#she was a joy to edit but i said it before & ill say it again. who dropped her between two kinsey 5's in a midlife crisis n left her there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

severus-snape-apreciation-blog · 1 year

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Apparently telling someone that the issue isn’t the Harry Potter game and wishing death on every player isn’t okay. And that the real issue is the governments especially the US one and asking why they aren’t getting angry at them. Commenting to the governors instead of getting mad at strangers online who don’t want to crucify their 50+y dads. Could result in them proving they are worse then the game players.

(There is a poll at the bottom)

Telling someone you will watch as they get raped and killed doesn’t make you a good person. I believe people mad about the game are good people. Y’all have reason to be. I just look at the situation differently that the government is a hugely different problem. And it’s proving so. If someone disagrees with me I’m okay with that. But to tell me to die. Or kill myself or that you will watch as I get raped by Nazis. Tells me. You are not as good a person as you think you are. You are just as bad as the Nazis. Cause that is beyond messed up to say to someone.

Even said to me that I’m a traitor to my gender and the community doesn’t accept me. That’s also fucked up to say. Not as much. But still not good. You pretend you have the moral high ground. But ignored everything I said in these comments. Which tells me I’m right. It’s not that you have the moral high ground. You want to feel as you do. Because people that actually care. Would care about how Florida wants to kill parents who let their kids be trans. Or one state banned all reaffirming care for everyone under 18. And if above are not allowed to have any mental illness. Or that trans people are not allowed in the correct bathrooms. And have to put their lives in danger just to go to the bathroom. Cause a dad might not understand why a buff man is using the woman’s bathroom. Or what’s happening to Zooey Zepher. Or the fact that all “pro trans” business have been really quiet and proving they aren’t really. Except funny enough. BudLight

@penisgoblin

Anyone who wants to read the full Exchange it’s under one of my posts explaining where Sirona comes from (also before anyone sparks that again. It’s not a transphobic name. But was a horrible choice for them to do)

For everyone wanting to learn more about real issues going on that are really anti trans here’s a link of all anti trans laws they are doing

I would post more articles but the apps not letting me paste atm so feel free to google it

To address some of the other stuff expressed to me in the comments.

Someone told me the whole gaming and media industry isn’t needed and that they would be okay if the whole thing collapsed. I will explain why it is needed. People watch/play for many reasons. It builds serotonin. Entertainment and joy are vital in helping lowering suicide and depression.

And the media industry is one of the biggest in the US and it is hugely vital for the economy. The writers strike will help cause another depression (not blaming the writers but the asses that refuse to pay them) and people don’t even realize that outside the writers that are striking. Thousands of others are losing their jobs. Editors. Animators. Costume design. Set design. My sister. (No seriously she lost her job editing frames for shows)

If the entire industry collapsed so would the US. and even other country’s. The sad part is when I explained that. They didn’t even care. They don’t care that people will go homeless and starve with their families. It was messed up.

Or one person said they hoped everyone who played the game or worked on it dies.

Saying stuff like this shows me you are on a false moral high ground. That you are just as bad or worse then the people you are upset at.

Disclaimer: I do not support jk assface. She is a cunt and a bitch. I understand why people are upset about the game. I am not disagreeing or mad at you. I personally have never played the game. Will I someday? Idk. Probably not. I am Non Binary and Pan. I am more upset at the US government then my elderly father.

#hating on people who literally just want to play a game is dumb. especially if they themselves are trans or Jewish #bring cruel yourself doesn’t mean you are better. just means you are worse. go f yourself #harry potter game #not Severus snape

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casualmissimformation · 9 months

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🏹🛖Ultimate Decades Challenge🏰👑

Continuation of 1304...

In the wake of the heartbreaking loss of their baby girl, Elizabeth, Hugh and Bridget's world was enveloped in a thick blanket of sorrow. The pain seemed insurmountable, casting a shadow over their lives. However, amidst the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerged with the arrival of their precious son, Elias. His birth brought a renewed sense of purpose and joy.

Elias, with his innocent smile and tender presence, became a beacon of light for the family. While they knew that Elias could never replace Elizabeth, his arrival breathed life back into their home.

And as Edith grew older, the bond between her and older sister, Eleanor, became an unbreakable thread that wove through their lives; being that the girls were only a mere year and a half apart in age, they had each other to play, snuggle, explore, and find trouble with.

Hugh holds Edith a little tighter after the loss of her twin sister; their first true loss as a family.

"Through the eyes of a child, you will see the world as it should be."

The bitter cold winter left the crops scarce and foraging took longer than normal. The children continued growing strong and healthy, and they watched Edith pass through her infancy and into her toddler years.

I am the Queen of doing too much. I think this picture is an example of how I can never do anything "minimally". My writing, stories, posts, photo edits, explanations..... I am always doing too much.

Going backwards in time, before Edith was a toddler and Elias was born...

"I don't care about your excuses, peasant. As I recall, you have an imbecile in charge here. Pathetic excuse for a lad, eh?"

Not long before Elias was born, the tax collector made his rounds yet again. Hugh had recently started his job as an Artisan's Assistant and their money was dwindling more than ever while the very pregnant Bridget was unable to collect much honey in the dead of winter, nor was she able to stand for long periods of time crafting candles.

Bridget didn't get nearly as upset about a man of his status degrading her, but hearing him speak ill of Hugh made her blood boil internally. She would fight until the end of it all for her family. She could say or do nothing except try to blink the tears away that threatened to overflow down to her cheeks before returning back into the warmth of her home.

"He would be like that even if we weren't peasants, love." Bernedicta rocked quietly, moving her needle and thread with ease. It wasn't just a hobby; it was her way of helping with those taxes. She sold her work straight out of the home to anybody who made the trip to the farm. Though it wasn't anything close to enough to provide for the family, anything helped. "We will be fine. It is going to work out, as it always does. Don't listen to the fool. Sit down and have a rest. I will watch Edith; here, here," she waved her hand for Bridget to lay the infant down in the bassinet next to her.

"I know you love to watch me crochet more than those silly stitches, eh?" Bernedicta grinned as Edith babbled away and watched Benedicta's hands moving back and forth.

Back to present day...

"I think that will do it for now..." Hugh said with a smile. Though winter hadn't brought much honey, they had a few jars they had not sold to the towns folk and used those to make honey mead. It sold at a much higher price and turns out, commoners up to lords and ladies even enjoyed it. The murmurs around the peasant village were that the kingdom was buzzing with whispers of a peasant family with the best mead in all the lands. "I cannot wait to see the look on his face next time...," Hugh referred to the tax collector, whom loved to be a thorn in the side of the peasant village, particularly his family.

With time, Hugh and Bridget found the perfect recipe for honey mead. Once they sold a few, townsfolk were returning for more or referring other people in the kingdom to the Stonewall peasant farm. Even through the harsh winter, with the honey they had saved for themselves during the past seasons, they managed to get enough sold that they could work on building a second level to their home. Though it would merely be a small enough space for a bed, it would give their children a bit more space as they grew bigger.

The celebrated with their own barrel of mead, savoring the fruits of their labor. Bridget and Hugh could hardly wait to see the tax collector show up next time, which was quite an uncommon emotion to have towards the fool.

Previous/Next

View the Stonewall Family Tree HERE

#the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #the sims screenshots #the sims legacy #sims 4 #the sims gameplay #sims screenies #ultimate decades challenge #morbids ultimate decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #legacy challenge #the sims story #creative writing #female writers #legacy family

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sdottkrames · 1 year

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You Are Loved More Than You Know

🎄🎁 to @marvelousbutterfly for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

My dear new friend, this was a joy to write! I loved looking through your blog and reading your fics. Thank you for sharing your stories with us. I hope you enjoy my take on your prompts! SORRY this is so late posting here! I’ve been out with family. Again, I hope you enjoy 💜

Prompts: Tony having a medical issue (something with his heart or anything else really) and Peter worrying about him, and outside POV of Tony and Peter's father-son relationship.

***

“What the f-“

May Parker’s curse was cut off by her nephew, standing in his room wearing a spiderman suit. He whirled around, his eyes wide and panicked.

“May? This is not what it looks like.”

“Oh really? Well, what’s it supposed to look like then? Cause it looks like you’re the spider guy posting videos on YouTube.”

May had seen the videos and her heart had stopped when she’d seen the crazy things Spider-Man got up to. She’d tried to figure out how he was doing them, if the stunts were real or fake. But then she met some of the people he’d saved, people he’d dropped off at the hospital to make sure they were alright, and they had assured her he was real.

“So maybe it is what it looks like,” Peter said, his eyes roaming anywhere but to May’s.

Oh my gosh, my nephew is spider man.

May surged forward, and threw her arms around him in a fierce hug.

“Um…okay? Can’t say that this is how I imagined this going.” The teen’s voice was muffled by her shoulder as he snuggled closer, hugging her back.

Tears pricked May’s eyes as she thought about her nephew risking life and limb to save innocent people. She pulled back to look over him, hands carding through his hair, caressing his cheek, sliding down his arms, her expert touch ready to find any injury.

“May, really, I’m fine! No injuries, I promise. Besides, I heal fast,” Peter protested.

Assured that there was nothing amiss and no crisis to deal with, her hands, so gentle just minutes before, slapped the back of his head in a way that was anything but.

“Ow! May!”

“Peter Benjamin Parker! You mean to tell me that you’ve been parading around New York, fighting bad guys all on your own? Risking your life to save people and getting hurt-” Her voice rose with her emotion as she kept talking, swelling until it swept her away in a current of worry and panic and confusion that cut her voice off.

Peter gently pulled her back into a hug. “Come sit down, I’ll tell you everything.”

And he did. From the ill fated trip to Oscorp, his strange new powers, meeting Tony Stark, the disaster of homecoming (though May would later find out that he edited that particular escapade quite liberally).

“And then Mr. Stark invited me to be an avenger, but I told him I just want to help the little guys! You know, stay close by and handle small problems. I’m not ready to be an avenger, but it meant a lot to me that he thought I could, you know. Like, my mind is still spinning a little that Tony Stark thought I could be an avenger. But I don’t know. I don’t really want to deal with the big scary problems….what?”

May wasn’t sure what emotion was showing on her face because she was feeling several hundred at the moment, but apparently it was enough to stop her nephew’s excited rambling.

“Did you say Tony Stark invited you to be an avenger?”

Peter’s cheeks pinked a little. “Um…yeah.”

“Is spider man what the whole Internship thing was about?”

“Yeah, I was just doing things on my own before, in my own homemade suit, and he gave me a whole upgraded suit to keep me safe.”

May blinked. “Yeah, we’ll address the fact that you were stopping cars in sweatsuits in a minute, but Tony Stark knew about this?”

Peter’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to need his number.”

The confused look was gone and pure panic took its place. “No, May, please. Don’t be mad at him. I told him you didn’t know and forced him to keep it secret, it’s not his fault.”

May forced her voice to remain calm and even despite the tornado of fury swirling inside. “I’m not mad. I just want to talk to him about how the suit works and how he’s keeping you safe.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Promise?”

“Yep, I just want to make sure you are safe, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” So Peter gave her Tony’s number and they spent a long while after that, talking through things and setting ground rules for May’s sanity. May had immediately wanted to put a stop to her nephew being in danger, but she knew just as quickly that it would be a moot point. He was good to his very core, that boy, and if she tried to stop him, he would just be in danger without her knowing. So they agreed to honesty.

Well, honesty in everything except this, she amended as she checked to make sure Peter was asleep before calling Tony’s number.

“Hello?” a voice said on the other line.

“Hi, Tony Stark? This is May Parker, Peter’s Aunt?”

“Oh, yes, hi. Is everything okay?” to his credit, Tony actually sounded genuinely worried.

“Yeah. Yeah, Peter’s fine, he’s safe and sound. But we need to talk.”

Continue reading on AO3: here

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kjmsupremacist · 2 years

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The Bucket List (doyoung/taeyong)

Doyoung’s always been a bit depressed, but this last year has really put him through the wringer and he’s been pretty suicidal. So his therapist cuts him a deal. Make a bucket list. A real, actual bucket list, of all the things he wants to experience, and then do everything on that list. If, at the end of the list, he still wants to kill himself, then they’ll go from there. His therapist has a feeling that won’t be the case. Doyoung would beg to differ, but he plays along anyway. And then he meets Taeyong, who finds out about the bucket list and makes it his mission to help Doyoung fall in love with being alive again.

Chapter 1: The List | next mlist

Characters: Doyoung, Taeyong; misc family members

Genre: heavy angst, eventual romance, slow burn, hurt/comfort, college!au

Pairing: Doyoung/Taeyong

Warnings: discussions of suicide, depression, self harm, mental illness; homophobia, bullying, family dysfunction. heavy heavy shit. please read my note below.

Rating: Teen & Up

Length: 3k

This work is very heavy, and potentially triggering. There are serious, lengthy, and often detailed discussions of bullying, homophobia, mental illness, self-harm, and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

It was a bit of a trial to write because of this, so I have to pause to thank my beta readers, Margot (@perfeggso) and Leon (@jongins-tiddies), for their tireless energy in editing this fic and for offering to share in its burden. They are the best beta readers a writer could ask for, and, more importantly, the best friends in the world. I could not have completed something this difficult without their help.

All that being said, this work was also incredibly therapeutic to write. While it is a story of grief and loss, it is also one of joy, healing, and hope. I hope you will find it as comforting as you may find it heart-wrenching, just as I have.

