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ludic-nebula-collective · 6 months ago

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Possible(?) Headmate List

I've been thinking about the gang today. I haven't really popped off about them yet, but I like the idea of a masterpost for everyone.

I'll try to put everyone in order of how prominent they were during their time. TW - IFS / Internal Family Systems mention: They were the parts I made during IFS that had a bit more autonomy than they should've and the main reason why I'm questioning so much. (I've mentioned in my pinned post that I don't agree with IFS as a practice and don't condone it, but these guys are very important to me.)

Masterpost under the cut!

Syren "Sy" 💫 ➺ based on my love of astronomy ➺ it/sol/voi/they + mirrors ➺ a living star, has both a more human and more star-like form ➺ was most often around when I was dissociating ➺ wasn't really the nicest, but it meant well

Maera ✨ ➺ based on my love of animals, mythology, and space ➺ she/it/they/star/woo/kit/🐕/🐾 + mirrors ➺ she's based on Canis Minor! blond border collie girl! ➺ always happy and always hyperactive, she's a sweetheart ➺ made me raise a brow when I realized she didn't seem to represent any negative "part" of me...

Evren "Ev" 🍯 ➺ based on my love of pastels, learning, "kawaii"/soft things, and possibly cartoons? ➺ ey/ve/ne/they/she ➺ I've been trying to see if these "parts" are more personas than other people, that's why this account is framed around one ➺ a demon in a human skin, but you wouldn't know if ey didn't have eir horns :) ➺ one of the ones that popped up cuz my brain said "hey, this guy's here too" out of nowhere lmao

Raine 🌧️ ➺ based on my love of oceanography and marine biology ➺ ve/xe/they/she ➺ human-adjacent, ve grow spikes on ver body (especially on ver head like a tiara) when ver angry ➺ ve mask quite a bit, more than any of the others ➺ ve also like to go by Marsh! it's like a screen name for ven

Homura 🔥 ➺ based on my strong Pyra (Xenoblade Chronicles 2) kin and my love of vtubers ➺ she/they/fie/e ➺ she's a lady with short reddish hair and circular glasses. the tips of her hair burn slightly ➺ the mom friend of the group, but she usually lets people walk all over her... ➺ if she was a vtuber, she'd call her viewers her sparks!

Saige 🌱 ➺ based on my Ground-type Miku (Project Voltage) kin and my love of the desert, botany, and the song Sand Planet ➺ dune/fie/kit/she ➺ green hair and deep pink eyes, like the flower on a cactus ➺ the one that pops up when someone needs brutal honesty ➺ kind of a hardass, but done absolutely means well

Juno / Lyra "LJ" 🥤 ➺ based on my love of Pokémon and possibly silly/colorful things? ➺ e/they/bu/🫧/she ➺ eir the middle stage between Marill and Azumarill, but as a human girlie ➺ here's where we get to the ones that weren't/aren't present enough to have a lot of info. I think e's pretty goofy, though ➺ couldn't decide between the two names, so e use both!

Wrenly "Wren" 🥀 ➺ based on my love of weirdcore as a genre ➺ xe/ink/voi/star/wy/it ➺ a tall, lanky, possibly staticky creature that's both mute and nonscribal ➺ xer whole thing was like. I can feel them physically inside me. is that weird? xe would claw at my stomach whenever i felt dysphoric or dysmorphic

Angel 💗 ➺ gonna be real, I don't really know what she's based on. my brain told me one day that I had another dog girl in me, so here she is lmao ➺ she/her, possibly more? ➺ a shel-Aussie dog girl! ➺ literally would just. make yapping noises. I'm dead serious. we love her for it, though

Sidney "Syd" 🗡️ ➺ based on my gender expression (feminine enby) and love of punk aesthetics and heavier music ➺ they/xe/ey/ne/fie/ink/voi ➺ they have two appearances based on their gender expression, but they're mostly a taller woman with shorter white hair and blue eyes ➺ wasn't really around. I think it was because they were suffering in silence

Addison 💾 ➺ based on my love of tech ➺ wy/ey/ce/ne/it/they ➺ I've never really been able to see or interact with the headspace, but I've realized it's a series of interconnected planets in its own solar system (if it exists). wy is the one that created it ➺ wy is a living computer program, so wy powers down as a means of running from their problems and trauma. I haven't really heard anything from wir at all

??? 🦗 ➺ also based on my love of Pokémon ➺ they/them ➺ I don't really know if they're here, but I wondered for a while if LJ had eir own part based on a shiny Lurantis OC I have

That's the crew! Again, I'm still not sure if they count as headmates or not, but while they were created to be parts of me to help me get through my trauma, they were very much their own people that only really "fronted" during specific times. It's all very confusing, but they still mean a hell of a lot to me.

If anyone has any questions on or for any of them, feel free to leave a comment!

#questioning system #questioning plural #actually dissociative #dissociation #plural system #did system #osdd system #pdid system #did osdd #pdid #🍯

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hustleinformer · 1 year ago

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Earning a living doing what you love is a luxury not everyone can enjoy. More often than not, we end up working jobs that have nothing to do with our passion while building the career of our dreams. Sometimes even when you build these dreams, you can find your passion waning, and it can be challenging to stay excited about your work. Mary Jane Cole is an artist, so she knows all too well the importance of passion in her work. It is what helps her create vivid and authentic art. On paper, her career began six years ago when she moved to Ventura, California, to pursue her photography career, but she has been making art ever since she was a toddler. It’s been more than 20 years since Cole discovered her passion for art, but she is still just as, if not more excited, at the thought of creating. She says, “I could never get bored.” I had to know what kept her going, what fueled her passion, so I asked her to share her secret. She told me that it all boiled down to a couple of things she discovered throughout her years creating. Be Picky When you start fresh In any field, you can't be too picky about the jobs you choose, and most of the work you do will be for the experience and not necessarily because you're passionate about it. The problem, however, is not knowing when to start screening out some of these jobs. Whether it’s the fear of losing a client or an opportunity, many people are hesitant to turn down jobs even though they are not passionate about it. The result is that they get burnt out pretty quickly, and the quality of their work suffers. It also hurts the few jobs you are passionate about because you can't devote as many resources as you would like to them. Cole faced the same challenge when she started Mary Jane Cole Photography. She didn’t want to turn down jobs because of the potential financial implications. Still, she also realized that her time and energy were limited and that her other projects were suffering because she was trying to do it all. In the end, she decided that something had to change. She said, “I’ve had to learn to say no to projects I'm not passionate about to leave space for things that fit my vision and clients that value my work.” Set Goals and Make plans Goals are targets that you aim for, and they can help improve your productivity and get things done. But they can also help you maintain your passion. Nothing is more rewarding than ticking a task off your to-do list. Setting goals helps to remind you of the progress you’ve made and keep you excited about your plans. Cole realized the importance of goal setting early in her career and has developed a method that worked best for her. “I list everything I need to get done and then number the top 3 that I need to get done first. She says. “It helps me stay on the most important tasks instead of getting overwhelmed and lost in a long to-do list.” Start on a high note. How you begin your day sets the tone for the rest of it. Start your day doing something you love or something you’re passionate about, and you’ll find that for the rest of the day, that passion will bleed into everything you do. Take every opportunity to Pursue your passion. There will never be a perfect time to learn that language or to make that change you’ve been putting off. Do it now. Cole learned this during the pandemic. When Covid-19 hit, Cole suddenly found herself free to do whatever she wanted. She decided to spend that time pursuing a passion that had been on her mind for quite a while. Tattooing. Taking that bold step turned out to be a great idea. Cole says, “every time I tattoo, I become a better painter and vice versa. Finding my style in one discipline carries over into the next, and I love being able to jump between mediums to express different ideas.” Don’t Lose Your Streak. “Do something every single day to bring you closer to your goal,” Cole tells me. It is the most critical piece of advice she has for anyone thinking of getting in

to photography. Being consistent builds momentum, and momentum helps you get much farther much quicker. It also keeps your passion alive. If passion is a fire, that constant effort you put in is the fuel. Stay Organized When Cole started Mary Jane Cole Photography, she realized there was a lot more to running a photography business on her own than she initially thought. There were a lot of administrative tasks that left little time for actual shooting and editing. “Whenever I get close to someone, they're shocked at how much time and effort does go on behind the scenes between bookkeeping and marketing and communicating with clients and updating social media sites and planning, shooting and editing.” These other tasks can become clutter that makes doing what you love difficult. Cole took drastic steps to solve this problem. She tells me, “I'm learning my limits time-wise and energy-wise and becoming more organized to help streamline the parts of the process I can.” Bonus Tip The key to staying passionate is finding ways to keep loving what you do. And by simply applying these tips, Cole has nurtured a lifelong passion for the arts. When asked about her love for art, she said, “ I can't imagine doing anything else. It combines everything I love into one career and every day is something new. New settings, new people, new challenges, and things to learn. I could never get bored.” Read more at: https://hustleinformer.com/mary-jane-cole-passion-photography/?feed_id=54&_unique_id=647ce34f84d90

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mbti-notes · 3 years ago

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hi i’m an istj. i fear the problem im going to describe is resolved by being more Te proactive and taking on more leader responsibilities and failing. just typing that out makes me feel burned out and miserable. anyway i get involved with groups that align with my values to get things done but it always feels like i somehow join things that aren’t as efficient as i’d want them to be or stagnate. at the same time that i have strong opinions about what to do i resent having to take on more responsibility to enact it. i want to be part of an established, moral, process/group but it seems like everything is in flux all the time. just making sure: is this Te-Ne dysfunction ?

Your question is about type development. An important aspect of type development is understanding the weaknesses and flaws of your type, in terms of the ways that your type tends to misuse functions. You seem to believe that your problem boils down to a simple lack of desire to lead in group situations (weak Te?), but it probably goes far deeper than that.

Si-Ne problems often manifest as a general aversion to change, specifically, unwillingness to change how one looks at a situation, which would then significantly alter one's approach to it. Imbalance between Si and Ne becomes a very unhealthy stubbornness when one is also prone to Si-Fi loop that thinks in terms of pure absolutes. In essence, you believe what you believe and you want what you want, and nothing and nobody can break through that mental wall. Perhaps not even you.

Auxiliary development is meant to help with Si extremes and Si-Fi loop stubbornness by making you care more about empirical facts (Te) than your frustration (Fi). It isn't always easy to develop the auxiliary function when you come to believe that it interferes with what makes Si feel most comfortable (e.g. "just typing that out makes me feel burned out and miserable"). If using the auxiliary function feels so "tiring", it doesn't mean that you should avoid using it. Quite the contrary. It's an indication that you haven't yet learned to use it properly, which means further development is necessary.

Te wants efficiency, that much is true. However, what separates immature Te from mature Te is how exactly one conceptualizes "efficiency". When Te is immature, one has a very rudimentary understanding of how to be efficient. For example, one is likely to believe that efficiency is achieved through assertiveness or even brute force, i.e., "making" things happen despite all the obstacles in the way. Is it any wonder that using Te feels tiring, then? You're essentially forcing yourself to swim against the current. Si doms are painfully aware that their energy is finite, so they quickly run out of steam.

