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augustinewrites · 8 months

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+ series summary: as marius von hagen’s assistant, it’s your job to accompany him to certain public functions. you’re used to being in the background, but this time? the event is an engagement party, and he doesn’t need an assistant. he needs a date.

as soon as the elevator opens to the penthouse floor, you pull the key card out of your purse and march straight to the door on your right.

six months ago you would have hesitated. six months ago you would have knocked politely, with a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a kind smile.

now, you slap the key against the scanner aggressively. as soon as it turns green, you push down the handle and lean heavily on the door to let yourself in.

you scrunch your nose as you step over a pair of sloppily discarded high heels, slipping your own off and pushing both pairs aside with a stocking-clad foot. then you venture into your boss’ apartment, deciding to deal with the blonde scrolling through her phone on the couch first.

“you need to leave,” you tell her dispassionately, picking up what you assume is her clutch and tossing it into her lap. “this isn’t a bed and breakfast. mr. von hagen has business to attend to.”

you wait impatiently as she looks you up and down, taking in your office ensemble along with the identification card hanging from your lanyard.

relenting, she lets you herd her out the door without protest, but not before handing off all her contact information in case your boss ‘wants to have fun again.’

you take the little slip of paper (noting the lipstick kiss in the corner), then slam the door in her face.

monday mornings are always the same.

after kicking out sunday’s trash, you grab some aspirin and a glass of water, heading for the master bedroom.

predictably, marius is still passed out. you find him practically spread-eagled in the bed, with only a thin top sheet protecting his modesty.

you’ve learned the hard way that marius sleeps nude, but seeing his toned chest and abdomen, along with the neatly trimmed trail of hair leading below the sheet never fails to make you catch your breath…

you squeeze your eyes shut, telling yourself to snap out of it. he’s your boss, the man who signs your paychecks and is the cause of some of your biggest headaches to date.

“sir,” you whisper harshly from the doorway, reluctant to move closer. when you don’t get a response, you call out to him again, this time at a normal volume. much to your chagrin, his cute sleeping face - mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched - remains unchanged.

huffing, you step around last night’s clothes and empty liquor bottles to rip the curtains open, letting the morning sunshine stream into the room. this action makes marius stir, groaning tiredly as he lays a hand over his eyes.

“sir,” you say again, with more force this time. “you have a consult with the legal team in a half hour.”

“the legal team…” he mutters, still refusing to pry his eyes open.

he continues to grumble uselessly into his pillowcase, clearly intending to make your job as difficult as possible.

…until you check your watch and decide that you can’t waste anymore time coddling him, so you take the half filled glass of water and dump it over his head.

he jerks up with a sputter, glaring at you as he swipes the ice water out of his face.

“there are nicer ways to wake a guy up, you know,” he huffs, shaking the water out of his hair.

you set the glass down, sighing. “if you want to be babied, sir, you should call vincent.”

he mumbles something you’re sure is rude under his breath, pushing wet bangs out of his face before asking, “where’s maia?”

“first of all her name is–” you check the note you’d scrunched in your pocket. “–mia and she left her cell number, home number, and the number of the strip club she works at.” you hold it out to him, humming. “very classy, sir.”

he doesn’t even look at it, so you crumple it back up and stuff it into your pocket.

“yikes. i don’t know why she bothered. i already gave her the speech.” he shrugs, clearing his throat as he recites, “‘last night was incredible. you’re a great girl, but right now in my career–’”

“‘i just can’t give you the relationship you want or deserve,’” you finish, having heard him recycle the practiced line to multiple other hookups in the last three months.

“hey, you memorized it!” he exclaims, lifting his hand for a high five. he lowers it when he sees your unimpressed look. “wrong crowd, i see that now.”

rolling your eyes, you turn around and open the door to his closet, grabbing a set of clothes that costs more than your rent and laying them over your arm as you call over your shoulder, “when i took this job, i didn’t expect to deal with the pussy parade. be honest, are you in some kind of competitive sex tournament?”

“i’m young and single!” he reasons, catching the boxers you throw at his head and quickly slipping them on. “i’m allowed to sow a few oats.”

everyone in the office knows that it’s really about the lawyer from themis getting engaged.

you’ve seen the way marius used to look at her, seen the plain adoration that used to shine in his gaze. it’s why ever since news of her engagement, you go through this every monday— when she comes in to help him navigate the confusing reports and updates of confusing legalese.

his behaviour these past few weeks was a coping mechanism. an unhealthy one, obviously, but who were you to tell that to the president of a multi-billion dollar company?

“whatever you say, sir,” you shrug, shoving the pants and button down into his arms. “get changed. i’ll call vincent and have him let everyone know we’re on our way.”

you step out of the bedroom to let him get dressed, deciding to make yourself busy by starting the coffee maker. as the scent of freshly ground beans fills the penthouse, you take a moment to pull out your phone and double-check your boss’ calendar.

after the meeting with legal, his schedule is relatively clear. only a handful of things you need him to review, along with a spot of press. it’s a relatively easy monday, by all means.

it’s then that berry decides to make an appearance, the adorable russian blue leaping up onto the counter and meowing insistently to get your attention. smiling, you reach out to scratch lightly under his chin.

“what are we going to do with him, huh?” you whisper, scooping him up into your arms. content purrs rumble against your palm as you stroke his fur.

“traitor,” marius scoffs, entering the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see him looking somewhat put together. not only is his shirt still untucked, but his hair is still messy and wet and you’re positive he’s still sweating tequila.

he ignores the fresh coffee in favour of grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge. he unscrews the cap, flicking it onto the counter so he can take a swig.

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. marius glances over at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with sleeve before holding the carton out to you.

“what? you want some?”

you push it away with a fingertip. “no, thank you.”

he shrugs, screwing the cap back on and shoving it back into the fridge. you and berry watch with equally unimpressed looks as he rummages through the oversized pantry, resurfacing with a box of cereal.

you turn to open a nearby cabinet, grabbing a bowl.

but in those few seconds, he’d already ripped the box open and was scooping cereal out with his hands, pouring handfuls into his mouth.

this is it, you think as he gets crumbs all over his nice shirt. this is what marius von hagen looks like when he hits rock bottom.

_____

you barely make it to the meeting on time.

the whole team is already seated, ready to begin. marius - with the mcdonald’s iced coffee that’d almost made the two of you late in hand - takes a seat at the head of the conference table.

your boss is surprisingly alert despite the fact that his brain is currently steeped in alcohol. he takes notes, asks appropriate questions, makes thoughtful suggestions. it’s one of the things you respect about him. he is a professional first and foremost.

“it seems that’s all for today,” he says once the last subject has been covered. “if there are any other questions, please keep them to yourselves.”

with that, he makes his grand exit.

well…he was a professional most of the time.

you're quick to jump in when the room fills with dissatisfied murmurs. “if you have any questions, please direct them to vincent or myself so we may raise them with mr. von hagen at a later time."

with that, everyone carries on with their day. you head back to your desk with an armload of paperwork for marius to look over and sign. you read the first few pages as you walk, already working out a summary in your head.

you make it to your desk just in time to see rosa following marius into his office.

chatting in his office after a meeting is a fairly common occurance. rosa comes by to help review whatever contracts his staff of corporate lawyers had drawn up, or walk him through any topics confused about.

your phone buzzes with a message from marius.

[marius]: come get me in five to say that we’ll be late for lunch.

what isn’t common is for him to do that.

but you do as he says, knocking politely when the five minutes are up.

“come in!”

“sir,” you begin after sending rosa a small wave. “we’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave now.”

“lunch?” the young lawyer echoes, sounding confused. “it’s hardly 10am.”

marius clicks his tongue, closing the folder on his desk. “well, you know what they say. early worm gets the worm.”

“that’s not at all correct—”

he’s already nudging you out the door, a respectful hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you away from his office. “see you later, miss!”

“what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your face heat up as you become the object of your coworker’s confused stares. “i have work to do—”

marius pulls you into an empty conference room, closing the door behind you.

“rosa invited me to her engagement party this weekend,” he says, tone clipped.

you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this. “shall i pick out a gift?”

“no, i’ll take care of that,” he tells you. then, with a growing smile that almost always means he’s up to something, he asks, “what are you doing this saturday?”

“i—”

“trick question. i’d like you to accompany me as my date.”

#marius von hagen x reader #tot x reader #tears of themis x reader #marius x reader #i know i said i’d do reo for this au but that’s coming next #i had to get this out of my system

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them.

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye.

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration.

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers.

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress.

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed.

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead.

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe.

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done.

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg.

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed?

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you.

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him.

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived.

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way.

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even.

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again.

He was out of sight before you could see a spark.

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight.

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume.

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Great.

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it.

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all.

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing.

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern.

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.”

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so.

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut.

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum.

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace.

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head.

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday.

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door.

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?”

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides.

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension.

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily.

A nod of your own sealed the compromise.

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas.

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot.

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world.

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench.

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence.

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground.

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!”

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home.

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm.

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you.

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes.

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.”

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way.

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter.

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

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glitterjay · 24 days

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hi can you do like bodyguard sunghoon with celebrity/popstar reader where sunghoon is reader's main bodyguard and is always cold to her but he secretly likes her and one time she goes somewhere without telling him and he gets worried so when he finds her he punishes her and they confess their feelings for each other?IT doesn't have to like follow this transcript or plot i just want bodyguard sunghoon with reader 😭😭 thank you so much i love all your works and i hope you have a nice day/night

⭒ idol!reader, body guard!sunghoon, fluff

⭒ c's note: i left out the punishing part because i genuinely could not think of a way to write that bit

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @jaylaxies @americanojake

being a bodyguard in love was a difficult task for sunghoon. aure, it fulfilled his desire to protect you at all costs—it was his job, after all—but he couldn't do much beyond that.

he would follow you everywhere because he was your main bodyguard, but he had to stay outside your room, outside the private room where you were eating at a restaurant, outside your life. he was just there to guard everything inside the bubble.

this fed into his now-serious and intimidating personality, only giving you nods and short words as a way of communicating. he couldn't let his guard down, and you couldn't know about his feelings either.

little did he know that you longed for him to open up. you could see the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you, the way he was always first in line during your events, even if he wasn't needed. how carefully he treated you and how worried he'd get if you got a single scratch.

after today’s schedule, you agreed with your fellow idol friends to hang out and catch up. sunghoon wasn’t in his usual spot after you were done filming scenes for a music video, so you didn’t personally tell him where you were going.

you did ask some other staff to tell him for you, to which sunghoo didn't take so well. he asked the staff of other idols where you could have possibly gone, bowing several times when a makeup artist told him she overheard the group talking about going to a specific restaurant.

Hh practically ran all the way, too desperate to wait for the line of cars and vans outside the venue waiting for other artists and staff. it wasn't far anyway.

as soon as he arrived, sunghoon barged into the restaurant, presenting his identification as your personal bodyguard to gain access to the private rooms. he could hear your laughter over the other voices in the room.

he knocked once, hearing how the voices quickly hushed, and then there was another one saying, "come in!"

sunghoon peeked his head, a sigh of releave leaving his mouth when he saw you sitting there, safe. it took you by surprise to see it was hom knocking, so you excused yourself, making up a lie but promising you'd be back as quick as you could.

once outside, sunghoon began to check you for any sign of discomfort, which made you giggle a bit.