Lastly, if you or a loved one are suffering from severe depression and suicidal ideation, please seek help if you can. I will be linking resources at the bottom of each chapter; please use them if you need them. Remember that life is always more than just the things you have lost. It is not easy and it is not mandatory, but to commit to the act of living is one of the best and bravest things anybody can do. If you have found the strength to do so today, you have my respect. And if you have not, but you’re here anyway, you have my love in addition. Happy reading!

taglist: @pastelsicheng @doiefy

you can listen to the official playlist here!

The A/C is humming louder than usual today, though it’s no hotter out than it was when Doyoung was here a week ago. How often does A/C need maintenance? Maybe that’s why; maybe the mechanisms inside are heating up, and he won’t even know it before he’s blasted backwards by the force of the explosion.

“Doyoung.” Doyoung snaps his gaze forward, realizing he’s been completely zoning out. “I don’t think your parents are paying me to watch you stare out the window.”

“Sorry, Dr. Cha,” Doyoung mumbles.

“It’s alright.” His therapist leans back, relaxed now that she has his attention again. “You seem… distracted today, clearly. Your mind is distant. It’s been nearly ten minutes and you’ve spoken about five words to me. What is it?”

Doyoung looks down at his lap where his hands lie limp against his thighs. His thumb twitches, chasing a loose thread along the seam of his shorts. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Like literally nothing. There’s nothing in here.” He taps his temple, looking back up. “It’s like… radio static.”

“Ah.” Dr. Cha nods. “Say more. What kind of nothing is it?”

Doyoung thinks for a minute. He tries not to lie to Dr. Cha. He knows she’s supposed to help. He wants her to be able to help him, though he doubts anybody actually can. But it’s nice to pretend, so for the most part he tends to play along. “It’s just… empty. Like most days. But more today than usual, I guess.” He tilts his head to the side, trying to find another way to explain. The more words you use, the more ways I can find to help you, Dr. Cha had told him during their first session. “It just kind of feels like… there’s nothing left.” He snorts to himself softly. “That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

Dr. Cha offers him a small smile. “Yes,” she says. “I don’t think you’d be here if it didn’t.”

This is another reason why Doyoung tries not to lie to Dr. Cha—because she doesn’t crucify him for telling the truth, or freak out and threaten to call his parents or the hospital. She knows when he’s really in danger and when he’s just expressing some latent frustration. It’s the latter today; they both know it, so there’s no need for panic or crucifixion.

Doyoung spreads his hands. “I just feel… stagnant, I guess. No offense,” he adds. “You’re doing your best. I just… don’t know if I’m ever going to get better. Like I think this is it. This is going to be it for the rest of my life. Which… makes me ask, like, what’s the point?”

Dr. Cha nods slowly. “I see,” she says. “Empty, as in void of meaning or purpose. That’s never good.”

“No,” Doyoung agrees. He doesn’t ask what he should do. Dr. Cha will offer him a solution if she has one.

“How strong is the suicidal ideation?” Dr. Cha asks.

Doyoung likes this about Dr. Cha, too. She doesn’t mince words. She doesn’t waste time trying to trick him into answering with pretty euphemisms. She doesn’t try to dumb things down or talk to Doyoung like he’s a kid. She asks, and hopes he’ll be just as frank in his response.

“Medium?” Doyoung estimates. “It’s there, but nothing concrete.”

“Okay.” Dr. Cha sets her notepad aside; she flipped it to a new page when Doyoung walked in, and it has remained blank. “I have a proposal for you, then. You’re not busy this summer?”

Doyoung shakes his head. “My parents didn’t want me working.”

“Right. Okay, so here’s the proposal. I want you to make a bucket list.”

Doyoung blinks. “What, like shit I want to do before I die?”

“Yes.” Dr. Cha’s tone is light, but her eyes are serious. “That’ll be your homework this week. Make a bucket list, bring it to me, and then I want you to do all the things on that list. Or as many things as possible. We can talk about it once the list is made. And after you’ve completed it, to the best of your ability, we’ll see where you stand. And if, after you complete the list, you still feel like killing yourself, we’ll go from there.”

Doyoung arches an eyebrow at her. “And what if I don’t want to do anything?” he asks, maybe challenges. “What if there’s nothing on that list?”

Dr. Cha regards him for a moment. “I don’t think that’s true, though, Doyoung,” she says. Her voice is gentle. Rarely does she pull the classic therapist card of Telling The Patient How They Feel, so Doyoung knows she means it. “I think there is something keeping you here, and I think it’s more than fear and more than duty to your family, and more than the paralysis that comes with the exhaustion of depression. I’d like you to think about what it might be.”

Doyoung drops the snark. She’s being sincere; he ought to be as well. “Okay,” he says. “But what if my list is pretty short? I feel like not a lot is going to change if I only have, like, three things on it.”

“Well, if there are only three things, then there are only three things,” Dr. Cha says with a shrug. “I’m not going to give you a minimum. But I do want you to go home and think about it, like really think about it, okay? Can we agree to that? You put real effort into this, and I’ll meet you wherever you end up.” She holds his gaze for a second. “Even if it’s only three things.”

Doyoung nods. “Alright,” he agrees. “The terms seem fair. It’s a deal.”

Dr. Cha smiles and offers her hand to shake. Doyoung accepts it. “It’s a deal,” she repeats. The A/C hums, bearing witness.

; ; ;

Doyoung takes the long way home. He knows it might make his parents worry, but there’s really only a couple places he can be where their worry is minimal: at therapy (he’s done for the week), at home (very quiet, very lonely, very boring), or on the way home (at least he can turn his music up really loud).

It’s kind of always been this way. His parents relaxed a little during high school, probably because they realized he’d sneak out anyway, and they’d rather give him an environment he could be honest in so they’d at least know where to start looking if something happened. But then so many things happened this last year, and Doyoung got a lot worse, and his parents got nervous again.

There’s no rule that says Doyoung can’t be out when he wants. He’s an adult now, by both American and Korean standards, so there’s little anyone could do to stop him. But he knows they worry. He’d rather have one less thing to feel guilty about.

So he takes the long way home, but he also speeds a little, which he realizes after he pulls into his driveway was counterproductive on two counts, but it doesn’t matter. The house is silent; his parents must still be working. Doyoung sighs, tossing his keys in the basket by the door and meandering into the kitchen to get a snack before trudging upstairs to his room.

He switches between games for the next couple of hours, hoping it’ll distract him for a while so he can stop thinking about everything, which is to say thinking about absolutely nothing until he can feel the space between his brain and his skull. It works, for the most part.

He could go out, maybe, try to do the things that people say are supposed to make you feel good, like running and yoga and smelling the flowers, or maybe drugs if he wants to be more realistic, but if he goes out then he might as well get a job, and he doesn’t want one of those, so he stays in.

His father gets home first and starts on dinner. Doyoung can smell the frying garlic from his room, but he doesn’t close his door. It’s homey, and reminds him of when he was little. Their cook used to make the best fried rice starting that way—garlic browning in hot oil, rich and fragrant. But even a known outsider is still an outsider, and eventually his parents terminated the cook’s service, too private to allow even a shadow past the threshold, even though they could certainly afford it.

His mother arrives around when Doyoung is setting the table. She, like his father, hardly says hello. It suits Doyoung just fine. They sit down without much conversation and begin to eat.

“How was therapy?” his mother asks after they’ve finished their soup.

“Fine,” Doyoung says quietly.

“Good,” she says absently. “That’s good.”

The rest of dinner is wordless.

; ; ;

Doyoung stares down at the blank sheet of paper. He’s written “BUCKET LIST” at the top. That was half an hour ago. He hasn’t thought of anything. To give himself something to do, he underlines the title.

He lets another fifteen minutes pass before pushing the paper aside and grabbing a new one. If he can’t think of things he wants to do, maybe he can start with things he wants. “WANTS”, he titles this page.

I want, he writes, and then stops. Everything he wants is impossible.

He wishes he could be like everyone else. He wishes he could want normal things—a job he likes, a house, a family. He used to, when he was little. He’s pretty sure, anyway. When he was a kid, he wanted to be a doctor, or maybe a singer. But he’s not smart enough to be a doctor, and singers don’t make a lot of money unless they get really lucky, so those dreams were soon tossed out.

And it didn’t help that he never quite fit in. He was always too skinny, too quiet, too weird. He went through most of his childhood with the vague inkling that there was something wrong with him, but it took him a while to figure out what. The other kids knew, too—not specifically at first, but they could smell otherness like a shark smells blood. Any friends he made never stayed for long, quickly realizing that proximity to Doyoung meant a share of the bullying he suffered. Doyoung couldn’t fault them for trying to save themselves. So dreams were quickly pushed back in favor of a focus on survival.

It wasn’t until middle school that Doyoung first heard the words that pinned him down, like a butterfly on a display board, and labeled him for what he was: queer. Faggot. Fairy. He’d been slowly coming to the realization himself, but hearing it from others cemented it. He was gay, and there was nothing anybody could do about it, try as they might. It was the most riveting thing to happen in their school, so there was nothing to shield Doyoung from the stares and the whispers and, eventually, the beatings, when other boys realized they could assert their own heterosexuality by punishing Doyoung for his lack of it.

When Doyoung told his parents, they brought it to the school. They were donors, big ones; that wasn’t something the board wanted to risk. The physical violence stopped, at least mostly, but the other violence stayed—the quiet kind, the kind that leaves no visible mark. Doyoung didn’t bother bringing it up again. He knew there was nothing anybody could do.

When his parents discovered healing cuts up his wrists and on the insides of his forearms, they sent him to therapy. It was very hush-hush; no one wanted the dishonor and embarrassment of having a mentally ill son, especially not one that would never be a man, that came out crooked, that would never be quite right. Doyoung knows he’s always been his parents' greatest disappointment and greatest failure. Even now. Maybe especially now.

I want, he had written. He looks down at it until the letters blur, until the words don’t look like words anymore. It’s not untrue. He wants. He’s not sure what, exactly, but he wants. He thinks that proves Dr. Cha right. He’s stuck around this long for a reason. He picks up his pen again; he doesn’t know when it had slipped from his fingers.

I want to want things again.

I want to be normal.

I want to stop feeling like this, or I want it all to be over.

I want to feel alive again!!!!

Doyoung dots another exclamation point. Maybe that’s where the suicidal urge comes from. He already feels dead. He might as well finish the job, right? He’s searching for completion. He’s whatever the opposite of a zombie is—instead of a craving to fill whatever he’s missing, it’s a craving to let the empty shell be put to rest. Nothing is meant to exist between the realms of the living and the dead. He’d like to go one way or another, and barring the more attractive, albeit less acceptable option, he only has one choice. He has to try to feel alive again.

He looks around his room. It looks as dead as he feels. When did he last feel alive? He’s not sure he remembers. He’s not sure he ever did.

He pulls the first page back in front of him, and after pausing for a moment to consider the phrasing, begins to write.

; ; ;

Doyoung unfolds and refolds the paper between his hands as he waits for Dr. Cha to come retrieve him. He considers only now that the things on his list are mundane, silly even. A bucket list should be grand, contain items like travel the world, go skydiving, raise a child. His list is very plain in comparison.

But there’s nothing for it now. Dr. Cha sticks her head out the door and motions for Doyoung to follow her inside. He lurches to his feet and follows her down the hall.

“So?” she says once they’re settled in her office. “How did it go?”

“I have more than three,” Doyoung says, somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah?” Dr. Cha replies, amusement flickering across her face. “How many? Four?”

“Seven,” Doyoung says, rolling his eyes as he unfolds the paper and lays it flat on the table between them. They both lean in to look.

Try every single sample at costco in a single visit

Have dessert for a meal

Pull an all-nighter for fun

Swim in the sea at night

Go camping somewhere with no light pollution (so I can see all the stars)

Go out in a thunderstorm and let myself get soaked

Fall in love?

Dr. Cha takes a minute to look it over, saying nothing. For once, Doyoung is nervous about her reaction. He fidgets.

“I know it’s lame,” he begins, but she holds up a hand. Doyoung is grateful; he’s not even sure what he would’ve said, what excuse he might’ve given.

“On the contrary,” she says. “I think you held up your end of the bargain. You thought hard about it. You made them things you could feasibly do. I can tell they’re meaningful.” She looks up. “Walk me through it. How did you come up with this list?”

Doyoung settles back into his chair, relieved. “At first I thought it would be full of ridiculous things. Don’t people usually say, ‘Oh, I want to visit Bora Bora before I die,’ or something like that?”

Dr. Cha shrugs. “I think it depends on the person.”

“I suppose.” Doyoung looks down at the list. “So then I was like, okay, what do I want, right? And I think other than wanting to, you know, die, I want to feel alive. So I just… started thinking of things that might make me feel that way. And I ended up with this.”

Dr. Cha points to the last item. “Why the question mark?”

“It requires another party,” Doyoung replies. “I don’t know anybody. And I know… like, love won’t fix me,” he says. “I just… haven’t been in love before. Not really. So I thought it might be nice to try out, before I close the curtain.”

“Fair enough. It’s not like I think any of these individual items will ‘fix’ you, either.” Dr. Cha sits back, pen poised. “Mind if I copy it down? Just for my reference?”

“Sure,” Doyoung says, waving his hand.

They’re silent for a moment as Dr. Cha scribbles, and then she looks up, watching Doyoung carefully. “I will also add, I’m glad to see that these items—at least, to me—seem to be for you, and you alone. There’s no… outside influence.” Doyoung narrows his eyes at her, and she puts her hands up in surrender. “That’s all I’m saying. I think it’s good.”

“It’s good to be selfish,” Doyoung supplies wryly.