However, Te isn't really about mustering up energy. This is not what makes TJs smart, strong, and formidable. Mature Te conceptualizes efficiency as reducing the amount of energy required whenever possible, which is why they have a lot of energy to take on very heavy workloads - some people call it "working smart". This is done through facing the empirical facts of a situation head on and learning to work closely with them, which makes it far easier to make them work in your favor.

Your problem requires a two pronged attack:

Are you able to change how you look at situations in order to improve your approach (to address Si-Ne imbalance)?

Are you able to face the empirical facts of the situation and work with them rather than against them (to develop better use of Te)?

Wanting to be part of a process/group that aligns with your values in order to enact some good in the world is an admirable thing to strive for. Presumably, the other people involved in the group have the same sense of mission, otherwise, they wouldn't have joined. However, what you fail to take into account is that people aren't generally single-minded.

Human beings are complex because they are motivated by a multitude of factors, whether they realize it or not. They are full of psychological conflicts, contradictory desires, irrational impulses, old baggage, and unconscious bad habits. And when you bring people together, all that stuff comes out and creates complicated entanglements. A "group" only becomes a "team" when it is able to overcome those psychological obstacles together, and it can be a very long process of learning how to maximize strengths and mitigate weaknesses in every individual member. That's why a lot of groups simply fall apart. While your intention to join the group seems simple and straightforward (because Si-Te is admirable in its ability to keep things simple and straightforward), other people's intentions might not be so simple. If you fail to take into account the irrational aspects of human nature, you will cause yourself needless suffering.

Your frustration with people is likely a manifestation of your unrealistic expectations of them. Perhaps you aren't able to understand people who don't resemble you, let alone work with them. And you will certainly be doomed to fail if the only way Te knows to deal with individual differences is to force everyone to become more like you. That's an impossible task, not because it requires the energy of a thousand suns as you assume, but because you're choosing to fight against reality. Mature Te would advise that you should first face down the empirical facts of how people operate if you hope to discover the most effective way to influence them. Your repeated experience of feeling disenchanted with groups tells you that you're missing an important piece of knowledge about groups and how they operate.

I'll give you a very simple example from my own life. I used to gather with a group of 30-50 people once a week to conduct planned discussions. The discussions never really started on time despite everyone being in their seats because people weren't focused enough at the start of the session. There was often whispering and sidetalking and such that would go on for about half an hour before the room felt settled and focused.

One method of addressing the problem arose organically. Whoever was the main speaker simply started shushing people and it became a thing. Sometimes, it would even escalate to calling people out, like a teacher scolding a student in a classroom. This definitely made the social atmosphere less inviting and more tense. Sure, people would shut up after being called out, but they became less focused due to seething with resentment. Power struggles aren't great for group morale, especially if it's supposed to be a group of equals coming together for a common cause.

It all sounds quite childish, but these kinds of judgments are useless. You can call people childish, inefficient, incompetent, etc etc, but it doesn't solve the problem. And, worse, being judgmental blocks you from understanding people better and working with them. Perhaps an ISTJ would see this as a "mess", an "inefficiency" that wastes time, and evidence of bad character when people break the rules.

However, if you change the way you look at the situation, you might not be so quick to make such judgments. Actually, it's kind of weird for a bunch of people who know each other well to enter a room and immediately sit down quietly. Humans have a natural tendency to socialize as a way to strengthen interpersonal bonds. Isn't group cohesiveness a good thing, since it encourages better cooperation? If you are able to see the benefits of their chatty behavior and how it contributes to group cohesiveness, then instead of fighting against it, you would think of ways to harness it.

The real problem wasn't inefficiency; inefficiency was merely the symptom. The more primary problem was that a lot of people joined the group not just to "get things done", but also to make friends. The structure of the event denied them from fulfilling that important need and then they were more likely to act out. This problem was discovered when people had a chance to talk about what was frustrating them, which meant that the group had to make space to conduct some uncomfortable conversations.

To address the problem, the group eventually decided that the first 15 minutes would be devoted to socializing and allowing people to catch up, with the explicit promise to get down to business when the time was up. Some people brought drinks, others brought snacks. Some even showed up early to have more time to socialize. It enlivened people and enriched their relationships. Being "officially" allowed to get the chattiness out of their system, they were better able to sit down and focus on the planned agenda. The meeting felt like fun rather than a chore. And if you're interested in a cause, don't you want to recruit more people to support it? Making things more fun is one good way to attract support. You can look at it as wasting 15 minutes OR you can look at it as a 15 minute investment.

Solutions to human problems require:

cognitive empathy: figuring out what's really going on inside people's heads (in Te terms it means working only with the empirical facts of the situation, rather than indulging negative Fi judgments)

strategy: taking the time to work with people and figuring out the best way to help them get over obstacles (in Te terms it means investing energy early and wisely to maximize your returns later, rather than putting effort into the wrong places or only stepping in to tackle mere symptoms of the problem)

creativity: harnessing natural human tendencies to produce something useful or worthwhile (in Te terms in means taking what's already there and transforming it into a NET positive, rather than getting too fixated on every little negative detail and losing sight of the bigger picture)

Te can be a great function for dealing with human problems as long as you overcome the immature aspects of it, such as impatience, bluntness, or inflexibility. Every person is unique, so every group is different. Let go of the idea that there is only one way to approach a problem/conflict and you will start to be more creative in your approach. By accepting the fact that things are always in flux and using empirical evidence to understand and predict how change works, TJs become much more effective and efficient at everything they do. When it comes to people, meeting someone different from you is an opportunity to learn how to deal with that kind of person. The more knowledge you have of human psychology under your belt, the better you get at dealing with people's weird or negative tendencies. If a strategy works, use it again. If it doesn't work, adjust it to fit their psychology better.

In your situation, you see the problem as people being inefficient, so your inclination is to step forward and do something to "make" them more efficient. Humans aren't built with the prime directive to be efficient. They're not machines. Their psychology is messy, so trying to force them to behave like a machine is to force them to go against their psychology. In other words, you're choosing the least efficient approach. The more efficient approach, though it requires more intelligent thinking on your part (you want to become more intelligent, right?), is to properly understand the more primary problem of what's really causing them to be so inefficient in the first place. That is the way to discover the right strategy. If you are able to target those obstacles at the very root, efficiency improves more naturally.

Oftentimes, working smart doesn't require you to step up and be THE leader for everyone. As an introvert, it's probably more comfortable for you to work behind the scenes to talk to people, get a better idea of what they need and/or what problems they're experiencing, and incrementally remove the obstacles that are preventing them from focusing on what they should be focused on. You can't fix everything all at once, so just do what you can to fix what you are able to fix at any given point in time. It's a process and some progress is better than no progress.

#istj #auxiliary te #fi loop #inferior ne #te #efficiency #problem solving #working smart #creativity #change #perspective #social skills #ask

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

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ok ok so my request 👉🏻👈🏻

it’s the most obvious thing but i have a full crush on bakugou, so can you please write about him x male reader, where the reader is like.. having nightmares or almost doesn’t sleep because of his quirk (idk like maybe he can hear something special or predict anything bad, doesn’t really matter) but feels safe around bakugou so he always falls asleep around him or even oN him and katsuki is like “😡(❤️)shit whatever” and the reader is kinda shy about that but totally ok with their friends being like “wow bro that’s kinda gay :> ” because he is comfortable with “oh that’s because i aM the gay✌🏻” and his classmates love him and everything and would never mock.. but one time someone from another class was really really rude bcs of that or said that katsuki hates it so the reader starts to avoid bakugou and bakugou geTS MAD about it because reader is just his and no one else’s >:0 maybe a little confession from him in the end, maybe some.. *gay coughing* angy k*ss from him

please make it angsty but with a fluffy ending please please and thank you very much in advance💙 sorry if it’s too big i can’t explain my thoughts properly thaha

Bruh I just realized how long this request is 💀💀 also look at me, writing it like decades after you requested it 😭 pls enjoy I’m actually quite proud of it (also isn’t that gif perfect hahah get it bc the prompt was abt like sleeping and bakugou’s sleeping and-yeah I’ll let u read now)

——————

Bakugou x reader - Angry Insomniacs

⚠️Warnings - mild arguing, it’s not that bad

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“Why are you always fuckin’ sleeping on me?”

It first started during the Sports Festival. The chicken race and cavalry battle really took a toll on (Y/n), and he was suffering harsh quirk drawbacks. That, being drowsiness.

Somewhere on the stands, (y/n’s) eyes grew heavier and heavier until he realized he had fallen asleep. He also didn’t realized until he woke up that no one disturbed him when he was near Bakugou. Be it fear, or just plain respect, (Y/n) seemed to get the best rest when he was with Bakugou. Not even Iida dared to wake him up when he dosed off on Bakugous shoulder.

He always made it a point to be in Bakugous vicinity when ever he could, taking naps with his head buried in his arms next to Bakugou at lunch, or having his head resting on his shoulder in the dorms.

“Oi! Don’t drift off on me!”

“Mm? Sorry, Bakugou.”

(Y/n) rubbed his eyes as he weakly pushed off the common room couch, stretching and yawning as he did so. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“N-no, dumbass! Fuck kinda question is that, shit-for-brains?!”

“I’ll see you there later then, Bakugou.” (Y/n) gave a slight nod, Bakugou practically foaming at the mouth already, before trotting off the continue his nap in his own room.

Before heading to his room though, he walked into the kitchen to grab a post-nap time snack. Tsuyu, who was already digging in the fridge, stepped back so (Y/n) could grab whatever he wanted.

Tsu eyed (Y/n’s) slightly tousled hair. “Did you take another nap on bakugou-chan? Kero.”

(Y/n) hummed out a “yes.” Tsu hummed back in acknowledgment. Kaminari and Kirishima, unintentionally, started listening in from their place in the kitchen after hearing Bakugou being mentioned.

Tsuyu put a finger to her lip. “Ne, (Y/n)-chan, why do you always take naps on Bakugou-chan? It’s always him, kero, and you go out of your way to make sure it’s only him.”

“Why?” (Y/n) pulled off the carton of milk stubbornly hanging on to the fridge. “Because I like Bakugou. Duh. And I sleep better near people I like.

Kaminari gasped comically while Kirishima sputtered and choked on his words. Not just listening anymore, Kaminari but in. “L-like? Like, ‘like’-like?!”

Kaminari and Kirishima joined Tsuyu and (Y/n) near the fridge. (Y/n) nodded out an “mm-hm.”, whilst grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“So you’re like...” Kirishima made wild, indecipherable, gestures with his hand. Eventually, after realizing no one was taking the hint, brought his voice down to a whisper.

“...like...gay..?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?!” Kaminari grasped at his blond hair. (Y/n) thought for a moment, poured himself a glass of milk, and shrugged.

“I don’t know. You never asked.”

“And you’re so comfortable just telling us now? Why, kero-kero?”

“Because I’m gay as fuuuuuck.” (Y/n) took a swig of milk like it was a shot of whiskey. “And it’s not like it was a secret or anything.”

“Though I don’t think Bakugou knows. He’s too angry about me sleepin’ on him all the time to actually care about me.”

(Y/n) polished off his glass of milk. He set the cup down gently into the sink. “Eh, it’s not like I actually care for what he thinks about me.”