"someone's worried."

"you could've said something! my heart almost fell out of my ass when i didn't see you at the venue."

you took the silence as an opportunity to fix his messed-up hair, probably from the running.

sunghoon sighed, leaning into your touch, closing his eyes.

the view before you seemed out of the world, how the dim lights of the hallway resalted his face features, and how he leaned into your hand more and more.

"a picture lasts longer," he said, his eyes still closed.

you scoffed, taking your hand away from his cheek, causing him to stumble. you giggled.

"we can go on a date. just us two," you offered. sunghoon's eyes almost popped out of their sockets, making you giggle again. "but only if you wan-"

"of course i want!"

he cleared his throat and regained his posture, acting as if his heart hadn't done twenty flips in three seconds.

"i mean, that sounds like a great idea. yes."

#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen #engene #kpop #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon sluff #enha sunghoon

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thespiritssaidso · 12 days

Text

Item #: SCP-8675309🍍

Update: SCP has scratched out any and all files with its identification number and replaced them with pineapple doodles and obscure/inappropriate numbers. Standard procedure is to white out any defacement done to the files and replace it with the correct number, but when confronted with the task none of the employees had the heart to do so.

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8675309 Heinz 57🍍 is to be treated like foundation staff with level 5 clearance. Caution is advised when approaching, lest foundation personnel be influenced under heavy charm. SCP has previously gained access to multiple levels this way when it only had level 1 clearance.

Containment of SCP is not necessary, as it has proven it means no harm — not that it can do any — and is willing to come to work every day, albeit sometimes a bit late. The most amount of harm it has performed was by enamoring the guards outside of SCP-294 enclosure in order to acquire a pineapple smoothie. In my defense, those smoothies are to die for. -🍍

Using any form of memory wiping in an effort to contain SCP-8675309 3.141596…🍍 is severely prohibited, as it has previously shown severe signs of distress when it cannot remember the smallest of details. Years of training from your dad to be the world’s greatest detective will do that to ya. -🍍

Description: SCP is a humanoid Caucasian-Latino male, and responds to the name of Shawn Spencer, although it has given itself a number of various nicknames.

SCP shows clear signs of ADHD and a strange fascination with pineapples. SCP can often be seen carrying varying types of snacks flavored like the aforementioned fruit: dried pineapple slices, pineapple nutrigrain bars, and oftentimes simply a large pineapple itself. It’s up for debate as to where it attains these treats for itself, as its pockets have been routinely checked at the entrance of the foundation as it signs in for the day. Some hypothesize it has somehow struck a deal with SCP-261 into giving nothing but pineapple snacks in exchange for Yen. Although no one is sure where it would get the Yen from, as it has reportedly never been to Japan (although it has very clearly expressed its wishes to do so some day).

SCP-8675309 69 lol🍍 also displays an uncanny ability to read a person, able to guess private information from a glance. All personnel are advised to try not to keep anything hidden from it, as it is not only pointless, but its suspicion of said personnel will simply grow.

SCP can be found normally either lounging in the break room, flirting with any and all foundation members it finds attractive, and befriending other SCPs, such as SCP-999. It has found itself particularly fond of SCP-529, and is constantly feeding it cheese, despite being advised not to.

All foundation staff are instructed not to call the SCP an SCP to its face, as it will grow agitated. Obviously I’m gonna get ‘agitated’! How would you feel if you were called an SCP, huh?! -🍍

Reference: Originating from Santa Barbara California, SCP has travelled all over the United States, leaving its footprint in nearly every major city. Well, every city that the SCP has reported as, quote unquote, ‘fun’. Nothing wrong with that. -🍍

Incidents caused by the SCP whilst traveling have been logged and recorded, including the ⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ incident, the ⬜️⬜️⬜️ debacle, and the altercation in ⬜️⬜️ between SCP⬜️⬜️⬜️ and SCP-8675309 8008135🍍.

Great file, amazing. Just a few notes here. First off: cut the ‘it/its’ pronouns. I get some people go by that, but me? No thanks. Second off: very boring report. There’s a severe lack of pictures and way too many words, I almost feel asleep reading this. -🍍

Update: SCP has since left the foundation since the last time its file has been updated. While never clearly stating where it was going, a large sum of money was removed from the foundation treasury and used towards purchasing a plane ticket to Germany.

SCP-8675309 is currently living its life comfortably in the city of Santa Barbara in California, working for the local police as a consultant ‘psychic detective’. Whether or not SCP is actually psychic has been the subject of debate for nearly 5 years between staff.

—————

@arrowheadedbitch

#yes I’m well aware that number is already taken idga flying FUCK #shawn spencer #psych #SCP #scp foundation #psych x SCP #toast tries to write #psych 2006 #psych usa #psychusa #psych show #psych tv show #psych tv

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oneshotnewbie · 4 months

Note

If you come back soon could I pretty please request an Amelia (greys) one shot where the reader is her girlfriend and is brought to the ER in critical condition as Jane Doe but as soon as Amelia sees her she’s hysterical and all she wants to is reasure and hold the readers hand! YOU WOULD MAKE MY QUARANTINE SO MUCH BETTER I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM

Authors note: So... um... I know I waited so long to post this request but... I HAVE MISSED IT IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG AND WHEN I FOUND IT TWO DAYS AGO, I WROTE IT IMMEDIATELY! I am so sorry. I hope you're still out there somewhere recognizing your request and reading it ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The hustle and bustle of the emergency room echoed through the cold hallways as the double doors were pushed apart to make way for the ambulance crew and their critical patient. The vehicle's red and blue lights cast flickering shadows on the walls, while the howling sound of the approaching accident conveyed to hospital staff the urgency of the situation.

The paramedics, with serious faces and rustling uniforms, wheeled the gurney into the emergency room. An unknown woman lay on the stretcher, pale and motionless, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest showed any life. A white sheet covered her completely, and her blood-stained hair stuck damply to her forehead. The slow, monotonous beep of the portable monitor accompanied every breath.

Dr. Hunt, the emergency physician in charge, immediately rushed to the bed. His expression was professional, but the depth of his gaze betrayed some concern. The nurses and also Dr. Keppner rushed to help the team take over.

"What do we have?" Owen asked as he looked over the medical file one of the paramedics handed him. "Unknown female person, middle-aged, found unconscious in a park, presumably after an attack. Stabbed in the chest and abdomen. We cannot say any more. No identification and no indication of possible previous illnesses."

The paramedics quickly explained the course of events, how they found the patient and what first aid measures they had taken. The information was relayed with the precision of a well-trained team, but uncertainty about who the woman was and what had happened to her hung in the air.

While Hunt and Keppner began checking vital signs, the unknown woman was wheeled into an examination room. The nurses exchanged hand signals and quietly instructed each other on the next steps. The background noise is a chaotic orchestra of clanging instruments, murmuring conversations and the beeping of medical equipment.

April Keppner leaned over the patient and began a thorough examination. She checked the pupillary reaction, palpated the pulse and analyzed the respiratory rate. The monitors showed unstable readings and the two doctors' facial expressions hardened. A quick look between the two revealed that they were worried.

"We need a CT scan immediately," Owen said, turning to the nurses present. "I also want blood samples for a comprehensive analysis. Let the lab know it's urgent."

While preparations for further examinations were underway, the nurses and doctors tried to keep the unknown woman stable. An intravenous line was placed and fluids began flowing through her derm. The monitors continued to show jittery signals and the tension in the room increased.

"Call Dr. Shephard and Dr. Altmann. I want them here as quickly as possible!" He ordered as he continued to analyze the data on the screen. "And someone should inform the police. We have to find out who she is and what happened in order to prevent further damage."

The exam room was now in a coordinated state of emergency and in a room that was normally a place of rescue, the medical team battled uncertainty and a race against time to save a woman's life. He was abuzz as the neurosurgeon and cardiologist burst through the door almost simultaneously with quick steps. Their eyes were focused, the rubber of their Crocs squeaking in unison with the machines.

"Shephard, the patient is exhibiting unstable neurological signs. The CT scan and blood results are pending," she informed Hunt as he cleared the way for her to the bed.

Amelia nodded curtly and fully entered the room, closing the door behind her. A glance at the monitor and the papers on the tablet caused her eyes to flash briefly before she focused back on the patient. However, as she leaned over the lounger, she froze.

Her features slipped away, the slight smile on her lips fading as she realized who was in front of her. The woman on the lounger was none other than you. Hunt and Keppner stared at her as she noticed her reaction, not understanding why she didn't move forward with her work. "Amelia, we have a critical situation here. The patient's identity is unknown and her values are concerning. We urgently need your expertise!"

Amelia shook her head slightly, as if she could push reality away. Her heart raced as she double-checked that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "This is y/n. Y/n y/l/n. She's my girlfriend. Find her family, get them here!" A strangled sound escaped her throat and the world around her seemed to stand still for a moment as she processed the shock.

The emotional rollercoaster went through all the ups and downs, from worrying about you to the overwhelming need to stay in control. Her hands shook slightly as she reached for your lifeless and bloody hand.

"Y/n," Amelia whispered with a strangled sound in her voice and the two doctors and friends of the neurosurgeon were also dumbfounded, their breath catching in their throats. "What happened to you?"

Owen Hunt moved closer and tried to reassure her, while also conveying the urgency and explaining the neurological details. But Amelia only heard fragments. Her gaze was lost in your eyes, which were closed as if you were in a deep sleep.

"Amelia, I know it's hard. But we have to act immediately. The CT results are crucial and we have to find out what happened to her to prevent something worse. She could die!" April urged, concerned about her colleague's professionalism.

But Amelia couldn't let go. She ignored the two of them, her focus solely on you. The world outside the exam room seemed to fade as she held your hand tightly. "Y/n, you have to hold on. You can do this," she whispered in your ear, tears of despair welling up in her eyes. "You're strong, you know? We'll get through this together."

In her emotional despair, an internal struggle unfolded within Amelia. Her professional self fought against her personal connection to you. The shouts of other doctors and nurses became a muffled background noise as she refused to loosen her grip on your cold hand.

"Amelia," Owen Hunt spoke in a calm but firm voice. "We need you now. She needs you now. Let's find out what happened to her together.

A conflict between duty and personal pain raged within Amelia. Finally, she reluctantly gave in and removed her hand from yours. However, her gaze remained focused on you, and concern for you was reflected deep in her eyes. She struggled with fear for you as she prepared to resume her professional role as a neurosurgeon.

A deep breath flowed through her body and with a firm resolve she wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned her gaze to the surroundings. "Dr. Hunt, take her to the CT immediately. She's probably having a brain bleed." she spoke, her voice firm. The neurosurgical focus returned fully, analyzing the medical indicators.

The trauma surgeon nodded in agreement and began giving the necessary instructions, getting you up to the CT scanner. Amelia stayed at your side, letting go of your hand for a moment to oversee the diagnostic process.