Dr. Cha gives him a fondly exasperated look. “For things like this? Yes,” she says. “I think you of all people deserve to be a little selfish, Doyoung.”

Doyoung doesn’t reply. She won’t like what he wants to say, will want to unpack it. Doyoung knows that’s what she’s for, unpacking, but he doesn’t want to, so he keeps it in his head. How can that be true? I’ve been selfish my whole life.

“You said you don’t think any of these things will fix me. So what’s the point? What’ll we do if I get to the bottom and nothing’s changed?” Doyoung asks instead.

“I seriously doubt that will be the case,” Dr. Cha says softly. “But if it is, we’ll work on it together. Is that good enough for now?”

Doyoung nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“As for the point,” Dr. Cha continues, “I think it’s different for everyone. It’s an excuse to stick around a while longer, see if the wind changes, right? Some people say it’s helped them realize things, because it makes you think—like you said, about what you want.”

“Some people?” Doyoung asks. “Other people have tried this?” Dr. Cha nods. “Did it work?”

Dr. Cha’s eyes turn a little sad. “On some,” she says quietly. Another thing Doyoung likes about Dr. Cha—she tries not to lie to him, too. “Not on all of them. But I think it’s worth a shot, if you’re willing to try.”

Doyoung gives her a dry smile. “I mean,” he says, raising his arms up a little, palms turned upwards, a sort of vague gesticulation at his whole life. “What do I have to lose?”

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

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You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.”

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing.

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks.

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession.

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind.

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect.

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar.

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come.

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind.

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it��s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever.

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpsehusband #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband fanfic #x reader #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #corpse simp #request #requests open #romance #friends to lovers #love

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kikis-writing-world · 3 years

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Pregnancy Announcement HCs

Drabbles under the cut for how Pedro boys would react to your pregnancy, and how you’d share the news. Trigger/content warnings: Pregnancy (both planned and surprise,) mention of abortions as an option, talk of contraception, smut (including cum play, cock warming,) mentions of PTSD and past drug addiction, mentions of dead former partners, blood, periods, doctors/obgyns, single parent/father not wanting to actively participate. If I missed anything, please let me know! Lack of editing as usual...

Pics are for inspiration, not always an exact replica. All take place in a sort of modern AU where there might be a social media to post pictures to.

Dave York

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dave already has a family and he made it very clear that he wasn’t leaving them for you. When you found out, you were terrified he would demand you terminate the pregnancy - heck, you considered it briefly yourself. You thought long and hard about your options even before telling Dave.

His first reaction was about as bad as it could get: he said nothing, got up and left. He returned a few hours later when you had already cried yourself hoarse. He held you in his arms as he spoke clearly and carefully. He asked if you wanted to keep the baby, and when he said yes he almost seemed torn. You don’t know if it was wishful thinking that he was excited to have another child, but you swore you saw a sparkle in his eye… of course, it wasn’t that simple.

He told you it wouldn’t be easy for you since he would never be with you like that - you were just the nanny he was fucking. If you wanted to go it alone, he would help financially and support you as much as he could, but he couldn’t claim the baby as his and risk losing his daughters.

You were going to have to go the single mother route, and if anyone asked you’d have to either say it was a fling or the father wasn’t interested in being in the picture.

Din Djarin

In all honesty, you were surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Din loved to cum inside of you. He’d lay with you, his softening cock still inside you to make sure nothing slipped out. When he finally did, he’d watch with amazement as your body twitched as it adjusted to emptiness. Gently, he’d push any dripping cum back into your fluttering hole. His deep, gruff voice was laced with exhaustion and lust as he would talk about filling your pretty pussy, not wasting a drop…

When you started getting ill, you at first thought it was just a passing bug. It was inevitable with all the travel that you would fall under the weather. Two weeks into the churning stomach, you realized you missed a period.

When you brought it up to Din, he changed all travel plans - the bounties could wait, he had to get you to the nearest clinic ASAP. The test coming back positive had him glowing with pride. It was hard to convince him to wait until further along to announce the pregnancy, knowing anything could happen in these early stages. As soon as you gave him the all-clear, he did everything but shout it from the rooftops. By the time the picture was posted -your headgear, his helmet, and a tiny helmet between - everyone already knew anyway.

Ezra

It was a surprise, but not a shock. You and Ezra, although you tried to be safe, definitely had a habit of being caught up in the moment and forgetting certain precautions. A walk through the forest that led to a beautiful field of flowers, a picnic on a moonlit beach - there were times Ezra was so overwhelmed by your beauty and the beauty around him that he just got swept up. It was hard not to get swept up with him.

He was ecstatic when you told him you thought you might be pregnant. He could hardly wait for you to take a test. His knee bounced anxiously as you waited the 2 minutes, holding your hand tightly in his. The positive result brought tears to his eyes as he embraced you close but gently, already scared of hurting the baby. He saw it as nothing less than a blessing. He dropped to his knees as soon as he let you go, already talking to the bundle of cells, calling them his little shining star. The nickname sticks throughout the pregnancy, leading to a beautiful space-themed nursery and all events leading up to the birth, including the announcement.

Frankie Morales

You’re absolutely terrified to tell Frankie. You knew he wanted to be a father, but the two of you had talked so much about the fears you shared about being parents. Mental health, substance abuse, financial stability - it made the concept of “starting a family” overwhelming.

Your stomach rolled the whole time you waited for him to get home from work, little plastic test taunting you from the table. What if it set him off? He’d been sober for years, but you knew every day was a new battle. You were so consumed by your own thoughts, playing out how he might react in your head, that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Are you…” He half-asked the question, eyes darting between you and the test. You couldn’t find your voice, only nod. The facial change in him was immediate: broad smile and wonder in his eyes as he laughed, scooping you into his arms. You clung to him just as tightly as he started laughing, too much joy coursing through him. As he started crying “holy shit, I’m going to be a papa,” how could you have possibly doubted he’d be anything but ecstatic?

You each tell your closest friends and your families, but you manage to keep it under wraps for the first months until posting your announcement and shocking everyone. Toes in the sand at the beach of your favorite camping spot, imagining the sandcastles and other games you’d be playing in the near future - it was everything you could ever want.

Jack Daniels

The two of you were religiously careful. You had talked about a family, but had agreed that until Jack was ready - which may or may not happen - you were going to prevent it. But life finds a way…

You find out much later than you would have liked - nearly 3 months in, you missed the whole first trimester. Looking back, there were obvious signs of pregnancy but you just didn’t think it was possible. You and Jack find out together at a doctor’s appointment. You leave the office shell shocked with a stack of pamphlets to consider your options and an appointment for next week. When you get home, Jack doesn’t even talk about it. You try to bring it up a few hours later, but he ignores you.

Finally, 3 days later, you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re in this completely alone at this point as you yell at him “ignoring it won’t make it go away!” Jack breaks down and tells you he’s so damn scared. He cries in a way you’ve never seen him cry, talking about how he wants a family with you but he can’t go through that kind of loss a second time. It nearly killed him the first time and he wouldn’t be able to handle it again. You talk long into the night about all of it - both of your fears, worries, dreams, thoughts - nothing is off limits as you talk about all the possibilities lying in front of you. Even through the fear and trauma, one thing is clear: you both want this.

It’s not easy, but your doctor helps relieve some worries. She speaks frankly to you about the development of the baby along the way and suggests a therapist that might be able to help, as well as classes you can take on parenting. It doesn’t take long for the worried “what ifs” to be paired with excited “whens.”

Javier Peña

When Javier Peña walked into your small town police station, you thought you were dreaming. Sent to help with a case that your rural forces didn’t have the experience to handle, he was only supposed to be in town as long as the case took. You never imagined you, just a lowly admin, would catch his eye.

It didn’t take long for you to tumble into the bed of his hotel room. And your bed at home. And your car. And his truck. And just about any possible surface in between. What you thought was a one night stand turned to three, then four, and soon into a full fledged fling. You knew the expiry date hanging above your heads, so you kept your feelings for the charming (if a little gruff around the edges) agent locked deep away. The case took about two months, and then he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived.

A month after his departure, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even left you his number, so you were sure he had no plans to see you ever again. Should you track him down and let him know, or just carry on with this on your own? You spent night after night talking to the growing baby, asking what you should do.

Javier ended up answering the question for you, when he unexpectedly walked into the station once more. He asked to speak with you privately before admitting he had missed you. He told you about trying to forget you, only to spend most of his evenings telling his father about you. Eventually you cut him off with a kiss, telling him you’re glad he came back. You take his hand, placing it on your stomach when you tell him you had been thinking about him too.

Javi helps you secure a transfer to Laredo and even though you technically have your own place, you’re spending practically every night with him anyway. If anyone wondered why the move, well the recognizable mustache on your announcement answered their questions.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus doesn’t believe you the first time you tell him “I think I’m pregnant.” He remembers his wife’s pregnancy with Missy, and you haven’t shown any of those signs. You roll your eyes and tell him that every woman and every pregnancy is different, but he still doesn't believe you. It isn’t until he’s staring down at three tests, all positive, that it clicks in his head he’s having a second child.

He’s excited, but he admits he’s scared. He’s older now, what if he can’t keep up with a baby? More than that, he’s worried about Missy.

You both know you don’t want Missy to feel left out or replaced by a new sibling. The two of you have a good relationship, but of course there were speed bumps to get there. She understood you weren’t trying to replace her mother. Would she be as understanding, knowing that you weren’t trying to replace her?

You and Marcus sit her down and tell her together. Before you can even start on your planned spiel about how the family is growing and no one is getting replaced, she is talking a mile a minute about having a little sister. You and Marcus share a relieved breath and lock eyes before you have to remind her that it might be a little brother. This seems to dampen her mood a little bit, but overall she’s still excited… even if she is adamant she isn’t touching any stinky diapers.

Another way you make sure to include her, is how you announce it to your friends and family. You’re sure, with Marcus’ status, it will get out to the public eventually, but you start by sending close friends and family a picture of Missy wearing a shirt calling her a “Big Sister.” She loves the photoshoot, making all kinds of faces as you snap away on your phone. Happy, sad, pouting, crazy… they all go in the baby book.

Marcus Pike

It was only a few months after your wedding that you and Marcus were ready to start a family. You didn’t “start trying” as much as you “stopped preventing.” There were a few false starts when your period would be late or the time you caught the stomach flu, but a few weeks short of your first wedding anniversary, you were pregnant.

Marcus spent many nights laying next to you in bed, hand on your stomach as he just stared at you - to the point where you actually started to get annoyed by it. He was amazed at your body changing, at the growing child inside of you, that he was finally getting the “happy ever after” he’d been looking for all his life.

The announcement was hilarious to shoot. Marcus and you were covered in paint splotches, laughing with love shining in your eyes. You held a palette Marcus knelt in front of you with a paintbrush, painting “Masterpiece coming soon” on your stomach where the bump had just started showing with the right angle.

Max Phillips

Max knew before you did, even if he didn’t put it all together. He started complaining that you tasted different, smelled different. Not just your blood, but as he spent hours trapped between your thighs. His keen senses had him identifying a change, but neither of you knew what change it was. After all, as far as you knew, a vampire couldn’t get a human pregnant.

Max whined when your period was late - he loved your time of the month. “Best of both worlds” he would say as he feasted on you for as long as you could stand it. It had happened before, your period being late due to stress or illness, but this time it wasn’t just a day or two. A few weeks later nothing had happened. A quick trip to your gynecologist confirmed it.

“I thought you said there was no way you could be pregnant,” she teased as she showed you the results.

Max was shocked, scared, and then proud as a pig in shit. He was terrified to be a father, but he hid that behind a swagger and a “yeah, I knocked her up. Not even death can stop these swimmers.”

Even if you did try to hide it for much longer, the vampires he worked with could smell the change in you too. Put together with Max’s protectiveness over you being ramped up even more than it had been… it was easy to figure out.

You took the picture as a joke - it was supposed to be a compromise that if you took this photo, he’d take the cheesy ones you wanted - but damn if it wasn’t your favorite of the bunch.

Maxwell Lord

You know that Maxwell had a bad history with family. First his parents weren’t as supportive as they could have been, and then his ex-wife had all but used Alistair against him anytime she could. You knew he may be nervous when you shared the news, but you didn’t expect him to turn into Maxwell Lord, television personality instead of your Max.

The first question out of his mouth was “is it mine?” Which broke your heart and set a fire in your gut. You threw anything you could get your hands on at him screaming at him for accusing you of cheating on him. You had just started to calm down when he mentioned lawyers and set you off again. You knew his past, but you truly thought he loved you and that you were his future.

You left, booking yourself in at a hotel. You didn’t leave the room - not only had you not packed anything and knew the paparazzi would devour a picture of you looking so disheveled, but you just couldn’t find it in you to go anywhere. You stayed in the room, ordering room service, watching TV, and crying. In a fit of rage, you had thrown the bottles from the mini bar across the room, needing to channel your anger and knowing you couldn’t drink your sorrows away anyway.

He showed up a few days later, having followed the credit card charges to the hotel, looking remorseful. He apologized for the way he reacted, and you heard him out despite still being upset. There was a long talk in which you reminded him that you’re not his ex or his mother. You’re not trying to screw him over or get anything from him by having his child. It takes him a long time and a lot of groveling for you to truly forgive him, but you go back home that night.

