sour; his throat feels dry and his mouth tastes foul. He swallows roughly, and looks into Jungkooks wide, innocent brown eyes. "Want me to accompany you there?"

Jimin shakes his head, his fingers starts to hover around his lips as his throat growing tighter with every words he utter to answers Jungkook. "No .. hyung will be fine. Someone need to be here, shop still packed", he replies, his voice cracking. Jimin tries to swallow again. The urge to vomit becomes strong. "I will be back", he hurriedly says before quickly making a dash towards the bathroom, clutching tightly at the plastic bag he found earlier.

Just like what he predicted, his stomach fails to hold on as he only few steps away from the bathroom hallway. He was at the end of an aisle for something—he barely can acknowledged tons of products around him—when his stomach jumps, causing him to gag ; wet and immediately productive as his cheeks filled with milk he drank earlier. He panickly look around, before shoving the bag over his mouth when it's empty of people around him. He bends his body down to hide himself under the aisles as he gurgling out gush of milk mixed with vomit, waiting for the wave of nausea to stop hitting him. He was really sick.

His ears ringing, as his focus tunelled down into his stomach that preparing itself for the next wave, when someone crouched beside him. "Jimin-ah?"

Jimin opens his eyes, to see Yoongi hovering over him, concern written all over his face, even though it covered with mask and head down baseball cap he loved. "Are you okay?"

Jimin gasps, shaking his head in one move as taking a deep breathe—barely can utter a proper answers when his stomach rolls, forcing more of its content down his throat until he feels his legs wobbling. He tried to stand up—he knows that he's not finished yet, and throwing up in the aisle is gross— but his legs were wobbly, almost gave way, so he clutched to the man beside him. "Bathroom", he mumbles, biting down his lips from spilling his stomach content yet again.

He loves how fast Yoongi reflexes is, as he immediately make Jimin leaned most of his weight towards him and guided them both to the bathroom. Jimin feels like a mess—Yoongi barely open the stall open when Jimin already lunged forward and leans over the toilet bowl. He rocked slightly back and forth as waves of nausea swept over him, heaving up more of his last meal. "Jimin-ah .. breathe .." Yoongi murmurs quietly as he sighed and continued to rub his back as it jerked with one violent heave after another.

"Gosh ..", Jimin moans after vomiting the last of the disgusting things he ate, letting Yoongi push him back as he holds onto the rim for support. "Thank you," he muttered as his legs start to give in, his legs trembling uncontrollably and his body feeling extremely light. Yoongi took out some tissue and wipes Jimin's cheek. "We need to go to the doctor, Jimin-ah .. you thrown up a lot. And don't try to argue me because this is the exact condition like 2 days ago, and you definitely not feeling any better"

Jimin head is fuzzy. He's exhausted. The firmness that laced thick with desperate worry in Yoongi's voice didn't help his emotion that already on rollercoaster. "No .. i just want to go home", he mumbles, letting his head droop over the older shoulder and let him taking most of his weight again.

It feels good. Being in Yoongi's arms feels good.

"But—"

"No .. take me home. I can't stand anymore longer. I will tell you at home, promise", Jimin mutters against the fabric of his shirt. As always Yoongi doesn't push further, simply wraps Jimin's arms around his neck while carrying his feet, holding him close. And although Jimin isn't comfortable yet, somehow he feels completely safe, like he belong here. In the arms of the person he trusted most.

***

Jimin almost makes Yoongi turn around and drives them to the hospital, as he ended up throwing up again in the car. Only 15 minutes of driving. "Jimin .." Yoongi sighed as he takes the soiled bag and tossed it in the garbage in front of Jimin's apartment, waiting for the younger to get out of the car with a little energy he had left.

Yoongi clenched his fist—wanting nothing more than scooped the smaller man in his arms and help him upstairs, tucked him safe in his bed. But that would be crossing the line, right?

"Sshh .. you're fussing too much hyung", Jimin chuckles weakly, and Yoongi swooned. It feels like all the anxiety and adrenaline being washef off—how could someone still looking so pretty with pale chapped lips and after throwing up a lot?