The minutes that passed felt like hours. The results of the CT scan appeared on the screen, and Amelia scanned the images with a trained eye. She analyzed each region of the brain, looking for signs of bleeding, injury or other abnormalities. The intensity of her concentration was palpable, and the medical staff eagerly awaited her assessment.

"We have severe damage to the frontal lobe," Amelia explained, swallowing hard as she continued to study the images. "It looks like a severe traumatic brain injury. We need to operate immediately to relieve the pressure and prevent further damage."

The team immediately began preparing for the operation. The sterile atmosphere of the operating room seemed to embrace Amelia as her professional role took over. In her surgical uniform, surrounded by a team of experienced professionals, she struck her familiar Superman pose and focused on the procedure ahead.

During the operation, which lasted several hours, your girlfriend showed an impressive mix of calm and precision. Her hands worked in sync with the instruments as she gently treated the damaged tissue. Monitors in the operating room recorded progress, and the medical team closely followed their experienced leader's every move.

After what seemed like endless hours, but which passed like seconds, she finally closed the last stitches and the atmosphere relaxed slightly, but the uncertainty about the outcome of the operation weighed heavily on her.

Amelia let out a frustrated gasp before exiting the operating room, tearing off her gloves and hood. She immediately went to the waiting area to inform your siblings and parents. The tension in her chest eased as she saw the expectant looks of the people who were now her family and your sister immediately threw her arms around her.

"The operation is complete," Amelia began, trying to keep her voice steady as she also clung to your sister to keep her emotions at bay. "It was a complex brain injury for reasons still unknown, but I did everything I could. The next step now is to wait and hope she remains stable."

Your family breathed a sigh of relief as Amelia explained more details about the condition and cooperation with the police. Her words were reassuring to your sister, but she still felt the knot in her stomach. The outcome of the operation was uncertain, and there was no way of knowing whether you would ever wake up and be your old self again.

In the silence of the hospital hallway, as she left the waiting people behind, a moment of exhaustion overcame her. Her eyes wandered back to the exam room where she found you in. The image of you on the lounger didn't fade, but Amelia found comfort in the fact that she had saved you. Now things could only go uphill and she couldn't wait to look into your beautiful eyes again.

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genshin-impacted · 1 year

Text

three ways to say goodbye

Never once does Alhaitham ever say the words ‘good-bye.’ (And one time he doesn’t need to.) OR You die in four three different ways; Alhaitham deals with your death differently each time.

Word Count: ~3.5k (one shot)

Notes: Alhaitham x Reader (3+1 fic), gender-neutral reader, Alhaitham POV, major character death(s) (you), ANGST, mainly hurt with comfort at the end, exploratory fic on how Alhaitham deals with grief & death-- his devotion, each part has specific notes

[anticlimatic]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, ambiguous relationship status; implied roommates with Kaveh and Alhaitham, could be ot3 if you squint, mild profanity

Your death came without warning, without rhyme or reason. It doesn't make sense for you to die here, your potential on the brink of being fully realized, your journey cut abruptly before it has even started. As a narrative, your death is almost anticlimactic, unpredictable and hidden away in the forests of Sumeru where the rangers found you, body broken and eyes closed forever. Your wings must have failed you midflight, plummeting you down to the ground without a safety net. If there were any signs of foul play, it is hard to tell; there is so much blood to wash off of you.

Tighnari was the one to set your limbs straight to make you look more comfortable, and Cyno was the one to tell Alhaitham to come and identify your body.

It's only a formality at this point. Cyno and Tighnari-- Alhaitham thinks they would not have let Collei see your body, bruised as it is-- would have been ample identification checks. They know you well, consider you a friend. It may also be a sort of mercy from Cyno to inform Alhaitham of what has happened so he can be one of the first to know, the first to see you.

They know Alhaitham was more important to you than any of them-- Alhaitham included-- could truly understand. So, of course, it is Alhaitham who gets to know first.

Cyno peels back the cover from your head. It must be the least injured part of your body because the only tell-tale sign that you are dead is the stillness of your face. You are the most animated person he knows, even if you aren't aware of it. You constantly move your eyes to see the world for what it is, lips always upturned subconsciously, though Alhaitham can remember the days when you went without for quite some time. It was a trying period for you, but your smile came back eventually, and all felt right in the world.

Alhaitham knows it will not come back this time.

"It's them," he says, though you look far from the person you were when you were still alive. "Where will the body be stored?"

"The Sumeru morgue," Cyno replies. He pauses. "Will you-"

"They have no family. No next of kin." Alhaitham says, "I will arrange their funeral."

Cyno only nods, and Alhaitham watches as he goes to cover your face up with a foreboding sense of dread he cannot place. Cyno does not apologize to Alhaitham for his loss. Neither of them is the type to placate others even in their grief. As for "his" loss? Certainly not just his. You were well loved, a bud in bloom among the vines of the Akademiya with your reputation built from the soil up. Those that knew you will mourn.

Yes, Alhaitham is in mourning, right now, isn't he? Everyone else believes it to be so. Tighnari tells him ‘my condolences' even though his own face is tight with regret, as though he could have single handedly prevented this from happening. He doesn't see Collei but perhaps that is telling enough of her grief. Cyno tells him that he will let Dehya and Candace know, and Alhaitham can only nod in agreement.

Alhaitham thinks he knows the reason for the dread when he comes home and Kaveh is there. His roommate has been pacing around in the living room, Alhaitham can tell. Without either you or Alhaitham present, Kaveh was worried but trying not to think of the worst-case scenario. Alhaitham has to be the one to break the news to him of the worst-case scenario, and he braces himself for the torrent.

If Alhaitham is the person who knows you best, then Kaveh is right behind him. Your death will devastate Kaveh, even if Kaveh does not know it yet.

"You're lying," Kaveh tells him. His face is as impassive as Alhaitham has ever seen. "You're lying to me, and it's not fucking funny-"

"I’m not lying," Alhaitham says. When Kaveh opens his mouth to argue, spit vitriol, call him a liar again, Alhaitham feels his own temper rise, and for a twisted moment, it almost feels familiar, him and Kaveh at each other's throats, except they've never argued over something as serious as this. "I wouldn’t lie about this. And you know it."

Alhaitham expects it to escalate. Kaveh will raise his voice and Alhaitham will too, both of them feeding their animosity into each other like they have never done since their Akademiya days. Even their latest bickering is nothing, and with you added into the mix, it becomes even less than that-- more eye rolls and snarky remarks than anything close to an argument.

But you're gone. So everything is different now, even if no one wants it to be. And when Kaveh's lips begin to tremble, his face falling upon the realization that oh god, Alhaitham is telling the truth, Alhaitham realizes something too. Telling Kaveh about your death was worthy of dread, but the thought that nothing will ever be the same with you gone, makes the foreboding feeling gape and widen.

He will pass by Lambad's Tavern and walk in, expecting you to be there at the third seat of the bar, writing your essay, but you will not. He will sit at the table nearest the window in the House of Daena and read while waiting for you to come and ask him to find a book, but you will not. He will walk home, noise canceling headphones off despite the bustle of the city, because he expects you to come up from behind him, hoping to surprise him for once, but you will never come. He will enter an empty home, quiet and devoid of sound, and instead of being relieved, he will only feel the same heavy dread, knowing you will never come home again.

Alhaitham never said he loved you aloud, and now he never will. Did you know anyways? Without him telling you, did you know that he loved you? Through the way he believed in you, the way he said your name, the times he's helped you, eaten with you, let you sleep on his shoulder and in his bed when you were tired. You knew him best, cherished him more than he could understand. Did you know he loved you like you loved him?

The unspoken questions, the unsaid words. As abrupt your death is, it is permanent, and Alhaitham will have to live life knowing there is an empty space where you once were that will never be filled again.

[stay]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, established relationship

Alhaitham cannot control things that are beyond his abilities to do so. The heavenly principles are far beyond him, beyond even the archons themselves, so it only makes sense that the events that transpire involving them are out of his control.

This upsets him less than most people would think. He's a thinker, calculating each of his steps before implementing them, so it would make sense when he can’t plan out every step of the way. People would be right to an extent, but Alhaitham is logical enough to understand there is no use trying to change something that he cannot. And why waste time being upset over that when he can focus on the things he can control?

Only… he is human, and even he miscalculates. When he thinks of the things within his power to control, he thinks about your happiness, his ability to make you laugh and blush, the ways he can keep you safe. He did not anticipate, as he holds your hands slick from your own blood, that your safety is beyond his control.

"Let me stop the bleeding," Alhaitham tells you, scanning his surroundings for anything he can to help him staunch your wound. You look at him, breathing shallow, his grip not once faltering even as you seem to lose the strength to hold onto him. "Don't fall asleep. Keep looking at me. I'll use my cape for now-"

"Alhaitham."

"I’ll lift your body up," he says, clicking his tongue when his hands slip from under you with the blood. "Tie this around you for now. The Traveler wasn't far from here-"

"Haitham."

"-even Paimon can help carry your legs if you can't walk anymore. I know she can-" Alhaitham stops when you start to push his hands away from your abdomen where the bleeding is most heavy. "What are you doing?"

"Can you," you begin to say, rasping these words as though it is taking every breath to speak, "can you just hold me? Haitham."

Alhaitham shakes his head. "I’ll hold you later.” He tells you, swallowing thickly as you look into his eyes as though searching for something. The next words makes his mouth dry, but he must say it. He must try. “I promise. I have to do this-"

"I can tell I'm not gonna make it."

Alhaitham shifts his legs under him and feels his knees soak in blood.

"Respectfully," Alhaitham says icily, "you may be more well versed with medicine than me, but you aren't at full capacity right now to judge accurately."

You laugh at this. Alhaitham doesn't see how any of this could be funny to you. He doesn't understand you. He never has. But, oh, he wishes he does; wishes he had all the time in the world to get to understand you more.

He feels your hand paw at his wrist, your fingers cold as ice.

You shake your head so slowly, and the smile you give him blooms just as slowly as the Padisarah flower he gave you last week. Your smile is no less beautiful though, no less bright despite it all.

"Maybe." You sigh. "But I’d like for you to hold me anyways. Please?" You say, "I feel so cold."

Alhaitham swallows his protests, because in the end, it is logic that will always win against all else: there is a low percentage that any help will arrive, and Alhaitham cannot do anything to save you.

“Okay,” he says quietly, gathering you up into his arms. Strong as he is, he is so gentle with the way he brings your head to rest against his shoulders, bringing your legs over his lap so he can cradle your body against his to share the warmth. He hears you sigh in relief, though he doubts it’s because you feel any warmer. It is purely comfort that he is providing, until the end.

For the first time since his youth, Alhaitham feels helpless.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” you tell him, words slurring. He lets out a huff of laughter– he feels delirious almost– that is shakier than usual, taking your cold hands and kissing your fingers as though it could bring it some semblance of warmth. “Lots of colors.”

‘Thanks,’ he could say dryly, like he always does. ‘I think I might like yours better,’ he could say; it would get a laugh out of you, and isn’t that what he always wants for you? ‘I love you’ would work too; it always works when it’s you.