A few months later, as the two of you take a picture on his yacht, both of your hands holding your growing bump, you can hardly tell the fight had happened at all.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Ellaria noticed before you did. A mother herself, she picked up on the glow in your skin, the change in your body, and the complaining about aches in your back or your breasts. When she pulled you aside and suggested you were pregnant, all you could do was blink. The three of you didn’t use protection with each other, only when others were invited into your bed. You’d never gone out of your way to prevent pregnancy, so while it shouldn’t have been shocking, it still caught you off guard. Ellaria brought you to her doctor, sitting with you while you found out for sure.

You were nothing but excited to share your news with Oberyn. You knew how he felt about you, about love and passion, about the children he already had. You had no doubt that he would love your child just as much as the rest of his daughters. The night you told him was spent making love while he waxed poetic about you, your body, your child... If you hadn’t already been pregnant, you’re sure you would have been at the end of the night.

With sand snakes spread across Dorne, you struggled for a way to tell them all. Sending letters didn’t seem to do the moment justice. This may be Oberyn’s 9th child, but it was your first and you wanted an extravagant way to share the news.

Ellaria helped you to plan gathering all the children together. It wasn’t easy, but a month and a half after finding out, you had the whole, huge family together. You posed them all for a picture with you, Oberyn and Ellaria front and centre. You were handed a sign to hold for the picture - supposedly showing the family crest. However as soon as the picture was taken, you turned to show them.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl @thottiewinemom @mrschiltoncat @anaaaispunk

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mctherofdragons · 3 years

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Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks.

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly!

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist.

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @minty-malfoy @slytherinlovesgryffindor @futureofanthropology @inglourious-imagines @sinz-and-tragediez @acourtofsnakes @vivianweasley @n3ssm0nique @cruciostyles @whizboingies @shadowsinger11 @whitewineandpizzapuffs @gcdric @the–queen-of-hell @gloryekaterina @hogwartslut @theanxietyqueen17 @vogueweasley @blossomweasley @asthmax @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleytwinsgirl @tyyyweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @wandsandwheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn @missmercurymoon @willowyreads @l-adysansa @arcadianmoonlight @weasley-x-wheezes @lumosandnoxwriting @darthwheezely please message me to be added/removed from my taglist).

______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #weasley twins

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thegreenwolf · 4 years

Photo

(This post was originally posted on my blog at https://thegreenwolf.com/its-okay-to-not-hustle/)

There’s this meme going around Facebook right now, saying “If you don’t come out of this quarantine with a new skill, your side hustle started, or more knowledge, you never lacked time. You lacked discipline.” Thankfully multiple people have already skewered it, but it continues to be shared around by the sort of person who is trying to one-up everyone else, or who’s just plain clueless–or, for that matter, just trying to guilt you into buying whatever they’re selling.

Now, there’s not a damned thing wrong with self-promotion. That’s how indie artists, authors, and other self-employed folks get the word out. You have to be able to talk good talk in order to get people’s attention. But leading with this meme? Guilting people for not leaping from sudden unemployment straight into the thick of the ever-shifting gig economy? That ain’t gonna fly, Brocephus.

You Have Good Reasons to Slack

Excuse me while I dust off my counseling psych degree a sec, here. *ahem* We are in a very sensitive, turbulent time right now. We’re in the middle of a pandemic, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in a century in the Western world. We are in a hugely traumatizing situation here. Not just for the financial losses, but the fact that COVID-19 has killed thousands of people and left many more with permanent lung damage. We still haven’t gotten a handle yet on exactly how contagious this thing is, how long you’re contagious for, or whether you’re immune once you’ve had it, assuming you survive. We don’t have adequate testing, emergency rooms estimate that for every positive test there are 10-20 people out there infected and untested, and everyone with a cough is suddenly Schroedinger’s COVID case. Governments worldwide are slow to react in spite of the rising death toll. People have had friends and family die horribly from this thing in a short period of time. Even people who didn’t already have issues with anxiety, depression and other mental illnesses are feeling stressed, strained and scared–and, yes, traumatized. This image is guilt-tripping people who are actively being traumatized.

So we’re already starting with a populace that is dealing with this collective trauma, as well as whatever personal trauma each individual is experiencing. Not always easy to seize the day when you’re going through that. And I can think of a few other reasons that might further complicate this whole “Just get a side gig!” thing:

–They’re a parent who suddenly has all their kids at home, all the time, demanding time and attention and food, AND they still have to work eight hours a day from home, or maybe even more if their S.O. is unemployed/sick/etc. By the way, if someone trots out Isaac Newton or William Shakespeare or some other historical guy who managed to do epic things during a pandemic, remember that they usually had wives or servants to do all the laundry and cooking and cleaning and (if applicable) childcare for them.

–They’re disabled or chronically ill, and don’t have the ability/energy/etc. to just go and make something happen, just like that. Imagine if you just randomly got the fatigue from a really bad flu, and you never knew whether it was going to last a day or a month. And if you tried exerting yourself when you were feeling better, chances are you’d slip back into fatigue-land. That’s what a lot of my chronically ill/etc. friends have to deal with, to say nothing of issues with accessibility of resources for starting a side gig.

–They don’t have any money for the supplies needed to start a side hustle, or the supplies have been hoarded by hobbyists preparing for a Pandemic Staycation.

–They don’t have the skills for something that just requires what they already have (like, for example, writing on a laptop you already happen to own). Often these skills are things that can’t be perfected in a few weeks at home, but may take years to develop before they’re really marketable–like, for example, the skill to make a decent living on side hustles.

–They have anxiety, depression or other mental health conditions that make it hard to function even in the best of times, but even moreso in this…well…mess. Even people who were mentally healthy before are going to be developing diagnosable anxiety and depression disorders before all’s said and done. And speaking from personal experience, those of us who look successful on the outside can still be internally hamstrung by these conditions at times.

–Plus there’s the fact that we’re not supposed to, you know, leave our homes, which narrows down the field of potential side gigs by a lot.

Even doing something less financially-wrought like learning a new skill or subject takes time, energy, and sometimes money, any or all of which may be scarce for the reasons above and more.

Comparison is the Thief of Joy

I am saying all of this as someone who is arguably an expert on the side gig. I have spent the past eight and a half years 100% self-employed (and a lot longer doing it part-time) as an author and artist, able to cover all my bills and expenses, and for a time I was the primary breadwinner of a multi-person household. I have like ten different things I was doing for a living before this all hit, a pretty diverse set of streams of income, even if most of them just up and evaporated in the past few weeks. And while I’m definitely a hell of a lot leaner now than I was a month ago, I still have my head above water for the moment. So I think I know side gigs.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m overall healthy. I have a dog who is a lot less demanding of my time than kids would be. I have my own space where I can focus more or less without interruption. More importantly, I have the skills, the knowhow, the drive and the personality to go out and seek new opportunities. And I’m used to fluctuations in income, though admittedly this one’s unprecedented. Don’t gauge yourself by where I am now. I’ve spent twenty-two years building up my art business, my first book came out in 2006, and I’ve had a series of really good opportunities come my way that I had the privilege to be able to make the most of. I am not your measuring stick, so don’t say “Well, if she can do it why can’t I? I must suck!”

If you’re feeling crappy because you aren’t hopping to it and carpeing the diem and getting everything done, here’s what I have to say to you: Look, you just had your world turned upside-down. Job loss, scarce commodities, sudden lack of outside childcare, restricted movement and inability to be around much of your support system, and did I mention a pandemic is happening, too? Any single one of those things would be difficult for just about anyone to deal with, never mind all at once. And I don’t even know what all else has already been going on in your life–unstable or unsafe living situation, other health issues, breakups and other losses, interpersonal conflicts. You know, normal life stuff.

You’re Not Lazy, or Screwing Up, or (Gods Forbid) Undisciplined

It is totally okay if all you’re doing right now is surviving. It’s okay if you feel like you’re drowning, overwhelmed by all that’s happening both on a global level and more personally. It’s okay if all you can manage right now is to get out of bed and stumble through each day a moment at a time, struggling with a tidal wave of emotions. It’s okay if you’re just trying to keep your kids busy, dealing with a crowded home every single day, or trying to keep COVID-19 at bay. It’s okay if, instead of firing up DuoLingo or opening an Etsy shop, you spend your evenings vegging to Netflix or reading a book or playing hours and hours of Animal Crossing.

Not every moment in your life has to be about being productive even in the best of circumstances, and that goes exponentially so right now. Be patient with yourself, and be kind. You may be one of those folks who literally has to spend all their time scrabbling to try to cover the bills or get some leeway from bill collectors, and you have to dedicate your waking time hunting for resources just to try to get through this week. Believe me, I feel for you, I have a lot of friends in that situation right now, and I hope all of you can find some relief and assistance.

May I suggest something? If you have the energy for something more than the bare essentials of getting by, put that energy toward self-care, whatever you can manage under the circumstances. You can use it to recuperate, to rebuild your emotional and physical resilience. That way if things get rough again in the future, you have more internal reserves to build on. If your usual methods don’t work or aren’t accessible due to lockdown, ask others what they’re doing to keep themselves grounded in this trying time.

Just because you have more time doesn’t mean you don’t have to throw yourself right into something productive! Don’t feel pressured to just go-go-go the moment you have a little freedom to move. If you do decide you want to try a side gig, or a new skill, or learn all about some specialized topic of interest, go for it! If you have the energy and attention and opportunity to pursue something new, it can be a great coping skill during this traumatic time. Just don’t pressure yourself; keep it fun.

One last thing: I want you to save the image I have at the top of this post. And then if you see someone post that meme, saying “Come on, you lazy bums, get up and make that side gig happen! Learn new stuff! Do all the things! No excuses!” you pull out this version, and you look at the edits, you remember that it’s okay to be where you are, and you get back to doing things at your own pace no matter what someone else says. (I find visualizing stapling a printout of the edited version to the offender’s forehead to also be therapeutic, but that may just be me.)

Hang in there, okay? It’s going to be a rough time, but you’re not alone, and what you’re feeling right now is shared by so many people. So just let yourself be where you are in this moment, and we’ll see what hope tomorrow brings. And remember that whatever you’re capable of in this moment: it’s enough.

Did you enjoy this post? Please consider supporting my work on Patreon, buying my books here on my website, buying my art and books on Etsy, or tipping me at Ko-fi!

#COVID-19 #mental health #executive dysfunction #anxiety #depression #mine

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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The sniffles

TITLE: The sniffles CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: ONE SHOT AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

Imagine that against everything you both thought possible, Loki gets the flu.

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: It’s getting to be chilly season, so the flu is lurking about. Get your flu shots! Be careful! Socially distance! Language, maybe? Mostly fluff. Mentions of illness? (Do people tag that?) Not beta’d or edited, really–probs lots of typos.

SUMMARY: Loki gets sick, though he insists it’s just allergies. Charlie puts on her bossy pants and shows Loki she’s a bamf. Loki is a Nervous Nelly.

Loki had nearly frowned himself into an alternate dimension when it first happened–a simple sneeze. He had been sorting through some paperwork that Stark had asked him to complete, a mindless task meant to keep him occupied under the guise of his rehabilitation. With a shrug, Loki aired out the papers, assuming dust had tickled his nose for the briefest of moments, but thought nothing more of it.

Two years into his exile to Midgard and working under the tech guru, Loki had pretty much worked off his sentence in Tony’s eyes. According to anyone with half a brain, depriving Loki of his magic, the major condition of his exile, was punishment enough for the Prince (Loki would never admit that the act of cleaning a whole kitchen to perfection on his hands and knees was methodical and soothing, but it was one of the many joys of his near mortal existence). Still, it turned out that Stark was a bleeding heart and could recognize the tell-tale signs of a son who never got proper validation from their father (or enough hugs). It could have also been the fact that the former hissing-serpent-of-an-Asgardian all but turned into a golden retriever after he fell in love. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that Stark was deathly afraid of the five-foot-nothing woman Loki now shared an apartment with, and who would most definitely cause him bodily harm for overworking her boyfriend.

All in all, within the constraints of this supposed punishment, everything was wonderful.

Then, Loki sneezed again.

And continued to do so.

But, of course, he wasn’t ill.

Achoo!

Charlie started, letting out a half-strangled shriek that soon turned into a groan as objects clattered on her desk. Her jaw clenched together so tightly, she thought her teeth would crack.

Now, Charlie wasn’t irritated that her dork alien of a boyfriend was sneezing in her presence while she was trying to get work done. No, she was irritated because she had sent him to bed (again, for the sixth time) twenty minutes ago when his fever and chills started to turn him into an unintelligible, hallucinating mess. She thought she had been quite clear in her order for him to get some rest. After all, it had been three days since Loki first sneezed, and though he had brushed it off as a bad case of seasonal allergies, his denial was starting to get ridiculous, not to mention, harmful.

Turns out thousand year old demigods-turned-mortal are no better at following orders than any other man on the planet. In fact, Charlie was pretty sure he was being more of a brat than any other mortal… not that she’d ever tell him.

Pushing away her keyboard, she stood away from the desk, taking a second to orient herself and stare in the general direction she had heard the sneeze come from.

She schooled her facial expression into what she hoped was a no-nonsense expression. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”

Loki grumbled, his voice particularly hoarse and gravelly with an added nasally quality from his blocked passages. “It’s allergies and I have things to do,” he retorted stubbornly, ignoring the fact that his whole world seemed to tilt ever-so-slightly with each step he took.

“Allergies, my ass. Loki Odinson, you have the flu. You belong back in bed. Don’t make me be the bad guy here.”

He let out a half-hearted snort, pretending that he did not at all feel the need to double over and repeat whatever little breakfast he was able to get down his gullet that morning. “I am not sick. I haven’t been sick in four centuries. Your sorry Midgardian microbes cannot infect me.”

