#i remember sometime earlier this year or last year even when i'd remember that certain event
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Unpopular opinion: I really don't like "Adieu". The text. When I first heard it I thought is this the last song of a Schlagerfestival? "Adieu, goodbye, auf Wiederseh'n"? Srsly? This must be a joke and they sit at home and have a laugh about it. Paul "Det schrapelt dann dicht am Schlager vorbei" Landers votes for such a Schnulze? I like their ballady stuff because they don't make them cheesy and the texts are idk not just stating, not using the most obvious but painting a picture (I read it being compared to using chiffren which I remember from school). "Adieu" just feels so plain and schnulzig, just words with nothing to it. But I have to say that I find many of the newer texts lacking. They may be more refined but for me miss this spark, this inspiration the earlier texts had.
Well...i don't know if it's a really *un* popular opinion, but indeed a lot of people seem to like the song, and imo it really works well live as the closer of a show. Not all songs that work on an album work on stage, but this one does.
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But i get what you're saying i think, usually Rammstein songs have a sort of extra 'layer', either because the lyrics have a certain twist, or the music does that...personally (but this will come as no surprise) i like the Rammstein 'ballads' that turn up the guitars and drums at some point and for me that really elevates it to something special
Like Frühling in Paris (especially the 2012 version, with the later live versions they join in later)
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or indeed 'Ohne Dich' which paints a great picture (as anon puts it) by itself, and the video adds even more
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That said, i kinda like Adieu, although i'm still looking for the full meaning of the video (here at least the video provided a twist 😊) but it's definitely a sing-along, and yes, i can see the 'Schnulze' (tearjerker, maybe we should start a useful Rammstein fan dictionary 🌺) part of it... It obviously passed the Rammstein democracy, and although they all have equal say in it, i doubt anything would get on an album if feisty Paul really didn't like it 😇
Maybe they are getting a bit more open to less anger/provocation with age...and maybe that's only natural (i don't think they would have taken to the balloons as much 30 years ago as they do now), and maybe it's a by-product of the Covid period...friends and loved ones passing away (like Schneider's dad did between the Untitled and Zeit albums)
Rammstein evolves every time we see them, remember when some of them (definitely Flake, but i think others too) commented on thinking it really 'yucky' to do the 'let us see your hands' 'clap along to this" kind of songs...and yet, 'Ich Will' and 'Du Hast' are two of their biggest songs, and always popular with the live crowd (and about both fans complain that they are...'not Rammstein', often meaning not as 'angry' as on the first album).
The first album was 30 years ago, so it's a good thing they aren't still stuck there, or (worse) in the Mutter era. As much as the band evolves, their music evolves with them, it's still Rammstein, but Rammstein at the age they are. That's one of the reasons why i'm glad Rammstein do relatively few covers, because imo their own songs work so well, because they are unmistakingly theirs.. 🌺
That said, i do agree that the texts are sometimes a little bit less layered on Untitled and Zeit; on Untitled i had a feeling there were more texts with just single words, than flowy sentences. On Zeit the song itself, my feeling was that that came back again (i love Zeit the song), but i don't have many warm feelings for f.i. the lyrics of Zick Zack and DT, as fun as they are to yell out loud, those miss a little bit of that spark for me.. 🌺
But like i said, i do love 'Zeit' and f.i. 'Meine Tränen'...for that last one i'd love a video, as i think it could be a follow up to Mutter (this time with all of them in it)
And i ❤️ that we got the Zeit album in the first place...knowing Rammstein, that wasn't so evident in the first place 🌺
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Drawings
Just a short little fic for funsies. Let me know if you have any requests, I'd love any feedback you have!
It was your junior year at Hawkins High and you were sitting in your history class listening to the teacher drone on and on about something. You were too busy drawing in your notebook to pay any attention to the teacher. You had always loved drawing but lately, you had only been drawing one thing…or rather one person.
You couldn't help it, he was beautiful. Long wavy hair, big doe eyes, and lips that were just perfect. Even though you had never spoken to Eddie, he was your muse. Every day he was doing something that inspired you to draw him. When he was in the cafeteria talking to his friends he would throw his head back in laughter or when you would walk down the hallway and see him and his friends playing their games he would be sitting on a throne looking very focused. Everything he did was beautiful and needed to be drawn.
Being caught drawing Eddie was never really a concern. You sat in the back on the opposite side of the classroom. You could angle your notebook in a way that no one could possibly see it, no worries! What you failed to notice was a certain blonde bully who was seated in front of you turning around.
“Hey! Can I copy your math homework? I got busy with pract…is that Munson?!” He nearly shouted the last bit.
Everyone in the room turned to look at you, including Eddie. You packed up your things quickly and ran out of the classroom despite the teacher’s protests. There was no way you could deal with any of this right now.
Stopping at your locker you put your books away aside from your notebook full of drawings, that one you put into your purse, and shut the locker. You made your way out of the large metal doors at the end of the hallway.
It was a nice spring day out so you decided that you would walk out to your favorite drawing spot. It was secluded and no one ever really ventured out there. There was a table out in the woods that was the perfect place for some peace and quiet.
You unpack your notebook and pencils and begin to finish your drawing from earlier. You often got lost in your own world when you were drawing so it wasn’t surprising that you had completely lost track of time. You figured this out when you heard footsteps coming up to the table.
Looking up you see those beautiful eyes and that glorious hair. It was Eddie Munson. You hurriedly close your notebook to try and prevent him from seeing what he already knew was there.
“Were you really drawing me?”
“Um…well I…”
“I took art with you last year, remember? I saw some of your work then. I’d really like to see some more! Especially if you drew one of me!”
You could have died right there. But now you have to choose, do you show Eddie your work? The drawings of him! Or do you deny it and run? You knew your face had to be completely red at this point.
”I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I came out here to handle a deal but I can leave right after.”
“No, I’m fine. Sorry! I just haven’t ever been really comfortable showing anyone my drawings. Especially not when the drawings are of that person, ya know? Here, this is the picture I was drawing earlier.”
Eddie took the notebook in his hand. He was impressed. The picture was great. It was him looking out the window holding his head in his hand. He looked so deep in thought, you just had to draw that scene.
“Wow, you’re really good! This is me?! Do you have anything else?”
“I do, just not with me. I finished up my last notebook yesterday so this one is brand new, only one drawing so far!”
“Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime?”
“Definitely.”
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So.
Today is my Rebirthday.
And I have a story to tell.
(Of which the first half is very medical, just a fair warning. If discussion of surgery and related things makes you uncomfortable, don't read the rest of this post.)
One year ago, at about the scheduled 1:30 pm, I had woken up from my anesthetic-induced slumber. But the only thing I could see was the inside of my eyelids, I hadn't regained control of my body just yet.
A voice I vaguely recognized from before going under was calling out to me from somewhere far away, "Wake up! Snowy, wake up! The surgery is over."
And with those last words, the mental weight which I had carried for as long I as could remember was instantly lifted. Despite still being trapped in my own skull, unable to see or feel anything outside, I felt a sudden mental clarity.
Anxiety caused by seemingly nothing? Gone. Depressive, self-deprecating thoughts lingering at the back of my mind? Eliminated. The general physical discomfort which I felt every day of my life? Quashed. I could think without interruption or negative influence.
Despite the drugs I was on my mind felt clear. Perfectly clear. The mental clarity I had gotten from taking Fluoxetine a few years earlier now looked as effective as shining a standard flashlight through thick fog. (Although at the time it very much helped.) Even a year later, this clearness of mind is still with me.
I'd noticed a very metallic taste in my mouth and a soreness of throat, which reminded me "Oh yeah, they said something about putting a tube down my throat, didn't they?" Right away, breathing felt difficult and my chest tight. Not because of anything in my lungs but because my muscles protested moving and my skin felt like it'd been pulled taut. The nurses instructed me to breathe slowly and steadily, which I understood the point of immediately. But I didn't feel scared, I was actually a little excited to be awake.
When I regained more control I'd noticed I was crying, which wasn't unusual. I always cry whenever I pass a certain pain level, even if I cannot feel it because of painkillers. This newfound freedom was so strong that I did not feel sad, panicked, or even hurt. I was able to calmly say to the nurses trying to comfort me that I was only crying because that's just my body's reaction, I actually felt very calm.
After the initial recovery, I was wheeled back to my room. The nurse turned off the lights and told me to sleep for 15-20 minutes to let the rest of the anesthetic wear off. I almost told her I couldn't because I was wide awake. A new chapter in my life had just begun. I was finally free. I could not contain my happiness. There was no way I could sleep now. I could hardly keep my eyes closed as those 15-20 minutes passed by.