Alhaitham opens his mouth to reply, but instead of anything he has planned, he says to you instead with all the desperation in his heart, “Please stay.”

“I love you,” you tell him instead; you always made it sound so easy to say.

In the aftermath, when the dust has settled and those who have not toppled remain, Kaveh finds Alhaitham hours after your death, cradling your body, his face buried into your neck.

[anticipatory]

notes: next two parts have the same back story- you have a leyline curse similar to Dainsleif; some fluff here! established relationship

“How long,” you ask as you lie in bed with him, “do you think I have?”

Alhaitham’s hand stops tracing lines on your back over the curse marks that paint your skin abyss blue. It’s not an unfamiliar question. You ask every once in a while, because you can’t see the progression of the ley line curse on your back, so you rely on him to tell you how far it’s spread.

Based on the growth, which only seems to go faster by the day, Alhaitham calculates you have about another year before it consumes your entire body.

Only six months ago it was invisible to the naked eye. Tonight, the blues spread outward like butterfly wings from the middle of your spine to reach your shoulders. You’ve already stopped wearing sleeveless shirts to cover the marks, but when they go past your neck or onto your hands, it’ll be difficult to justify wearing turtlenecks and gloves all the time while in Sumeru.

“Let’s take a vacation to Shnezhnaya at the end of the year,” Alhaitham says instead. “I have three months worth of sick days and breaks.”

You pause for a moment before letting him guide the conversation away. “Isn’t one of their main cuisines soup dishes? Borscht or something like that.” He hears you say, amused. “You hate soups.”

“It makes it difficult to read,” he explains, tracing lines into your back again. You sigh in contentment as he spreads the expanse of his palm along your shoulders, memorizing the abyssal stars that align along the path he makes. “I can deal with it for a little bit. I can cook something else while we’re there.”

You’re quiet for a little bit, breathing even and steady that Alhaitham thinks you’ve fallen asleep while he was memorizing the dips and curves of your body. You shift when he lifts the blanket up higher over you. He can hear you swallow audibly as though readying yourself to say something, probably to redirect the conversation back to your initial question, he suspects. Before he can say anything, you say with a voice as equally shaky as it is steady, “I’m sorry.”

Alhaitham’s heart stops. “Why are you apologizing?” He asks as calmly as ever when you do not answer, “Because I’ll have to cook on vacation? Not really that an inconvenience, isn’t it? I’m assuming we’ll split the responsibility.”

No answer.

“I wasn’t going to use the vacation dates anyways,” he continues. “And I hardly get sick. Though now that we’re talking about it, three months in one place is a long time. Perhaps we should consider traveling-”

Then he sees you crumble before his eyes, shoulders shaking, face burying into your hands as you start to cry.

Experienced at loving you now, Alhaitham is quick to bring you close. Lucky enough for him, you still melt against him, welcoming his embrace as he coaxes you to turn his way and bury yourself into his nape instead of your hands. He can still hear your apologies mixed between the gasps of air you take, your tears seemingly unending. He holds you steady, voice calm even though his heart is leaping in his chest as it always does when you are upset.

“What’s wrong?” he says, voice hushed. And like every other time you are upset, he asks you, "What can I do to fix it?”

“I don’t-” you say, voice cracking, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“...You don’t know that you will,” Alhaitham says. And it’s true. Neither of you know what will happen for certain. A lone blond traveler with a curse similar to you had passed by and told him of his eventual fate, and you had likened it to your own. But there’s no proof proving the two of you are the same, though it can’t be said that there is no connection between your fates at all.

“How long do you think I have?” You ask again, and he knows he cannot hide it from you any longer.

“A year at most,” he says. Your eyelashes brush by his collarbone when you close your eyes shut. He stops you before your thoughts can even form. “I am not leaving you.” He scoffs and you make a noise of indignation. “Don’t even think about saying something like that.”

“You didn’t let me say anything yet,” he hears you grumble, and he lets a huff of laughter out at the sound of your petulant voice.

“Do you really think I would do something if I didn’t want to?” Alhaitham says dryly, “And what’s the thought process behind me leaving you before you can leave me? I’d love to know.” When you are quiet, he continues softly, “Do you think I am that fragile to fall apart when you are gone?”

“...No,” you say finally. “But I think you underestimate how strongly you feel.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really,” you say, and your voice is light again, as it always is when you talk about how much you love him. “‘Cause I know better. How much you really feel, even if your face is… like that.”

“Like what,” Alhaitham says bluntly. When you only laugh into his shoulder, he can’t help but smile with you.

If Alhaitham could describe it, it feels like the longest goodbye. ‘Live every moment like it’s your last’ becomes the mantra between the two of you, though neither of you has said those exact words out loud. You love in abundance, laugh in abundance, bicker in full as though you are trying to live out the rest of your lives in one year.

The day Alhaitham takes you to the snowy lands of Snezhnaya is sooner than later, the scarves and gloves worn more days than not. As promised, you two do share the cooking duties for those months, getting cozy by the fireplace and learning how to icefish from the locals. He learns how to barter with the merchants there and commissions the two of you rings to wear. Though he never sees you wear it outside, he can always feel the ring when he holds your gloved hands. He thinks you never take it off.

When Alhaitham returns from Snezhnaya, he comes home alone with nothing but a golden band on his ring finger. The people that know him know better than to ask.

[priorities]

notes: connected background as previous but different ending; fluff! established relationship; happy end

Alhaitham has always been the type to stay in the background. People might be inclined to call him the ‘mastermind’ but that’s giving him too much credit considering how much he wants to remain unknown and unperceived. But he supposes having a hand in toppling the heavenly principles and destroying the castle in the sky and being unrecognized is asking for too much.

“You’re an… interesting guy,” you tell him, a few days after the climactic battle which, fortunately, neither of you had to have a large part in. (Well, there was that key role for you… and another for him, but that is neither here nor there.) You snicker into your hand when he shoots you a strange look.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Alhaitham asks, and before he can continue his retort, you are sitting on his lap even though the two of you are supposed to both be on bedrest, in separate beds. Tighnari is going to kill them if he finds them now that he knows neither of you are going to die any time soon.

“It means you’re an interesting guy,” you say. “The first thing you tell me is that you hate involving yourself into tedious things. And then you get yourself into making strategies to take down literal gods, which sounds pretty tedious to me.”

Your smile is beautific when you look at him, your arms finding their way around his neck and legs over his lap. Instinctively, he puts a hand around your back and holds onto your legs so you don’t fall. He takes a peek at your back and sees that the abyssal blue has not moved a single centimeter beyond your shoulder blades. He knows that was what was calculated, but still, he breathes a sigh of relief upon its confirmation.

“I always make a basic list of pros and cons for a plan,” Alhaitham says. “I just deemed overthrowing gods to be less tedious than the alternative outcome.”

“And what could possibly be more tedious than overthrowing a literal god?” You laugh, looking up at him as though he hung the moon and stars. He thinks if he hung the moon and stars, then you must be the one holding up the sun in the sky.

“Losing you,” Alhaitham says simply. “I’d prefer not to imagine a life without you in it, so I made sure that a life with you would happen.”

Alhaitham knows you are smart enough to know what he was going to say, but you seem surprised anyways, eyes wide and tears welling up at his admission. Perhaps some time ago, Alhaitham would not have believed it would have ever been worth upheaving his life for the sake of another person. But Alhaitham has never been one for halves; the moment he decided to have you in his life, then there was no other option for him.

“I love you,” you say, and he thinks overthrowing gods is an easy choice to make if three words is enough to make him feel this happy, if your arms around him is enough to make him content.

He’s said it before, and he’ll say it again– it’s only a matter of priorities. You just happen to be right on top of that list.

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #i think this may be my first genshin angst fic #like the fact some of these parts dont end happily? crazy for me #OFF BRAND i would say #couldnt resist adding a happy part tho :)

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lotte22324 · 1 month

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Hi, this is my first Oneshot ever and I am kinda nervous for yall to see it. This idea randomly popped into my head, I don’t know why.

Also, English is not my first language, so please ignore the mistakes.

Warnings: mentioning of the case and connected SA (but only in the beginning)

Summary: You are a profiler at the BAU. You specialise in linguistic analysis and also in having a pretty cutsie style. You and Spencer are both working late on a case and his stupid long hair annoys him but you luckily got some hairclips with you :)

(These are the bows that I am talking about btw)

You and the team were on the way to Cleveland, attending to a particularly disturbing case. Multiple mutilated victims were found, all indicated signs of sexual assault, post mortem. All of them were women but none of them looked alike. The only thing that they had in common were the position in which they were found. They all were layed down carefully with their arms crossed above their chest.

"The arms are a sign of remorse right?“

"Yeah, it’s clear that the killer has a conflicted conscience in the connection to the murders.“ said Reid. You turned your head to the right side to see your fellow profiler. His hair was long, longer than ever before, he was wearing a purple dress shirt with s simple tie. His converse were matching to yours, the only thing in common with your wardrobe. You were wearing a skyblue blouse with a dark blue pair of pants. The outfit was professional, the hair not so much. You wore two hairclips in the front of your hair because they would often fall in front of your face which annoyed you. The clips had two pink bows attached to them and they matched your pink earrings and nails.

"If the unsub feels guilty about the murders, we might be able to convince him to give himself up“ remarked JJ. Emily looked at her skeptical and held up the letter that the unsub left at the last crime scene, one of six: She will never stop, only I can fix it! "This says otherwise“

"It is weird that he shows signs of remorse but he also seems extremely certain of his resason to murder, what does he need to fix?“ asked Reid while he knitted his eyebrows together, like he always did when he was thinking. It looked too cute, you couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on your face. "Linguistically, it’s clear that the "she“ that he speaks of is one specific person, probably some sort of authority figure for him, probably a mother“ you remarked. Hotchner nodded his head, a plan already in mind. "Y/l/n you will do a linguistic profile, try to find a pattern or identification marks in all of the letters. Reid, look at the geographical pattern, the locations where the bodies were found might give us a clue where the unsub lives. Morgan and Rossi, you two go to the last crime scene, Emily, you and I will interview the families. Lets catch this guy!“

„I guess your stuck with me at the precinct, pretty boy!“ you said playfully to Reid but all he did was blush and turn his head awkwardly to the side. Morgan shoot him a knowing look but you didn’t think about it too much.