“Yeah, when you had your full powers. Now, though–”

“I’m fine-d.”

It was a small, momentary miracle that Charlie wasn’t able to see the way he swayed on a spot, holding his head pathetically against the sudden bout of vertigo that assaulted him. At least he thought she couldn’t. Though Loki could not explain the fact that her hand grasped him by an elbow a moment later with what appeared to be no difficulty. Clearly he was off his game, and he didn’t even bother complaining when Charlie half-dragged him all the way to the sofa and forced him to sit.

He couldn’t help but smile at the brows knitted together in worry or the lower lip being chewed within an inch of its soft, supple life. The extreme gentleness and care she took in smoothing back his hair and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead made his stomach twist in the most pleasant way. This was the best antidote, he supposed, just watching her fuss over his shivering body. Loki certainly wasn’t used to being taken care of in this manner. It felt almost wrong to succumb to the desire of slumping into the pillows and letting her dote on him.

“I love you,” slipped from his lips before he was even aware that his brain had attempted to convey the message.

Charlie beamed in response, cheeks turning warm copper with a blush. Her fingers trailed down the sides of his face to cup his cheeks. “I love you, too, sweets, but if you don’t stay still and rest, I will put on Stark’s suit and make you.”

Loki smirked, twining one of her curls around his finger and letting it bounce back with a gentle tug. “Have I told you how attractive I find you when you get all bossy?”

“Only every single second this week, Lo.”

“Well, I firmly believe in truth-telling, dove,” he added, voice betraying the exhaustion that seeped into his bones. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the gentle circles she drew around his temples were some sort of ancient magic. “I’m late for work,” he protested, making an effort to sit back up. He would admit that they way Charlie shoved him back onto the cushions was a little distracting for two entirely different reasons: one, he was weak enough that Charlie could push him down like it was nothing; and, two… it was sort of… sexy. He would take them both to his grave.

“I called Tony and told him you were sick.”

Loki frowned. “What did he say?”

“He asked FRIDAY to queue up ”Ding dong! The witch is dead“,” she joked, lips tugging up in a smirk. “He said to take the week off. No one needs your Asgardian super bugs rolling around the Tower.” Charlie’s lips pressed against his forehead, followed immediately by a sigh. “You’re burning up again, Loki.”

“Everything hurts,” he conceded in a small voice, feeling like a failure when the concern etched in her features deepened further.

Charlie took in the complaint with a resolute nod.

“OK. I’ll go to the pharmacy down the street for some medicine and some electrolytes. You get some rest.” She patted his cheek and made to stand when Loki’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

“I’ll come with you.” He assured, at once, hoping the edge of nervousness wasn’t obvious in his voice.

“Nice try, super spreader.” Her fingers peeled his, dexterously. “No. Get some rest. I’ll be back in twenty.”

“But–”

“I promise you I will be fine, Loki. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

Loki was still reluctant as he watched her cool and confident expression. He shifted awkwardly. He knew that Charlie was entirely capable of any task and she had adapted well to the technology available to her as a non-seeing person, but… Norns, he was just a pathetic mess when it came to her. The thought of anything happening to her… “I know, but–”

“You worry. I understand, but this is important, Loki. You’re important and you’re sick and you need me to go get you medicine.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against her hand for a long moment before finding the courage to speak. “Just… be careful, alright? Maximum alertness, yeah?”

“I promise,” she assured in a whisper, leaning in to kiss his crown. “Please get some rest until I get back.” Her fingers were back to scratching his scalp, combing through his shaggy locks until he could no longer fight against the heaviness of sleep. He uttered half a protest before drifting off, leaving Charlie to cover him up with the spare blanket she kept on the sofa and tucking him in.

Charlie would not say that she was nervous about going out without Loki, but she was certainly not not nervous. She wrapped herself up warm to ward off the autumn chill and triple checked her belongings: keys, phone, card wallet, cane. Her head turned over her shoulder on instinct, as if attempting to spare a glance at Loki sleeping on the couch, before she closed the door behind her.

Loki awoke with a start what felt like an eternity later. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his clothes felt like they were pasted to his body with sweat. He was no longer on the couch, but in bed, and he felt… marginally better. Still, his heart was thumping loudly against his ribcage with a sense of uneasiness.

Charlie.

Where was Charlie?

“Oh, gods, please no.” It was too still. Too quiet. “CHARLIE!?” He called frantically, kicking the covers off of himself, despite the fact that his head disliked his sudden change in momentum. He grit his teeth against the nausea that rose immediately after. He needed to get out of bed and–

“Oh, you’re up!” Charlie chirped happily from the doorway.

His head snapped toward her voice to find her standing with a tray and very carefully balancing a bowl of soup, a sports drink and a bottle of water atop it. The grace with which she was managing to balance the liquids over the wooden serving tray was uncharacteristic–Charlie had never been particularly poised due to her impatience and going blind had not helped matters. After a minute, she placed the tray beside him on the bed and managed to sit down without any major spillage. Loki beamed at the satisfied look on her face and the anxiously flitting and hovering gaze she got when she was particularly excited.

“You’re back,” he breathed softly, fingertips trailing over the hand resting closest to him.

“I was only gone for fifteen minutes.” Charlie giggled. “Do you not remember taking your medicine and coming to bed?”

Loki shook his head before remembering his replies had to be aloud. “Er… no. No, I don’t.”

“You were pretty out of it,” she admitted, not thinking anything of it. “We had a lot of extra veggies, so I made you soup.”

He swallowed at the lump in his throat to no avail as he watched the perfectly cubed pieces of vegetables floating in a golden broth. He could practically feel her efforts radiating off the bowl with every plume of steam that rose enticingly. “You cooked?” His voice caught slightly.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me if it’s no good. It took me forever to chop things, so I might actually cry,” she replied, only half serious.

He picked up the bowl and tentatively sipped at the broth, letting out an involuntary moan when the rich taste flooded his taste buds. “Charlie, it… it’s perfect. It’s delicious.” The satisfied grin she gave in response made the remainder of his pain float away like dandelion fluff. He sipped some more before letting out a contented sigh as his bones warmed. “You are a wonder of wonders, Charlotte Camden.”

Charlie snorted. “I went to the pharmacy and managed not to burn down the apartment. I am middling, at best.”

“Say what you want, but I am proud of you,” he whispered, enjoying the blush on her cheeks as he slurped down the rest of his soup.

He knew she was secretly pleased with the praise, even if she didn’t admit it. Loki was aware that he worried all too much about giving her extra independence with all the what-ifs that popped up in his head. She was always so eager to challenge herself and had proven time and again she was capable of so much more than what she did on a daily basis. Loki was still in her life because she desired it, not because she needed anything from him.

For goodness’ sake, here she was, minding him.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Charlie. I feel restored, already.”

“Finally, he admits illness!” She snickered under her breath while Loki grumbled. “Of course, Loki. It is my distinct pleasure.” She leaned in just enough to prompt Loki to proffer his cheek, skin warm from the flush that could only half be attributed to the warmth of the broth. Her fingers trailed over his scalp, making him shudder from head to toe. “Drink all your fluids and back to bed,” she ordered gently before disappearing back out the bedroom door.

Loki wasn’t used to being taken care of like this but… he could get used to it.

#Loki #Lover #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #the sniffles #fanfictrashdump

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years

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Asking Out A Clueless Reader [Persona 5]

anon: can i ask for a college au! hcs of p5 thieves & mishima crushing on a ~clueless~ fem reader & maybe asking her out? fem reader even for the girl thieves please coz i like them too oop-

Characters Included: Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, Yusuke Kitagawa, Makito Niijima, Haru Okumura, Futaba Sakura, Goro Akechi & Yuuki Mishima

Note: Can I edit it a bit? I’m not so familiar with College AU that much (The College AU I’ve read so far contains NSFW), so Imma do it in Highschool setting (though the setting isn’t really mention here), if that’s alright with you. If you want, you can request again. :) Hope ya’ll enjoy this!

Reader’s Gender: Female

Warning: Spoiler warning!

Akira Kurusu

What attracted him to you is your personality at most, how innocent you were, how you never had any trouble communicating with him (even though he has a bad reputation), and how you stick up for yourself when you’re getting bullied. Those traits were just the beginning, and before Akira knew it, he’s already in love with you.

But the one thing he hated yet loved about you is how oblivious and clueless you are. Like you can’t pick up someone flirting with you unless someone told you about it, though you’ll still deny it stating they were just being nice.

This has an advantage and disadvantage at the same time.

Advantage because that means you weren’t interested in any boys and friendzone them immediately. Disadvantage, he gets friendzone as well.

Like the rest of the Phantom Thieves can tell their leader is already in love with you, and they tried helping him by making hints about it to your clueless self. Futaba practically screamed, “he’s in love with you!”. And you’ll be like, “Oh! I love him too! I also love all of you!” shots fire

But nevertheless, Akira never gave up. He persisted through your oblivious self by giving you your favorite flowers, favorite food and things you like.

You, of course, thought he was just a caring friend (even though you wanted to believe he likes you just the same way you like him, but that’s just a secret).

I can see him taking his time in confessing to you, and when he does. You immediately friendzone him down.

But he never gave up. He persisted that you two should go out, and you always thinking it’s a friendly hang-out. Akira’s actually, surprise surprise, on the verge of giving up, he actually doesn’t know what to do.

Even though you were clueless, you managed to notice his personality towards you shift. You thought, at first, it was something you did. But you realized (with the help of the Phantom Thieves) that Akira love you as much as you love him.

This time, you were the one who confessed to him. To say he was shock was an understatement. He was overjoyed when you confessed to him your feelings, he literally grab you and hug you in pure joy.

Ryuji Sakamoto

Ohh... boy.. here we go.

What attracted him to you is your willingness to support him, to befriend him and to take care of him, even though Kamoshida forbids everyone to talk to Ryuji. This poor bby admires your determination and willingness to break the rules just to take care of his body.

He has never admired you this much before, but now, he’s falling deeper in love with you.

His two friends, Ann and Akira, noticed his attraction to you so they endlessly teased him about it. The two of them even managed to pair you two up for a project, how they manage to do that, Ryuji doesn’t even want to know.

However, doing this said-project, is when he confessed his feelings to you. You. being clueless and oblivious, state you feel the same as him and hope you two continue being friends. OuCH--

Even though Ryuji wanted to give up, the now Phantom Thieves slap him back to his senses (Well.. Ann did the slapping). Now, Ryuji is more determined than ever.

Ryuji took Akira’s advice to take it slow, though Ryuji prefers a fast-pace since he’s impatient, he decided to do it. He waited patiently for you, giving you little trinkets he found and give you flowers he managed to steal from the flower shop.

How you still remain clueless is beyond him. Practically EVERYONE KNOWS HIS FEELINGS FOR YOU. ARE YOU THAT BLIND?!

Anyway, for you to realize his feelings for you is one way, someone has to tell you and stick it through your thick skull. Which, in this case, is Ann.

Ann might not seem like it but she deeply cares for Ryuji (AnnxRyuji fan here) and seeing him on the verge of giving up upsets her. So she confronted you.

After this encounter with Ann, you immediately confessed to Ryuji the next day. How stupid you were, how you never realize you were hurting him so much, how you already love him as well.

Ryuji, at first was awestruck and speechless, like he’ll stand there, staring at you with mouth open. You need to say his name several times before he could snap out of his trance. He immediately screamed happily as he jumps around like a madman, screaming “I FINALLY GOT HER! WHOOO!”

You could only giggle at the sight.

Ann Takamaki

What attracted her to you is your willingness to stand up for what you believe is right and how you stood up for your friend. She was amazed when you started screaming at Kamoshida, who was about to hit your friend. She has grown to respect you, and soon came to love you even.

Of course she would subtle about this and try to act like everything was normal (alongside her bad acting skills). You and her immediately hit it off, much to her immense pleasure.

She found out your favorites and you two frequently hang out with each other. When she realized she likes you more of a friend, she panic. I mean, not everyone is accepting about LGBTQ+ community, hOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU THIS?!

Ann would DEFINITELY confined to Akira, Morgana and Ryuji about this, two of the people she could trust at the time being, alongside you. Morgana would probably be upset but he’ll eventually accept it. Both Akira and Ryuji said the same thing though, much to her displeasure, “be yourself”, “if you like her, go get her!” and “we’ll be here supporting you two.”

She knew they mean well, but that only makes her anxiety skyrocket. So she decided to just tell you directly. You, being your clueless self, thought she meant being your best friend, but she shot it down saying she wants to be your girlfriend, which made you blush.

Ann thought you were disgusted of her so she decided to walk away with a sad, teary face. You could only watch her as she walk away, like her, you were also conflicted.

For the next few days, everyone could tell something was wrong with the two of you. They always see you two hanging out together, but now, it’s like you two were strangers to one another.

You, having enough of this, gathered your courage and march over to her classroom. When she tried to ignore you, you huff and welcome yourself to their classroom and walk towards her. She panic as she tried to run away, but you grab her wrist in time.

“When will you stop running away from me?!”

“When the tension between us is gone!”

“But.. I like you too, Ann!”

This cause her eyes to widen at your confession. And tears began to pour out of her eyes, she doesn’t know if its relief or happiness, but now she knew her feelings were requited and you feel the same about her.

She promises that the two of you will go through everyone’s criticism together.

Yusuke Kitagawa

What attracted him to you is your artistic skills, yes, nothing more. Jk. No, that’s only the beginning. He does admit he admires your skills in art, but what he adores about you is how you smile to him, welcome him to the school, how you gave him some of your food and help him in buying art supplies by halving your allowance. He’s forever grateful to you.