On the two hour drive home, I remember I just couldn't stop smiling. My Mom, being very much a mom at this moment, was still very uneasy and worried because I'd just gone through major surgery. But, speaking with a confidence I was not used to, I assured her that everything was going to be okay. In fact I felt better than ever.
I remember I had brought my Switch with me to play Celeste on the drive. On the way back I replayed The Summit, and reaching the top had felt more fulfilling than ever now that I had conquered my tallest mountain.
Now we fast forward to today.
Despite an unrelated, very dark time over last winter, I would say my life has only been improving since that day. Without the crushing weight of gender dysphoria on my back at all times, I've just... felt better. I know. Crazy, right? But it's so much more liberating than I had ever anticipated when I had asked my doctor about the surgery.
I can often just... do things. Things which I've been putting off or avoiding for years, sometimes my whole life. Little to no resistance. I can simply sit down one day and solve a problem that's been bothering me forever. All because my mind is so much clearer. I can see the problem and the solution and immediately put my plan into motion. No more second-guessing myself for months on end. No more "I'll do it later" to things which should be done now.
Social media causing anxiety, depressive thoughts, or anger? I can just log off. I can just unfollow the person who keeps posting things that make me upset. I can even go outside for a little bit, maybe take a walk around the yard if I want to.
I've finally brought fruit and veggies into my diet, and I can't properly express how nice it is to finally eat a meal and feel FULL and SATISFIED. Or to drink the amount of water which I need and not just stay thirsty because I don't want to get up and refill my water bottle. Or not delay getting in the shower or brushing my teeth because then I'd have to look at myself. Or to look at a piece of clothing in a store, or on someone else, and say "I would look good and FEEL good in that."
When I introduce myself to people I do it confidently, as opposed to awkwardly, shyly, or even reluctantly. Which is great because (despite being an introvert) I love meeting people and learning more about them. I feel confident in who I am, which is something I've only just gotten used to. Sometimes it actually startles people a little bit lol.
The list of ways my life has improved is longer than I can put here.
I feel happy being the person that I am.
I feel like I'm living a far healthier life, both mentally and physically.
I have never felt more empowered and free.
Here's to making through the first year of my new life, and many happy, healthy years to come! 💖 🎂 💖
#snowy speaks#long post#text post#rebirthday#queer#transitioning#transgender#surgery#medical#hospital#agender#trans rights#trans pride#pride#celeste game#celeste spoilers
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Well, it's been quite a while, hasn't it? 2022 is trickling to an end soon, thankfully, and a lot has happened.
First, I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere and I'm surprised that I'm still getting foot traffic here. It's sparse, but it's there. So, for all the new comers, welcome. For all the old timers, thank you for still sticking around. I haven't posted much at all this year and I'm not sure when I'll make it a thing to post regularly again in spite of my earlier comments that I'd put in a bigger effort.
This year has been monumentally rough and because of that, I've taken a big gap with my practice and I can't really remember the last time I've engaged much with it. I actually made my first offering in what I think has been a few months just half an hour ago. It feels nice, especially with the rain. It's something I would like to do more often, but having a new cat has made it hard since she's taken a serious liking to the altar and we have to keep her from climbing on it - which has been stressful on my end.
I'm doing my best to get by, which I guess is all that matters and I know this is something that we as a community talk about a fair amount when it comes to spiritual burnout and the importance of making your needs a priority. The Gods aren't going anywhere anytime soon, so take time to focus on your own healing - they understand.
I feel like with where I'm at, I feel my relationship with the Gods has matured enough to a point where we can exchange glances from across the room and it be enough. The whole "Hey, I see you and we're good" thing, which feels more natural with Thor to me than anything else. I'm listening to a general devotional playlist I made again for the first time in months and it feels nostalgic in a way, like the warmth of a nice cup of coffee and a knit sweater. It's also a bit strange because songs that remind me of them (especially Thor) has been spread out more.
I mentioned it months ago with how sometimes, I'll look at a certain friend and somehow, I think about the gods; like how her mischievousness is the delight of Loki, her passion for art and music would make Odin and Bragi proud, her protective and loyal golden retriever energy is so much like what I've found in Thor, how fiercely badass she is and loves others (including her own healing) feels like Freyja, her love of life and compassion with death feels like the presence of Hel, and so on. That whole thing.
So now, if I hear a certain song that I connected to Thor over, I'm also reminded of her and how important she is to me. It's indescribable to be able to have that level of a connection to someone or something, and how it feels like overtime it's just aged like a great wine - and it's going to continue doing that. I hope that, if I'm able to, I can bridge those old connections again with the gift giving cycle and do more to get out in nature. I haven't gone on a long walk in a while and getting lost in the woods by our creek sounds nice now.
All that aside, this year has been full of change and stress: some of it good, some of it bad. It's been a tedious and intense process with doing all kinds of processing and recovery, and I don't think I'd be where I am now without her and my good friends to help me keep my head above the water. I'm still struggling, but they've been so patient, kind, and affirming with me - even if things like paranoia tell me they aren't, and they've said they notice an improvement in me that I'm learning more and getting better. It's basically been a lot with trauma recovery, getting diagnosed with PTSD, (likely) fibro, and I should be getting a call back this week regarding getting tested for ADHD.
Yeah, 2022 has been a lot. It's had so good though, quite a bit, actually. I've worked on more art this year alone than I have any other, I've made so many friends and built up a found family, I, of course have a new cat, and I'm hoping to have my top surgery consultation next year after struggling with coverage and paperwork problems for two years.
But, I'll leave things at that for now. I hope that everyone stays safe the rest of the year and if things haven't been going well, that the next two months treat you well. For those that celebrate it, have a great and safe Halloween, Día de los Muertos, and Samhain with those you love - even if they've departed. Just in case I don't get to say it in December, have a meaningful winter / summer solstice wherever you are. May 2023 treat you kinder than this year has.
Until next time,
Adam.
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Why does it feel like you can only find the courage to tell people how you feel without the fear and major risk of losing them when you're in a situation where you might die?
I'm just ruminating on shit a lot now and I'm fixated on how I'm absolutely sure that I'll never have it in me to open up to a friend about how much I care about her (beyond poetry, swapping music, and uplifting affirmations) unless it's me just waiting in for life-changing surgery. My health is a mixed bag and with how I have a neurology team working with me, this fear of something going wrong has only gotten worse ever since she came into my life. I'm thinking about a talk I had with my neurologist about how, even though I'm in the green, what our plan is if I need my MCA corrected. I was told I'm in safe hands, but like all surgery, there's risks - including the very real, but rare, possibility that he induces a stroke in me.
I'm ruminating on how I'm hooked up to my IV and I'm waiting for the anesthesia team to come wheel me back. I'm reeling in my mind about what to say, with my hands shaking as I text her to see if it's okay to talk before I go back like this might be the last time we speak or I possibly get to hear her voice. I just tell her carefully like I'm going through a field of landmines about how much she means to me and that I've been scared shitless about being more vocal because I get what she's been through and I don't want to lose someone who has changed my life for the better. I don't want to be a shitty friend who ever makes her question or doubt the validity of our friendship, like how some guys befriend women with certain intentions; especially queer women.
Guys, I can't remember the last time I knew what it felt like to see the sun before we started getting closer late last year or earlier this year. I could just breathe and be. When I was fighting my panic attacks and night terrors, thinking about her or just having quiet moments where she'd sing in our voice chat would almost instantly stop it. It's so much so that when she plans on going live, she'll tag me so I know because she knows how it makes me feel better - even if I'm ultimately the only one who shows up. I'm never not there to cheer her on and throw virtual roses at her feet. When I'd have racing thoughts at my throat or my inner demons were trying to drown me, everything would go quiet when we'd talk, share silly stuff, and just hang back. It would be like night and day, and even just thinking about it makes me want to just sob. I don't think there's enough space in Lake Baikal to hold all of those tears or heavy feelings. When I'm in her presence, I feel like I'm coming back home. I literally haven't felt anything like this in years, with the closest feeling I can compare it to is when I found my path to Heathenry and I felt like I knew the gods in another time or place.
We have a tight bond and we've had deep conversations before, where we're both supporting and uplifting each other. We've been called an old married couple by our friends in our community, which is damn cute and we have pet names for each other as a play on it. I can be having a cruddy day and when she calls me it, I start to feel my heart thaw and I feel so much better. Safer. Like, no matter how bad things are right now, we're both going to be okay. It's how she knows where a lot of my trauma comes from, so if she's ever out and about (like at work, a show, school, with friends, or whatever) and the weather is especially bad, she'll let me know she made it home safe - even if I have moments where I don't check in. It's just the little things that people otherwise wouldn't think about with friendships.
Does any of this make sense?