“See ya, I’m gonna finish my nap.”

“Uh-bye”

“Bye-bye.”

“Bye, kero.”

———

(Y/n) yawned as his head lolled off of Bakugou’s shoulder. He hissed, dusting off his shoulder angrily.

“Go sleep somewhere else!”

“I’m just goin’ to the bathroom, Bakugou, I’ll be back. Keep your shoulder warm for me.”

(Y/n) weakly stood up from his chair, and sluggishly walked out of the cafeteria. Damn, his feet felt heavy. Maybe if he hurried to the bathroom, he’d get back in time to catch a few more minutes of sleep before Bakugou exploded on him or lunch ended.

(Y/n’s) shoulder accidentally caught on someone else’s, making him stumble back and rub his shoulder. Monoma tilted his chin up in a mocking fashion.

“Ara? Is that (L/n) (Y/n) from class 1-A I see?”

(Y/n) nodded, only half processing his words as he continued on his way to the bathroom. Monoma followed somewhat behind, spewing words and one-liners that went in one ear and out the other. That is, until,

“Honestly, you would’ve thought that angry blond kid would’ve told you by now”.

(Y/n’s) ear perked up. He halted to a stop, Monoma following suit and shoving his hands smugly in his pockets. “What’s this about Bakugou?”

“Oh? He really didn’t tell you, huh? That’s...” Monoma stifled a condescending snicker. “...surprising.”

(Y/n) stepped closer. “C’mon man, tell me what?”

Monoma sighed. “Well,”

“I heard that Mr. Blasty, matter-o-factly,” Monoma jabbed his pointer finger into (Y/n’s) chest. “Really, really hates it when you sleep on, or near him. Actually,”

“I think he just hates you in general.”

(Y/n) furrowed his brows. He’s lying. He’s lying. He likes him, doesn’t he? Bakugou likes him, or else he wouldn’t have lead him on for so long, right?

Because he wouldn’t let just anyone sleep on his shoulder...right?

“You’re lying.”

“Well, believe what you want, honestly,” Monoma made a show of crossing his arms dramatically. “But you should see the way he shit-talks and glares at you in you’re sleep. It’s not like he can push you off though, you’re ‘just so persistent you’ll never leave him the fuck alone’.”

(Y/n) shoved his hands in his pockets. Monoma raised his hands in defense. “His words, not mine.”

(Y/n) turned on his heel and began to speed walk to the bathroom. Monoma yelled out from his spot in the empty hallway.

“Oh? You don’t want to hear what he thinks about your little crush on him?”

(Y/n) froze. He was under the assumption that everyone but him knew, could he be wrong? He pressed his lips into a fine line, turning around as composedly as he could. Though, he couldn’t mask the fearful curiosity in his eyes.

Monoma grinned. It was an unpleasant, sarcastic grin, one that didn’t look peaceful or pleasing at all.

“Well, I doubt that there’s anything to to say at all, so does it really ma-“

“What...what does he say about me?” (Y/n’s) voice quivered. He knew he was falling into Monoma’s trap, that he was just trying to provoke him, that he was looking for any kind of reaction, but his curiosity got the best of him. It really did, because Monoma’s words stabbed spears into (Y/n’s) heart, word by word.

“Blasty thinks it’s fucking disgusting how you like him, like, as another dude. Like honestly, he thinks you take him for an idiot for thinking he actually didn’t know! And the fact you sleep so close to him know full well you want to get in his pants?! He thinks you’re a pervert! A lazy shit! A fag! Ahahaha!”

Monoma loud cackles were cut short when he suddenly slumped over. He sunk to the ground, revealing Kendo, holding one big hand up and the other to her waist. She most likely knocked Monoma out once she heard his condescending retorts from the cafeteria.

Kendo sighed, bending down the haul Monoma’s arm over her shoulder. Her heavy glare softened once she caught sight of (Y/n’s) buggy eyed face starting at the ground where Monoma was.

“Sorry...he didn’t say anything too harsh, right?” Kendo’s words were gentle, but they sounded practically inaudible to (Y/n’s) traumatized ears.

He wordlessly staggered past her, heading back into the cafeteria to grab his lunch and sit elsewhere. He supposed he wouldn’t bother Bakugou anymore. Since he’s so damn ‘persistent’, he figured he’d stop bothering him for the rest of the day.

He wished he wasn’t so curious about what Bakugou thought of him. Like people say, ignorance is bliss. He could’ve gone his whole high school career without knowing Bakugou hated his every being. How was he going to face him in class knowing every pointer glare, every scoff, every insult was genuine?

(Y/n) felt his throat tighten. For the first time in years, (L/n) (Y/n) was fully awake.

——

It was the first time in many months that (Y/n) didn’t sit in the seat next to Bakugou, napping in his presence. He’d done it every day no fail, that is until this week. Actually, this is the 6th consecutive day he didn’t take a nap at all.

(Y/n) sat placid in his assigned seat, eyes wide and trying to keep awake. He couldn’t sleep without thinking of Bakugou, and every time he did it was always him scoffing and turning his back on him.

Every few seconds, (Y/n) would jolt harshly in his seat, rocking back and forth like a drug addict in withdrawal. He stared at his desk with eyes that could kill someone, and he dug his hands into his forearms to keep himself somewhat awake.

He didn’t hear Kirishima calling his name until he snapped his fingers infront of his face. The snap rang like a gunshot, surprising (Y/n) from his trance so badly he jolted back like he got electrocuted. Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“You...ok man...?”

(Y/n’s) dry eyes landed fixed onto Kirishima. He relaxed, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was taking. “M’fine...”

His voice cracked like it hadn’t been used for days. (Y/n) let his eyes drift back forward, hunching back over and huddling his body like he was trying to squeeze himself to death. When Kirishima gave him a skeptical glare and crossed his arms, (Y/n) let out a small “m’ just tired, that’s all...” and gave the most pathetic smile known to man.

“If you’re so tired,” Mina, rested her arms on the back of (Y/n’s) chair. “Why don’t you sleep on Bakugou like you do every morn-“

“NO! I-I can’t do that!” (Y/n) whipped his head back, gripping the back of his chair so hard his hand turned white. Mina and Kirishima flinched, noticeably caught off guard with his sudden outburst. “I...can’t...I can’t do that...”

(Y/n) suddenly looked very awake, contrasting the way he looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open the whole time they were in class.

(Y/n’s) breath steadied as he shut his mouth awkwardly. “M’sorry...for yelling...didn’t mean to...”

(Y/n) scrubbed at his eyes. The rush of adrenaline was already wearing off. Mina set her dainty pink hand on (Y/n’s) hunched form. “Why not...?”

“I just can’t.”

(Y/n) said nothing more. He went back to his occasional jolts awake and scrubbing his heavy eyes every 2 minutes. Kirishima sighed, shaking his head towards Bakugou, before shrugging his shoulders then forming an ‘X’ with his hands.

Bakugou clicked his tongue angrily, turning and facing back forward in his seat.

——

(Y/n) was practically seeing stars by the end of hero’s class.

It was a relatively simple assignment, 1 on 1 sparring, but it caused a lot of quirk use.

He fought both his tired eyes and Midoryia, but ultimately failing due to his harsh quirk drawbacks. Midoryia barely had to break a sweat to have (Y/n) come toppling down.

(Y/n) was ushered back into the horde of students murmuring “don’t mind” and “you did great!”, but he just slithered past and stood a few feet away from them, all the way in the back of the field.

All might was explaining something (Y/n) couldn’t quite hear. Not only because he was standing so far away, but because his hearing had been considerably wonky, not to mention the hissing, ringing sound irritating his eardrums.

“Oi.”

And even if the ringing had stopped and he could hear, his brain was too tuckered out to remember anything past five seconds ago.

“Oi!”

Gosh, speaking of his brain-

“OI! SHIT-FOR-BRAINS! YOU GONNA KEEP IGNORING ME OR YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDIN�� ME?!”

Bakugou set off a small explosion. The blast wasn’t nearly as loud or powerful as in combat, but to a tired mans ears, it sounded like nukes. The ringing in (Y/n’s) ears spiked, and he cupped his ears tightly.

“B-Bakugou, nows not-“

“OH, YOU TRYNA TUNE ME OUT BY COVERIN’ YOUR EARS NOW?!” Another explosion. Bakugou’s gauntlets had been out for repairs since his last hero training, so (Y/n) could clearly see the glowing red and yellow spark from his fist. The ringing spiked again. His vision burned with sparks.

(Y/n) winced, saying nothing, and brought his hands to rub at his eyes. Bakugou eyebrow twitched.

“STOP IGNORING ME!”

Bakugou brought his hand out, his gloved hand starting to glow red with his next explosion. (Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore.

He stumbled forward, and grabbed Bakugou’s wrist. He shoved it out of the way, but his hand still ignited and set off a blast that propelled them straight to the ground.

“G-get off-a me!” Bakugou tried pushing (Y/n) off with his free hand.

(Y/n) pinned Bakugou’s glowing right hand by the wrist, using his other to hold down his other shoulder. (Y/n) would’ve never done something as ballsy and stupid as this, but he was too tired, too done, too much in pain to care.

“What are you actually trying to say!? All that stupid extra yelling and petty insults, they get you fucking nowhere! Spit it out! Or does trying to intimidate every single fucking person you meet just self-satisfaction?!”

Bakugou growled. He grabbed at (Y/n’s) shoulders, pushing off of him and pinning (Y/n) to the ground in his place.

“Then what about you, huh?!” Bakugou was angrily spitting at (Y/n’s) face. “Why the fuck did you stop getting enough sleep for your quirk?! Are you just that dumb that you stay up at night?!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a stupid fucker like you, who can’t even take care of himself!”

(Y/n) hissed. He freed his dominant hand from Bakugou’s vice grip and pushed at Bakugou’s face, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “All you ever do is shit talk! Shut up! No one thinks it’s fucking cool!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!”

The two wrestled on the ground, angrily grabbing and tugging at each other, and rolling around on the floor. There were shouts of “get Aizawa-no, get midnight-sensei!” and “All might, stop them!”, but the two were so caught up in their fight they couldn’t hear anything.

“Can’t you ever learn to mind your fucking Business?!”

“What the fuck does that even have to do with this!”

(Y/n) flipped Bakugou over one more time. He pushed him down by the forehead, pushing his head down into the ground while Bakugou flailed and kicked from underneath him.

“SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKIN’ CARE, BAKUGOU?! WHY DO...w-why do...wh...”

A sweet, sweet smell flooded (Y/n’s) senses. It smelt relaxing, tantalizing, it smelled like sleep. It smelled like sleep. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so bad. Maybe he could just...

(Y/n) slowly sank from his spot on top of Bakugou, flopping on top of his body and going completely slack. Bakugou’s eyes widened, and he covered his nose.

Midnight strutted from above the two, waving away a few stray wisps of her mist. Bakugou hacked out a new breath, while (Y/n) laid on top of him, peacefully asleep for the first time in days.

“Well, it seems like you two already know without me saying it.” Midnight motioned over to two small robots carrying a stretcher. “I’ll just take him to recovery girl and he should wake up in-“

Bakugou pursed his lips and wrapped his arms around (Y/n’s) sleeping figure when Midnight extended her arm towards them. He tightened his arms around (Y/n).