Later that evening, you and Reid were the only ones left in the room designated for your investigation. A hot cup of coffee was standing in front of you, you knew you were in for a long nighty You had been looking at these letters for hours on end, trying to find identifying markers. The only thing that became apparent is that the letters and the murders are definitely about the unsubs mother. They were all about 60, the letters showed clear signs of conflicted hatred and love toward the mother and connected abuse. Maybe she hit him or she was just a very dominant personality who commanded all the men in her life and broke their will if she needed to. Reid was also standing in front of his map for the last few hours, rearranging the pins and drawing new circles and xes on it. Looking over, you did not see a clear pattern at all but maybe his genius brain could make sense of all of the colors on the board. Your eyes shifted from the map to him and the way he kept adjusting his hair. He wanted to tuck it behind his ears but it fell into his face again and again. "Ugh, why? Maybe I need to cut my hair again“ he mumbled annoyed. "Nooo, please don’t! I like your hair like this“ you answered quickly. "But its always in my face and whenever I tuck it back, it falls in front of it again“ Reid remarked, pushing his hair back aggressively. But all it did was fall back infront of his ear and Reid let out an annoyed groan. You stood up and moved towards the man: "here, take one of my clips! My hair is long enough so that I can easily tuck it behind my ear“ you said, quickly taking one of the bows out of your hair. As you kept going, the clip in your hand, he looked at you skeptical: "thank you, y/n but I don’t think that would suit me as much as it suits you“

You blushed involuntarily at that indirect compliment, "oh come on, no one is here anymore, you won’t be less of a man if you wear this pink bow in your hair!“ you rolled your eyes as you halted infront of him with a questioning look. „Okay, fine“ he hesitantly answered and you gave him a reassuring smile. You leaned forward, pushing his hair back as you clip in the pink bow. You felt how soft his hair was. As you let your hand trail down his head, you let it linger a bit too long. Just as Spencer cleared his throat, you realized that and let your hand fall quickly to your side. "All done, you look cute“ you blushed as you took a step back. But your blush didn’t compare to his. The minute he saw himself in the reflection of the glass board where he drew his map on, his face turned as red as a tomato. The pink bow clearly on display, matching to yours. Now not only your shoes were matching but also your hair. "Uh, thank you y/n“ he said after a while. But you didn’t even realize what he said because all you could do was stare at him. He had never looked this cute in his life. Not with his glasses, not with any of his haircuts. You felt a fluttering feeling in your tummy. Here he was, Spencer Reid, wearing your pink bow in his hair. You couldn’t believe the sight you were witnessing. Even though you didn’t have an eidetic memory, you would never forget this. As you kept starring at his face, your brain filling with all the accessories of yours Reid could wear, he kept staring right back. But instead of thinking about all the different hair clips you had, he couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked. The slight blush that spread over your face, the blown pupils as they were looking at him. The way your mouth was slightly opened, the curve of your lips perfectly kissable.

"Yo, I forgot my-" Morgan stepped insight, both of you taking a step back, not realizing in the moment how close you two were standing and looking embarrassed towards Morgan. "Uhm, sorry for…disturbing, I just forgot my wallet here“ he said, moving toward the table. Your eyes shifted, there it was, lying underneath all the letters you had just looked at. "Alright, have a good night you two! Pretty bow, Reid, your lil girlfriend should lend you her things more often“ Morgan winked as he walked out of the room. Both of you stood there in silence, looking down onto the floor. Spencer raised his hand in embarrassment and tried to detangle the bow from his hair. "Noo, you look so pretty with it Spencer, you shouldn’t give a damn about Morgans opinion!“ you reassured him. He gave you a smile as his hand slowly fell down. "You know that is not fair“ Reid remarked. "What isn’t fair?" You looked confused. "Well, I would wear anything as long as you think i‘m pretty even if that would be the most impractical thing on this planet.“

"That can’t be true!“ you laughed.

"Do you remember four months ago when we saw that shampoo ad on some billboard in Texas with a man on it with long, shiny hair?“

Honest to god, you really didn’t. "Uhm, not really…“

"Well, you said that you love men with long hair and it seemed like you looked right at me. I, obviously had short hair at that time. But from that moment on, I decided to let my hair grow longer“ Spencer confessed.

"You grew your hair long because of me? Because I said that I find men with long hair prettier? That makes no sense, why would you care what I think about y-" then it hit you. He wanted you to find him attractive. He wanted you to see him as pretty. You took a step towards him, his gaze avoiding you, he seemed more focused on his shoes than on you. "Reid" you said quietly, him still not looking at you. "Spencer, if you don’t look up now, I’ll leave and you’ll never find out what I’m thinking about right now“ you threaten, his gaze hastily rising. You took another step towards him, this time a bit less sure than before. It seemed like time froze as you slowly raised your hand towards Reids face. "May I touch you?" You asked hesitantly, knowing that he wasn’t the biggest fan of non-consensual physical touch. He nodded his head and finally met your gaze. His eyes shifted up and down, between your eyes and lips. As you cupped his cheek, it seemed like the spell on him was broken. His face inched closer and closer until his lips met yours. The tension that you felt for the last few months finally found an escape and both of you seemed to feel relieved. His hands found your waist, as he pulled you closer to his body, your other hand tangling itself up in his hair. After a few moments both of you had to pull away to gasp for air. Smiles crept up on both of your faces as you realized what had just happened. He didn’t let your waist go, you didn’t want him to do that anyway. "You know what, Reid?" You asked humorously.

"What?" He asked back.

"I wanted to do that even before you let your hair grow out“ you answered him truthfully. Ever since you joined the team, you wanted to kiss him. It didn’t matter what his hair looked like or if he wore his glasses or not.

"You’re joking right? All of this agony for nothing then?“ he asked dumbfounded, pointing at his long hair.

"Oh no, definitely not for nothing! I got to see you wearing my pink bow and that is a sight, that I will never forget!“ you giggled and pulled him into a hug that he happily reciprocated.

P.S.: I hope you guys liked this, it is kinda strange to always read fanfic and now actually writing it. I guess my Spencer Reid obsession made me do it :) yall will probably understand, hahahaha.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #fluff #pink bows #y/n #first kiss #crush #spencer reid fluff

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readychilledwine · 1 month

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The Bard

Summary - Sometimes, it's fun to romanticize someone one else's life.

Warnings- None

Baby daddy note - I made Lizzy post this. She wrote it for fun. I felt it should still be shared.

A/n - May delete later

Masterlist

This world was nothing like the ones she had ever been in. Tall buildings stood in place of trees, hard stone lined the ground cutting and cracking her bare feet with each step. She jumped back as a car hit a puddle, preventing it from splashing her.

Checking her pockets, she sent a silent thank you for the currency hiding there. A sign from her Gods that they were indeed watching. She studied what she slowly realized was her new identification before checking the streets to see if she could navigate through where she was.

She was younger in this world. Barely 16, and for some off reason, blonde. Perhaps it was to remind her of who she was, of who she belonged to, but the reminder hurt none the less.

On further inspection, she realized this world wasn't so different from the last she was in. Just different methods of the same things. Buildings touched the clouds, technology pinged and flashed before her, and modern clothing covered the bodies of everyone around her. She paused at the sight of a bus, seeing that it read the street name of her new home on it before getting on and paying the toll in a shining silver coin.

The previous world came back to her slowly, as all memories did when she jumped. It had been a hard battle, one she suspected could not truly be over with how easily it had ended and begun.

The more she looked, the more similar this word seemed. It just lacked the magic.

She kept to herself, avoiding the gazes of humans too caught up in themselves to even truly look at her. She listened to them, hoping to find the hero she was destined to follow into battle, whose song she would sing in local bars. That was her job, of course. In every lifetime, in every world, she was a Bard. Collecting the stories of heros and their foes, playing them before a laughing crowd.

She followed countless warriors to their deaths, queens to their thrones, and kingdoms to their salvation. She was exhausted, heart aching from the most recent loss. She sighed as she got off the bus, quickly figuring out the house numbers before finding her own.

Pictures sat on the wall of her with her family. Faces that would know her, but she was going to hardly remember. Memories would have been planted into her brain, ensuring her safety as they always were.

She allowed them to guide her now, pulling her through the house until she was met with a door decored in pictures of her with friends. It did make her laugh how each world allowed her to follow a pattern. A group of women. All shining stars in their own rights. All with stories that needed to be told.

She stepped into the room, studying the furniture and shrugging off the rain-soaked clothing. A box sat on her desk, unopened and sparkling. She pulled on warm clothing before walking to it.

White ribbon, so pure and untouched, wrapped about a brown box and an envelope. She opened the envelope first, smiling at the familiarity of the handwriting in an unknown place.

My dearest Bard,

You have no hero in this world. No story to memorize. In this world, you are free to grow and live as you please. Find your own adventure, your own legendary love.

This is our thank you. A new beginning for your humble service. Just never forget who you are. When you miss home, simply look to the stars and wish.

She wiped the tears falling from her face before opening the box. Line paper sat with pencils and pens, just waiting for her to write. And so she did. She would tell the stories of the worlds she had been in one last time.

"Once upon a time,” she wrote, smiling as she did, even if the story started out of order, "in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom very much.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

#elizabeths.updates #sjm fandom #sjm fanfic #acotar #crescent city🌙#crescent city #acotar ✨️#ToG #throne of glass #throne of glass 🗡

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

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"only bought this dress so you could take it off"

Song: Dress by Taylor Swift

Pairing: bob floyd x reader (afab)

Warning(s): Allusions to smut (not written) & Aftercare

Word Count: 1,913

Summary: Y/N had just moved to Miramar and was invited to the Navy Ball in San Diego by her roommate. Soon when the both of them arrived, Y/N was met with a face she hasn't seen in a long time.

Backing away from the full length mirror, I admired the dress I picked out a few days ago. The muted gold beaded dress hugged my waist in all the right ways. With it being off the shoulder and a sweetheart neckline, it showed the right amount of chest without it being too scandalous.

“Wow, you look amazing.” I looked over to see my roommate, Natasha, entering my room.

“Are you sure? I mean is this appropriate for a naval ball?” I turned to face her.

“Yes, all heads will turn to you when you enter the ballroom,” she reassured me. “Who knows? Maybe a navy man will approach you and you end up going on a date with him, but if it’s Hangman, straight up reject him.”

I laughed at what she said. “Nat, I just moved here two weeks ago, I’m not looking for a relationship yet.”

Ever since I moved to San Diego two weeks ago, I’ve been more focused on my teaching job. I work at the local high school near a navy base as a science teacher. I was hired when the school year already started so I've been catching my students up since the substitute teacher they had barely got them learning.

“Well, the Lyft is almost here, you should finish getting ready,” she told me before leaving my room.

Slipping on a pair of gold heels, I grabbed my clutch and double checked the inside to see if I had all of the things I needed. Closing it, I walked out of my room and walked out of the house with Natasha after she locked the front door. Getting into the car, our driver started to drive us to the US Grant hotel.

“Hey, everything is going to be fine,” Natasha squeezed my hand. “All of the Dagger Squad is going to love you.”

We soon pulled up to the hotel and saw a bunch of naval higher ups in their uniforms with their plus ones. I’m pretty sure that I also saw some politicians entering the hotel. Natasha and I soon walked in and headed to the ballroom entrance where we showed our identifications along with invites.

When we walked in, I started to feel overwhelmed. Many members of the Navy and their plus ones filled the room while a live band played music.

“Oh, I see them!” Natasha started to drag me to where her friends were. “Guys, meet Y/N.”

I was soon met with two dark skinned men, one with a buzzcut, another one with a somewhat porno mustache, and one who looked like a real life Ken doll. She soon started to introduce me to them with their actual names and call signs. More of the members came and I was introduced to them along with her captain and his husband.

“Guess who finally showed up,” Jake announced. “How long does it take to get a soda?”

“Y/N, meet-” I looked over to see who came and I froze.

“Robbie?” His name fell out of my mouth.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He asked.