I'm trying my best not to shake with how worked up this gets me sometimes. I haven't had someone like her come into my life before and she's honest to god a once in a lifetime of a universe experience. I don't know how the universe, with all the combinations you can arrange its particles, came together to make her almost effortlessly. She's someone I'd blow up the moon for if she asked. I'd go literally anywhere to just be by her side, even if it's quiet company and not some big thing like a concert or supporting her in her work. I've been told that friends don't do this, so what do I know.
I don't want to forget what all of this feels like. I don't want to know what it means to feel this deeply or have a friend who has my back as I do for her. I think both of us being queer helps in a way, but I don't know entirely know why. I guess it's the solidarity and both of us not vibing with cishetronormative nonsense. She's been one of my best allies, I'm always telling her how sweet she and her crush are (plus how glad I am to know they have each other to lean on), and we both just have a weird sense of humor about queer stuff in general. Maybe I'm just in my head too much to see it. I wish I had a clue. I'm just heavy and tired. I'm heavy with feelings and thoughts that are pooling out of my hands and I want to tell her, but I can't. Not now. I know if not now, when. I know we'd never be romantically involved or anything, which isn't what I expect at all. I don't know what I'm looking for. I don't know. I just fear there's going to be a day where I feel brave enough to do it and something happens to her. Is there even a "platonic" way of telling this to someone?
Like, dude, if you'd be okay with it, I would like to go with you to the end of line. I'd love for me to be someone you can rest your head on, take your hand, and know you're safe. I'd love to be someone you can let your guard down around and know the anguish of your trauma is far behind you. I might not understand everything, but I'm willing to learn. If you feel like you're a handful, then fear not - for I have two hands! I'd love for you to find refuge and shelter in me as I have with you, always there to cheer you on or just be an ear to listen. I'd love to be someone to come home to after a long day, surprising them with their favorite take-out order or dessert waiting for them on the table that they talked about having cravings for all day. Do you need company or in a bad place? Give me like, nine hours, and I'll be on the next bus to you if I don't beg an Uber or taxi to drive me 300 miles to you. I'd be willing to conquer my fear of flying to come to you. I'd be willing to lay my life down for you without a second thought.
It's one of those things where I feel if she told me something similar or asked me if I wanted to be in a QPR, I'd say instantly say yes - only because I'm too afraid to ask her and just tell her what's on my mind. It would just be us taking our friendship to another place like it was a natural transition, nothing that would become sexual or "romantic" (which is fine for me since I'm sure I'm on the ace spectrum anyhow). It would be like almost nothing changed, but we just make more time for each other however we can given the distance until we can meet in person to do all the wacky stuff we want to do together. It's like our dynamic in our community hasn't changed, but in a way, it's gotten stronger - and our friends can see it. It's seen and respected like the love between our two friends is who are dating (the other "old married couple" of the community). I don't want to be her everything. I don't want her all to myself. It would be nice though to be her person, even if she ends up really hitting it off with her crush and finds she reciprocates the same feelings to her. She's just...I don't know. It's a lot.
I've been rambling for over an hour and I don't feel that much better. I just feel like I've worn myself out even more. Why are feelings and shit so hard and complicated? Friendships and emotions shouldn't be this intense to where your heart could burst out of your chest. It should be illegal. What the fuck.
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hi willow, i hope you're doing well! i'd like to request 19 and 24 for the ask game if that's alright ^^
oh, i hope you are doing well too, friend ! thank you for the questions, you're so sweet ! 🥺
19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?
✧ oh lordy ! the earliest i can remember writing is age 9; i used to steal the notebooks that my school classroom offered so that i could write my own stuff in them, and i would carry them with me everywhere ! i think my desire to write comes from seeing a certain media or story or concept and thinking, what would i do with that ? and so i want to write my own spin on things, and that's why i think fanfic is so fun for me, because i get to play around in a world already existing and bring my own ideas to life !
✧ as for bumps along the way — i've probably talked about this enough times that it's annoying LOL but i spent a lot of time in writing groups over the last few years, and while i will always credit them for giving me the motivation and kick in the ass i needed to try and put my original ideas on paper — it was also very damaging to my mental health LOL i think there are a lot of people that have a lot of opinions on writing and what is "good" and "bad", what is "correct", and that's fine, nothing wrong with that, but there comes a time when it's a bit too aggressive, i think, and i was younger than i am now and very nervous and shy and impressionable, and i really set what some people said to me in stone. for a good chunk of time, i was severely unhappy with my own writing because i felt like, no matter how hard i tried, i just wasn't doing it "right", and i wasn't able to squish it into this category and follow all these "rules" and i fully quit a story, walked away from its publishing date and all that i needed to edit, and spent an obscene amount of money on a cover that will probably never see the light — because i felt like i wasn't capable of doing it the "right" way.
✧ — and now i am here ! having more fun with writing than i ever have, creating things i love to share and am happy to put out into the world. i have a lot more confidence in myself as a writer, and i look at who i used to be compared to who i am now, and i think that me would be flabbergasted at the change that has occurred. so i don't regret my time with those groups, because there were plenty of wonderful things about them, but more importantly, the lessons they taught me creatively have completely changed me, in some ways. as for where i'm going, idk ! i have also said this before, but i have no idea how long i'll do this. no plans to stop in the foreseeable future, though i plan to focus on and release my own original works, one day. i have a fun, necromancy, weird-west story that i'm nervous and excited to work on, and i eventually want to return to my little elf boy that i abandoned, in all my fear, and i want to give him and his little family the story they were meant to have.
24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?
✧ hmm, this is interesting. i think it depends. i used to be a die-hard plotter, but i found that i was just spending a lot of time trying to figure out details that would maybe, maybe not make it into the actual text itself, and i would often burn myself out before even touching the first chapter. it's like, by plotting it, i've told myself the story once and so it doesn't hold as much interest for me, if that makes sense ? these days, i really enjoy discovery writing and just making shit up as i go LOL i said this earlier, but all my stories start as little here-and-there scenes in my daydreams, and sometimes — that's all they get. i also have a personal discord server that has channels sectioned out for excerpts and also categories for certain fics, that way i can save stuff there as it comes to mind, and it's really helpful because i don't always know where it's going to belong in the actual story. prep work can be really fun, i think, too fun, because it's having the joy of your creation without actually having to do the manual labor of writing it LOL sometimes i need to just get on with it, or i'll drag my feet forever.
#i met my bestie in a writing group and now we travel and do all sorts of fun things together#i made some really awesome friends and we played online pictionary and had movie nights and talked about our love for writing#i read some really amazing stories that might never make it out of my brain#by people i really cared about at the time#so the writing group wasn't all bad#just an experience to say the least LOL#✿ ask willow#✿ ask game#✿ refrog
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The Love We Once Shared - Chapter Two
Summary: Loving had never been easy, especially not in the lanes. But somehow you found it with the man of your dreams and it had all been perfect. Until it wasn’t
Rating: Silco/F!Reader - SFW
Warnings: angst, estranged lovers, slow burn, falling back in love
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
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Absently working on a client’s printing machine, you listened to your boss make small talk with the customers.
“With Silco in charge, it seems like everything is running… smoother than with Vander.” the customer said, tapping his hands as your boss rang up his order.
“I'd beg to differ,” your boss chuckled. “I liked the way Vander ran things. The streets were cleaner, not as much Shimmer. Shame ‘bout his kids though.”
You remembered hearing about Vander and his kids. You and Silco had already separated at this time, you working at a mechanics shop, him ruling the darker parts of the Undercity. Vander had died in the fire of a building which had, suspiciously, belonged to your estranged husband.
You remembered their falling out, a betrayal Silco refused to speak of. On occasion he would bring it up, but if you pressed for details he would clam up. Expectedly, of course - no one would willingly speak of their trauma, especially in the Undercity. You were the same, refusing to speak about certain dark nights spent alone in the orphanage.
---
Vander had always been kind to you. Even after his and Silco’s fallout, he would always wave to you as you came to drop off dues at The Last Drop.
“Do you think he’ll ever forgive you?” you asked one night as you dropped off a thick letter.
“You're his wife. I think you'd know him a little better than I do,” he said, smiling sadly at you.
“I suppose so…” you trailed off. “Do you think you'd want him to? Forgive you, I mean.”
“I don't know.” Vander admitted. “I don't think I'd be able to forgive him if the roles were reversed.”
“But don't you miss him?”
“Of course I do.” he said, a sad look in his eyes. “Every day.”
---
You felt the customer eye you as he left but ignored him, continuing to tinker with the printer. It wasn't until the end of the day you finally suspected something was going on. You felt eyes on the back of your neck, although you didn't see anything once you turned around. As you rounded the turn to your apartment, you listened to the rapid footsteps approaching. You rounded the corner again and pinned the figure beneath the brick wall.
“Who are you?” You hissed. It was the customer from earlier. “Who do you work for?” He remained silent, and that was enough for you. You knew who had sent him. “Go,” you said disgusted, exhausted from the day. He didn't move. “Go!”