"You look like you might pass out anytime soon, Jimin .. of course i will be worried?!", Yoongi scoffs, quickly wrapped his arms aorund the latter waist. "You want me to carry you up there? I have been working out, i think i can handle it", he offers—borderline serious and joking—and Jimin huffed, "Shut up hyung"

***

The conversation is put on halt—as Jimin immediately passed out, claimed by exhaustion and sickness after Yoongi peeled him off his work clothes, making him take his medicine, eat and refresh himself a little ; and Yoongi didn't have a heart to demand anything from the younger now .. or ever. He would definitely wait until Jimins is ready to tell him what's going on—he just need a vague answer, just to put his heart to calm, and he would be content. Another detail could wait ; wait until Jimin let him in.

Yoongi stares at the muted TV. It's almost 9pm now, and Jimin still fast asleep. He contemplates to make dinner and wake the younger up, but he feels like sleep isn't what Jimin get properly these past days with how sunken his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. So he decides to put it off, and staying the night. In case Jimin needs him—he will deal with his anger later, if Jimin really despises him that much.

He just can't staying at home but being constantly worried sick about how Jimin is doing.

Yoongi sighs, pulling himself up as he strolls around the apartment. It's still familiar. Nothing really change, not even the guest room. It's all still the same as a year ago, before Yoongi take his warmth from here.

The only thing that feels foreign for him is sleeping on the couch. It's weird, and cold. And reminded him a lot of what he's here for. Just as a concerned friend. No longer a boyfriend that takes up the right side of Jimin's bed.

Yoongi takes another deep breath, sunk in himself deeper into the couch, and play with his phone to stop himself going downward spiral until sleep comes claiming him.

***

Yoongi didnt know when he was asleep, or how long it has been asleep. Maybe it was 2 hours or longer .. everything feels fuzzy. One thing he's sure is, the sun is not up yet.

He frowns, groaning as he feels his muscles ached from curling on the couch. Brain trying to work with force as it's still laced with sleep about what makes him wakes up, now.

Then he got the answers.

Yoongi heard someone coughing in the bathroom but didn't think all that much of it at first. He stays still, his sleepy brain trying think who and why they are coughing. It didn't take long before he heard the toilet flushed, which again was weird.

He jolts from his seat when the next thing he heard was coughing that grew more intense, and he suddenly realized that it wasn't only coughing. Someone in the bathroom was also retching.

"Jimin!", he yelps, hurried over the bathroom down the hall and almost slams the door open. He hurried over and opened the bathroom door.

There he is.

Jimin is squatting in front of the toilet, one arm wrapped around his belly and one hanging onto the seat. His shoulders shook with a hoarse heave, and he heard liquid pouring into the toilet.

"Jimin-ah .. what's wrong?"

Jimin looked up to him with glassy eyes, before shaking his head weakly and turn his attention back to the bowl—gagging quietly without getting anything up.

Yoongi sits still, tucking the younger hair back and tracing his arms up and down the younger spine that covered with sweat. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know", Jimin huffs. His breathe rippling the clear water. "I just woke up and ran here, thought would throw up but—mmm", he leaned over again, stomach curled inside as a gag echoes through the small room. This one brings a trickles of water, mixed with yellow bile that makes Jimin grimaces.

"You're empty .. there's nothing to bring up", Yoongi mumbles quietly.

"I know .. but eating something also ..", Jimin shuddered, his head bowed back, sitting more straight as he belched and drooled. "Fuck .. i feel awful", he curses, hands curling tight around his middle.

"Do you want water?", Yoongi offers, "It might help bringing something up, or you will hurt yourself"

"Mhm", Jimin breathes out, "A little"

Yoongi ruffles his hair, before standing up and fetch water from the younger nightstand. He winces when he heard another gag from the bathroom. Jimin stomach was basically empty at this hour, but that didn't stop his body from trying to empty it further. A thought of bringing him to the doctor flashed through his mind again.

"Here ..", Yoongi waits until Jimin stops swaying with nausea. The younger shakily takes the glass—only 2 gulps, and he shoved the glass back to Yoongi, as he lurched with a gurgling heave, and a flood of mush poured out of his mouth. "Hyung ..", he choked out in between, hands blindly searching for Yoongi's, before he gagged hoarsely for awhile, then ejected a shower of water again. There's nothing solid that he brought up. The flow stopped after just a few seconds, and he was left gasping and moaning once more.