“Oh my god, it’s been so long.” I walked up and hugged him.

“It has.” He returned my hug.

“Wait, is this the Robbie you told me about?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded my head.

“Are we missing something here?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, did you and Baby on Board used to have a thing or?” Jake asked.

“Baby on Board?” A confused look formed on my face when I heard the name he gave Robbie.

“No, we used to be childhood friends back in North Carolina,” Robbie explained.

“Yeah we’ve lived in the same neighborhood until I had to move to Arizona because my dad got a new job,” I nodded and pointed to Natasha. “That’s where I met Natasha.”

“And we’ve been inseparable until we had to leave for college.” Nat wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “It took me some convincing to get her to move down here.”

“Well, I had to finish both of my masters,” I told her.

“Two masters?” Admiral Kazansky raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, one in mechanical engineering and one in physics, but I also have a teaching credential for physics.” I smiled proudly.

“Do you mind if we continue this conversation while I get myself another drink?” The admiral asked me.

“I don’t mind at all Admiral,” I answered while linking arms with him.

While on our walk to the bar, he started asking me questions about my studies and why I double majored. I also talked about my time studying my undergrad at Cal Poly and getting my masters/teaching credential at the University of San Francisco.

Throughout our conversation, I glanced at the other side of the room to see Robbie talking to some of his squadron members. We would send each other a smile if we made eye contact with each other.

Soon a familiar tune filled my ears and the room. Placing my drink down on the bar, I faced the admiral.

“Excuse me sir, but I have to do something,” I excused sir.

“It’s no problem, also call me Tom.” He smiled and I nodded my head.

Hurrying myself to the other side of the room, I made my way to where Robbie was. When I saw him leaning against the wall as he listened to his friends, a smile came onto our faces as lyrics started to echo through the room. Handing his drink to Ruben, I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the dance floor as Come On Eileen played. (A/N I just imagine the dance scene in Perks of Being a Wallflower) We started to do the dance routine that we created when we were kids whenever this song played through the stereo. We continued to dance to the song and sang out the lyrics.

“Wow, it’s been a while since we last did that,” I caught my breath after he dipped me and we moved to a slow dancing position.

“I’m surprised that we still remember it,” he chuckled.

“After the amount of times we perform this dance in front of our families, I would be surprised if we don't remember the moves,” I looked up at him.

He still had the same face from what I remembered as a little kid, but it was more defined. He was still the shy and reserved kid that I knew of as I grew up.

“Hey, wanna head out?” He whispered in my ear which sent chills down my spine.

“Sure,” I agreed.

He led me off the dance floor and went to his squad.

“It’s been great meeting you all. I hope we get to see each other again,” I told everyone.

They all said their goodbyes and Robbie and I left the hotel ballroom. As Robbie and I waited for the valet to bring his wrangler around, I felt him put his coat over my shoulders and wrapped his arm around them. Leaning against him, I looked up at him and gave a smile. Soon the wrangler was pulled up and he helped me into the car. Getting into the driver’s seat, he closed the door and untied the tie he was wearing.

During the drive to Natasha and I’s house, we were sharing stories and memories from our childhood. He also explained the reason why Jake called him Baby on Board sometimes. I laughed at the stories that he had with his crew. I guess he’s glad that he’s permanently stationed here with his crew.

Pulling up in front of the house, he got out of the driver’s seat and helped me out of the car. Walking me up to the door, we stood there for a moment, waiting to see what happens next.

“Thanks for taking me home,” I thanked him.

“No problem, it’s nice seeing you again,” he smiled. “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you,” I looked down at the ground and blushed.

I soon felt his fingers touch my chin and moved my head to face him. Don’t know the reason why but I started to feel my heart begin to race as my stomach fluttered. Leaning my head in as his did, our lips touched and moved. It continued for a few more seconds as it got more passionate until we detached, looking at each other with a blush on our faces.

“Did that just?” I asked.

“Yeah, it did,” he nodded his head.

“Well, I should head in now,” I told him and grabbed my house key from my clutch.

Unlocking it, I pushed open the door and walked into the house without closing the door. I tossed my clutch on the kitchen island and started my walk down the hallway to my room. Hearing the sound of Robbie’s footsteps entering the house, I looked over my shoulder a little and gave him a wink. Entering my room, I took off my heels and started to unzip the back of my dress.

“Need help with that?” I heard Robbie’s voice enter my room.

“Please,” I answered despite me not needing any help.

Chills were sent throughout my body as I felt his breath hit my neck as he slowly unzipped my dress. I bit the inside of my lip as he started to place kisses down my neck. With my dress off, leaving me in my undergarments, I turned and started to kiss him as he led me to my bed.

*Aftercare*

Tangled up in my bed sheets, Robbie laid flat on his back while I laid my head on his chest. One of his arms wrapped around my waist while the other drew circles on my thigh.

“Imagine if we told younger us that we’ll be in this situation,” I chuckled, looking up at him.

“I feel they would be grossed out,” he let out a laugh. “I miss this, I miss us hanging out with each other.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “It sucked that we weren’t able to keep in contact with each other.”

He nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “But hey, we got to see each other again even though it took over ten years.”

“True,” I laughed.

“I know I already said that you look beautiful but that dress on you is amazing,” he complimented me.

“Well, I should buy that dress in other colors if it makes you do this,” I smirked as I gestured to us in bed.

“Nah, anything you wear can make me feel like this,” he placed a kiss on my lips.

“This isn’t going to affect our friendship right?” I asked him.

“I already lost you once, not losing you again,” he said while pulling me closer to him.

I smiled and laid my head on his chest letting out a yawn. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep.

*The Morning After*

Opening my eyes, I looked over to see Robbie still sleeping. Smiling to myself and last night’s events, I quietly got out of bed and threw on his dress shirt. Walking out of my room, I walked down the hall to the kitchen to see Natasha standing there with a cup of coffee and a smirk on her face.

“So, my backseater huh?” She asked.

“Shush,” I blushed a little while pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“Hey, just saying he’s a really good guy but you already know that,” she told me.

Soon we heard footsteps revealing Robbie in his boxers and hair disheveled.

“Yeah, he really is.”

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

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By: PITT

Published: Sep 30, 2023

Our son recently started graduate school. He began hormone therapy during his final year of undergraduate education. Because he began to identify as a lesbian, transgender woman at 20 and showed no sign of gender dysphoria before that, we never had a chance to reflect – or advise him – on his choices. Going through the published medical research on the effects of estrogen made me aware that psychologically, excess estradiol in the serum causes depression among males, and physiologically, there are potentially much more severe side effects, including some impacting the brain and the immunological system. More of that in a minute.

Fast forwarding to the present day, before our son left for graduate school at a University with one of the country's most renowned medical schools. I decided to write to their student health center and share the studies I had found and, more relevantly, the psychological history of our child. What follows is the text of the letter and, after deleting potentially identifying information, the response from a high-ranking official within the health center. They are, for the lack of a better phrase, quite revealing.

First, my letter (I have not disclosed the name of the university and have changed the name of our child here, with apologies to the real Jonathans of the world; furthermore, apologies for the triggering usage of pronouns – I did not want to be dismissed as the “usual, hateful, bigoted transphobe”; rather, I wanted to be considered as the deadly serious parent who would do anything in their power to prevent their child from coming to harm):

Dear Apex University Health Center,

Our child, Jonathan, who is joining the graduate program at Apex University this Fall, identified themself as transgender during their sophomore year in college (2021) and started estrogen therapy in early 2023. Since every one of these interventions is off-label, I have been looking up the peer-reviewed literature on the effect of estrogen and whether there are any risks that our child needs to be aware of as they continue on this path. My findings, which I summarize below (and link to the sources), have been alarming. Several endocrinologists – some who publish extensively – have told me they were unaware of the new literature. I have also been in touch with the Endocrine Society, and their response heightened my alarm.

While we respect our child's identification with their gender identity, we felt that they exhibited several psychological symptoms right before identifying as a lesbian, transgender woman (Jonathan was assigned male at birth and did not show any inclinations to identify as female before April 2021), and these co-occurring symptoms were not considered at all before he started on the prescribed medicines. Most tellingly, just before identifying as transgender, Jonathan's romantic advances were rebuffed by the woman of their affection. Subsequently, Jonathan also lost every friend they had, thereby remaining completely alone in their dorm room for the greater part of their last two years of undergraduate education. However, these psychological symptoms were never explored. Jonathan was recommended to start on estradiol and spironolactone immediately, which they did – and their physical and mental health symptoms have deteriorated since. Jonathan is also quite depressed, spending all their time without emerging from their room.

That is not surprising since, when it comes to the recent research on estrogen in natal males, excess estrogen in the serum in natal males has been associated with depression – studies among adult men and adolescent boys show that. Clinical studies (i.e., studies that recruit actual subjects and follow them clinically rather than rely on anonymous, online, non-probability surveys) that promote gender medicine fail to show any improvement in psychosocial outcomes among natal males. For example, the New England Journal of Medicine study from early 2023 concluded that hormone therapy is psychologically beneficial for transgender youth. However, in the main text, the study finds no improvement in depression, anxiety symptoms, or life satisfaction among natal male youth (the relevant paragraph is at the bottom of page 244 of the journal issue).

Thus, psychologically, there is ample evidence that excess estrogen is associated with depression among natal males. Physiologically, recent research shows that estrogen might have far more deleterious effects. A study showed that 12 months of estrogen treatment among transgender women leads to a decrease in serum BDNF levels. That is significant because a separate study shows that this decrease in serum BDNF level is associated with increased risks of developing MDD (or major depressive disorder). Lower levels of brain BDNF levels have also been associated with neurodegenerative disorders and found in the brains of patients with Alzheimer's, Parkinson’s, MS, and Huntington’s disease.

A high-quality rodent study shows that estrogen therapy among adult male rats leads to changes in their brains that resemble the changes in the brains of trans women. (There have been several other studies (2 links) among trans women that have shown these changes, but the rodent study indicated the mechanism by which these changes occurred in the brain.) Specifically, estrogen seemingly reduced the water content in the astrocytes and thereby disturbed the delicate homeostasis in the brain by increasing the relative concentration of glutamate (the brain's most abundant excitatory neurotransmitter), leading to glutamate excitotoxicity. As the Cleveland Clinic informs us, an increase in glutamate in the brain is associated with higher risks of neurological disorders like Alzheimer's disease, ALS, and many other diseases like multiple sclerosis. The research also showed that estrogen decreased brain cortical thickness and volume (which other studies have linked to patients with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and lower levels of general intelligence). Furthermore, it was found to reduce cortical white matter integrity (which is related to cognitive instability). There is also empirical evidence of the lowering of cognitive abilities among transgender women that was presented at the EPATH conference in April 2023 (in Killarney, Ireland) - the researchers noted this decline among long-term patients at Amsterdam's famed gender clinic.

Research in the last few years shows that estrogen therapy among trans women has been associated with higher risks of various autoimmune diseases, from multiple sclerosis (recall, too, the association of MS with an increase in glutamate) to rheumatoid arthritis and many others in between. It has been associated with increases in the risks of prostate cancer and breast cancer. It increases risks of cardiovascular diseases (2 links), often by as much as tenfold compared to their cisgender counterparts.