As he left, you soaked in the annoyance the man left you with. Silco really didn't know when to stop. It had been more than three years since you had separated - left him - and he was still grasping onto any small semblance of you.
As much as you ignored the fact that he had the resources to find you, you had always been surprised when he utilized them to find you. After all, you weren't that special, weren't you? And every time he found you, you made an attempt to escape. It was fruitless, being chased by the most important man in the Undercity, but he never made contact with you directly.
You had made every attempt to escape him, changing your name, your jobs, giving false leads to people you knew would be interrogated later on. He had to give up sometime, right?
---
“You got caught?” Silco demanded, a vein nearly popping out of his forehead.
“I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to.” the man stammered. “It just she was so quick, I didn't have a chance-”
“Of course she is.” He clenched his teeth. “She's my wife. Now get out.” The man remained shell shocked, slumped where Silco had thrown him onto the floor just moments ago. “Out!”
As Silco was finally left alone, he sank into his chair, sparking up another cigar. “The things you do to me.” he said, exasperated, rubbing his temples.
#ngl i did absolutely no research for this fic#when I wrote this chapter i ha no idea what the betrayal was about#still kinda don’t#dont come for me lol#silco x reader#fem reader#arcane#arcane silco#silco arcane#silco/reader#silco#the love we once shared#arcane fanfic#my work#my fic
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masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq
Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.
No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.
"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.
One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.
"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"
"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.
"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.
"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.
My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.
I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.
The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.
"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.
The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.
"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.
"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.
"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.
When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.
They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.
After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.
Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.
Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.
I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.
"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.
I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.
The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.
It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.
As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.
Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?
Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.
"Hello?"
"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."
I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.
"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.
"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.
The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.
"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.
"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."
"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."
As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.
The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.
Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.
Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.
The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.
"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.
She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.
I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.
Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.
"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.
I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.
The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.
With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.
The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).
@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites
#bun writes#practical alchemy#ironstrange x reader#tony stark x reader x stephen strange#tony stark x reader#stephen strange x reader#tony stark fanfiction#stephen strange fanfiction
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Hello Holly....
I was wondering if you could have any suggestions for me about this - i have this exam that i so need to get a good rank and qualify so that i can do p.hd. But i think i am not working as hard as i should be. I see other exam aspirants and i lose my sh** because the level of questions they are trying to solve. I know i haven't been too studious in the past yet i studied as best as i could (i have adhd and grew up in a dysfunctional family and it took me a lot of time to unlearn and relearn a lot of stuff). I do try and study good and sometimes i drift so easily away. The thoughts i specifically label as "unnecessary" some how creep up and before i know I'd have spent hours with it. Sometimes i really think i remember my past or some people or create scenarios just to not keep studying. I really want to study. I really am interested. I just slip away into not studying so easily. Honestly those Students in the top,being eligible for various fellowship scare me and make me think that i am never gonna be one among them and i should give up and find something else to do. Sometimes i can't bear the thought of failing to score the cutoff mark again and seeing the disappointment on my parents face. I think that pressure is there and i don't know how to handle. Please.. Do you have any advice for me? Any insights? I could really use your help. I totally understand if you couldn't answer me.
Take care🌻. Love your posts always. It is so attractive to see how much you read.
Okay, there is a lot to unpack here so I am going to try and organise my answer as best as possible.
‘I think I am not working as hard as I should be.’
The key words in that sentence are ‘I think’. Thinking/feeling like you’re not studying as much as you should is not evidence that that is true. Studying is not about quantity, but quality. Getting in an hour a day of difficult active recall is better than spending ten hours highlighting and re-reading notes. Look into evidence-based study practices (I highly recommend the book Make It Stick: The Science of Successful Learning), and, given how dedicated you seem, work out a way to get comfortable with the feeling that you’re not doing enough. I, too, never feel like I’m doing enough. Earlier in the year I had to have some time off sick and felt so behind when I returned, despite there being no objective evidence that I was behind. I stuck a post-it note in my eye line on the wall above my desk that had ‘you are not behind’ written on it. It reached the point after a few days of constantly glancing at it that even having the thought that I was behind became ridiculous and laughable, and eventually I just got on with what I needed to do unhindered by the thought.
‘I see other exam aspirants and I lose my sh** because the level of questions they are trying to solve [...] those students in the top … scare me and make me think that I am never gonna be one among them and I should give up’
You have to run your own race. What other people are doing should have no bearing on what you are doing. You’re not seeing what is really going on for them, you’re seeing what they want you to see. During my MSc year I was surrounded by students who were pulling ten hour study days and seemingly had an impossible amount of extracurriculars going on, and appeared to have everything together, but they didn’t get in to the programs they wanted to. They were either putting in the hours, but not using them effectively, or were just unlucky. It’s horrible to acknowledge but there are far far more students capable of doing PhDs than there are places, so a certain amount of luck is involved. You can do everything right, you can be the gold star student with the top scores and the twenty extracurriculars and several summer’s of work experience, but still not get a place. Focus on what you can control, on what you are doing, and forget about everyone around you.
‘I studied as best I could’
Great. That’s all you can do and all you can expect from yourself. I don’t have ADHD nor do I have close friends/colleagues who do, and so I cannot offer you advice on this specifically. If you’re at a college/university with a student wellbeing/health/disability service do reach out to them for advice. My usual self-help resource that my university recommends has nothing ADHD-specific. If anyone reading this has any resources to help Anon, please share them in the notes.
‘Sometimes I can’t bear the thought of failing to score the cutoff mark again’
Failure is part of getting into a PhD program. There’s a student in my lab group who has just submitted her thesis, and I’ve read it, and it’s amazing, and she’s amazing, and her CV is amazing, and she’s going on to a fantastic post-doc position, and it all seems so glorious. But I was talking to her at her leaving party last week and discovered she didn’t get the first TWENTY TWO PhD programs/projects she applied for. It’s ridiculous that this the system we’re all desperately trying to work in, but you’ve got to get comfortable with failure. I highly recommend you look up academic CVs of failures that some professors publish to get a true grasp of the scale of failure the ‘superstars’ around you have faced. Persistence and perseverance and being comfortable with rejection are the most valuable skills you can carry into a PhD program, just keep going.
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The Only Stranger in the Room (Oikawa x Reader in Soulmate AU)
Summary: The day you are introduced as the (Aoba Johsai's) volleyball team's new manager is also the day you're supposed to meet your soulmate. Coincidentally, this is also the day Oikawa arrives late.
a/n: Honestly, I'm so obsessed with Soulmate AU prompts I'm close to creating Pinterest just for this reason. But oh, well.
And another yuck for the title (I'm so crappy with titles sometimes I just wanna post without it).
AND FINALLY???? I MADE AN OIKAWA FIC? (I mean, I did before but they're not really aiming for romantic feels).
Also, I had a Kageyama fic with soulmate au as well (here).
Enjoy!
"It could be overwhelming at first but I hope you'd eventually adjust." The second coach, Coach Sadayuki said with a grin, his arms crossed while looking at the Seijoh team in he court.
You smiled, "I will try my best, Sir," you said as you look at the page in your notebook that contains the team members' stats.
You officially became the first female manager of the Seijoh team last Friday and was officially introduced to the team this morning before their practice match against another volleyball team.
You have been memorizing their names, researching the terminologies the sport uses, first aid for common injuries, and all.
Truth to be told, you're scared. You're not an athlete yourself and you've always been the type who made excuses just so you could ditch PE so...what made you decide to become a manager?
A small part of your brain screams destiny or fate but you chuckled as you dismissed such thought.
You snapped from your train of thoughts when you heard the referee whistle. Before you knew it, members of the Seijoh team who were playing are walking towards you and the coach's direction.
You immediately stood up, getting rid of your notebook as you went for the chiller, fetching the boys some refreshment to lighten their exhaustion.
"G-Good game, Matsukawa-senpai," you tried to strike a conversation with one of the 3rd years as you handed him a drink.
He looks down on you, thick brows raising upon realizing it was you, "Oh, thank you, Y/N," he smirked a little while untwisting the cap, "Getting accustomed with being our manager?" He asked.
You awkwardly chuckled, scratching your brow in the process, "You could say that..."
"Don't be so nervous, Y/N," Iwaizumi, another 3rd year butts in into the conversation, "Even if these boys are stupid, I'll make sure to help in managing them."
You smiled. Honestly, the moment you woke up - no, even when you were still preparing last night, you're already scattered. No amount of tea was able to relieve the stress that was building up inside you for this particular moment.
You glanced at your wrist. On it, mm/dd/yy is written in a permanent ink that no solutions could get rid of. In this world where people are born with particular dates tattooed in their body, this mark is considered a treasure, a very important day.