Unfortunately, this boy is the same as you, being oblivious to the fact he loves you MORE than a FRIEND. Which made his friends sigh at the two of you. Well, you know the saying, “Two idiots are better together.”

“There’s no such saying like that.” -Makoto

Though Yusuke’s case is much more understandable, since he didn’t grow up in a favorable household, with no one telling him love and such. He devoted his life in his arts, and was pick up by his master, Madarame. But was ultimately betrayed by him.

Anyway, you two will hang out like normal. But, unlike your clueless self, Yusuke will pick up on his heart beating faster around you, how he started to become nervous whenever he’s near you and how he started to view you in a different light.

He thought he was ill, really. Until the Phantom Thieves explained to him that he was in love with you.

He decided to believe in them, I mean, there’s no reason for them to lie, right? So he asked their advice.

“Ooh! Ask her to paint her nude!”

“NO! FUTABA-CHAN!”

“That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“...”

“...Yusuke.. no.”

So Yusuke decided to just tell you, but he didn’t account to the fact that you were also clueless and oblivious. So when he confessed to you, you were confused.

Yusuke decided to explain to you what he understand from his friends. And you started to understand it as well.

And the two of you decided to try it out, if it fails, then the two of you can still be friends. But not to worry! Luckily, the feeling of love is mutual between the two of you, and you two were NOT planning to break it off any time sooner.

Makoto Niijima

What attracted you to her is your dedication to your studies and beliefs, how you also carry yourself in such a prideful manner yet everyone around you respects you (which she’s totally not jealous of) and the fact that you will stand up to yourself if you feel them saying something bad about you or the people. Makoto admires these traits of yours from afar as she watches you animatedly argue to the teacher about something which she doesn’t understand, she marvels at the sight of you.

If you’re in the Student Council, she would try to befriend you. But she’s so socially awkward that you decided to be her friend, probably out of pity. She was BEYOND embarrassed at this encounter, it was so unlike her! But nevertheless, she was happy that you’re her friend now.

You two can be seen hanging out in Makoto’s office as she signs all the papers while you are either helping her or just talking to her about your day. She’s happy either way really, but she much enjoys hearing your voice over her scribbles on the papers.

You might think Makoto is also oblivious or clueless, but I don’t think she’s that kind of person. I think she knows that she’s falling in love with you and, like Ann, panics about it.

Unlike Ann though, Makoto doesn’t confides it to her friends, preferring to keep it to herself. But if Akira max out her friendship, she would bring it up to him. Akira just listens as she explains it to him, before saying the same thing he said to Ann.

Nervous would be an understatement for Makoto. You might think she’ll confront you about her feelings, oh no no my dear. I believe she’ll outright IGNORE it.

You’ll slowly notice how Makoto tries to ignore you and avoid you. You think that you must’ve done something wrong for Makoto to act like this. So, you did the most logical thing, you did a Kabedon on her.

She shriek a bit when your hand slammed on the wall behind her as she stares at your innocent face. “W-Wha--?”

“Why’re you ignoring me, Mako-chan?”

She b l u s h e s.

She tried run away from you but you hold her in place with your hand on either side of her body.

With no other options, she decided to just tell you about her feelings.

You listened as she spills out her secret to you, that she’s bi, that she likes you for a while and that if she tells you, she’ll risk getting told off by other people and risking losing you.

I think, even though you’re clueless and oblivious, you knew that she meant more than a friend. You told her the truth, that you don’t really know what kind of love you hold for her (she saddened at that) but when she confessed, it made your chest beat faster and float.

Makoto blinks, once, twice, thrice, before flashing you a smile and bringing you in a relieved hug. Tears started to build on her eyes as she exhale a sigh of relief.

She also promises you that you two will go through the criticism of society together.

Haru Okumura

What attracted her to you is how you also took an interest to plants and take care of them. She’s also attracted to your strong will to be yourself despite everyone telling you to change, you paid them no heed. You also don’t let others push you around, not even your parents (if you have one).

Out of all the girls, she’ll immediately accept the fact she’s bi and in love with you.

I would like to think she’ll also take it slow in asking you out, Like Akira, she’ll start out with giving you small trinkets that reminded her of you, giving you your favorite food and giving you meaningful flowers. (I would like to think she knows Victorian Flower Language).

She would probably be subtle about her affection towards you. But I would DEFINITELY see her giving you flowers that means admiration, affection and love. (With you being clueless about the meaning of the flowers).

Haru, unlike the others, doesn’t mind if you’re clueless and oblivious to her affection. In fact, she enjoys seeing you being your clueless self.

I think she’ll be open about her feelings to you to her Phantom Thieves, with them accepting her for who she is.

Unlike before, she had to hide the fact she’s bi since her father thought it was a disgrace to the Okumura’s family name. But now, no longer in her father’s control, she can be open about her sexuality and no longer feels insecure about it.

When she confesses to you, expect it being simple enough. She would bring you two flowers that means love (White Carnation and Red Carnation). You would accept them, of course, and then she would confess her love to you.

You, being your clueless self, thought meant that she wants to be more than friends. “So.. we’re best friends now?”

Haru, nonetheless, giggles as she shakes her head. “Nope. I want to be your partner for life, [Y/N]-chan! Your girlfriend!”

When it finally register in your mind, you immediately became twins to the Red Carnation. Haru giggles once more to your cute expression as she brings you to a hug.

(I hope you accept her confession, or else you’ll feel the wrath of the Phantom Thieves...)

You two will DEFINITELY promise to each other that you’ll love each other, no matter what anyone says.

Futaba Sakura

What attracted her to you is how funny you can be and how good you are in programming, like hacking and encoding codes. How you speak for yourself if you’re being downgraded by someone. How you speak so easily to someone about technical stuff. She REALLY wants to befriend you, but she’s still a socially-awkward NEET girl.

You’ll probably notice her staring at you, before her turning her head away in embarrassment. You have to be the one befriending her in this case.

When you befriend her, you two will be inseparable. You two will do everything together, prank calling someone, hacking into a website, encoding codes, and probably make a game together.

Futaba was so happy that she finally has a friend that’s almost like her, seeing the world in the same yet different point.

I can totally see her like Yusuke, being oblivious and clueless about her feelings to you.

When Futaba started to feel something weird happening to her, she freaks out. IS SHE SICK?!

The Phantom Thieves, and Sojiro, explained to her that no, she’s not sick and no, she’s not gonna die. They’ll explain to her that she’s in love with you.

Futaba is aware of the LGBTQ+ but she didn’t think it was possible to a girl like her. But she guess it’s the case where you’re disclose to everyone and someone comes in and you’re immediately in love with them.

“No Futaba. That’s called obsession.”

“... same thing.”

Like the Futaba we all know and love, she doesn’t know what to do. She panics whenever you show up or she thinks about her feelings.

Then, one day, she decided to just tell you and get it over with. But she decided to do it very uniquely.

She programmed a website that reveals to you about her feelings. When you open it, it pops out, “I ❤ u. Would u be my girlfriend?”

You immediately knew what she meant, even though you’re clueless and oblivious. You threw yourself to a anxiously waiting and fidgeting Futaba, who screams as she catches you and both of you falling to the ground.

You two promise that no matter what anyone says, you two will be together forever. She’s your number one after all~

Goro Akechi

What attracted him to you is how you carried yourself, similar to Makoto basically, and your intellectual ability. He’s also attracted to your observant and quiet nature, and how you appear to be aloof at times, you were also listening to others conversation (COUGH so me COUGH). And the fact that you saw him through his mask and lies.

He befriends you immediately and the two of you hit it off fairly easily. The two of your personality coinciding with each other.

If he feels himself falling in love with you, he’ll deny it. He doesn’t want you involve any more than this, he already befriended you, he doesn’t need to give you anymore danger. But he couldn’t help the fact that he already has opened his heart to you.

But he knew you were clueless and oblivious, so he decided to go along with it. Hiding away his feelings.

He thought he was being sneaky, but the Phantom Thieves caught on his feelings for you. At first, they don’t encourage him, since he’s a traitor still. But they soon accepted it and supported him.

Akechi was still hesitant to follow his heart but Akira encourages him. So he decided to court you in a traditional way.

He started out slow, similar to Haru’s and Akira’s. Giving you small trinkets, buying your favorite food and taking you places to places.

He thought you’ll leave him after his reputation was tarnish after Shido admitting his crimes. But you stayed with him, so he decided to confess to you.

You, being clueless, thought he was referring not wanting to be friends with you since he’s wording goes, “I don’t wanna be friends with you anymore.. I can’ take it..-”

You started to tear up and Akechi flinch when he sees tears in your eyes. Wha-?

“You don’t want to be friends with me, Akechi-kun?” You sniffed and Akechi now realized his mistake.

“N-NO! I MEAN--!”

You bursted out crying, which attracted attention to the both of you. “Akechi-kun doesn’t like me anymore!”

“[Y-Y/N]! C-Calm down! I love you!” Akechi proclaims as he held your crying face between his hands.

You sniff as you stared at him. “.. you do?”

Akechi nodded his head. “Yeah.. and I want to be your boyfriend, [Y/N].”

You decided to just nodded your head, not trusting your voice as Akechi held you in pure ecstatically, completely ignoring the stares you two are getting.

Yuuki Mishima

What attracted him to you is the fact you stood up to him when he was getting bullied, and your determination to stand up against the bullies, even though it got you wounded. He was forever grateful to you though, that’s a plus. He’s also attracted to the fact that you believe in the Phantom Thieves’ justice, just like him.

He already knew he was in love with you since a long time ago. (fun fact: you two are childhood friends). He’ll always worry about you if you get beaten up by bullies,

The fact that you were clueless and oblivious is what Mishima GREATLY dislikes about you. It’s already embarrassing that you’re the one sticking up for him, but the fact that HE has to make the first move.

Mishima might need encouragement before actually doing something, that someone would be Akira ofc. After him encouraging the bby fanboy, Mishima would be walking up to you but his confidence would slowly go down and would ultimately back out at the last second. (Akira and Morgana sighing in the background).

I would think Mishima would confess on you by accident rlly. While doing the project, he’ll accidentally slip it out.

You (ofc) thought he meant being best friends. Mishima decided to let you believe he meant that.

Akira would sigh in frustration and just resort in talking to you directly.

He would explain that Mishima loves you, and not as a friend, as a girlfriend and he’ll also add that Mishima is a chicken.

You would ultimately be the one confessing to his flustered self, who just nodded his head.

[I tried, okay? But I’m not used to Mishima’s character yet ;-; srry bby boi]

[x] Main Page || [x] Persona 5 Page

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gstqaobc · 3 years

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THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, March 12/2021

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is another special edition of your dose of royal news and analysis.

Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet Davison Royal Expert

The Harry and Meghan interview: Beyond the turmoil

While sifting through everything Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, had to say to Oprah Winfrey Sunday night, many saw parallels to other troubled times for the Royal Family.

The interview raised concerns particularly around race and mental health, and many found in it reminders of what Harry’s mother, Diana, experienced, as she laid bare the lack of support she felt after her ill-fated marriage to Prince Charles.

But the Diana period, which came as the clock wound down on the 20th century, was hardly the first time of family turmoil.

And in those earlier experiences going back decades — and centuries — there could lie hints of the House of Windsor’s fate after this latest crisis.

“I don’t think the history of this Royal Family, which has been written off so many times, tells you anything other than they know how to survive,” said John Fraser, author of The Secret of the Crown: Canada's Affair with Royalty, and founding president of the Institute for the Study of the Crown in Canada.

“Going back, back, back, there has never been a reign that hasn’t had some domestic problems.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly for an institution that emphasizes keeping calm and carrying on, there have been only the slimmest of hints this week of what will come next.

In a 61-word statement issued by Buckingham Palace Tuesday, the Queen said she and her family were saddened to learn of Harry and Meghan’s experiences, and that issues raised, particularly of race, would be addressed privately by the family.

In response to a question from a reporter while at an engagement at a school in east London on Thursday, Prince William said, ”We're very much not a racist family.”

BBC royal correspondent Sarah Campbell said William could have ignored the question.

“Despite the Queen's statement saying the race issue would be dealt with privately, the prince clearly felt he had to push back on what has become a very public and damaging allegation," Campbell wrote on the BBC website. “Remaining silent, he felt, was not the best option.”

In the interview with Winfrey, Meghan and Harry said there was a conversation — or conversations — with an unnamed family member in which concerns were raised about the colour of the skin of their first child before he was born.

It was perhaps the most damaging moment of the interview for the family, and one that is still surrounded in murkiness.

While Harry told Winfrey later that neither of his grandparents — Queen Elizabeth or Prince Philip — was part of that particular conversation, he refused to say during the interview who was.

“The fact that [Harry’s] on the outs with his father leads everyone to believe it must have been Charles, or possibly William, and until that’s dealt with, it’s this huge problem if they’re going to be future sovereigns,” said Fraser.

He said he finds it “unbelievable” that Charles, the man who walked Meghan halfway down the aisle at her wedding, would be worried about the colour of his grandson’s skin.

“Nothing in his life suggests that he is that callous or stupid,” Fraser said.

Still, it’s not clear who might have said it.

“It’s been left like a timebomb,” said Fraser. “How can [Charles] be the head of the Commonwealth, which has so many Black nations, until this is resolved? It’s a real dilemma.”

Fraser expects we will eventually learn who was involved in the conversation in question. “It’s just the nature of the way things go.”