Empirically, we see a much higher incidence of many of these physical and neurological diseases in the transgender population. It is perhaps not a coincidence, therefore, that population cohort studies (2 links) show that trans women, on average, die decades earlier than either cisgender men or women.

When I approached the Endocrine Society with what I had found and pointed out that many of these findings came out after the publication of their guidelines in 2017, I received an email from their Director of Clinical Practice Guidelines that they are currently fast-tracking a revision of those guidelines. She also mentioned that their evidence evaluation criteria have changed since the guidelines were published and that they now use the GRADE criteria for evaluating evidence. This is encouraging, but I have no idea how long it will take for the new guidelines to appear.

I point all of this out because Jonathan has the chance to start afresh and be reevaluated at Apex University's healthcare system. We increasingly see them stumbling with their memory, something that we could not even think of a year earlier – Jonathan used to have a photographic memory ever since they were a child. Having heard so much about Apex's medical school, we have high hopes that Jonathan's evaluation at Apex University's medical system will be more thorough than it has been so far. Let me be clear: We have no doubt about their gender dysphoria or their intense discomfort in their traditional gender role – we worry about that all the time. It is just that we have observed that medicalization has not brought them any balm so far – in fact, just the opposite. While the absence of any upsides (and the possible significant downsides) in the literature – psychological or otherwise – heightens our alarm.

After all, it is not only a lone voice like ours, but even mainstream media like the Economist (their April 5 issue with the cover story “The evidence to support medicalized gender transitions in adolescents is worryingly weak” comes to mind) and storied institutions like the British Medical Association and the systematic reviews of the literature from national medical associations of very transgender-friendly countries like Sweden, Finland, Norway, the UK, and (most recently) Denmark that are raising the alarm on the lack of high-quality evidence of any benefits from hormone therapy. (And these reviews I mention above cover only the evidence of the psychological effects of the hormones – they do not even consider the long-term physiological consequences.)

If all the evidence from the past few years is to be believed, there is now quite a body of evidence of genuine harm from administering estrogen to the natal male body (I have not researched the effects of excess testosterone on the natal female body, and so I cannot comment on that.)

As one of the world's leading lights in healthcare to nudge society toward better outcomes through research, Apex University will be well placed to lead the march for evidence-based care in gender-affirming care.

Thank you very much for reviewing the evidence that I have found and considering our child's health as they start their journey at Apex University. Please let me know if you have any questions. I look forward to hearing back from you.

With warmest regards,

XXX

A few days later, I got their response. I have highlighted the relevant portions of their email and annotated them within brackets [all formatting mine]. As I said, it’s quite revealing.

Dear XXX:

Thank you very much for sharing your concerns about your child with us.

…Apex U's Student Health Center (Apex SHC) is not directly affiliated with Apex Medical School and we do not provide care under the umbrella of the hospital. [Is the respondent making sure that the medical school is not implicated if something goes wrong with our son?] However, we do collaborate closely with our colleagues at the hospital and medical school, including in the management of our student receiving gender affirming care.

…

Gender affirming care is a unique process in medicine in that we are not aiming to treat and eliminate a disease process. [Ah, an admission that there is no real goal of treatment through this care. Finally! But read on…it gets better.] Instead, we are using the tools of medicine to help individuals achieve very personal and sometimes nebulous [nebulous? WTF? After all these years of "settled science," all we have is “nebulous?”] physical and emotional goals. Success is not based on a clinical metric but usually involves a better quality of life balanced with potential risks including morbidity and mortality. [So, finally, an explicit admission – success is not based on any clinical metric. That makes complete sense to us inconvenient parents. After all, how can there be? There never have been any metrics, ever. At. All. All we have are some "nebulous" ideas of "better quality of life" – as decided by the patient right now, with no consideration of what might happen in the future as a result of the free dispensation of off-label medication. And oh, by the way, that "better quality of life" includes morbidity factors and dying much faster.] We at the Apex SHC make every effort to ensure that our patients are well-informed [in other words, make sure that they have signed the informed consent forms!] about each decision that they make and have time to consider these impacts without pressure [The irony of the sentence – “have time to consider these impacts without pressure.” Wow! really?]

Should your child decide to engage with us in care, our commitment to them is to prioritize their safety [oh, the irony, once more!], the elements of their well-being that we can support [the rest – whether caring for them for the rest of their lives or paying for their illnesses and hospitalizations, with a big fuck you to your dwindling retirement funds – is up to you, you bigoted parents!], and to help them make a bright future for themselves.

Very best,

AAA

As I read and re-read the email, all I could think was – Wow! What an amazing letter! AAA has no qualms admitting that there are no clinical goals of treatment when it comes to gender-affirming care. This is really quite convenient if you think about it—if there are no aims, any outcome is fine! No wonder these physicians get all flustered when we inconvenient parents ask them about clinical goals and outcomes.

All that these caring physicians want to achieve are some nebulous (which the dictionary defines as unclear, vague, or indefinite) goals. Oh, and please remember – once again – that those are personal goals, so please don’t ask about evidence of well-being. (An inconvenient question, though – why should such personal goals be funded by others, whether it is the government or private insurance?)

And what if, as a result of those nebulous goals, the patients go through psychological, emotional, and physical distress for the rest of their lives, as detailed in the medical literature? Really, shame on you, you bigoted parents! Always such a nag! Always the party pooper. Why do you have to ask such inconvenient questions? Haven’t these caring physicians already made it clear that these are personal goals and that it really doesn’t matter that young children who are distressed might have no idea how to make a rational choice about the future? Who cares if they become hyper-fixated about something, as young children are wont to?

But then again, really, there is no pressure. No pressure at all. These kids are otherwise well-adjusted grown adults who know exactly who they are. Probably from the time they were toddlers. (What? You want evidence? This is getting really tiring. Give it a break, will you?) These are kids who are not immersed online, who do not gulp down narratives about “gender euphoria.” They are stable, rational human beings with a very clear idea of what the future holds.

All these well-meaning saints – these gender-affirming physicians – want is to give these kids a bright future: a future so bright that it will probably include that intense bright light these pitiable young men will see when they die decades earlier than their non-medicalized peers. Who are you parents to stand in their way?

This is quite a remarkable admission. If there are no metrics and the objectives are "nebulous," then that's the very definition of not-scientific, not-medical. How can this be "necessary," and even "life-saving" if it's also "nebulous"? God is both real and undetectable?

How can it be "settled science"?

You're letting people self-diagnose and self-prescribe in order to chase something nebulous? What the hell?

#Leor Sapir #gender affirming healthcare #gender affirming care #gender affirmation #clinical goals #clinical outcomes #queer theory #gender ideology #medical malpractice #medical scandal #religion is a mental illness

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outofgloom · 10 months

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PAIN AND THEN DARK

The suns of Metru Nui were bright and hot. Too hot, for too long. The heatwave had lasted a year so far and showed no sign of stopping. The meteorologists could not explain it; neither could the seers. Various protocols had been enacted across the Metru to protect and maintain the city's infrastructure, but at times it seemed like a losing battle.

The skyline of Ko-Metru was looking rather pathetic today. The Metru of Ice was the hardest hit by the rising temperatures, and perhaps the most miserable as a result. Another of the great Ice Spires had destabilized during the warm night and collapsed, filling the streets with quickly-muddying slush.

"Woe unto us!" cried a Nonguite street-prophet, standing strategically beneath the shade of a protometal joist, now exposed by the melt. He was maskless as usual, and clearly reaching the limit of his strength.

"The world shall end in heat-death, it is foretold!" he continued. "See how the eyes of Mata gaze down upon us, examining us, judging us. Closer he bends, and we are like insects before him!"

Ioro ignored the ragged Matoran, as did most everyone else. He stooped into the underhang of the crystal tower's base, noting that the usual permafrost foundations were deteriorating here as well. He made a note to shore them up when he left.

The Ice-Toa allowed himself a small expenditure of elemental power, dropping the temperature of the air rapidly, and entered through the low doorway.

"Soon shall the end come!" the distant voice crowed. "Shed your masks, and meet him with your true face!"

A Ga-Matoran glanced up, feeling the icy coolness Ioro brought with him into the medical ward.

"I was summoned," Ioro said. "Another heat-stroke?"

"Not quite," said the Ga-Matoran. She looked down at her tablet, beckoned for him to follow. The ceilings were a bit higher here, allowing the Toa to stand upright as they navigated the halls.

"Patient is identified as Kylda, of the Lower East Sanctums."

"That is Kylda, formerly of the Eighteenth Tower of Knowledge, for the record."

"Mhm."

"What has happened? Is he alright?"

They rounded a corner. Various medical personnel scattered as they passed through the center of the ward. There were whispers. The Ga-Matoran finally stopped at another doorway, examining her tablet again.

"Hang on, let's see...You are the 'Ioro' listed as a direct associate of Kylda in the Ko-Metru central records, correct? I have a mask-record on file for you, but it seems it was from...uh...before."

She gestured vaguely up and down the Toa's body. Ioro flashed his Metru identification morosely. They entered the patient room.

There was a low bed, and various mechanica beside. Ioro reached the bedside in one stride. The figure lying there did not move.

"Kylda..." he mused to himself. Then, to the Ga-Matoran: "Tell me."

"He asked for you by name when they brought him in, but lost consciousness soon after. That was several hours ago. He was--"

"--What happened to his eyes?" Ioro interrupted. "Why the bandages?"

"Ahem. He was clearly overheated from wandering outside, but the most substantial injury was to his oculars. I'm afraid they are completely destroyed."

"What?! How..."

Ioro bent closer. The bandages were woven beneath Kylda's mask, hiding whatever terrible injury lay there. His mask...

"The eyeholes of his mask are...They appear to be..."

"Burnt," the Ga-Matoran said. "Yes. We've ordered a new one from the temple-vault, but I'm not sure that..."

She trailed off.

"He is dying."

"Yes. You arrived just in time."

"You are certain?"

"Yes."

"What can I do?"

"I don't believe there was anything that could have been done. The damage goes deeper than the apertures themselves. We have made him comfortable, but it will not be long now."

"I see."

"There is more: A representative of the Metru Council was here earlier, and she delivered me this directive. I have it...uh...right here. It's for you."

The Ga-Matoran stepped forward and offered a small tablet stamped with the Council Seal. Ioro took it and turned away to read.

For the eyes of Toa Ioro only. Summon Rau for this cipher.

Ioro shifted to his Mask of Translation, read further:

Report of a disturbance at the Second-Channel Observatory Sanctum, Ko-Metru sub-district fourteen. Target of interest is Kylda, formerly Inaku Kylda, formerly of the Eighteenth Tower of Knowledge (position reverted). Intelligence suggests that this Matoran intended to engage in further repetition of illegal astrological activities.

You are designated a direct associate of this target, with knowledge of the target's history. A representative was sent to the Po-Ko Medical Ward, Ko-Metru sub-district nine, where Kylda was admitted, but it was determined that interrogation was not possible at that time. Your directive now is to go to the Second-Channel Observatory Sanctum, Ko-Metru sub-district fourteen, and determine what activities may have taken place there.