"Better?"

Jimin shakes his head, curled over the cold tiles—that send Yoongi into a panic, "Jimin! What are you doing?! Let's get back to your room!"

"No ..", Jimin groans, "I still feel sick ..", he paused, a sour burp escapes his lips that makes him shivered. It feels gross. "I dont have energy to run back and forth. And bucket even makes me feel disgusting. I can't move .. dizzy and i think i will—", he quickly sits up and shallow gags echoes again, but nothing more than saliva dripped from his lips. "Puke if i move ..", he breathes out.

Yoongi swallows, his hand brushing away the sweaty curls away from the older face.

"Okay .. i will bring your blanket and pillow here. But can you tell me what's going on?", he asks carefully. "I'm really holding myself back from dragging you to the hospital, Min .."

Jimin snorts weakly. It sounds like a chuckle that is supposed to be laughingly, but instead came out as a strangled whimper. Then he took a shaky breath.

"Hyung.. i've been keeping something from you, haven't i?"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #and again another mpreg fic #sick!jimin #caretaker!yoongi

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skellagirl · 4 months

Text

I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.

2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.

Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.

I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.

(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)

From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.

But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.

So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.

#art vs artist #art vs artist 2023 #my art #skella's ugly mug #I actually did an art vs artist in 2021 but I only ever posted it on facebook lol I wasn't confident enough to post it anywhere else #purple and orange/yellow continues to be my favorite color pallet apparently #sorry not sorry for being sappy on my own blog <3333 #long post

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 2 years

Text

Whump Intro

Hi, hello!

Um, I’ve been avoiding this intro bc I am a shy awkward hermit that usually just lurks and likes stuff, but that doesn’t really work on Tumblr so here I am! Plus I wanted to use Whumptober to force myself into sharing my writing and figured it might be useful to introduce myself first.

You can call me starlit, or anna, or hey you, I don’t really care lol. She/her pronouns. I love reading fantasy & fantasy romance, writing, and playing RPG video games when I have the time (usually fantasy based-are we sensing a theme here? 😂)

Before we get to more about me nonsense-

Acknowledgements!

Shout out to @i-can-even-burn-salad

For beta reading for me and then being brave enough to share her stories with me. And for sucking me into Tumbler lol. And for talking to me all the time and making me laugh. And for being such a great person. <3

I love her writing and stories so much. Please, please, check her writing out. It's worth it, I promise! Bring tissues though!!

Best internet friend ever trophy, where is it? I need to send it… oh, there it is. Here you go, Elli! 🏆🎉💜

I haven't had the opportunity to check out many other blogs yet, bc someone has such an extensive back catalog 👀 😂 but tagged below is the one I have read. I devoured Traces in one day because it was so good. Highly recommend!

Traces by @whumping-in-the-wings - Thanks for writing such a great story! Can't wait to see what happens next :)

(Obligatory disclaimer: heed the warnings. They are well-tagged.)

I've got my eye on several other blogs once I have a little more time. Hope ya'll like spam likes/reblogs/comments, bc I'm a bit enthusiastic 😂

Ok, back to me, I suppose. Under the cut 🤣

I tend to use emojis excessively, but don’t expect me to know the meaning of them beyond face-value expressions. I shamelessly claim elder millennial status as an excuse (which means I’m 18+, obviously).

I’m audhd (combo autistic/adhd), but I didn’t find that out until earlier this year, so I’m still very used to tiptoeing around people and holding myself back out of self-preservation. Working on that though, bc I’m tired of that shit.

Erm, also… fuck is my favorite word. If you don’t like foul language, I might not be a great fit for you.

I joined Tumblr about a month ago, so I am still learning and ask for your patience. (I will probably be learning for quite some time, tbh) If I’m doing something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.

Asks are welcome, although not sure what you would ask me lol. With asks, keep in mind that I’m literal as fuck and context is everything :D

As is fairly common from what I’ve seen in this community, I’ve daydreamed whump for as long as I can remember, and it’s nice to:

1. know what to call it 🥲

2. find someplace where I don’t feel weird about getting it out of my head and putting it on digital paper. Well, not quite as weird haha.