“I’ll do it. S-since this piece of shit attacked me first and...I’ll just do it-!”

Midnight eyed him knowingly, before waving him off and mumbling something about ‘youth’.

——

(Y/n’s) eyes fluttered open. His body felt like it was broken in every way possible. It was so sore, it hurt even thinking about moving. (Y/n) laid there, with his eyes half open, contemplating whether or not he should close them again.

Would he be able to sleep, though? Even if he’d started sleeping near Bakugou as a ‘don’t-wake-me-up’ measure, it slowly stopped being just that and more a matter of he felt safe and comfortable around him. In a way, he’s become a bit dependent on him, which is probably a bad thing, but he didn’t care.

Sleeping with Bakugou felt best. But that wasn’t an option, now was it?

(Y/n) pursed his lips, an involuntary groan rumbling from his tired vocal cords. He continued staring at the blinding nurse office lights, staring until he saw spots in his vision.

“Stop doing that-do you wanna go fuckin’ blind?”

(Y/n) flinched. He hated the way that familiar, aggravated voice still stirred butterflies into his stomach. He glanced to his side, as if to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

He met eyes with Bakugou.

“Bout’ time you fuckin’ woke up. Been waitin’ forever, shit-for-brains.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes back up to the blinding floodlights. Bakugou scowled. “Oi! Don’t ignore m-“

“How long were you here for?”

Bakugou went silent. It was his turn to avert his eyes, albeit more angrily.

“...I was here since you fuckin’ fainted in class, idiot. I even carried your stupid body here from the dumbass carrier bots.”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened, unlike Bakugou’s, who glared at the floor just beside the chair he was sitting in. (Y/n) checked the big black clock mounted on top of Recovery Girl’s desk.

It was 6:00 pm.

If Bakugou was telling the truth, he’d been sitting there waiting for him to wake up for 4 hours straight.

“Bakugou-its been hours since class ended-you should be at the dorms by now-! Why did you-“

“Well if you told me why you suddenly started avoiding me we wouldn’t be here right now!”

(Y/n) let his mouth fall closed. Bakugou scoffed. “Well?!”

(Y/n) opened his mouth, but it clamped shut when Monoma’s words echoed in his mind. Bakugou looked at him with an expectant face.

“I can’t tell you.”

“WH-“ Bakugou sputtered angrily. “COURSE YOU CAN! THE FUCKS STOPPING YOU!”

“Nothing I-I just can’t!”

“WHY!? WHY NOT?!”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

“OK AND?! I LOVE YOU TOO!”

“THEN WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE!” (Y/n) shouted, before he cupped his mouth in realization. Bakugou’s eyes went wide aswell. “Wait I didn’t mean that-“

“YEAH! WHATS THE FUCKIN PROBLEM HERE?!” Bakugou recovered from his initial shock, already back to yelling. (Y/n) furrowed his brows with a blush.

“Wh..wait so-“

“I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME, SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STOP SLEEPING ON ME?!”

“Wait but...” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you, y’know...not like it...when I do that-?”

“DUMBASS! WHERE’D YOU GET THAT FROM?!” It seemed like Bakugou got angrier and angrier each passing second. It was hard to tell what (Y/n) found so attractive about him.

“From...from Monoma...?”

Bakugou looked angrier than ever. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “YOU-I CAN’T BELIEVE-! I-! FUCK IT!”

Bakugou snarled and practically shoved his face onto (Y/n’s), angrily stealing his breath away with a kiss. The kiss, surprisingly, was soft and gentle, despite Bakugou’s previous intensity. It seemed to calm Bakugou down, and cheer (Y/n) up.

The two slowly parted for air. It was quiet for a second, something that rarely happened near Bakugou.

“I thought you hated me...”

“W-why the fuck would I hate you...dumbass.” Bakugou rested his forehead on (Y/n’s) shoulder. His spiky tufts of blond hair tickling (Y/n’s) face.

“Because Monoma said so...?”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Bakugou snarled, climbing into the cot (Y/n) was in. He pushed (Y/n) back down into the pillow, pulling up the white blanket and laying down next to him. He guided (Y/n’s) head-a tad bit forcefully-to his chest. “...after we sleep.”

Bakugou shut his eyes, half irritated and half embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled tiredly. He nuzzled his head into Bakugou’s chest.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.”

——

Extra:

Monoma walked into class 1-B the next morning. He yawned, still a bit tired, when he ran straight into someone.

“Hey, copycat fucker.”

Monoma looked up. The class was empty, with no one but Bakugou standing infront of him.

Fuck.

Needless to say, Bakugou got another 3 days of house arrest.

——————

Bru this was so long ong

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #bakusquad #bakugou x male reader #bakugo x male reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x y/n #mha #mha fic #bnha #bnha fic #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #mr scifijiz

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ffamranxii · 4 years ago

Text

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex.

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead.

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.

#haikyuu #headcanons #daisuga #asanoya #kuroken #bokuaka #iwaoi #updated it #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #kozume kenma #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutaru #akaashi keiji #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru

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thewayshedreamed · 3 years ago

Note

Congrats on the 800 followers bby you deserve it! I have a good one for you. I slipped and fell in the shower and the only person who can help me is my enemy for nessian 👀👀👀

Well, Sim, it was you who BLEW my word count. I should have seen it coming, I guess 👀

Although, I will say you didn't do it alone. I also combined @maastrash 's prompt "Are you hurt? What happened?" and one from anon, "You're cute when you're all worried."

They all went together so well that I couldn't resist. And as a result, you got this 3k+ beast. RIP 800-word limit.

Anyway, I hope you like it, my love! Enjoy!

Nesta wasn't sure why she had agreed to go to the beach with Feyre, Rhysand, and his brothers. Gwyn had come through in her time of need and agreed to join them, but she'd quickly flipped her allegiances to spend more time on the beach with the others instead of retreating back to the house with Nesta. She had a suspicion it had something to do with a certain tall, dark, and broody man who hoarded his smiles from the public eye.

Unless the public eye belonged to Gwyneth Berdara.

After the long trek to their rented beach house, Nesta stopped at the edge of the dock to knock the sand from her shoes. There was a small shower outside the backdoor to rinse the saltwater and stubborn sand from her body, and Nesta hissed against the stark cold that rained down on her legs. A proper shower was the only thing that was going to combat the chill in her blood, and that realization was enough to solidify her decision to stay inside the rest of the afternoon with a romance novel.

Her towel was full of sand, so she hanged it over the porch railing and headed directly to the bathroom. It was best if she peeled her bikini off in the shower to avoid scattering any lingering sand all over her bedroom, so she moved swiftly into the small bathroom and cranked the water nearly to the warmest setting. The firm grip of her arms around her body did very little to combat the goosebumps on her skin, and she let out a near moan at the feel of the hot water.

She closed the shower door behind her and stood beneath the spray properly to rinse her hair. Her bikini made a loud slopping sound against the tile in the corner. Dealing with it was a task for someone with any motivation beyond warmth and cleanliness.

Nesta lathered her hair and combed a generous amount of conditioner through her strands to help with the detangling process. The wind had created a monster, adding another notch against the beach in her book.

While her conditioner did the Cauldron's work, she grabbed a wash cloth and body wash. As she moved back beneath the spray, her foot slipped over the suds near the drain, but Nesta righted herself with a firm hand against the tile wall. The excessive amount of conditioner wasn't helping matters.

She rinsed her hair and body all at once to get to her lounge clothes as soon as possible. Stepping out of the spray to hang her washcloth on the nearby rack to dry was near torture now that she was properly warmed, and Nesta wasted no time in stepping back into the water for one last hit before shutting it off.

That was her intention, anyway. What happened instead is that her traitorous feet were no match for the slick tile, and the backward steps were all it took to send her careening to the floor. She slapped at the wall to no avail, finding no ally in reach. What she did find was insult to injury when various toiletry bottles rained down on top of her.

She had stupidly tried to brace her fall with her other hand, sending a spark of pain from her palm to her shoulder. Her groan echoed off the walls and the shower showed no mercy as the water rained onto her chest, all over her face.

A booming voice made her eyes snap open, only to snap them shut against the sting of the water.

"Nes?"

Her delay had been too long. The bathroom door burst open, and through the frosted glass, she saw Cassian's imposing form assessing the situation.

"Nesta? Are you hurt? What happened?"

This could not be happening. Of all the fuckers to be in the house at one of her lowest points, it had to be Cassian. Gwyn would be hearing about this.

"Go away."

She cringed against how dejected she sounded. Turning her head and shielding her eyes with her uninjured arm, she found that he did no such thing.

"Cassian," she warned. "Get the fuck out of here. Now."

He propped a hip on the bathroom counter. Arrogant bastard. At least, from what she could tell, his chin was turned up toward the ceiling rather than his gaze being fixed on the frosted glass.

"Something tells me things aren't going well if you've yet to peel yourself off the floor."

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned her face toward the water once more. Maybe she could drown.

"Let me help."

"I thought I was pretty clear. I'm not accepting help from you."

A deep sigh sounded in the bathroom, but before she could snap, his rough voice followed.

"Fine. Don't accept my help. Rhys came with me to grab snacks for the others. I'll have him switch with me."

"No," she roared, cringing against the command in her voice and her lack of options.

Every time she tried to sit up, pain tore through various parts of her body. Her ass, the hip that had taken most of the impact, her shoulder. She needed help, and while she hated the idea of accepting it from Cassian, she would rot in hell before Rhysand helped her out of the shower. How had she found herself in a situation where her only chance at help was the man who spent the majority of his life being as big of a pain in her ass as possible?

His voice sounded again, but it carried away from her. "Rhys, head back without me." His brother's voice came next, but Nesta couldn't hear him over the patter of water in the shower. "Nah, I'm good. Just taking a break from the sun. I'll catch up."

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him. At least Cassian had the good sense to lie to Rhys rather than recruit any additional attention to her compromising position.

"Alright, Sweetheart. I've got a towel ready. I'm going to open up and shut the water off."

Nesta's breath hitched at the rush of cool air, at the form that cast her in shadow almost entirely. She pulled her legs up and shielded her chest with her good arm, earning a throaty chuckle from her savior.

"I'm not looking. I'd rather when a woman wants me to see them naked."

Why her need to launch jabs at him overpowered her pain was lost on her. "Must have been a while, then."

"Saw a good set out on the beach, actually. She was feeling pretty generous after watching me and Az play volleyball, I guess."

Nesta scowled. That tingling sensation down her spine didn't feel secondary to her injuries at hearing the story.

"You're a pig," she grumbled, but she let Cassian drape the towel over her front and ease her into a sitting position.

"It felt rude not to look."

Her huff of a laugh was genuine. Damn him. He moved to wrap the towel tightly around her shoulders.

"Think you can stand up?"

Nesta grimaced against the soreness in her hip. "Yeah. In a couple of minutes."

Without a word, Cassian hoisted her into his arms with measured gentleness. Her cheek rested against his shoulder since she didn't have her arms free to prop her up, but she barely had the energy anyway.