But Fraser hopes it will be a given a context, and that it will be worked out within the family, “at some point down the road when they’ve got some distance from the immediate hurt that everyone must be feeling at the moment.”

Shola Mos-Shogbamimu, a lawyer and human rights activist in London, says the family’s circumstances are not beyond repair.

“But the point is Buckingham Palace better take this seriously, not come out with any stiff-upper-lip nonsense,” she told Adrienne Arsenault, senior correspondent and co-host of CBC’s The National, this week, before the statement from the palace.

“Nobody’s going to stand for it. Not for the racist comment, not for their lack of support for Meghan’s mental health, suicidal thoughts, not that fact that Prince Charles apparently failed to even speak to his son….

“All of those things should be answered and they should be answered humanely, like the Royal Family is in touch with what the public expects from it.”

Maybe there is at least one more signal of efforts within the family to work things out. While the relationship between William and Harry has been deeply strained, William said Thursday he will be speaking with his brother.

Who can be a prince or princess

Amid the many issues Meghan raised during the interview, one that seemed particularly troubling for her concerned conversations before Archie’s birth.

“They were saying they didn’t want him to be a prince or a princess — not knowing what the gender would be — which would be different from protocol, and that he wasn’t going to receive security,” she said.

That got a lot of people wondering about just what provisions there are for determining who becomes a prince or princess.

Under provisions of a letter patent issued by King George V in 1917, Archie would not at this point in his life be eligible to be a prince.

But his cousin — Prince William’s eldest son, seven-year-old George, who is in direct line to the throne — is a prince. George’s siblings can be a prince or princess, too, under provisions of a letter patent issued in 2012 by Queen Elizabeth, before George was born.

But that’s where it ends for that generation of royal great-grandchildren of the monarch, as things stand now.

“None of Harry’s children automatically get to be a prince except if there’s some reason that the Queen would bestow it on them,” said Fraser.

Grandchildren of a monarch can be princes or princesses, however, and things could change for Archie when his grandfather, Charles, becomes the monarch.

Whether Meghan’s comments might refer to what might happen then isn’t clear.

There is a broad understanding that Charles is looking toward a more streamlined monarchy, with fewer working members.

"I saw that Meghan mentioned that there were plans to narrow eligibility and I imagine that this is a reference to the Prince of Wales's stated view that the size of the Royal Family needs to be reduced," Bob Morris from the constitution unit at University College London told the BBC.

"However, he has not so far as I know given details of how it should be accomplished."

Fascinator readers write

Readers of the Royal Fascinator shared their views in droves after the Winfrey interview. Here’s a sampling of emails and excerpts from longer messages that reflect the wide range of thoughts offered on Harry, Meghan and what they said on Sunday.

From Linda: “I was saddened by the interview. It could have been a great opportunity for the royals to move forward and acknowledge mental health issues, but The Firm refused to take that route. Shocked to hear how the men in grey suits direct so much of the agenda.”

From Susan: “Unsubstantiated accusations are very damaging. It’s easy to allege things were said and then refuse to say who said them. Then it’s just a case of he said, she said. But the damage is done.”

From Charlie: “I feel for Harry and Meghan and I don't blame them one bit for the decision they made for leaving the U.K. and the Royal Family, in search for a more peaceful, sane and healthy lifestyle and mental health. I have never been a royal watcher or a fan of all the pomp that goes into it. I personally think Canada should abolish all that nonsense as it relates to a Governor General as the representative of the Queen in Canada (who is still our head of state). Canada should maintain close ties with the U.K., for sure, as partners, allies and friends, but this monarchy BS is a waste of taxpayer dollars.”

From Margaret: “I am still grappling with the intent of the interview and tell-all. And what is to be gained by the couple? Probably more paparazzi and Hollywood-like behaviours…. The constant referral back to Diana gives one pause for thought as well. Yes, Harry was totally traumatized by his mother’s death…. That said, although there are some similarities in press and media reporting, Diana was very young and naive when she joined ‘The Firm,’ whereas Harry and Meagan were well into their 30s when they married and should have known full well what could happen…. I do not mean to downplay or negate the comments on race/skin colour. Hopefully there will be some conversations around that at the palace level.”

From Tina: “I felt so much of this interview resonated with the Diana era. It left me with many questions, but mostly: How on earth can a parent stop taking calls from their child? How on earth can a parent not want to keep their family safe? How on earth can a parent allow the words of racism to be spoken amongst anyone, never mind their own? How on earth can a parent knowingly watch your child go through such pain and not reach out?... I applaud the two of them for coming out to the world and letting people be reminded, once again, of a dated monarchy who cares more about how they are perceived to the world than that of their own. One can only hope for Meghan and Harry to have a life of joy with their little family and always be safe .... and perhaps maybe Harry's wish that 'time heals all' comes true and his family come to their senses.”

From Paul: “Unless I misheard Meghan, she mentioned that she was not informed/prepared with the protocols of ‘The Firm.’ I find this difficult to believe. She is an intelligent, successful woman with a mind of her own.... I am not naive enough to not know there would be some racial problems. But I do believe too much emphasis was placed on the racial issue. As for protection being dropped for Harry, why not? He is in a foreign country, by choice…. With all Harry and Meghan's money, they should be paying for their own protection. Remember, they optioned out of the U.K. Nevertheless, I wish them the best in their endeavours.”

From Anna: “I do not feel this interview will damage the Royal Family. There are differences of opinion in all families. I do not feel the whole Royal Family should be painted with the same brush. This interview will be so hard on the Queen. My heart goes out to her.”

We’ll continue to include comments from readers in future editions of the Royal Fascinator

Royal reads

1. Harry and Meghan’s interview might have some thinking it’s time for Canada to retire the Queen and its connection to the monarchy, but it wouldn’t be that simple to do, writes CBC’s Aaron Wherry.

2. Harry talked of an “invisible contract” between the media and the Royal Family. The BBC took a closer look at what it is.

3. Journalist and TV presenter Piers Morgan left British broadcaster ITV after long-running criticism of Meghan that reached a crescendo after the interview with Winfrey. [CBC

Cheers

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to [email protected]. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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cerise-angel · 4 years

Text

A break

Warnings: hi everyone this is my first time writing, so sorry if its not that good! Also english is not my first language so any errors are because of that, and if you found one, tell me so ill edit it! Construtive criticism is always appreciated!

I hope you guys enjoy!

This was requested by @itsbaekhyunsbutt ! Hope you like it, and sorry for the wait.