I’m super nervous to post on here, but that’s what I’m here for, so… deep breaths 😶

Likes:

*Fantasy whump

Magic w/ consequences

Captivity

Torture/punishments

Restraints

Dub/non-con

Emotional whump/angst

Defiant whumpee

Breaking whumpee to the point of hopeless despair before building them back up again

Revenge against whumper

Creepy/intimate whumper

Named characters

Recovery arcs, bonus points for romance <3

Eventual Happy endings after copious amounts of suffering

I write what I like, btw. I have written explicit romance previously, but I’m not sure if I will here.

I will try to be diligent with my warnings, but as those are new for me as well, I may miss some. Please let me know if I do and I will fix it! (within reason, don't ask me to tag something like sadness. that's a typical emotion. extremes like depression, yes. sadness, no.)

* Disclaimer: I will only ever write fantasy. I prefer to read fantasy as well, but I have made exceptions when I get the tropes I want :D

Squicks:

I’m willing to try most anything once.

In general though, I tend to avoid cannibalism, major character death, hard-core conditioning, whumper redemptions, bad caretakers

I’m excited to join the community here and looking forward to participating in Whumptober! I have no idea how well I’ll keep up since I only decided to write for it 3 days before the event, but I’m willing to try 😅

Even if I can’t keep up during October's events, I do plan to finish the storyline and there will be a happy end :D

Fuck, this got long. Sorry!!!

See you all around! 💜

#whump intro #whump introduction #whump writing #whumpblr #whump #whump community #Nice to meet you all!#I can't believe I'm actually posting this and committing myself to something 😶#this is a rarity lol #don't ask me how long it took to actually click the post button #also don't ask how many times I read my own intro 😅

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prince-kallisto · 9 months

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I have a theory/semi-question about the displacement of students that would have occurred when ramshackle shut down.

If it happened during the last 20 years, wouldn't someone have mentioned it in the story? Like, as an off-hand comment. "Ramshackle fell into disrepair 20 years ago. Caused a lot of issues for us with all the displacements" kind of comment. A lot of historical events that happened within the last twenty years are still talked about a lot, especially at schools. At one of the schools that I went to, during the seventies, one of the teachers died (fell down a flight of stairs), and we still actively talked about that (I went to the school mid 2010s).

I think what might've happened is that the dark mirror just slowly stopped sorting students into ramshackle until it eventually had no students at all, but I definitely think it was over a slow period of time, a long time ago (90-70 years). And then because no students were there, it fell into disrepair. I don't think ghosts are too unnatural or unexpected at the dorm, they already work in the cafeteria and Crowley or some other teacher might've asked them to stay at ramshackle to scare away the students because the building was so ruined that it was a concern for student safety.

I also do not think I agree with your theory about that one ghost dying in his 70s-80s. Unless he was a teacher at NRC there'd be no reason for him to feel attachment to the place, at least not attachment enough for him to go there when he was dead (ghost). My own personal theory that I would like to hear your thoughts on is that he sustained an injury (perhaps playing spell drive) that ended up killing him. He might've been in a coma first which would explain his destroyed vocal chords, and thin figure. Him calling himself an elder might just refer to him as being born a long time ago (over 100 years).

I really like your theories, and they're written in a way that makes you want to theories yourself about everything.

Sorry for any poor grammar or confusing sentences, English isn't my first language and I'm a bit tired:)

Hope you have a good day<3

Yes, this is very interesting! \(//∇//)\ Thank you, I try my best to write my theories in a way that provokes discussion? I always get surprised at the amazing idea other people have, so I like sharing ideas back and forth with other people. It is why I put a lot of images from where I found my “evidence,” so people can use them to draw their own conclusions ✨

Anyway, I agree with your concern! This is also something I was wondering about, because you’d think that such a scary place like Ramshackle Dorm, which is on the main campus, would have many rumors surrounding it. Similarly, this is the problem I have with Crowley. Isn’t it strange that the headmage of such a prestigious academy has no rumors surrounding him? Why doesn’t anyone gossip about his magic, his power, or even his strange clothes? Or even the fact that he’s a Fae and has been headmage for at least 100 years? The lack of Crowley rumors is honestly why I didn’t worry too much about the lack of rumors with Ramshackle’s abandonment- it just doesn’t seem natural that no one would talk about either of them. But it is a very good point, I wish they talked about Crowley or Ramshackle more, at least in the vignettes 🥲

That’s an interesting idea! 👀I never thought of the possibility Dark Mirror slowly not sorting students in Ramshackle Dorm. It still begs the question on why the Mirror would stop doing this, but it’s something I cannot answer due to the lack of information we have :( But this idea makes a lot of sense! Perhaps the Mirror didn’t see anyone’s souls as worthy anymore for Ramshackle? I like this possibility!