He maneuvered them out of the tight bathroom and down the hall to her room, easing her onto the edge of her bed. She opened her mouth to say thanks, but he had already spurred into action.

"What did you want to wear?"

"I'll get it."

He shot her a glare. "Fine. I'll pick."

Nesta growled her frustration, but Cassian only ticked his eyebrows upward in challenge. She hadn't realized initially that he wore only his swim trunks, half of his black hair pulled back and out of his face. The sun added color to his already bronze skin and left a soft blush on his cheeks that accented his hazel eyes. And she, to the contrary, was a lump beneath a massive towel. One that had managed to injure herself during a simple shower, evidenced by the soaked strands of hair plastered to her face and shoulders.

"There's a large night shirt in my suitcase and some sleep shorts."

Cassian grabbed them before turning toward her, a hand gripping the back of his neck. "Anything... underneath?"

Nesta allowed a sardonic laugh. "Underwear are for people with the use of both their arms."

He cleared his throat and left the clothes next to her on the bed. With a final instruction to call for him if she needed anything, he was gone.

She assessed the clothing and picked the shirt up first. One of her arms was through a sleeve in no time, but the second one was another story entirely. With a defeated whimper she gave up, dropping her arms into her lap with a hiss.

"Cassian!"

No response. Maybe he didn't hear her; the house was rather large. Her voice was louder the second time.

"Cassian!"

A muffled thud sounded, followed by a quick, "Coming!"

He appeared at the threshold of her door, dripping with water and suds. A large towel was wrapped around his waist, his grip white-knuckled to keep it in place.

"Everything alright? Where's the fire?"

Nesta blinked at him. "You said to call you if I needed anything," she pointed out, running her eyes over his state in accusation.

Cassian let out a long, suffering sigh. "I meant it, but you said you had this part covered. I take a 3-minute shower, tops."

"Well, I don't have it covered."

There was more bite to her voice than she'd intended, but self-pity and shame were settling into her bones. She hugged the nightshirt tighter against her body to serve as some form of armor, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Cassian's shoulders sagged, but she barely noticed in favor of watching beads of water travel down his torso, over his strong calves, and make a small puddle on the floor below. "I'm sorry. I was full of sweat and sand. I thought you'd be more likely to take help if I was clean."

Something in her chest softened at his forethought, even more so since he was right.

"Go finish your shower," she relented, settling her hips deeper into the mattress. "I can wait until you're done. I just— I need some help with my clothes."

He was on the balls of his feet, ready to haul himself straight to the shower. The water beneath his feet made her breath hitch. The words left her before she could think better of them.

"Careful! Don't rush." He blinked as if seeing her for the first time, but his usual cocky grin eventually stretched across lips. "I can't help you if you fall, too. And I'm not keeping you company on the ground until the rest of them come back."

Cassian's smile grew. He offered her a wink before he replied, "You're cute when you're all worried."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Go."

He hurried off on balanced feet, whether that was on Nesta's orders or a natural grace, she wasn't sure. While she waited, she opted to set them up as best as possible to make the process quick and painless. Well, minimally painful, considering there was a layer of awkwardness that was going nowhere fast. That was without counting the actual physical pain she would no doubt endure.

With a pathetic swatting motion, she knocked her sleep shorts to the floor and began shuffling them around with her feet. She'd managed to slip one into the proper leg hole before she heard Cassian's rich laugh from the doorway.

"Stubborn woman," he mused, seemingly allowing a sliver of affection to slip through. Nesta knew better.

She scowled, turning her chin up to make sure he knew how unwelcome his teasing was. He laughed harder and dropped to his knees in front of her, adjusting the tee he’d pulled over his head on his way into the room.

"What do you want to put on first? You're half-committed to both."

"Let's go with the shirt. It's long enough to cover me while we work on the shorts." Cassian nodded, reaching toward the crumpled article of clothing in her lap. Nesta jerked back to establish some expectations before moving forward. "You're about to see me naked."

"Yeah, probably," he sighed, as if it was a burden to him, too. "I won't look more than necessary though."

"Okay, good. And this doesn't change anything, so don't start acting weird around me. We take this to the grave, too. We'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. "You have my word."

He gently peeled the shirt from her grasp, sliding each sleeve beyond the crooks of her elbows before pulling the opening over her head. Nesta hissed at the pinch of pain through her shoulder but bit her tongue.

"I know. I'm sorry." He pulled the fabric down her sides and over her back. The backs of his knuckles dragged across her soft skin, and she barely contained her shiver.

Clearing his throat, he looked to the floor where her shorts were still tangled around her feet. He got to work on straightening them and allowed her to slip her other foot into the proper place. He didn't dare look up at her through his next request.

"Think you could put your weight on the leg that's not as sore?"

Nesta swallowed and said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Use my shoulders to brace your weight, too.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. He was solid beneath her, the muscles in his shoulders unyielding under her grip. She had to resist flexing her fingers more firmly in a test of their resilience.

Cassian eased her shorts upward, the roughness of his knuckles tracing the same blazing path as they had over her back. His gaze was fixed resolutely on the floor, yet he managed to release them at the proper moment. The soft pop of the elastic snapped her out of whatever trance she was under, but the echo remained in the feel of his warm hands easing her hips back down to the mattress.

"Maybe we should have someone take a look at you; make sure you're okay." His brows came together when he realized she was already shaking her head in refusal.

"I'll rest a bit, and I'll be fine. I may be sore tomorrow, but I'm good."

Without a word, Cassian braced one of his legs outward and scooped Nesta into his arms. It grated her nerves how easily he'd lifted them both into a standing position.

"What are you doing? You can't make me go to the doctor."

Cassian leaned back and shook his head, trying to get his rogue hair out of his face. "I'm not manhandling you to the doctor, Nes. Settle down." His bottom lip jutted out to try and blow the strands away while he walked. "I'm taking you to the couch and getting you ice."

Oh. Well, that hadn't been what she expected. The gesture was enough to have her mindlessly raise a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes snapped to hers, his steps slowing to a stop in front of the couch. Their faces were close enough that she could run her nose along his if she wanted to, but she definitely didn't. Not even at the feel of his firm chest heaving against her.

They stayed that way, transfixed by the contact that was somehow more intimate than when he had draped clothes over her naked body. Their breathing settled into a rhythm together, and Nesta couldn't resist tracing the path of his sharp jaw. His slight stubble scraped against the pads of her fingers, all the way to his chin, where she grazed over his skin with her thumb. She snatched her hand away like he'd burned her.

Cassian's throat bobbed, and his fingers flexed against her ribs. His other hand did the same against her thigh, except his thumb traced a soft, idle path back and forth along the sensitive skin at the back. He made no moves to put her down.

Nesta knew she would regret the loss of his warmth immediately, but the line they flirted was thin. Not to mention, it was irresponsible to succumb to such a base urge considering, any other time, they would be poised to rip each others' heads off.

The shrieks of children at the neighboring beach house snapped their attention to something beyond the bubble they'd created for themselves. Cassian eased her to the couch and positioned pillows around her to keep as much pressure off of her aching joints as possible. He threw a blanket over her legs before heading to the nearby kitchen for ice.

Nesta watched his retreat with shameless appreciation. How had she never stopped to look at him through her current lens? Doing so may have been enough to make her more agreeable in nature. The thought made worry sink in her gut with what had transpired moments before, and she craved the oddly familiar banter they'd engaged in since he showed up to the scene of her demise.

"So," she called, eyes fixed on the intricately patterned throw pillow beneath her injured arm, "how much did you see?"

His voice was closer than she'd expected, but she managed not to startle. "Uh— I mean. I saw some things."

Nesta fixed her glare on him, and he gave her a sideways smile while he placed the ice strategically over her shoulder. She hissed against the cold, earning a look of apology.

"What things?"

He let out along breath. "A bit of everything, really. Not on purpose. " A slight blush turned the tips of his ears pink, but Nesta didn't comment on it. "Mostly, you know—" He gestured back and forth between his pecs. "—everything else was more... indirect, I guess."

Nesta groaned, allowing her forehead to fall to her good hand, cradling it in her palm. Cassian moved to the nearby armchair and took a sip of his bottled water.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sweetheart," he soothed, albeit mockingly. "They're not the worst ones I've seen today."

—

They had watched a movie in loaded silence until the others trudged up to the house near sunset. Nesta gave the cliff notes of how she'd wound up injured on the couch, making no mention of Cassian's help. The last thing they needed was an onslaught of questions from their nosy friends.

"I thought you were coming back out there. What happened to you?"

Cassian's brows drew together at Rhys' question. "Well, I saw Nesta laid up on the couch and offered to watch a movie with her. I lost track of time."

Rhysand eyed him skeptically, but no one questioned it. Cassian redirected everyone's attention to the matter of what they would cook as a group that night, but he was sure to give Nesta strict orders to stay planted on the couch. Overbearing prick.

With so many hands on deck, dinner was ready quickly. They all settled around the table, and Gwyn had made it a point to cushion Nesta's chair with pillows before letting her sit down. Her best friend must have sensed the verbal lashing that awaited her in the privacy of their shared room that night.

Laughter filled the space while they told stories from the day's events. Apparently, Azriel had rescued Gwyn from a feared creature of the deep while taking a dip in the water. He had hardly been able to stop laughing himself to tears long enough to complete the epic tale of how he defeated the bundle of seaweed that had threatened Gwyn's life so mercilessly. The latter hadn't found it quite so amusing, but Az offered her a broad smile in apology.

Nesta wasn't sure she had ever seen one quite so wide on his face, and holy gods. If she'd thought him to be beautiful before, she had been sorely mistaken.

As they usually did, Rhysand and Feyre settled close to each other as the other talked. Rhys was busy murmuring things into Feyre's ear that made her cheeks as red as Gwyn's sunburn, which earned a proper warning from Cassian to "stop being gross with his little sister". Nesta agreed with him enough to refrain from reminding him that he was in no way related to Feyre.

"Don't mind him, Darling," Rhys purred. "He's pouting because the only action he'll see during this trip will be self-directed."

Cassian nostrils flared in annoyance, and for whatever reason, Nesta found herself rising to his defense.

"I don't know," she sang, "I hear Cassian saw a pretty good set today."

A chorus of questions broke out, but he only had eyes for Nesta. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew she hadn't been referring to the ones flashed to him and Azriel after the beach volleyball game.

"I did," he agreed, sipping some of the amber liquid in his glass. "Perfect, actually."

The questions continued, and Azriel reluctantly began recounting the tale of he and Cassian's victory flashing. Nesta used her good arm to raise her wine to her lips, mouthing a subtle thank you over the glass for everything he'd done for her. The least she could do was preserve a bit of his dignity.

Cassian lifted his class in mock cheers and said everything he needed to with a single wink.

The pleasure was all mine.