Gif credits to the rightful owner.

~~~~

Thursday 04/08

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Tears pricked out of your eyes while you tried to understand how this all had happened. You looked at Baekhyun and he was devastated too. It was getting hard to breathe, and your body was a shaking mess of tears, gasps, and pain.

‘I want to break up.’

His voice cut through your ears and you looked at him in disbelief. He averted his glossy eyes the second they met yours. You felt empty and numb, only nodding. What could you do, how could you force him to stay, when he had just said he didn’t want to. You hated being in this position, feeling small, hopeless. The rest of the evening was a blur. You couldn’t tell the moment he had left or how he had left. You knew you had a shower by the smell of your shampoo. Your tears had dried at some point, and you were completely dazed. What you knew was that he wasn’t there anymore and wasn’t going to be.

-----------------

Friday 14/08

‘Y/n!’

You heard your manager and your group members calling, minutes before you tripped on stage. You got up quickly smiling at them to reassure you were ok. It was getting close to your group comeback, and you couldn’t spend time thinking or worrying over something else. One of your group members, Sinji, smiled at you. Your group and you manager knew that you and Baekhyun had broken up a week ago and were trying and helping you to cheer up.

‘Are you sure you ok?’

‘Yes, I just need some water.’

Sinji locked eyes with you again, to try to catch if you were lying. Averting her gaze, you left the dancing room. No one, except for you group, you manager, EXO and their manager, knew about the breakup. Neither you or Baekhyun had talked abot telling to the companies, basically because you didn’t talk anymore. When you two came forward, announcing your romance to the big public, it was complete chaos. He lost many fans and so did you. Strangely, after some months, you two gained a lot of popularity. Your companies saw that and put you two in varieties shows and talk shows. You two even had recorded a duet together and performed it in a big award by the end of the year. Everyone loved you. What went wrong? Your train of thoughts was interrupted when your manager came to take you back to the dancing room. She was right. It was not the time to think about Byun Baekhyun.

--------------

Friday 28/08

‘And today’s winners are… Cloudberrys!!’ (sorry for the awful name :p)

You felt pure joy irradiate trough your body. Your group had worked so hard for this comeback, portraying a completely different concept than you used to. You hugged your friends tightly, crying while the leader said the thank yous.

In the backstage, a lot of idol friends came to congratulate you, and an anonymus fan send you a huge basket of candies and flowers. You wanted Baekhyun to be there, congratulating you, like all the other times. But he wasn’t. You caught yourself getting upset and decided to stop this thoughts. It was your happy day, no time for crying.

---------------

Saturday 05/09

It was late night when your phone started to buzz frenetically.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Y/n we need to talk.’

‘Please.’ ‘Is important.’

‘I can go to your apartment if you don’t want to move.’

Your heart started to race the very millisecond you saw his number lighting up the screen. What could he want? Millions of possibilities ran through your mind. He wants to discuss about talking to the companies? Gossip websites had already started to fuzz over the fact he never came to see your comeback stages. Perhaps he wanted his yellow hoodie back? God you needed to wash it; you had slept with it sometimes it probably didn’t smell good. Maybe he just wanted to say thank you for the time spend together like in that anime you saw. After breathing and calming yourself down you finally answered.

‘Ok. You can come.’

Quickly you started to clean your bedroom, throwing a pile of clothes in your wardrobe. You cleaned the living room as well, tossing out some cup noodles packages. After all that you went to have a quick shower, for both looking good and clean and calming your nerves.

Hot water had always calmed you down, and when you and Baekhyun were together showers with him were the happiest moments. You were rinsing your hair when you heard the doorbell. Crap.

‘I’m in the shower! Just a second!’

The doorbell continued and you mentally cursed at him. When you finished your shower, hurriedly wrapping yourself on a towel robe you went to the door ready to tell him to go away.

‘I want you back.’

You froze. What?

‘What?’

He got in, and the whole situation seemed so organic that no one would say you two had broken up. While he seated on your couch, smiling brightly, you felt anger starting to build on your core, frowning at him.

‘I don’t even know why you wanted to break up, you didn’t even congratulated me for my comeback, and you want me back? What the hell?’

His smile went away. He looked down, probably feeling guilty.

‘I guess I should explain?’

You nodded, still pissed.

‘I was feeling too caged.’You rolled your eyes. ‘Not about you! It wasn’t your fault, is just. God, half of my members are in the military or in China. My manager was giving me too many activities because the fans went crazy over Jongdae having a life. I didn’t say it then, but I was overwhelmed and scared. People that liked Jongdae were sending death threats to his wife and I didn’t want that to happen to you. And you had your comeback coming, and Lee-So Man keeps pushing the SuperM. I wasn’t having time to myself, and I didn’t wanted you to feel like I didn’t had time for you, so I thought it was better for you to be free, not tied to someone who couldn’t give you proper attention. Its dumb I know. But I never for one second stopped thinking about you. You’re too good, and I understand if you don’t want me back.’

You heard everything, taking time to put yourself in his shoes. It was a dumb motive, yes. Probably if he had just talked this out with you would have been better. But perhaps he did what he thought it was the best.

‘And I went to all your comeback stages, just for you know. The basket with candies it was also me. I never showed up because I thought you hated me.’

He was blushing, looking to the ground, and moving his feet anxiously. You smiled. Byun Baekhyun was a strange creature, with a strange way of dealing with pressure. But, God, you missed him and loved him.

‘I could never hate you. But yes, your motive is very dumb.’

He smiled, finally looking up.

‘Can we try again? We can even do a second first date.’

You laughed whole heartedly. ‘Yes Baekhyun. Just don’t do this again!’

He walked up to you, still smiling, his eyes glowing with happiness. You allowed him to hug you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

‘I will never leave you again. I promise.’

You kissed him, realizing that sometimes, love takes a break, but it never ends.

#exo baekhyun #baekhyun #exo #exo scenario #baekhyun scenario #byun baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fluff #exo scenarios #exo fluff #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun x oc #byun baekhyun fluff #byun baekhyun exo #im so nervous aa

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tempered-in-flame · 3 years

Text

Part 0- Reflecting

Welcome to the very very first part/pilot for the story Tempered in Flame! I say this is the pilot because this explains one of the main character's backstory. Hopefully in a couple of weeks, Chapter 1, Of Humble beginnings will be fully edited, and you'll see it on this blog! (P.S. if you reblog this ill be infinitely happy this story as a concept has been rattling in my brain for years and i really want validation) Without further ado, here it is.

Words: 3331

Summary: Azarra Gabree, during a quiet night, finds herself reminiscing on her past, and the regrets surrounding the night she escaped her home town.

Azarra didn’t think about Goldcrest often. The town she was born in held little sentimental value for her. However, she was in a sentimental mood. She had settled in for the night and didn’t have anything better to think about. The most memorable night she could think of was the night she ran away from home.

———————-

I realized too late that I had stayed out with the barkeep’s daughter, Kit, too long. The sun was beginning to set and I was going to be late for dinner.

“Damn it.” I said

“Something wrong?” She asked.

“I gotta go, need me to take you home?” I asked. Usually I didn’t do this to dates, but I knew my parents wouldn’t be happy if I wasn��t home on time, and I was already late as it was.

“I’d get lost without you here, so lead the way.” I could tell she was disappointed, but I was trying to avoid ruining the relationship I had with my parents as it was, not like there was much to salvage.

I hurried out of the woods with Kit, dropped her off near her house, hopefully away from prying eyes, and got to my house. I slowly opened the door and saw I was later than I assumed. Everyone was at the table already. My sister and our parents were all staring at me. Rue quickly looked down as our parents sighed, and Rue became preoccupied with staring into her dinner.

“On the counter. Wash up first, please, Azarra.” Mother said. She sounded exasperated already. That was never a good sign.

“Thanks. Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time.” I said. I carefully washed my hands and took my dinner to the table. My excuse was true this time but I always used the same one no matter what happened.

It had been silent since I had walked in. Rue wasn’t eating, and our parents were staring at each other. I sighed quietly and started eating. Rue was watching me carefully while I avoided everyone’s gaze.

“Can I be excused? I need to use the restroom.” Rue asked. Our father nodded. She gingerly got up and walked out of the room. It was then I knew what was coming. They had talked about me before I came in, and Rue knew what was coming. I slowly looked up at our parents.

“Why can’t you think about something besides yourself, Azarra?” My mother sighed. She had her head in her hands. Rue was a few years younger than me but she was so much smarter, excusing herself every time we’d argue. The fights always upset her.

“I said I was sorry.” I had come home for dinner late. Which means, I was in trouble. I was out for the day exploring the woods, which I was not supposed to do, as a ‘lady’, and may have brought a girl out there to make out with, and we may have done other things. Those things I was especially not supposed to do considering my existence as a ‘lady’.

I told them time and time again that I was not a lady, woman, or girl, or that I did like women and men and that they or I couldn’t help either fact of my existence, but they never listened.

“It’s absolutely foolish! You can’t just go wherever you please. We have to have some semblance of order in this house.” He said. I was pretty sure I absolutely could. Goldcrest had no laws against taking a girl to the woods to make out with, maybe not to do other things with, but no one but us needed to know about that part. We went into the woods on purpose. No one could hear us out there anyway. Until a busybody saw us go out there and told both of our parents. As if we weren’t both old enough to make our own choices. But, as my wonderful parents would say, my house, my rules.

“Can’t I?” I asked. I added fuel to the fire. I was particularly fed up with them both today.

“Absolutely not Azarra. It’s unbecoming of anyone, especially a lady to refuse to follow the simple rules we lay out. Your sister can follow them just fine!” Mother said. She was exasperated. Neither of them knew how to deal with me. They hadn’t wanted to raise a boy, they weren’t raising one anyway, but they weren’t expecting to raise me, either. They really wanted a child like Rue. A quiet decoration to show the neighbors. I felt awful for her.

“Hardly a lady, mother. You know that. And don’t you dare bring up Rue!” I said. My temper rose. “You know this isn’t about her.” I growled. My younger sister was their favorite and I knew it, it wasn’t fair of them to drag her into this fight or compare me to her.

“Your mother is right. You can’t keep staying out so late. And that forest is dangerous. You don’t know what could be out there.” He said. “And besides, your sister is perfectly happy without wandering outside at all hours. Especially with a girl. The barkeep’s daughter no less. You know better.” He continued. I did know better, that much he was right about, I just chose to continue doing what little things brought me any joy in the miserable city of Goldcrest.

“Not you too.” They can’t gang up on me, especially not using Rue as ammunition. “You can’t compare me to Rue like that, it’s unfair.” I said. Any other night I’d lay down and take it. Tonight was different somehow. Tonight I felt bold. “Not like I kidnapped Kit anyways, she went willingly with me. Apparently she had nothing better to do than be with me.” I shrugged, they both sighed. Rue was still hiding. She always excused herself when she saw a fight coming on. She was too good at noticing when we were about to argue.

“It’s not our fault she’s a far better daughter than you are.” Mother spat.

“I’m not your daughter and you know it. Rue understands that at least!” That was the last straw. I told them at least a hundred times that I wasn’t a girl and they still wouldn’t understand that I was nonbinary and wouldn’t be their daughter. They never got it into their heads. At least Rue could mold herself to their expectations.

“Just- just go to your room. We will discuss this more in the morning.” Mother sighed. “I just wish I knew what to do with you.”

I chose to ignore her final remark. “Already going.” I said. I had a plan already to avoid the discussion she wanted to have tomorrow. I was already tired of them trying to run my life for me, and I had better plans for myself. I bit back the retort I had while her last few words hung in my mind.

I walked into the room Rue and I shared. I rifled through my drawers. I tried to not act out loudly and show the argument had gotten to me. They don’t deserve my attention, not with how they decided to treat me. I had been biding my time for a day like this. I had a plan laid out. I’d find the local militia of a nearby town, stowing away onto a ship if I had to. I had some sword fighting skills, and if they don’t know that I look like a girl, they’ll let me fight. After that I wasn’t sure, but eventually I’d get it all sorted out.

After a while, I heard our parents go into their bedroom after washing the dishes. Then I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Azzy? Is everything alright?” Rue gingerly opened the door. She looked tiny standing there. Her hair was neatly braided back out of her face. If everyone told me I looked like our mother, she was the spitting image of our father. Long dark hair, similar to mine, but her eyes were lighter than mine, and significantly more expressive. Right now I could tell she was nervous after the fight. But, she was their favorite of the two of us. She didn’t steal our fathers clothing and not give it back, even if it didn’t really fit properly. Or kiss girls in the woods. Sometimes kiss boys in the woods if I felt like it. She’d probably end up kissing boys when she got older, hopefully our parents wouldn’t give her hell for it like they did to me. I knew the boys weren’t their problem with me, but they had high standards for Rue.

“Everything’s fine. No one got hurt. You heard the fight?” I asked. Of course I knew she had heard. We were shouting loud enough the neighbors could probably hear us. I hoped I hadn’t caused Kit or her parents much grief by keeping her out late too.

“Worst one in a while, huh?” I nodded. Probably the pettiest fight there’s been in a while. Worst one we had was when I came out to them when they’d pissed me off. That was a fight. That was the first one that made Rue cry. I told her beforehand years before I told them. I was fed up that day, like tonight. Tonight, I was ending it for good and removing myself from the situation.

“Not like them shouting will make me stop going into the woods. I’ve wandered out there for years.” I go out there to blow off steam. Typically that means slashing away at stumps with old swords I found out there, finding new places to stash things, and occasionally woodcarving with knives I stole from the kitchen. Sometimes it means taking someone I was dating out for some privacy. Goldcrest spreads gossip quickly. Only takes a couple of the loneliest older women here to notice one thing, then it’s all over town. Nothing like your parents finding out who you’re dating from the neighbors hearing that someone’s been seeing you out with their kids.

Now, those were the big fights. Like tonight. I could admit that tonight I was at my limit and lost my temper worse than usual, not like they didn’t help in the matter. I’d been planning to leave for months, I was grown up enough to survive on my own, I figured, if someone would take me in somewhere or I could find steady enough work. Anywhere would be better than Goldcrest.

“You are stubborn.” She said. Smiling a little. “So, how are you going to fix this one?” She asked. Usually I ‘fixed’ it by ignoring them just slightly less so they’d think I was improving and they’d lay off until I got bold again, then the cycle continued from there.

We’d only escalated to physical fighting once. Even then I just got a split lip from when our father slapped me across the face. The wound wasn’t his fault but it was barely healed over from when I fell the day before. Since then, he never raised a hand against me. He probably felt guilty injuring me like he did, even accidentally. Rue cried all night after patching me back up. I hated worrying her. She was too young to worry so much about me and our parents. Even with her help, it scarred and was still there now, although it had healed better than I expected it would.

“You won’t like it.” I said. I had planned to leave after an argument like that. “I plan to remove myself from the issue entirely.” I shut the drawer. I was haphazardly putting things into my backpack. Then, I had an idea. I went quietly downstairs and took the scissors from the drawer they rested in when no one was getting a haircut. I went back into our room.

“Azzy?” She looked at me quizzically. “That doesn’t sound good.” I felt guilty with her staring at me.

“Can’t we discuss it later? Anyways, I always knew I needed to do something and I want you to do the honors.” I handed my sister the scissors our mother used on our hair occasionally. “Get it as short as you can muster.” I certainly needed some catharsis after the shit our parents pulled all these years. Now was as good a time as any.

“You know they’ll be furious, Azzy, I can’t do that.” She looked worried for me. “Won’t that just make it all worse?”

“They’ll never need to know. Just do it, Rue. I trust you.” I said, pressing the scissors into her hand. She nodded, understanding some of what I meant. I didn’t want to say outright I was leaving her. I knew I couldn’t take her with me. I’d get her hurt- or worse- taking her with me tonight, wherever I was going.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and she knelt behind me.

“You can’t screw it up, I promise. I just want you to cut it all off the first time.” I said. I felt her taking my hair gingerly off from my shoulders, coming it back with her fingers, and finally, cutting the first chunk off. I smiled. I knew she was focusing on trying to cut my hair so I didn’t touch it to gauge length.

“I think I understand what you’re planning, Azarra.” She said. I knew then that she fully understood I was leaving. She only called me my full name if she was upset with me.

“Can’t we talk about that later?” I asked.

“Not if you’re going to leave me.” She said. Her voice was tight.

“After you finish cutting it all off we can talk about it. I promise it’ll all turn out okay.” I assured her. I also was attempting to assure myself that I would be okay doing this. I had planned this for months, I was ready. But I hated leaving rue with our parents. They’d go harder on her with me gone.

“Sure, Azzy.” She said. I heard the scissors opening and closing. She was quiet and we both knew why.

I saw my hair, dark and long, littering the floor of our bedroom. I had waited for this to happen for years. It was the first step on a long road to feeling like myself for once.

“I’m glad you’re doing this and not me.” I said. I tried to lighten the mood. I didn’t think it would work, but I tried regardless.

“Sure you are.” She almost laughed. “Do you want to see how much I’ve cut off?” I nodded, and touched the back of my neck. I already felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I feel a lot better already, Rue.”

“Glad someone’s happy.”

“I have a plan. I promise.”

“Do you want to do the front? I think this is a good length for the back and sides.” She said. I took the scissors from her and found the closest mirror. I slowly cut my hair into almost bangs that matched the choppy, chin length hair Rue cut for me.

“Thanks, Rue.”

“You already look happier.” She said, smiling. I felt like a little kid next to her sometimes. Her smile quickly faded as she remembered why she cut my hair. “What’s your plan?” She asked.

I sighed deeply. “For the militia, and across the water if I can. As far as I can get from this place. Don’t think this isn’t hard for me, Rue. It is. If I had a better plan, I wouldn’t leave you here with them. Remember that.” I said. “And they shouldn’t take it out on you, and if they do, give em hell for me, okay?”

“I know Azzy. And I will.” She mustered a smile. “You got everything?”

“I think so. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She said.

“No promises.” I shook my head before giving her a hug. I heard her sniffle into my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t bear looking at her crying like that. Especially not knowing she was crying because of me.

Eventually we both let go and I turned away. Then I walked out of our room, put the scissors back in their drawer, walked through the rest of our house, and left out the front door. I didn’t leave a note, Rue could clue them in if they didn’t get the message after the fight. They didn’t deserve a note anyways. Rue didn’t deserve to have to lose me. They were fucking terrible to me, and I hope Rue wouldn’t put up with that when I was gone.

I was finally outside and I looked up. The sky looked huge from the ground and it was dark and clear enough to see all the stars and the moon. I stood there for a moment, looking up at it all and taking a deep breath, feeling like I could finally really breathe for the first time.

————-

Azarra sat alone in the woods with her companion, Vil, at her side. A lot had changed since that night. She wondered if Rue was doing okay, she thought about that a lot, then she touched the back of her neck, feeling the short hair she maintained since she left Goldcrest.

She thought about how much she’s changed, the walls she built up after running away, the scars on her face and body from mistakes she made years ago. The body she built for herself with the help of a particularly willing wizard. They didn’t ask questions. She didn’t give anything away.

She thought about the wolf she befriended so long ago, Vil, she called him, and how much he’d grown since then, she’d grown too but not nearly as much as he had, and that he’d been with her since she left the militia before they kicked her out. He was asleep by her feet as she sat with her legs up by the fire.She thought about her sister, too. Rue was the only person Azarra had missed from her old home in Goldcrest.

But Goldcrest wasn’t home now, and she couldn’t go back, she didn’t want to anyway. The only things she had left from there now were the bitter memories of what happened that night and thoughts about the wellbeing of her sister. She hoped she had left them too, Goldcrest wasn’t good enough for Rue. Azarra wasn’t sure even she was good enough for her sister. She kept staring into the flames. Her mind ran in circles while the flames died down. It had been at least 3 years since she left. Rue would nearly be Azarra’s age when she left their home by now. Tears welled up in her throat at that thought. She swallowed it down. It wouldn’t do her any good to reminisce on the past any further than she had right now. She scratched the back of Vil’s neck. He was still asleep.

Eventually she laid down and looked up at the sky. The same stars and moon she saw that night were shining tonight. It was a cloudless night again, and she wondered still if her sister was seeing them this time, and thinking about her, as foolish as it felt to think about. She forced those thoughts down, she had other concerns, like her next job. She was a mercenary now, and mercenaries don’t have concerns like their old families, just their next destination, if they had any destination planned. She’d probably never see Rue again anyway, unless she went back to Goldcrest, and that wasn’t likely to happen.

Slowly she became tired and her eyes slid shut as she was laying on the ground, and finally, she slipped into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

#writing #nonbinary #bisexual #ocs #Azarra Gabree #fiction

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