That’s also a good point! I don’t remember who said this, but it is confirmed that besides Crowley, Sam and the teachers, all of the other staff members are ghosts. However, the Ramshackle ghosts are unique in the fact that I think they don’t actually work at NRC. Crowley can summon them if he needs help, like he did in the prologue to teach the students about blot. To be honest, I feel like if Ramshackle was deemed too dangerous, the school would simply shut it down instead of using ghosts 🤔 NRC students don’t seem like the type of normal kids to be that afraid of ghosts haha! The only time ghosts were really a threat were in Endless Halloween because of possession, but the Ramshackle Ghosts are pretty harmless. They also don’t speak or behave like students who died in their youth, so I think that even though they’ve only “haunted” the dorm around 30 years ago, I do agree that Ramshackle must have been abandoned much earlier! The ghosts are just now used to cover it up, but you can tell it’s a lie because of the inconsistencies with their age.

So many interesting points! ^_^ Thank you, I hope you have a good day too, get lots of rest haha \(//∇//)\

#kallistopost #ask kallisto #ramshackle dorm

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

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This is a highly controversial question that could probably get me canceled on this website so I need to be careful with how I word this but please, PLEASE, explain to me why you use they/them pronouns? Is it even rude to ask that?? A little bit of background so you can understand where I'm coming from PLS DON'T COME FOR MY NECK JUST YET BUT I live in Eastern Europe and everything is very conservative here, everything, people are still stuck in the 19th century when it comes to the LGBT community and whatnot. I never knew people used they/them pronouns until I first joined Tumblr back in 2017 and for YEARS I was just like "Ah, ok cool, I'll just call them that. I don't really know and understand why people pick these pronouns but I feel bad for not calling them something they don't like." There are always special snowflakes online that use the pronouns to gain some sort of attention (be it good or bad...) but there seems to be a genuine number of individuals that uses them for a reason, not just to gain petty internet attention or whatever. I trust you so that's why I'm asking you, I'm still a little in the dark when it comes to these things, I hope you see where I'm coming from 🥲

JDKAOWOQO OH NO ACTUALLY I FEEL LIKE MY ANSWER IS MORE CONTROVERSIAL HAHAHAH–

and huhu you're not rude at all!!! I totally get what you mean when you get this feeling that people are doing it for attention huhuhuhu

I feel so flattered that you trust me but I have a feeling I'm not the right person to ask this... um... I use they/them mostly because I just wanna set boundaries, that's all hahaha ;;---;;

"... that's probably the most boring answer you could give huh ansytea" yEAH WELL IT'S THE TRUTH AND I'M A BAD LIAR so yeah this is my honest to God reply

First: I don't want to explicitly give away too much of who I am in the internet like what's my real name, gender, country, etc. I feel like it's not safe at all considering this is a dark content blog huhu. The internet's pretty dang scary. Cuz doxxing and all that...

But I think I can understand where most people are coming from when they use they/them pronouns, they just don't feel like they belong in a certain standard of masculinity or femininity– or at least they feel like they exude both sides enough.

Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm nonbinary at all. All I know is that I'm ace and possibly aro. I have a name that's more common to the opposite gender than "what's in one's pants"– and I feel a strange disconnect with the gender that's given to me?

My reasonings are going to be very specific so it wouldn't really apply to everyone who uses they/them pronouns huhu:

I was raised knowing that my parents wanted me to be the opposite gender since I'm their second child haha. I always end up on the other gender's list when the teacher does a rollcall my whole life, and everytime I introduce myself it's always "Oh I thought you're a ____ because of your name!" and maybe I'm just a weakling but it kinda bugs me to the point that I go "... yeah I wish I was a ____ too."