#nessian #nessian au #acotar au #cassian x nesta #nessian hurt comfort #nessian tension #enemies prompt #800 followers celebration #twsd writes #twsd fics #perseusannabeth #sim tag

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maxfreeman456 · 4 years ago

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Now We Know About the Facts Of Lougosi And How Most Fans Find It As Endgame

Trivia

Legosi and Louis are both canonically physically attracted to each other. They are the reason they realize their carnivore/herbivore fetish. In Chapter 91, Louis realizes his carnivore fetish in the car with Ibuki, but states that he thinks it all began with Legoshi. His words are "Because their bodies are strong, they have a profound sense of camaraderie. Because they hunger for meat, they always look like they're suffering somehow...why did it take me so long to realize this? I like carnivores. I think I have for a long time now, all because of that idiotic underclassman (Legosi)." In Chapter 114, Legosi realizes his herbivore fetish when admiring Louis.His words are "I look at his face and get the usual thought. Why are herbivores such beautiful life forms?"

It's revealed in one of the extras in the manga (Unpacking Legoshi's Belongings) that Legosi started carrying a nail file in his backpack after Louis drew attention to his hands [2].

In an omake surrounding Chapter 76, Itagaki makes a joke about Louis and Legoshi kissing/being intimate.The omake shows two girls talking to each other. One says, "I saw two guys hugging on the balcony today" (referring to Louis and Legoshi hugging on the balcony in Chapter 76). The other goes, "did you close the curtain for them?"

In the last panel of Chapter 77, the narration for Louis and Legosi's hug state that "even with their environments changed, they never lost their trust in each other. Only the moon sees them now.""The moon is beautiful" (tsuki ga kirei desu ne) is a euphemism for "I love you" in Japan.

Louis states that his leg hurts whenever something bad happens to Legosi.This was true for when Legosi got hurt fighting the drug cartel, and for when Legosi was shot by Melon. This is the only indication of anything supernatural in Beastars,

Louis can be seen blushing and fanning himself in one panel of Chapter 88, in the scene where Legosi is cross-dressed in heels and makeup.

In multiple panels of Chapter 96, the composition of the scenes compares Legosi's relationship with Louis to Riz's relationship with Tem. This is likely due to the fact that Legosi and Louis represents a good carnivore-herbivore relationship, unlike Riz and Tem. However, it is an interesting comparison because Riz's feelings toward Tem were heavily hinted to be romantic.Riz says in the scene, "it's the only thing...my feelings for him (Tem) are much stronger than your feelings for Louis-Senpai. Because he (Tem) never felt the same for me."

In Chapter 143, Louis can be seen blushing when he is with Legosi and the Shishigumi.Louis does not blush during his kiss with Juno and during his date with her in Chapter 194.

Legosi is the only character in the series (only Oguma, Kyuu, and San, who were part of Louis' past, as well as Bill who found out on his own and Ibuki) who knows about Louis being sold as meat in the black market in childhood.

Louis is the only character in the series who knows about Legosi's dreams of becoming an insectarium keeper (according to Legosi, Chapter 158).

Louis is the only character other than Jack and Yahya who knows Legoshi's grandfather.

Legosi is the only character in the series who has made Louis laugh on-screen, and is also the first and only character to see him cry. This occurs in Chapter 88, when Louis laughs at Legosi's cross dressing. The latter occurs in Chapter 95, when Legoshi is about to battle Riz.This excludes Louis' hysterical laughter when asking the Shishigumi to eat him, as it was laughter caused by insanity, not amusement.

The style in which Itagaki draws panels draws certain scenes between Legosi and Louis (light grey airbrush with flecks and hazy overlays) is the same style she uses for scenes between Riz and Tem and scenes between Legoshi and Haru.

The music that plays for Legoshi and Louis' play scene is the same that plays in scenes between Legoshi and Haru.The music is/is a rendition of "Beastars classical OST" by Satoru Kosaki.

Louis and Legoshi has appeared alongside each other in more promotional artwork than any two characters (Legoshi and Haru included).

Both Louis' and Legosi's sexuality is hard to categorize: Louis states he has grown to be exclusively attracted to carnivores (first mentioned in Chapter 91, confirmed in Chapter 143 as he vomits trying to have sex with a female red deer). When Oguma asks Louis whether he likes women in chapter 157, Louis does not answer. Similarly, Legosi is exclusively attracted to herbivores - mentioned and confirmed in chapter 114. Legosi also admits Pina (a male herbivore) to be attractive in chapter 66. Both are confirmed to have a carnivore/herbivore fetish.

While the author's original idea was to make Legoharu an endgame, there are many hints for a quite possible, future romantic relationship between Legosi and Louis after all - or at least for Lougosi being a semi-canon ship in a spin-off. It for sure has a big potential for eventually becoming more than just a fanon pairing. A lot of the Beastars fans are also questioning Louis's sexuality - especially after the chapter 157 in manga - and think he might be gay or bisexual. One thing's for sure - Paru Itagaki is teasing Legosi and Louis's relationship quite a lot and it's hard to say, if it's only ship teasing for the Lougosi shippers content, queerbaiting, or is she considering them really being together at some point. Additionally, we from interviews that Paru Itagaki does not outline all scenes beforehand (such as the LegoHaru scene in the love hotel), creating more potential for Lougosi in the future.

I knew there had to be a reason why so many fell for this ship early on, there are key facts explaining it

#beastars #beastars louis #lougosi #beastars legosi #paru itagaki

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Trust and My Kar’ta

Pairing - Din Djarin x Reader

Summary - The Mandalorian has been gone on a bounty, and when he returns, he seems to not be hiding his emotions as easily as he once was. Maybe you’ve broken through that beskar more easily than you thought.

Word Count - 2,034

Warnings - None! Pure fluff!

It had taken one night on the planet for you to realize that you hated it. It seemed as if the Razor Crest would never land on a planet you wanted to be on at this rate. It was always either too hot, too cold, or raining the whole time. You knew that Mando couldn’t control any of that, but it was a downer. Even more so when he wasn’t around to keep you company.

You loved the Child. It had only taken one look into those dark eyes, and you had been smitten. You loved taking care of him, but he couldn’t speak, and sometimes you wanted to have a conversation. So when the Mandalorian deemed his bounties too dangerous for the two of you to be on, you were stuck here on the Razor Crest.

It had been two days since he left, and you weren’t sure how much longer it would be until he came back. It was starting to affect both of you, being stuck on this ship while it rained non-stop outside and the cold poured in. It wasn’t unmanageable, but not comfortable either.

Rocking the fussing child in your arms, you both peeked out the window, looking for any sign of the Mandalorian, and you continued to frown when you saw none. The child whined, and you knew him so well by now, you could pick up the worried tone in his voice.

“It’s all right. The bounty is most likely giving him some trouble, that’s all.” You tried to reassure him. You looked around the room, trying to find something to calm him down, but all you could think of was the small cot that smelled of the man. “Here, why don’t we take a nap? Maybe when we wake up he’ll be back?” You asked, sitting down on the cot.

Although you wouldn’t admit it, you were worried yourself. You always were when Mando went on a job without you. Even though you knew two days was normal for him to be gone when he was chasing a bounty, you didn’t like it. But you also knew that this child in your arms had some sort of special abilities you didn’t understand. What you did know was that he almost seemed to be able to pick up on your emotions. So you weren’t about to let this poor child suffer through both of you being worried. You figured a nap might help both of you calm down, and almost as soon as the two of you laid on the cot, the child snuggled into your neck and quieted down.

Lulling yourself to sleep was easy wrapped up in Mando’s blankets, taking in deep breaths filled with the scent of him, the child’s soft snores in your ears. Soon you drifted off, the icy rain pelting against the sides of the Crest.

There was no telling how long you were asleep, but you were woken up as soon as you felt the child being pulled from your arms. Reacting out of instinct, you reached for the blade hidden in the side of your tunic.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” The modulated voice stopped you, Mando’s cold and wet glove gripping your wrist and stopping you before you stabbed him.

You felt relief fill your chest and let out a sigh. “Din,” You let out a name you never dared to say unless it was in private, and slid your blade back in place, taking him in. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but he seemed all right. “Are you okay?” You asked him, reaching out until you found one of his armor clad arms. You had learned long ago that it was harder for him to lie to you if you were touching him.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, his voice steady and calm, and you were inclined to believe him. “One bounty turned in and several credits richer.”

Satisfied with his answer, you began to remove your hand from him, but to your surprise, he stopped you, gripping it in one of his.

“Now, cyar’ika, what are you doing in my bunk?” He asked you, giving your hand a slow squeeze.

“Oh,” You had forgotten where you had fallen asleep. You had your own little cot set up in the Crest that Mando had put together for you, and you supposed you could have taken your nap there but . . . “I think the little one was more comfortable here. Reminds him of you.” You added, a soft smile on your face that you were sure he could see.

He looked down at the child who was now clinging to him, his eyes blinking sleepily up at him, and you watched as Mando’s grip tightened on him for the briefest moment before that helmet looked back up to you.

It was one of those times when you wished he didn’t wear it. When you could see and read the expression on his face so it could explain what he was thinking, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m sorry, I’ll go -”

“No.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “No, you can stay.”

Your eyes widened somewhat in disbelief. “I can -”

“Are you cold? You’re shaking.” Din asked, interrupting you once again.

You were? You looked down at the hand he was holding and noticed that you were indeed shaking. Yes, you were cold, you realized, but you didn’t think that was the reason that you were shaking. Well, you weren’t about to tell him why you were shaking, so you nodded your head, looking up and into that small black void on the helmet where his eyes would be.

Mando wasn’t one that you would think would be hesitant, his actions when he was hunting a bounty sure weren’t, but you had found over time that he was much more careful with his words, especially around you. Now was one of those times. It was as if you could feel him staring at you, even if you couldn’t see him. Silence enveloped the room, apart from the small snores coming from the once more sleeping child, until he decided to speak. “Would you like me to join you?”

. . . Had he really just asked that? Did he mean join you like, join you . . . or like join you? And did it matter either way? “I would,” you replied, your voice so quiet, you hoped he had heard you through all that beskar.

He had. He nodded, letting go of your hand, and placed the sleeping child back in his little hammock above you. “I’ll be right back.” Din told you, and left you alone with your thoughts.

You laid back down on the small bed, your heart pounding at the speed of a ship in hyperspace. While Din and you had grown even closer lately, it hadn’t felt quite like this until now. The tension was so thick in the air it felt heavy, and there had been something different about the way he had touched you and held your hand earlier, almost as if he was . . . reassuring himself that you were here. You had no idea what it meant or what was in store for the next few minutes.

It was at that moment that all the lights in the Razor Crest went out, and you were surrounded in pitch black darkness. You turned on your side and buried your face in the pillow, wondering what he was doing. He was making it easier for everyone to sleep . . . Right?

Your question was answered soon enough, quiet footfalls entering the room along with something that sounded a lot like beskar being placed gently on the floor. It turned out you were right, because when Din crawled into the small bed with you, it was far too quiet. He had taken off his armor, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You reached behind you, and sure enough, your hand found his, large, warm, and gloveless. “What happened?” You whispered, knowing that something must have to bring about the way he was acting now.

It was so quiet for a moment, that you thought he might have been so exhausted he had already fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “I got caught up with some Imperials when I was turning the bounty in. They know about you, cyar’ika. They’re coming for you too.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath, but not for the reason you were sure Din suspected. It was clear from the sound of his voice, that not only was he not wearing his armor, but he wasn’t wearing his helmet as well, and you weren’t prepared for the way that made you feel.