Science is not yet able to explain such mystery but these dates are the key to finding that particular someone you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with. People like to call it as your soulmate.
Today is mm/dd/yy. The day you're supposed to find your special someone but to your dismay, you've not seen them yet. You've already familiarized the faces of those who are around you and are certain you have not seen them yet.
Is there a trigger when you've seen them? People with experience said there is, but it varied. One claimed the moment they saw their other half, they felt a sting. The other claimed of feeling the sensation of choking, others fainted, and so on and so forth.
Would I faint? I sure hope not. Or maybe I'd choke as well? Or maybe-
"Yo, Shittykawa!"
"Geez, Iwa-chan, get rid of the nickname, please?"
Surprised, you look behind you, only to see an unfamiliar lad, wearing the same jacket the Seijoh team has, hanging his shoe bag on his lean shoulders lazily as he walked in a confident manner towards you.
"Oikawa, you're late," the coach said, unimpressed by this Oikawa's late arrival.
He chuckled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, Coach. The fangirls blocked the way."
"What a dick," a member muttered which made them laugh. You would've laughed along but you're too drawn with the new person's presence, as if he has unlocked a gear inside you, awakening something that has been asleep inside you all along.
-or maybe I'd feel a spark? You finished the thought you weren't able to finish earlier.
"Oh? And who is this?"
You blinked when his eyes are now all on you. Remember the anxiousness you've been feeling last night? It seems like it doubled with his stare.
"Oh, that's Y/N, our new manager," Iwaizumi said at your side but you couldn't look at him, too glued on Oikawa.
"You probably forgot, didn't you?" Iwaizumi teased but Oikawa didn't react. He was still staring at you but this time, walking closer towards your way.
"Nah, I wouldn't miss this day, I'm sure," he said that as he stopped walking, now a few meters away from you, unzipping his jacket's zipper.
You gasped when Oizawa slightly pulled his inner shirt's collar down which made the whole team groan with him being flashy again.
But that's not the case for you, though. What made you surprise is the mark that is placed on his collarbone. Your heart hammering as you read what is written on him all over and over again.
"I've been waiting for this day," Oikawa muttered as he glanced at your flashed wrist, sharing the same mark he has on his collar.
#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu#haikyuu scenarios#hq imagines#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa scenarios#oikawa torū#oikawa x y/n#oikawa x reader#hq oikawa#oikawa imagine#oikawa fic#oikawa fluff#oikawa soulmate au#soulmate au#haikyuu soulmate au
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INURE
Peeta Mellark x Reader
[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]
Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE
Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang
Part five: You're right here, silly!
Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!
Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass
The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.
Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.
Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.
It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.
Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.
Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.
The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.
But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.
Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"
My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.
All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.
"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"
"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."
Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.
He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.
I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it," a lump formed in my throat.
My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look. It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?"
Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die.
Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both,"
The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand.
Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.
The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.
He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?
I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs.
I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.
"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.
The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.
My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . .
"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.
Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times.
She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?
Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."
A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.
"They're not animals. They think; they're armed." I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.
"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.
I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.
I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.
It was as if my spirit left me already.
Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.
She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.
This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.
Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.
Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12.
We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.
Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.
I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.
The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.
Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.
There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa
At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.
Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.
Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.
But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.
My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.
It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.
Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.
"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.
"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?
Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.
My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.
A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.
Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.
Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.
We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.
One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.
A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.
Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.
Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.
Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."
Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."
"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.
"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"
Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.
"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.
Word count: 2974
Tags:
@nin3s
#hunger games x reader#hunger games#hunger games x male reader#male reader#male reader insert#peeta mellark x male reader#peeta mellark x reader#peetamellark#x male reader#gale#male x male reader
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Thank you, fruba 💖
Ok, in terms of how this series impacted me as a person in many senses I could go on to an even exaggerated point for a pretty long time....
So for this post I'll simply show my art progress for the 3 years 4 actually since I first watched the 2001 series exactly a year before the reboot started. a And the way this anime influenced it (I'd also admit certain parts in Takaya's own progress while the manga was running is really intriguing to me as artist :') )
Started the 2001 series in April 2018 after seeing a very certain scene(guess) in some old amv while looking for inspiration on something. Got my curiosity :D
But the earliest artworks I could find is from between catching up with the manga to the reboot getting announced and the main cast designs drop are these. from October 2018- March 2019.
But even if I made something earlier nah uh too embarrassing by now :v
(In all honesty my style as a whole never had a drastic change cuz there are parts i feel too attached to xD If anything it's more on improving with basic stuff and adding more unique preferences of choice.)
then you have season 1's run. During that I ended up making vibrant colors, gradient and sparkles a major part of it.
also one of my most successful artworks heehaw §(*￣▽￣*)§
Continuing with the true form arc &s1 ending. I remember this blog had quite growth with these pieces.
Then for a while between that and season 2 I was having quite a two months artblock (ah the grudge,,,（︶^︶）) and got back on march 2021 aka coronabiatch
And season 2!:D what I said on the vibrant sparkly coloring in s.1 got even more prominent here §(*￣▽￣*)✨
Between s.2 ending & the wait for the final my tablet & laptop died both so I focused on improving traditionally on many things. ( While also keeping up from rusting digitally with starting to color illustrations from the manga)
Throughout all of season 3 that was pretty much the same, but i got a new tablet & laptop now so I did the last two in this photo there.
In all honesty sometimes I feel like I'm far from being on a high level despite the time that passed since, and as if it went backward at certain phases... BUT in the end, it's still something I contributed to show my appreciation for this amazing series, and people often seem to really like it. Only a few months ago I had someone suddenly tell me they find the way I draw inspiring as well, never thought I'd get there.... I do go throughout another block rn, but that's fine, I can use it for a rest. And when I get the chance to find what to do again that'll happen and I can make up for the missing time by using it to improve some more. Just as the series taught- Do not let it stop me. 💖💕
#anywho wants to do a similar post go ahead :3#also sorry if it's too long ;;#fruits basket#art#artists on tumblr#art improvment#art progress#fruba#furuba#fruits basket the final#anime#manga#artist#inspiration
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The Last of Us Part 2 (Joel x Reader)
(A/n: just wanna say that I'm not gonna follow the game completely. A good amount of it I will follow but there is a fate of a certain character that I'm gonna change as I feel Naughty Dog did this character dirty.)
Chapter 1: I Don't Know What Happened
The Last of Us (Joel x Reader) Masterlist
"I don't know what happened." Joel admits to Tommy as he starts to clean the neck of the guitar. The two brothers were out on patrol and decided to stop and take a break in this abandoned house. There Tommy had to ask Joel what happened with the Fireflies as Joel and (y/n) seemed a bit tight lipped about what happened.
"(Y/n) and I were suppose to take her to the Fireflies and walk away." Joel said before he let's out a small scoff. "You go halfway across the country with someone. She needed her immunity to mean something. Maybe we were starting to buy into that whole...cure business. Maybe (y/n) and I just wanted to do right by her. And then we made it." Joel explains as Tommy sits across from him, listen intently.
"We found the Fireflies. And because of her...they were actually going to make a cure. The only catch...it would kill her." Joel said, whispering the last sentence.
Flashback
"Sweet Jesus." Joel mutters and (y/n)'s jaw drops as the couple made it to the operating room.
"Doctor?" A nurse said and the doctor turns to them and gasped. "What're you two doing here? I won't let you two take her. This is our future. Think of all the lives we'll save." The doctor said as he grabs a scalpel and aims it at them. Joel glares at the doctor with determination while (y/n) closed her mouth and started to reach for her gun.
Present Day
"Jesus, Joel." Tommy mutters, shocked, as he stares at his older brother. "What did you two do?" He asked. Joel looks up at Tommy for a moment and replies. "We saved her."
Flashback
After killing the doctor, Joel disconnects the tubes and goes to pick Ellie up. "Stay back!" (Y/n) yelled at the nurse as Joel whispers to Ellie. "Come on, baby girl. I gotcha..."
As he picks her up, the couple look out the window to see some lights shining through. "Oh shit." Joel said as he starts to run at the door. "Get back!" (Y/n) ordered at the guards that were coming in, aiming her gun at them before turning around and follow Joel out of the room.
Present Day
"Damn, Joel. That's um...that's a lot." Tommy said, sounding like this was a hard pull to swallow. Tomny looks down them back up towards Joel. "What does Ellie know?" He asked as Joel continued to clean the guitar. "I told her they ran some tests. I told her...her immunity meant nothing." Joel replied.
"And she believed you?" Tommy asked, curiously. "She didn't say otherwise." Joel said, softly, as he looks down. "And (y/n) was okay with this?" Tommy asked. Joel stops cleaning the guitar, looks at the floor for a bit before he raises his head up and nods at his brother.