I don't feel like a boy. I don't feel like a girl. I don't know where I belong between those two sexes and there just comes a point where you're tired of just trying to please whatever perception people have of you? Hahaha I am NOT making sense I am so sorry miss ana 😭

I'm from a very conservative country too so there are times I feel like I'm not feminine/masculine enough compared to people my age and (admittedly) I get a bit irritable/hurt whenever people force those standards on me lol. I just wanna live life without all those things, I guess. It's tiring hearing those aunties say you're not good enough and that you should look more aesthetically pleasing to get the attention of the other gender like auntie I'm asexual I don't wanna get hitched–

I'm honestly fine if people assume that I'm a boy/girl online and call me by other pronouns lololol, but will I ever actually admit what's my assigned gender? Probably not unless we're close my comrades and haha unfortunately I used to have a tendency to trust easily. I feel comfortable being called they/them, and that's just how it is lololol

Ajeioaoa ughhhh im so frustrated that my response probably isn't helpful because I can't explain it myself the only thing I can give you is my experiences ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ yejakeiaosooaoa iM SO SORRY FOR LETTING YOU DOWN–

#ansytea-talks #sioaiaoa I don't think im the right person for this but this is my genuine reasoning!!!#DON'T WORRY ABOUT BEING CANCELED CAUSE IM THE ONE WHO'S GOING TO GET HUNTED DOWN BASED ON THIS REPLY

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allforafro · 4 months

Text

in today's live report more emoticons, because somehow I could not find the right words

There are also a few sentences taken out of context, the meaning of which I no longer remember

but I hope you like it anyway

3.10

Eclipse? I wonder if that will make sense

I think you have a lot in common

You make a great partnership lol

Good question. why is it always her? give her a rest

Lock her in a cell

aww 🥰 it's nice to watch peter and nathan's interactions, the tenderness, care and love between them is good

Yes! the Petrelli brothers duo steps into action

this is terrible

why does he need these organs? probably science

his hand yuck

Mohinder, you really thought that Arthur was interested in helping you, to me it looks like he only wants to use you

whatever

I understand that daphne has concerns about what arthur might do but i think she should tell matt the truth

they came to them 😆

we will all die. don't dramatize it, probably only some people will die

I get it, sometimes Noah's need for control and protection is terrible

I wonder if they will be waiting for them in this house?

how is he going to read his mind if he doesn't know Japanese

🥲

I try to be responsible. I guess so, but telling dad everything every five minutes sounds like a lack of trust on dad's part

Xd elle

NO!!! bad sylar, killing is bad

sylar is traumatized after being almost killed by a group of heroes

monster 😳

yuck! spider web or other stuff

It's good that they talked about it

I don't know why but I feel like Arthur underestimates Nathan and treats him like a pushover or something

I wanted to ask who's side Tracy is on, but it's probably obvious that it's hers

hostile eclipse begins

what?! what he is doing?

it's disgusting but at least Mohinder looks sexy again

It took Arthur and Mohinder a long time to figure out what the eclipse was about, but it only took Peter a moment, clever

it's better to go as the map shows

this scene is funny when matt tries to use his ability

brothers' quarrel

the Haitians got tired of waiting for them so he found them himself

there is no power 😏

you should have practiced more

claire no

exactly matt even without powers you can be her hero

listen to Peter and help him

I hope they don't do anything to Nathan

why no one wants to listen to Sandra, this woman makes the most sense in this family

she has trouble walking

you have always been, idiot, the powers did not make you more, grow up at last

will he kill them? We'll find out in the next episode

3.11

you think well peter

it's not power that makes you a hero peter

and they just had sex in an abandoned house, it's kinda weird

he shot her

traces of blood

noah the hunter

well said

I guess I should take it more seriously

why is he looking through this book backwards?

Did he think it would change his point of view?

with big people who had power it usually turned out that their paranoia was justified

dang don't let yourself get burned, mo

let yourself be helped daphne

I'm not surprised, I think so too

I'm not surprised, I would also be skeptical

that's right, noah is better than you now

but has he really changed for good?