Mistaking your gasp for fear, Din spoke up again, “I won’t let anything happen to you -”

But you shook your head, remembering after a second that he couldn’t see it. “Din, your helmet . . . You took it off.”

It seemed as if he took a moment to process your words, and then you felt his hand tightening its grip on yours. “I trust you.”

That wasn’t a small feat, and you knew it. For a man so devoted to his religion that no living thing had seen his face since he was a child, to risk having all that come to an end because of you made tears form in your eyes. It didn’t matter if what was left of the Empire was after you now. Din Djarin trusted you more than anyone else in his life.

The feeling was mutual.

Unable to resist it a second longer, you turned in the cot, one of your knees slipping between his lower thighs while the other rested on top of his leg. “Can I touch you?” You asked. It seemed important to ask for permission even if he had taken the helmet off.

“Yes,” he breathed out, this time without hesitation, as he guided your hand up to his face, and then he let go.

While he had placed your hand on his cheek, you slid it up the side of his face, brushing some of his hair back. It was longer than you had expected, but oh so soft. While it was pointless, you found yourself closing your eyes, imagining in your head what your fingertips were feeling. His skin was smooth for the most part, although there were some wrinkles around his eyes. His nose was pointed and as your hand traveled lower, you felt facial hair above his lips as well as along the bottom of his jaw. You could feel him turning into your touch, relaxing under your caress as his lips kissed your fingertips in a way that sent shockwaves through your body. “Has anyone ever touched you like this?” You whispered, but you were fairly sure of the answer.

“Only you,” he replied, and you had never realized how much emotion the modulator had taken out of his voice until right then. “Can I hold you?” Din asked as you settled your hand in his hair, curling in the soft strands.

“You never have to ask my kar’ta.” You told him, and while you couldn’t see him, you knew that he was smiling when he responded.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked, his arm tugging you closer until you were against his chest, comfortable in his snug embrace.

“A couple of weeks ago, when we were at that market.” You felt Din’s nose nuzzling into the top of your head. “A woman said that I looked at you like you were my kar’ta. She told me what it meant.” Din’s lips pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “You are my heart, Din.”

His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion, lulling you into the slumber you had been in before, except now it was even better with his body keeping you warm instead of his blankets. “As you are mine, cyar’ika.” He whispered, his voice, pure and soft in your ears, his words bringing a gentle smile to your face as you fell asleep in his arms for, what you hoped, was the first of many times.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #star wars imagine

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

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We can tell

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

No one's POV.:

Jeongin knew he could always rely on his hyungs. The were all quite protective of the youngest and would baby him at all times, despite Jeongin trying to push them away. Often times the attention became too much for him. Did they really not trust him for to things on his own? Sure, he appreciated their help when he asked for it but he was an adult too, who should be able to face most of his problems alone. It always got worse, when Jeongin was sick. In no time, the entire group would be pining over him and baby him. It always made the maknae feel guilty because he wasn't even feeling too bad but his friends would do everything for him. Want a drink? Don't move, I got it! Though he would be perfectly able to get stuff for himself, his hyungs would get it for him and he felt bad about his hyings unnecessarily going out of their way for him.

That's why at some point, Jeongin decided to not tell his hyungs when he felt unwell anymore. He'd go ask them for help or Medici ne when he knew it was getting to bad and he needed help but in the main time, he would handle himself. That was also exactly his plan when his throat started to hurt during his vocal lesson. He had probably only strained it a bit anyway. He'd make himself some tea when he got home and it should go away soon. Luckily, the vocal lesson was the last part of his schedule for the day and he could go straight home afterwards. Until his phone dinged with a message that is. Hyunjin had texted and asked if he wanted to join Changbin, Felix and him to get some ice cream. Jeongin contemplated it but decided the cold fruit wouldn’t do his throat any good and that he'd rather have some warm tea. He quickly typed and apology, feeling bad that he had to cancel on his friends. Then he header back to the dorm, happy that his workday was over.

As expected Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix weren't there when he got back. Neither were Chan and Jisung, who had texted the groupchat earlier, statong they'd stay at the studio late. Minho was probably in his room, while Seungmin stood in the kitchen. “Hey, what’s you making, hyung?”, Jeongin smiled, ingnoring the pain in that came with speaking. Seungmin continued to stir in the pit infront of him, turning to him with a smile: “I’m making some hot chocolate to drink while watching a movie. Want some too? You sound like your lesson was intense.” The maknae nodded, it was easy with Seungmin, the other vocalist had been in the same situation multiple times before. It was probably something that just came with their job. While the older finished up their drinks, Jeongin got two cups out and sat them on the counter before raiding their cupboards for marshmallows. He didn't find any so when Seungmin added some cream on top, the younger just added some colorful sprinkles. Jeongin decided to just join his friend with his movie since he didn't have much else to do and he wouldn't have to talk.

What he didn’t expect though was the fatigue that suddenly set in and with the help of the soothing warm drink, he was out before even making it to the middle of the movie. When Seungmin woke him up for dinner, Jeongin needed a second to recognize his surroundings. What he noticed first was the headache thumping behind his temples and the quilt Spread over his legs. They usually kept it over the back of the couch but it seemed like Seungmin had tucker him in after he nodded off. “Hey, the others bought home take out. We got you soup because I thought it'd be easiest on your throat”, the older explained. Jeongin scratched his head awkwardly, mumbling: “You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. My throat will be fine tomorrow.” – “Innie, I've strained my voice in lessons multiple times. We both know how much it sucks and just because it will be better tomorrow doesn’t mean we want you to suffer today. Besides, that was barely any trouble. Come on, let's eat. The others are waiting”, Seungmin smiled.

Despite his nap earlier, Jeongin felt tired and went to bed soon after dinner. His roommate Jisung didn't comment on it but he also turned his bedside lamp off and put in his headphones. The maknae was really grateful for it because his head was still hurting and he couldn't wait to get some rest. Sadly, rest didn’tcome as easy as he had hoped, instead he kept tossing and turning, frequently waking up drenched in sweat from another nightmare. Usually, the maknae wasn’t one to have nightmares and most of the times, he got them when he had a fever. Knowing this, Jeongin got up in the early morning hours and took his temperatur. Sure enough, he was running a mild fever. It wasn’t bad enough to concert him, he was just upset that he couldn’t rest properly. Especially now, that his headache had increased. Sighing to himself, Jeongin took some medicine for his headache and winced at how scratchy his throat felt. He knew he didn’t just push himself too hard the previous day, he was most definitely coming down with something. It would be okay though, he could take care of himself.

Jeongin groaned when jisung's phone blasted ‘fancy you'. Sure, he liked twice but it was way too early to blast any music at that volume. He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Jisung to get him to shut his alarm off. It took a while but eventually it stopped and the maknae almost went back to sleep. He was already drifting off again, when Chan popped his head into the room to make sure they were up, leaving Jeongin no choice but to get out of bed. He shivered as soon as the blanket was gone and decided to wear a hoodie with a t-shirt underneath. They were going to the studio for some recording today and he didn’t want to be cold there. Jisung left their room first, giving Jeongin the chance to try out his voice. He knew it hurt but he didn’t expect to sound this bad. Not even straining himself during practice ever left him this hoarse. How would he be able to hide this from his group. Sure, he'd just try not to talk but eventually he'd have to. Plus, how was he going to record? They'd know then at the latest.

The others greeted him sleepily, when Jeongin joined them for breakfast. He just gave them a smile in return, so they thought he was still tired. Chan pushed a plate in front of him and ruffled the maknae’s hair affectionately. It all went well and Jeongin remained silent throughout their meal till Hyunjin addressed him directly. When the younger just shrugged in response, he frowned: “Yah, talk to your hyung!” The youngest just lowered his head in shame before Seungmin spoke up: “Jinnie, leave him be. He strained his voice yesterday and probably wants to rest it, so he can give his best later. Right Innie?” – ‘Thanks, hyung’, he mouthed with a smile, glad that one of them understood. “Aish. Next time maybe shoot us a text as a warning. We got a bit worried when you just kept quiet”, Chan chuckled, “If you don’t feel up to recording, let us know, okay?” Jeongin nodded and continued eating. Afterwards, he went through his morning routine and applied a good amount of concealer to cover the dark circles under his eyes. He also snuck some more painkillers into his pocket to take later and found a bag of cough drops at the back of his closet, which he quickly shoved into his backpack. Maybe, just maybe, they’d fix his voice enough for him to sing later. He was absolutely dreading the moment he had to record, fearing he wouldn’t be able to but his wishful thinking motivated him to push on.

Jeongin slept through the entire drive to the studio. Initially, he had fallen with his head against the window but it looked highly uncomfortable, so his seatmate Changbin carefully moved the youngest’s head onto his shoulder. While doing so, he clearly noticed the difference between the temperature of Jeongin’s skin and his own. Making sure the maknae really was a sleep, he whispered: “Guys, Innie has a fever.” Chan immediately leaned over to feel the youngest’s forehead for himself, his face dropping when he had to realize his dongsaeng was hiding something from them. Now that it was confirmed that Jeongin was sick, Changbin refused to wake him when they arrived. Instead, he carried him up to the study and laid him down on the couch there. The members either piled onto the other couch or sat on the floor, so their dongsaeng could rest. They weren’t planning on confronting him when he woke up, they’d rather Jeongin admitted it himself, so they continued to work, recording their parts while shooting the youngest concerned glances every now and then.

It had been almost an hour, when Jeongin sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around confused, trying to figure out where he was. “You fell asleep in the car, so Changbin carried you to the studio. We thought some extra sleep wouldn’t hurt, since you’re not due to record until later”, Felix chuckled at the younger’s dazed look. Minho sat down on the couch next to Jeongin, a plastic cup in his hands, as he smiled: “I brought a large thermos bottle of tea, I thought it might help your throat some.” Jeongin bit his lip looking sad all of a sudden. Then he pulled his phone out and typed: ��I really appreciate it hyung but seriously I’m fine. You wouldn’t have needed to bother doing that.’ He already felt guilty enough that Changbin had had to carry his lazy ass all the way up here, when he could have walked by himself perfectly fine. “Well, what if I wanted to?”, Minho asked and pressed the plastic cup into his dongsaeng’s hand. The youngest immediately wrapped both hands around it to warm, only noticing now how cold he felt. He gave Minho a shy and grateful smile before taking a careful sip, trying not to burn his mouth.

Minho had added a generous amount of honey and Jeongin almost sighed at how soothing it felt going down his throat. He didn’t want to admit it but he was quite happy that the dancer had gone out of his way to bring this along. Sadly, once the cup was empty, he didn’t have anything to warm him anymore and the chills were slowly starting back up. How could he possibly feel this cold, considering the layers he had put on? Pretending to go to the bathroom, the maknae snuck away to take another dose of painkillers. They were supposed to also lower his temperature, so maybe he’d feel a bit warmer if his fever went down a bit. At the same time, his hyungs knew he was lying about needing the bathroom, they were suspicious as to what he was really doing, hoping he didn’t feel sick to his stomach too, but they didn’t want to follow and pressure him too much. Should he be gone for too long, one of them would go look for him. “Is it just me or did you notice Jeongin shivering too?”, Jisung asked thoughtfully. Seungmin shook his head, stating: “Not just you, I think his fever is giving him chills.” They didn’t manage to speculate much further because right that moment, Jeongin returned.