Any data derived from these activities is to be destroyed, in accordance with the Prohibitions. Report back to Station, sub-level three of the Coliseum when complete.

Ioro looked up from his tablet. Kylda's breathing was shallow. The mechanica chirped steadily. The Ga-Matoran waited at the door.

"Give me a moment with him, please."

The Ga-Matoran backed out of the room.

Ioro stood still, gazing down at his friend. He looked small to Ioro--all Matoran did, of course. But even smaller now, lying there. It had been too long since they had spoken. He'd worried that Kylda might do something, left to his own devices. Return to...old obsessions.

Ioro glanced back to the doorway. Low conversation in the central ward beyond. No inquiring eyes. Quickly, silently, he knelt beside the bed, hand to Kylda's scorched forehead, and shifted to his Mask of Telepathy.

Down through the shifting psionic waves, through the twisting mental pathways he searched for fleeting remnants of consciousness. Thoughts flickered past, muddled and indistinct. He pushed on, seeking a place of cohesion, of active awareness.

At last, blurry impressions began to resolve, and he felt a faint presence.

"Kylda, I'm here," he said with his mind-voice. "Do you know me?"

"...Ioro?" the answer came slowly.

"Yes."

"Ioro, you are...You came! Where are we? It's dark..."

"We are in your thoughts, my friend. Perks of being a Toa."

"I can hear you. I think I've been...dreaming."

"You've been unconscious."

"They gave me some of the numbing fruit at first, and that helped."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, no...not anymore."

"That's good. I'll tell the healers."

"How long..."

"Just a few hours, I think. They found you on the street and brought you in."

"No, I mean...how long do I have left?"

"...What?"

"I can feel it, Ioro. I was...crawling. I was outside for a long time, in the sunslight. It was too much; I can feel it in my core."

"Let's not rush to--"

"Don't lie to me."

A long pause. Ioro searched for the words.

"I'm sorry, Kylda," he said at last. "There...there isn't much time left."

"I see. It's my own fault. I couldn't stop myself."

"Please tell me you didn't. You know the Prohibitions."

"I made a mistake, Ioro."

"Why? After all that happened, after losing your place at the Tower..."

"I don't know why. I couldn't help it, somehow. It's been on my mind for so long. The work was...It was unfinished."

"It should have stayed unfinished."

"No, it had to be done...And I did it, Ioro. At long last, I did it!"

Another pause.

"Tell me."

"I snuck back into my old observatory--you know the one. I planned it all out, brought in all my things. I'd been doing the calculations for years. It was easy to make the proper adjustments, just like before."

"Just like before...so you violated the Prohibitions after all. I had hoped--"

"Curse the Prohibitions! You know how I feel about them."

"Yes, of course--"

"--Divining of the suns and moons tells us just as much as the stars. More, even! They are a direct link to the mind of Mata Nui. A terrifying thought, that we Matoran could look the Great Spirit in the face. I've always said the seers are too small-minded, too set in their ways."

"--Spare me the speech, Kylda. You sound like the street-prophets."

"Don't say that. You know that hurts me."

"I'm sorry."

"Anyways...well, I did it! The suns were just rising at dawn. I adjusted the great lenses of the telescope and trained it at Akuavo, the upper sun, and affixed my old tinted lenses. I kept some of them, you see..."

"Of course you did."

"And I looked...and I looked through...I saw..."

The telepathic voice grew quieter.

"Kylda?"

"Saw..."

"Kylda stay with me."

"Ioro...my friend...I think..."

"I'm sorry, Kylda. I should have been there. I should have stopped you."

"I think I saw...no...No!"

The mindspace agitated, convulsed. Ioro felt sick, but held on.

"Can you hear me?"

"I saw it! Oh, I saw it for sure, and it burned me, Ioro. It burned me in my eyes, in my brain. I thought the lenses would be protection enough, but I was a fool."

"That's not true."

"I looked into the eye of Mata. I looked and he judged me!"

"It's over now. There's no need--"

"--Behind the suns, Ioro. It was there."

A shudder went through the mental pathways. Ioro felt a pang of something. Dread...and that old curiosity.

"...What was there, Kylda?" he asked after a moment.

"What did you see?"

==========

The observatory was dark and cool, well-shielded from the warm air outside. Ioro had finished his catalogue of items, wiped the remaining records from the various memory crystals. Not a trace was left. It had been a long process, sifting through the various materials Kylda had brought in, making sure the Prohibitions were kept. The long sweltering night was almost over by now.

The Ice-Toa brushed dust from his hands. He was overdue to report in. Station would have a reprimand for him, in all likelihood. He was normally very punctual. Very precise.

He stepped toward the low door.

"...What was there, Kylda? What did you see?"

He stopped, hand hovering over the access panel. Slowly he turned, fixed his eyes on the mechanism that dominated the small, domed space.

"I must tell someone, or I'll never be at peace. But you must promise..."

The telescope was of the usual kind: a shaped flute of metal, fixed to a stone pedestal. The great crystal lens was not visible beyond where it intersected with the dome.

"Promise that you will tell them. That my work...our work...will not be in vain."

"Kylda, I don't know."

"Swear it!"

Dread...and curiosity. The eye-piece branched from the base of the telescope, a blank eye pointing downward.

"I...I swear."

There was a dark spot on the floor of the chamber, a small scorched hole burned into the stone.

"Behind the eyes of Mata, Ioro...Behind the suns. I saw...another. A greater sun. I saw it. Stark and terrible, in a greater void. And not only that: a thousand lights, ten-thousand...all around. All staring at me out of the emptiness. Unreadable. And then pain. And then dark."

Ioro realized that he had forgotten to remove the last of the tinted lenses Kylda had affixed to the eye-piece.

He shook himself and stepped forward, stooping beneath the curved metal. That would have to be destroyed as well...

"I don't understand."

"Maybe you can't...Maybe...But know this: After I fell and crawled in the fire of Mata's judgement, this question was burned into my mind: If our suns are truly the eyes of Mata Nui, as the mad sages claimed of old...Then what...then what...then what...then what..."

"It's alright, Kylda. I'm here. It's okay, you don't have to--"

"--then...what...Eyes!"

The telescope stood above him with its great lens pointing skyward.

"...are...looking...down!"

The eye-piece stared at him expectantly.

"...down upon...Him...upon...Us...from that greater void?!"

Dawn crept over the horizon.

"Tell me!"

And then pain.

And then dark.

#bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction #outofgloom #works

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bentosandbox · 1 month

Text

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

#arknights #bentotexto #will blog about the festival in another post because i dont think theyll let me post that many photos #yeah i got the logos/theresa pillow but im giving it to a friend

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jokingmisfit · 1 year

Text

Nightmare not Reality

Reiji Sakamaki x Reader

Prompt- “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I had no idea how to end this so if the ending is bad I am sorry.

It was stupid, and I know that when he sees me he’ll call me pathetic, maybe even ‘punish’ me for disturbing him, but I can’t not check on him.

The images flashed in my mind. His barren eyes. They always hide emotion, but they look empty and hollow. They looked just like him, dead.

The sensible part of me whispers that it was just a nightmare, that none of it was real, but another part says that it could be a sign he needs help.

It surprised me that I even cared. After all he’s done, after all he does. I still care.

I didn’t at first. In the beginning I hated him and his brothers. The only reason I didn’t fight them off was so Yui was being drained of every drop of blood in her body.

Eventually, though, Reiji made me spend hours of my day in his study or his room. He wanted to teach me about everything and anything. He adored the punishments he got to give when I slipped up, but he held me so closely afterwards.

It was nothing more than Identification or, more commonly known, Stockholm Syndrome.

Me believing that he was nice to any capacity was just my brain trying to cope, to save me. The smaller part of me is trying to keep me safe and far from insanity.

My mind races as I grab my silk robe. The creamy white cloth wrapped around my body loosely. I pull it closer to give myself faux comfort.

I step out of my room. I take calming breaths as I walk to his room. The last thing I need is for him to hear my breath hitching. The deep breathing helps me to stop shaking too.

I get to his room door and knock lightly. I found that tapping twice on the door gets the best reaction from him. I doubt any reaction will be great after waking him up, however.

I stand quietly. I listen closely hoping to hear anything from inside.

I don’t.

The door opens abruptly. I look up as calmly as I can. I know he isn’t happy. The obvious is shown more when I look into his eyes.

He’s glaring down, but not speaking. He wants me to speak first. I know.

I know.

I take in a breath and wrap my arms around myself. “I’m sorry to wake you… I, um, was worried about you…”

Reiji continues to stare.

“Ok, uh, you, um, think I’m being weird. I guess that’s fine and you’re probably going to think I’m pathetic for saying this, but,” I say, stumbling over my words. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Because as stupid as I know for a fact I sound, I care about you and just needed to know that you are good.”

My hands start to shake again, and he continues to stare. Usually he’d say something. He should’ve said something by now? Right?

I shakily sigh. “Well, you’re alright, so I’m, um, gonna go, i guess… Um bye.”

I send him a slight wave and turn to go.

Quickly, I’m pulled back to my spot from before.

Reiji looks down at me with the usual glare. His magenta eyes still shine in the dark.

“It’s rude to interrupt someone so abruptly then leave so unpleasantly.” He states matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude.” I whispered. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“I’d say you sound pathetic, but you’re clearly already aware of that.” He opened the door wider. “Come inside, sit on the couch.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I move into the room. Reiji closes the door. I walk with precise steps, or at least I try. He watches me, he always does. I sit straight on the edge of the couch. He walks over to the couch and sits next to me.

“I’m not sitting right.” I whisper.

“You’re not.” He responds. “But, your mind is fractured. Isn’t it?”

“It was just a nightmare… Nightmares aren’t real.” I mutter.

“They are not,” He agrees. “However, your mind is weak. Tell me, what is it you saw that frightens you so much? Hm?”

Dead magenta eyes. A limp body. Perfectly groomed hair, and clothes now tangled and torn.

Over and over I saw his death.

I look over to him. Tears brimmed in my eyes, and I couldn't care what he must’ve thought.

“I saw you… I saw you dead.” I couldn’t say anything else.

I fold my hands in my lap tensely.

“I don’t see why that is so disturbing for you.” He states in confusion.

“Because I care!” I shout. “Because for some reason the thought of no longer being able to talk to you or see you anymore stresses me out and the thought of someone hurting you scares me because no matter how much I want to hate you I don’t! Cause you’re the only person I can talk to about tea sets and tea flavors and you teach me new things and you smell amazing and you do everything in a confusingly perfect manner that makes me admire you more than I do anyone else.” I sigh. “Because I stupid as it sounds I don’t wanna lose you.”

Reiji adjusts his glasses and lets out a sadistic laugh. “How adorable… You do realize however that no matter how your mind twists things, you will never be rid of me.” He pulls me closer. “Even if you wish to leave you can’t. That being said, no fantasy will keep you from me.”

“I sure hope so…”

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #reiji sakamaki #reiji sakamaki x reader #sakamaki reiji #sakamaki reiji x reader #yandere reiji sakamaki

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