Flashback
"Joel?" (Y/n) asked her husband as they drive down the highway in the truck, Ellie still passed out in the backseat. Joel turns his head slightly to look at her, her face full of concern and worry. "Are we really gonna go through with this? Lying to her?" She asked.
"We have to. For her sake." Joel replied. (Y/n) let's out a sigh then looks down at her hands. She looks over her shoulder at Ellie and starts to think over what just happened. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Joel asked her, concerned.
(Y/n) continues to look at Ellie, as if she held all the answers, and she started to think about what if they let Ellie die, and it turned out that the vaccine didn't work? Then Ellie would've died for nothing. But then what if it did? Would the world go back to normal?
(Y/n) let's out another sigh before she turns to Joel and shakes her head at him. "No. I just don't like lying to her." She whispers before she turns back around and starts to twiddle her thumbs together.
Present Day
Tommy let's out a heavy sigh and shakes his head before he looks back at Joel. "We should head back." Tommy said and he gets up and grabs his backpack. Joel watches him start to leave then stands up, grabs his bag and the guitar and follows him out.
The two brothers go out to the garage, open the door then head to the horses and climb on. Then the two head out and start to head back home.
They make their way over the grassy hill to see the town of Jackson in the distance. As they make their way down the hill, Tommy starts to speak. "Did (y/n) go for her checkup?" Tommy asked Joel as they continued down the hill.
"She's suppose to go today...guess I'll find out how she is when I get there." Joel replied as the worry for the wellbeing of his wife started to linger in his mind. The past week, she had been sick and throwing up it seemed like every morning. She thought it was some type of flu but it didn't feel like the flu.
Luckily, there was a doctor in Jackson and (y/n) decided to go see him. Joel hoped that the doctor would figure it out and give (y/n) some sort've medicine. He hated to see her so miserable.
"We're almost there." Tommy said to Joel as they make it to the front gate of Jackson. As they got closer, the doors opened and they trotted inside and head over to the stable. Joel gets off of his horse, grabs the reigns and starts to lead the horse to the stable.
"It's okay. I got them, you go on." Tommy said to Joel. "You sure?" Joel asked and Tommy nods. "Alright." Joel mutters then he grabs his bag off of the saddle. "About what we were talking about earlier...." Tommy started to say and Joel stops and turns to him.
"I can't say I'd have done different. I'll take it to the grave if I have to." Tommy said to Joel, who nodded at him. "I'll see you later, Tommy." Joel said and he starts to walk down the street while Tommy leads the horses to the stable.
Meanwhile, Ellie was sitting her little room, which was basically a shed behind Joel and (y/n)'s house, drawing in her journal. She was listening to her walkman, which she fixed, and started bobbing her head to the music as she continued to draw.
Unbeknownst to her, there was a knock at the door but, thanks to her headphones, she didn't hear the knock. The door opens and Joel sticks his head inside. "Hello? Ellie?" He calls out but he noticed that she had her headphones on.
So he walks over to her then nudges the chair with his foot, which startles Ellie as she jumps and takes off her headphones. She turns her head and sees Joel standing behind her. "Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack." She said, breathless, as she closes her journal and stands up to face him.
"I tried knocking, but..." Joel stops as he gestures towards the door. Ellie leans against her desk and looks up at Joel. "Hey." She said. "Hey." He said back. "What's up, Joel?" She asked him. "Just checking in." Joel replied. "Folks are..." he let's out a sigh then he starts to pace back and forth in her room.
"...y'know talking about how impressed they are with you and how well you're helping out." He finished. "Good." Ellie said. "Yeah." He mutters.
"Umm...is (y/n) okay? I heard she wasn't feeling good." Ellie said, concerned. "She hadn't made it back from the doctor yet....but I guess I'll find out here real soon." He said and Ellie nods.
"Tommy and I went out riding the other day and he, uh...he told me a joke and I thought about you. It's ummm....." Joel said but then he stopped as he tries to remember the joke. "Well, shoot, I forgot it. Something about a clock...how do you--" he started to say but Ellie interrupts him.
"Joel, it's, uh, it's pretty late, and I gotta get up in a few hours--" she said. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, and I'm gonna get out of your hair. I just um--" he said then he points towards the door then looks back at her. "I wanna show you somethin'. Just gimme one second." He said as he goes to the door, opens it and picks up the guitar then comes back in her room.
"What's this?" Ellie asked him, nodding towards the instrument. "Some folks call this here a gee-tar." Joel replied, really pouring into his Texas accent. "Funny." Ellie chuckles, softly. "You wanna hear something?" Joel asked her. "Okay." She said and he nods as he goes to sit down, the guitar on his lap.
"Promise me that you won't laugh." He said to her. "I won't laugh. I won't." She assures him as she sits down in her chair. "I'm trusting you." Joel said, smirking, then he takes a deep breath and starts to play.
If I ever were to lose you
I'd surely lose myself
Everything I have found here
I've not found by myself
Try and sometimes you'll succeed
To make this man of me
All of my stolen missing parts
I've no need for anymore
I believe
And I believe 'cause I can see
Our future days
Days of you and me
As he sings the song, Ellie smiles, softly, at him while (y/n) started walking towards the door then leaned against the frame. She got back from the doctors and spent most of the evening walking around Jackson, trying to clear her head as she was shocked at what the doctor had said to her.
It took her awhile to convince herself that she had to tell Joel and she was heading back to their home when she heard music playing. She followed it and realized that it was coming from Ellie's little shed house and walked up just in time to hear her husband sing.
She smiled fondly at this as she remembered the day he first sang to her. It was actually about a year after they started dating and he brought out his guitar and started to play and sing for her. In that moment, (y/n) realized that she had, indeed, falling in love with Joel. When he was done singing, she said the words "I love you" first and he, of course, he said "I love you" back.
(Y/n) was brought back to the present when she heard him stop playing and he looks over at Ellie. "There you go." He said. "Well...that didn't suck." Ellie replied, smiling, and Joel chuckles while (y/n) smiles. "I'll take what I can get." Joel said.
"Well, in my opinion, you still got it." (Y/n) said and both Ellie and Joel look over at her, both of them startled as they didn't hear her come in. "Hey." Joel said as he starts to stand up, still holding the guitar in his hand, and walking up to her.
"Hey, (y/n). You doing okay?" Ellie asked and (y/n) let's out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine but, um..." she said then she looks over at Joel. "I-I need to talk to you, privately." She said to him.
The two share a look before Joel nods then goes back over to Ellie and holds out the guitar to her. "She's yours." He said to her, who looks at this in shock. "No. No, no, no, I don't know the first thing about this." Ellie said, quickly. "I promised that I'd teach you how to play." He said as Ellie takes the guitar.
She looks up at him, surprised that he remembered that. She smiles then looks down at the instrument. "You did." She said, softly. "So what you say? Tomorrow night, first lesson?" He asked her. "Deal." She replied, smiling. "Okay." Joel said and (y/n) smiles at this.
Joel walks over to (y/n), who takes his hand in hers, and they start to walk out until Ellie speaks up. "Did--" she stops as the two adults turns to her. "Did you remember the joke?" Ellie asked him and Joel leans against the door and thinks for a moment before he remembered how the joke went.
"What is the downside to eating a clock?" He recites and Ellie thinks for a moment but shrugs as she couldn't think of an answer. "It's time-consuming." Joel said and Ellie chuckles and (y/n) snickers under breath. "That's so dumb." Ellie laughs. "Yeah." Joel and (y/n) said then Joel grabs the knob of the door.
"Goodnight, kiddo." He said and he shuts the door and the two adults head back to their house.
Later, Joel opens the front door of their home and (y/n) walks in first before she stops in the middle of the hallway. "Everything alright?" Joel asked her after he shuts the door and walks up to her, her back facing him and her arms folded across her chest.
(Y/n)'s heart was beating rapidly, whether in fear or excitement she wasn't for sure. She just wasn't sure how Joel would take this news. "Hey." Joel said, softly, as he comes up to her and places his hands on her shoulders.
She turns her head to look at him then placed her right hand on one of his hands. "Whatever it is you need to tell me, we'll get through it." He said and she smiled at this, then she removes her hand off of his and turns to face him.
"I, uh...I really don't know how to say it, so I'm gonna come out and say it." (Y/n) said and Joel gives her a worried look as she takes a few deep breathes before she starts to speak. "Joel...I'm pregnant."
Joel's eyes widen and he let's out a gasp at this. "What? Y-You serious?" He asked her, shocked. "Yeah. He thinks I'm at least alittle over a month along. So that night we had together when we were out on patrol and that storm came through and we took shelter..." She replied and placed her hand over her stomach, feeling the little bump. There was long shocked pause between the two before she speaks up.