😭😭 don't break down claire, no!!!!

hunter vs. hunted, just who's who

are you trying to deal with him with psychology?

hopeless, his daughter dies and he wastes time on revenge, I understand he is angry but he should be by her side now

is he dead?

she died no 😭

the eclipse ended and they regained their powers

listen to him daphne matt is right

what will happen to peter?

yes, nathan came to his aid

I doubt you can cope against the Haitian's ability

and everything went back to what it was before 🥲

he doesn't believe it but he's a comic book salesman, what wouldn't you do for money?

jokes aside, good motivational speech

the best day of your life

ok, I had to calm down for a moment, I laughed at this exchange between Noah and Sylar in the Bennet house

it happened, the truth had to come out, the truth usually has that, you can't escape from it

bad man, save the cheerleader, hiro is brilliant

he gave the sketches to the courier, things get interesting

I understand where Nathan's idea comes from, it's actually not that bad, but how can you be sure that you will give the powers to the right person - a good one?

I doubt arthur wants to help people for good intentions

that's right mohinder, no medicine will help you fight your dark side

why don't you tell him the truth

you don't trust him?

wtf! where did you get this nonsense gabriel, people can change but it requires constant work on yourself

why did you kill her? 😭 bad sylar bad, -50 points to liking character

ok, what's next?

3.12

hiro is funny

if you don't know what's going on, it's better to stick together, otherwise without hiro you won't be able to get back to the present

wait, if I understand their conversation correctly, doesn't hiro's mother mean that she is the catalyst, wow

so they gave the catalyst to claire, right?

healer

scene when they talked together in the same time was funny

I wonder if he recognized him

good that at least the phone works

he set her on fire, at least he gave her some burial

From what we have seen so far, it seems that Arthur is willing to sacrifice everything to achieve his goal

yeah, he has a vision that you are president (flashbacks to five years gone) this is definitely your place. I don't know why but I feel bad for Nathan

random, well that's usually the way it goes in genetics

of course it has to be a super soldier project, sigh - a classic

how adorable

Claire has a good hand with kids (whispers, is that how they say it in english?)

scenes with little Claire were adorable and had me smiling the whole time

cake? seriously, you couldn't come up with anything better

war is a terrible thing

less wind, good

it was obvious that he would want to escape

don't show touching scenes because I can't cry when I'm sick

he trusted her, oh noah, even if you don't know that you are talking to your daughter, you somehow feel your connection

no, she will help him and die 🥲

at least she died knowing that hiro had reconciled with his father 😭

I've only known hiro's mom for one episode but I already love her

There's nothing wrong with wanting to save your father, peter

random thought - what if arthur isn't the dangerous threat

ok, the elevator scene 👌

where did he come from?

we have a problem

At least he's alive, although in his current state I don't know if that's that much consolation

I can not look at this

I'd also be afraid to take medicine from a mutant guy

oh shit

Maybe it's just me, but I feel like they were a bit lame in getting rid of such a powerful character as Arthur. but on the other hand, how else would they do it? well at least peter didn't kill him

strong

3.13

Petrelli brothers another clash

good thing peter hit him, this plan has many flaws, how can nathan not see it

atmosphere like in a horror

he will keep them locked up until only one of them remains

your motley crew has little chance of defeating him

this text was great claire

in a sense, yes, but not necessarily, not definitely, you are different

but he's not there

yes, hiro pigeon will help you

interesting twist

I like that Matt has grown into the responsible one in the group

I hope wishful thinking works

little hiro and big hiro are a nice duo

no, this part is the worst only for you

Sylar is such a baby 🙄

these psychological games are interesting

Doyle - shudders

oh that noah

ok, officially matt, daphne, ando are the best team of the season

red lightning?

Oh my gosh, he can kill from a distance

How will they survive this?! someone help them

the word you are looking for is jealousy. admit to yourself that you envy him

what power does he have?

well, if she runs fast enough, she will be able to go back in time, like flash - if they read comics, they would know that

so ando can supercharge others' powers

lol I thought it was him who grabbed her hand, damn this episode is great

I know I'm stating the obvious here, but Sylar, you know nothing about love

what did you expect

uff, good thing they made it before Hiro's father cut him

he apologized to her before he hit her

why do they have to fight

peter used the formula on himself to save nathan 🥹

Angela tries to manipulate the situation until the end to get out of the situation alive

Damn she knows what to say

nathan villain arc

I can't wait for the next part

#too many characters to tag #heroes review #nbc heroes

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