"Joel? Honey, are you...?" She started to asked but then Joel cups her face in his hands then leans in and kissed her on the lips. "Thank you." He whispers, his lips ghosting over her lips. (Y/n) let's out a breathless laugh and the couple share another loving kiss then embrace one another, relishing in this happy moment.
A moment that neither one of them ever dreamed would come true.
#joel x reader#joel imagine#the last of us joel x reader#the last of us joel#joel#joel and ellie#joel miller#joel miller x reader#naughty dog#video game imagine#video game#fan fiction#fandom#the last of us pt 2#the last of us#the last of us imagine#post apocalypse#infected#x reader#reader insert#reader
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Chapter 09 || “United at Last”
Mutant Apocalypse 5: Black Masks
OsitaBear26 on Wattpad
****
Donnie has been gone for 8 months, making everyone believe he is dead. But now that he is in front of his potential mate, how does she feel about his return?
****
Now that Amber knows the truth about her brother, Duke and Vv went upstairs to sort out the garden seeds they had found earlier today. This means Osa and Donnie are left downstairs on the couch, staring into space and not saying a word to each other. It was just... weird to know that Donnie was right here in front of Osa's eyes, breathing and healing. He isn't dead.
But the thing is, Osa is nervous around him, almost scared to even speak to him in the face sometimes because he changed. She doesn't know if he responds to certain things differently. Of course, Osa was with him while he hid behind a mask but didn't know it was him. If she trusted Donnie behind a darkened mask, then she can relearn to trust him the way he is now.
"Th-The whole time?" Osa started softly, not making eye contact with Don.
Donnie turned his head to her, curious about her sudden sentence. "What?"
"The whole time... you...you were alive?" She finally met his gaze, waiting for him to answer her. Osa's eyes are tired, heavy, and nearly ready to close from such exhaustion. But she had to know where Don had been this whole time.
His eyes soften as he looked down at his lap, feeling awful about this whole situation. He knows that the choices he made affected Osa in many different ways and he hated how he let it happen. In his own defense, he felt like it was the right thing to do. "Yeah..."
Now Osa is going to ask the one million dollar question: "W-Why didn't you come back?" She sat forward on the couch, getting a better look at his facial features.
Don couldn't find words. He shrugged at her, honestly not knowing how to answer this question. "I'll be honest, Osa... I didn't try." He paused for a short moment. "By the time I got lost, my main focus was to live... and I was flushed out of the area by infected-- I didn't have a chance to find you all. There was no way for me to come back because I was becoming dangerous."
Osa narrows her eyes, not completely understanding what he had said to her. "Dangerous, how?"
"I'd be a threat. Just seven days after I got separated from you guys, I wasn't-- I started changing. And it obviously wasn't for the greater good. I always had to do something with myself." Donnie was trying his absolute best to remember those first few days when he became a whole different mutant turtle. If he thought hard enough, he can visually see himself throwing his truthful personality away. A single tear fell from his right eye, soaking into the mask Osa had dropped just many days ago. "My behavior became so violent that I wanted to destroy anything that came my way." He explained to her, still locking his eyes on her.
In the two months that Osa had known Donnie in the past, she found it hard to believe that Don would become dangerous. If only she knew what he went through in the past. She only remembered him as the comforter, the intelligent, and caring mutant turtle whom she met in December last year. She felt like Donnie wanted her to remember him that way, but it's totally impossible now that he is here in front of her, appearing and acting differently... Osa is going to get to know Donnie in a whole new way from now. "And..." Osa eyed the scars on his face, the scars closer to his mouth. "Th-Those scars?" She pointed, wondering what their meaning was.
Don was ashamed of the scars he had on his face. He can't get rid of them-- they're part of him now. "I don't want to talk about that..." He says gently.
The shapeshifter lowered her head, trying to process the fresh information. If Don explained that he was a dangerous individual, then is he still that way? "Are you that way now?" She asked. "Dangerous?"
Don shook his head. "N-Not really. When I found the twins, things got better... in a way."
Osa's eyes filled up with tears and hid her face with her hands. "I'm so sorry." She sobbed.
The turtle shook his head, leaning forward with her. "Sorry for what?"
"Not being there for you when you needed someone. If I had just jumped off that RV back at Hopeswell then I would have saved you from all of that." The tears just soaked her face, causing her to feel guilty-- feeling like she probably could have helped Donnie steer away from those terrible 200 days. He probably would still be the mutant she met if she saved him. Of course, being in the apocalypse, people will change but not like this! Don literally went through some kind of hell.
"Osa," Donnie says, scooting closer to her and moving her hands away from her face. "It isn't your fault. I kept myself away because survival was on my mind and not once did I think about going back..." He pauses. She met his eyes with hers and just admired them as she always had. "But I did think about you when I was able. Even when I lost the real Donatello." He said. With all the chaos and brutality that went on in his brain, Donnie still thought about her? It sounded incredible yet impossible. "I'm the one who should be sorry." For the first time since Osa had been reunited with Donnie, his eyes watered, full of sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Osa. I'm sorry that I-- that I didn't come back to you or anyone else."
Osa broke down harder, hiccupping and struggling to keep her breath steady. She survived for eight months without her friend by her side and she suffered many brutal weeks, crying because she believed he died. She thought that she would have to continue to live without him in her life and she was getting used to it. Osa fell onto Donnie's plastron and he held her tightly.
Don may not be as emotional as her, but he understands what Osa is feeling. Since his change, he is numb in most bitter-sweet situations. He embraces the shifter with his left arm, frustrated that he can't hold her with two arms. As he rested his head on top of hers, Don shut his eyes, feeling the waterfall of tears fall out of his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry..."
Together, Osa and Don shared a moment, crying against each other's bodies. At the same time, they were happy to see and be with each other again, but what hurt the most, they know that Donatello will never come back or be the same.
It's like taking the first fix of drugs, a first snort, or the first injection... once someone takes the first step into a hard mental issue, it is difficult to return from it. And most of the time, the person is never the same.
Whatever Donnie's mind had been sucked into in the past, it was like a drug of some kind. Now, he can't come back as who he was, who he was born as.
There is no chance of him recovering from this.
Not again.
#tmnt#2016#donatello#donnie#teenage mutant ninja turtles#out of the shadows#wattpad stories#fanfiction#mutants#ositabear26#wattpad#apocalyptic
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the memory of you pt. 1
Gilderoy Lockhart x Healer!reader
requested: (anon) Omg thank you! If you want to write any kind of Lockhart scenario that suggests NSFW stuff then I'd totally be cool with whatever you come up with 😊 thanks again so much! ❤️
warnings: none
summary: After helping Gilderoy deal with his memory loss and get him out of St. Mungo's, you couldn't help but fall for his charm once more when he finds you on the streets of London.
a/n: I THOUGHT I QUEUED THIS 💀 i sat here at work thinking 'damn, no one liked my post? k 😭' anyways, i'm gonna break this into two parts before it gets too long lmao. bold italics are flashbacks
(gif not mine, cred to owner)
You worked with a certain celebrity for quite a while now. He was brought in one day without knowing who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a weird cave. His residence at St. Mungo’s where you worked lasted for a while. Other Healers declared that there was no way to recover his memory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gilderoy was perfectly content with being happy and healthy even if he didn't know what was going on.
He was so sweet. Never gave you or any of your colleagues any trouble. He took his potions with ease, didn't make a fuss when bringing him from one room to another, and held conversations as normal. His family would visit him on occasion and it pained you to watch him not know them. But overall, he was happy.
After two years at St. Mungos, Gilderoy was let go considering that even though his memories were gone, he had enough mental stability to be out in public. Gilderoy had to go to a private academy to re-learn magic basics in adult classes. You remember the night before he left.
“So nice to start my life tomorrow,” Gilderoy had his signature smile on. He ate his dinner on his own without the help of Healers.
“Your life has already started, you just don't remember is all,” you corrected. You were preparing his bed for the last time. Since it's his last night, you were able to grab an extra pillow for him to be comfortable.
“Yes, but tomorrow I'll start a life I can remember. I'll make new memories.” Gilderoy stood up from his small table and walk to his hospital bed. He always loved the way you prepared his bed. How you fluffed the pillow, folded the blankets back neatly, and made sure the bed was warm. It wasn't special treatment as you did it for all patients, but he appreciated it all the same.
“Good night, Miss Y/L/N,” he said.
“Good night, Mr. Lockhart,” you replied.
Two years later, you're still working at St. Mungos. You've seen patients come and go since then. None quite as cooperative as Gilderoy, but they weren't all bad either.
The London streets were busy as usual today. It was slightly cloudy, but luckily it wasn't raining. And thank Merlin because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Cabs were driving right past you as you stood by the sidewalk trying to catch one. Once one stopped in front of you and you were about to climb in, another hand also grabbed for the handle. “Miss Y/L/N?”
Gilderoy stood next to you, eyes gleaming and wore his charming smile. He looked as happy as he always did. “Mr. Lockhart, hello.” It was a pleasant run in, and you'd love to chat but you had to be at work soon. It seemed that he noticed your uniform as well. “Oh, go ahead. I'll call for another one.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” You opened the door but before you could close it, Gilderoy said one last thing. “I hope to see you again!” He waved at you as you left and kept at it until you were out of sight.
His wish was granted three months later; he was walking around the same street for probably the 4th time that week. He wasn't ashamed to admit that after that day he ran into you, he wanted to see you again. You were with a couple of friends at a pub one night celebrating a proper weekend off. Gilderoy followed you in, a bit of people that recognized him stopped him to say ‘hi’ but of course, he doesn't know them. They were fans of his before the memory loss. They took a few pictures and he went walking after you. You were seen sitting at a bar table by yourself waiting for your friends to come back from the restroom.
Gilderoy walked up to you slowly, “Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” You recognized him and by pure habit, you gave him your work smile and voice, “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.”
“Please, call me Gilderoy,” he requested.
“Gilderoy,” you reached your hand out to shake his, “you can call me Y/N.” His smile changed, not one that you've seen in magazines and papers, but a more humble one. His cheeks became a bit rosy and he looked like he was flustered. “So, how have you been?” he asked. You took a quick sip of the water that was on the table before continuing the conversation, “I’ve been good! Just been working all the time. How about you? I bet so many great things have been going with you?”
“Not really. Since I didn't know much about my life before I was admitted in, I didn't know where to start. So I lived with my mother for a while, but now I’m on my own.” Seeing Gilderoy be so humble was a sight to see. A once self-centered, proud man has turned into a sweet, kind one. You almost wanted to thank whoever did this to him, not knowing it was actually Gilderoy who had accidentally done this to myself. “Well, are you working right now?” you asked him.
“No, I don’t really have anything to offer,” he looked down.
“That’s not true, you…” you stopped to think about what it was that Gilderoy could do. And unfortunately, it wasn't much. When word had gone out that he had actually stolen credit for all the things he had claimed to have done, people wondered if he was good at anything.
Gilderoy laughed at your blank expression. You felt bad. “Well, I’m sure you’re good at something.” You patted his shoulder gently across the table. Your friends came back from the restroom after what felt like twenty minutes. “Oh! It’s Gilderoy Lockhart, so nice to meet you,” each of them shook his hand. “What brings you here?”
Suddenly, he was embarrassed to say that he was spending weeks trying to find you. “Oh, I was just around. I walked inside and recognized Y/N. Thought I’d say hello,” he felt a bit nervous at that moment. “Well I best be going. I don't want to intrude. Have a good evening.” Gilderoy was about to leave until one of your friends called out for him, “No, stay! I’m sure Y/N would love to catch up with you, isn't that right?” You weren't sure if it would be appropriate to hang out with a former patient. Sure, it’s been a couple years since then, but you've never had any patients become even acquaintances, let alone friends. But the look in Gilderoy’s eyes that were basically begging you to say ‘yes’ hit something in you. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I'm sure we would like your company tonight.”
Gilderoy was funnier than he seemed to be. Being one of the Healers that worked with him for nearly four years, you never knew about this. He was telling the story of the first time he had used the levitation spell during his adult classes and he accidentally made his professor levitate and not the inanimate object on the table. Slightly tipsy, you and your friends laughed so hard trying to picture the situation. Gilderoy said he panicked and when he tried to let him down, the professor fell from ten feet in the air on his head and passed out. Luckily, he wasn't kicked out to the class but it was certainly something the professor never let him live down.
By the end of the night, your friends had gotten plastered and left for home. You were fine; your tipsy state was gone. You made sure your friends were set in the cab and told the cabbie their addresses. Gilderoy stood behind you and watched as you took care of your friends. It was different than when you worked, but it brought back memories when you took care of him.
When the cab drove off, you turned to look at the blond man. “Well, it was great seeing you, Mr. Lock– Gilderoy,” you quickly corrected yourself. You nodded and started walking down the street before he called for you again. “W-would you like to take a walk?” You thought about it, the same thought from earlier. But you've already shared a few drinks with him, so a walk wouldn't hurt. The sky was clear and although the stars were faint, there were a couple large ones that you could point out. You walked in silence for a couple minutes until you spoke up, “The weather’s nice.” He nodded quietly. It wasn't odd for him, but it was for you. It was odd to see him not as talkative as he used to be. You supposed that when you have your memories wiped, your personality could be affected as well. But he was still somewhat himself when he was a patient, so this change must have happened in the past two years. You hoped that nothing bad happened in that time.
It was getting later and later, but something about Gilderoy was different and you liked being around this sort of new him. He’s more inviting compared to how he was when he was a celebrity. The feeling of it being weird with him outside of work was gone, and something else started. You wanted to get to know him as a person again.
You checked the time on your wristwatch and decided that you should head home eventually. “It was nice seeing you tonight. I hope to see you again,” you grinned. His eyes lit up as he looked at you, “I would love that. Maybe we can have tea sometime?”
“I’d like that. Goodnight, Gilderoy.”
“Good night, Y/N.” He signaled a cab for you and like he did the last time, he waved until he couldn't see you anymore.
—
requests open!
#gilderoy lockhart#gilderoy lockhart imagine#requested#requests open#gilderoy lockhart fluff#gilderoy lockhart smut#gilderoy lockhart x reader#gilderoy lockhart x you#gilderoy lockhart x y/n
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(Gary anon) I remember when Goh's concept art was first shown; some, if not most thought he was non-binary or used "they/them" pronouns. (Especially with his name not leaning any particular way; it's just "Go") And with Chloe appearances being sporadic, this is the first time a m/m relationship gets to be dominant in a generation series for once; where in previous series they either tied with certain m/f ships or were drowned out considerably by them. (Same, if the dynamic is strong
.
(Part 2) to begin with, I don't mind it as much. But literally any character; usually female, that gets mentioned as a love interest; I have to brace myself on them [or the "bond"] being near non-existent throughout most of the story) One thing I wish more writers would understand is that romantic partners of main characters literally can't be off-screen as easily as friends and family can. If people end up feeling like the bond is "stronger" with the friend [who appears more] than the spouse
and THAT becomes the popular ship, you can't blame the audience for what they've been given) Heh, when the foundation isn't there, sometimes you have to make it yourself. I have seen some rarepairs get their lucky breaks in canon later; often due to their dedication. (Even Misty and Dawn; who I have seen shipped with Gary, Green always wins out in content. Probably cause the first two have more popular ships surrounding them) For Leon, I highly suspect Ash to use his JN team against him.
(Part 4) Since AG, Ash always uses his new regional team for a full battle at least once, usually against prominent rivals. Unless Ash is fighting Bea again; which I doubt, the all-star PWC team is fighting Leon. Now, something that has Charizard, Infernape, Greninja, etc. on the same team? Can't see them double-dip on that with Leon. (I'll always consider the Johto League battle an important one for both, but I think even back when I first saw it air, something felt off about it. Kinda rushed.
(5) Now that Ash and Gary feel more fleshed out since then, I want a battle to highlight that. Their eternal bond; something that feels more "them") Feels too early to be Goh's last or else it just reinforces that PM should've been introduced much earlier. And, there's still the adventure to find Mew. (I'm glad Gary's teasing nature is back, but I really hope there's a flashback of him provoking Ash to re-showcase that concept [of pushing Goh to new heights] and not just an attempt to 'redo' OS)
I remember that! Nonbinary Goh is still a very good take. And yeah, Journeys feels so very gay and I love it. Goh and Chloe's friendship feels like gay/lesbian solidarity, Ash and Goh have such an adorable dynamic, and Chloe bonding with Dawn was delightful.
Yeah, I feel that. There's something I can't help but find a little funny about how some media (especially shonen anime/manga) ends up coming across as super gay because of misogyny--the lack of development for female characters means the protagonist's male friendships end up so much stronger than his relationship with his supposed love interest.
Yeah, rarepair shippers really put in the work and it's very cool to see (and both very fun and sometimes very tiring to do).
Yeah, that doesn't surprise me--I don't use FFNet much anymore because AO3's whole interface feels so much nicer (and there's no ads), but from what I've seen I'd honestly expect Gary/Leaf to be the most popular Gary ship there (though due to FFNet only letting people tag a maximum of four characters, it'd be hard to check); on the other hand, over on AO3 I did check and the most popular Gary ship there is PalletShipping (a win for the LGBT community, haha).
Makes sense!
Fair--and yeah, it'd be absolutely fantastic to see another battle between them, to show how far they've come over the years.
For sure. I wonder how the Mew thing will play out.
Yeah, that'd be nice.
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