‘Aish, what am I going to do with that little rebel? It would be so easy if he could just give in to the truth, so we could take care of him’, Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. He could still see the youngest shaking, though he tried so hard to conceal it. Then the leader had an idea. He got up and grabbed his coat, wrapping it around Jeongin’s shoulders. The he tried to muster as much of a lighthearted smile as he could and hummed: “Innie, it’s your turn soon, so you should probably start warming up. That way we can also hear how your voice is doing.” The vocalist was fast to regain his composure but the split second of horror, that flashed across his face, didn’t go unnoticed by Chan. Jeongin cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face despite the pain, and tried to hum a little tune, they often used to warm up. Apart from him, there was complete silence in the room, everyone waiting for the moment of truth and cringing in sympathy at how raspy his usually clear voice sounded. Chan was the first to react when Jeongin suddenly broke into tears, pulling him into a hug. It wasn’t even the pain getting to him. It was his frustration about not being able to record that day and therefore holding his group back. His frustration about showing his hyungs that he wasn’t doing his best today and thereby making them worry about him.

“It hurts that bad?”, Seungmin asked in shock. Jeongin shook his head, while the oldest rubbed his back. He croaked: “I-I’m sorry, now I’m holding all of you back again. I’m just so – so f-frustrated w-with myself.” He didn’t even know why he got so worked up about it because he really wasn’t this emotional, maybe the fever got to him more than he wanted to admit. Chan clicked his tongue, leaning closer to Jeongin’s ear, and whispered softly: “Why do you always think you’re holding us back? You can just record another day. If you keep forcing yourself now, you might even damage your voice. That’s not worth it.” The younger sniffled and nodded into Chan’s neck. “Most of us are done already, so why don’t you go home with them and rest a bit? You don’t need to hang around here, especially since I’m sure, your bed is more comfortable than that couch and we wouldn’t want you cold getting worse”, the leader mused. Jeongin pulled away shocked, frowning: “How do you know?” – “Innie, we can tell when you’re sick”, Chan chuckled and helped his dongsaeng to put his coat on properly, so Minho, Felix and Seungmin could take him home. Being producers, Chan and Changbin had to stay back at the studio to finish up with Hyunjin and Jisung but they’d all join them at the dorm in another hour or two.

Jeongin had stopped crying but remained quiet on their way to the car. While settling in, Minho poured him some more tea before shoving the thermos back into his backpack. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick, Innie? Or should I say, why did you try so hard to hide it from us?”, Minho asked hesitantly. The youngest bit his lip, selecting his words carefully: “You’re always there for me, all of you. You worry so much. I can take care of myself but y’all keep babying me and I feel guilty when you worry and do things for me that I can do myself. You don’t have to go out of your way for me and every time you do, I feel like a burden. I don’t want to be a burden. I took medicine and sucked on cough drops, went to bed early. I really did take care of myself.” When he started to get worked up again, Felix side-hugged him, causing him to shut up. “Well, it is our job as your hyungs to worry about you, there’s no way around it. You should know, as Chan said, we can tell when something’s up and if you don’t talk to us, we’ll most likely assume something a lot worse than what is actually going on. If you really want us to worry less, be honest with us, so we can see what we’re dealing with. Second, how dare you consider yourself a burden? You’re our baby and of course, we’ll always be there for you”, Minho frowned. Felix nodded and continued: “You might not understand the way we feel about you but we really love doing things for you, so please, please, please don’t feel guilty about it. For you it might seem like a bother going out of our ways but we really want to do all of that.” – “And, we don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself, probably better than half of this group. The thing is though, you don’t have to. If you really want to be more independent, that’s fine. We’ll try to hold ourselves back but just know, we’ll be there, not because we have to but because we want to”, Seungmin added. By now, Jeongin was almost tearing up again, touched by his hyungs’ words. He took a deep breath to calm himself, inhaling a faint whiff of Chan’s scent from the coat he was wearing. They really did care about him like brothers.

Already in a better mood after their talk, they made their way to the dorm, where Minho announced: “Let’s get a read on that fever and if it’s not too high, why don’t you take a nice warm bath. You’re still shivering.” They kicked off their shoes and Minho took him to the bathroom, watching as Jeongin took his temperature himself. It was moderate but not too high, so Minho started a warm bath while Jeongin went to pick out some comfortable clothes for himself. On his way back to the bathroom, he was stopped by Seungmin. “Hey, we thought it’d be fun to do a movie marathon if you feel up to it? And I wanted to ask if you’d prefer tea or hot chocolate like yesterday”, the second youngest asked. A wide smile spread on Jeongin’s face and he shyly requested: “Hot chocolate would be nice but you really don’t have to. I liked it when we watched the movie yesterday.” – “I’ll make hot chocolate for all of us, don’t worry about it”, Seungmin giggled and ruffled his only dongsaeng’s hair. Jeongin was just about to enter the bathroom with the pile of clothes in his hands when Felix came sliding on his fuzzy socks, panting: “Wait, wait, wait, I found this really cute pink bathbomb in my bag of toiletries and I want you to have it.” The maknae blushed, resembling the shade of the bathbomb itself, and thanked the Aussie before finally returning to the bathroom.

The tub was already filled and Minho told him to enjoy, before leaving to give his dongsaeng some privacy. He helped Felix set up pillows, blankets and some additional beanbags, so every member would find a spot when they returned from the studio. The living room was already smelling comfortingly sweet from the chocolate Seungmin was melting for their drinks. Maybe their dongsaeng wasn’t feeling all that awful but that didn’t mean that they didn’t want do make him as comfortable as possible and cuddle him all better. Plus, who’d say no to some quality time with their cute maknae? A group movie marathon really sounded like heaven right now and the only thing that could make it even better was the hot chocolate Seungmin prepare, decorating it with cute colorful sprinkles just like Jeongin liked it.

#stray kids #skz #sick #sickfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #whump #comfort #yang jeongin

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago

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Innocents don’t shed blood...

A Donny Donowitz X Fem!Reader requested by the sweet @redrosewritingsstuff.

Hope you’ll enjoy this story!

Hidden in a French forest, the Basterds tried to have some rest after their last successful raid against a German patrol.

While Omar and Hirschberg took a well-deserved nap, Wicki checked on his rifle, whereas Andy, Simon, Smitty, and Michael were playing cards.

As for Hugo, he sat on a rock while (Y/N) strapped a bandage around his hand.

(Y/N), the "Angel," as the Basterds nicknamed her because of her soft and caring personality. Even Hugo is more relaxed around her. After all, she was the only member of the team who did not kill any Nazis because she did not have to pay the "scalp debt" to Aldo.

She was like a ray of sunshine for those men, and especially for Donny Donowitz, who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, the lady felt the same.

Speaking of the latter, he glanced at (Y/N) with adoring eyes, watching every gesture of her delicate hands. A few seconds later, she finished her job:

"Here you are, Hugo! Next time, be careful with your knife!"

"I'll try to remember. Danke, Engelsschwester (Angel Nurse) (Y/N)." replied the soldier with a sly smile.

"You're welcome." answered the girl with a warming smile.

That same smile made Donny falling head over heels for her when they first met.His lieutenant, who watched the whole scene with amusement, decided to wake up his Sargent from his daydreaming.

"C'mon, Don, stop staring at your girl as if she was ice cream!" snickered Aldo.

Blushing, the Bear Jew muttered some Bostonian curses under his breath, while the other Basterds laughed at him.

However, Aldo did not expect the response from the young woman:

"So, Donny is looking at me like I'm ice cream? Well, that proves I'm so delicious!"

Utivich and Zimmerman howled with laughter, while Donny smiled proudly: his angel was the best!

Aldo chuckled:

"Ya gotta the point, girl!"

"Thanks, sir!"

Two hours later, Aldo got up and said:

"OK, guys, I've just finished doing the inventory of our supplies. I can't say we're running out, but if we don't buy supplies quickly, we'll be in trouble!"

"That much ?" Wicki asked.

"Bsolutely. That's why we have to go to the nearest village to do some shopping."

He walked over to Hirschberg and Omar, who were sleeping soundly, and ordered in a loud voice:

"Get up, ya lazybones!"

"Huh? What? What's going on?" the two men stammered.

"It happens that we have to restock, or you won't have dinner tonight! Come on, get up, and hurry!"

"Go without me: it will give me time to do some tidying up." suggested (Y / N)

At these words, Donny frowned.

"I'd rather you come with us (Y / N). I'm not comfortable leaving you all alone!"

"But hey, what do you want to happen to her? There's no one passing through here!" protested Hirschberg.

"I'm worried about her safety, damn it!" yelled the Bear Jew.

The young nurse ran her thin hand over her lover's cheek, which instantly calmed him.

"It's fine, Donny. I can manage on my own while you're away."

"She's right, Don: and then, it won't be too long. An hour maximum!" Sakowitz reassured him.

Letting out a long sigh, Donowitz surrendered with a smile:

"Alright, I trust you, doll. I'll be back ASAP!"

"I'm not worried. See you later, teddy bear!"

"See you later, angel!" Donny replied, placing a kiss on the tip of the nurse's nose, making her laugh.

"We'll buy you some medical supplies when we get back."

"Thanks, Michael!"

"See you later, (Y / N)," Omar told her.

While the men left for the city, the young woman remained alone in the camp.

She began to sort through the medicine boxes and carefully put them away in her case before thoroughly cleaning her syringes and surgical equipment.

Then, she took the metal box to store her surgical equipment and looked at it tenderly: on the lid was engraved an angel with a little nurse's hat: a sweet gift from Smitty, Hirschberg, Omar, and Andy for her birthday.

And to think that at the beginning, the other soldiers called her crazy when she joined Lieutenant Raine's team: they thought she was going to get mistreated. It was quite the opposite: the Basterds had immediately loved her.

Continuing with her cleaning, she hummed a tune her mother sang to her when she was little:

“Ma petite est comme l’eau,

Elle est comme l’eau vive.

Elle court comme un ruisseau

Que les enfants poursuivent.

Courrez, courrez

Vite si vous le pouvez !

Jamais, jamais

Vous ne la rattraperez !”

But as she worked, she didn't hear the German soldier creep up behind her. The latter had stumbled upon the Bastards' encampment by pure chance, but seeing that she was alone, he thought to himself that he had an opportunity to hurt those who massacred his comrades by making their friend suffer.

He approached her silently, then jumped on the young woman, causing her to fall to the ground.

Fighting back, the young woman screamed:

“Leave me alone, you jerk!”

Her attacker just slapped her before responding with a sadistic smile:

"Also, du kämpfst gern, kleine Schlampe? Wo sind deine sogenannten Freunde? Niemand wird dich retten! (So, you like to fight, little bitch? Where are your so-called friends? No one is going to save you!)".

Trying to escape, (Y / N) managed to grab a pan and sent it in the face of his assailant, who let out a cry of rage. Taking advantage of the confusion, she started to run, but suddenly a hand grabbed her ankle, and she fell to the ground again.

The Nazi attacked her again, a glint of madness in his eyes. Searching by all means for a weapon to defend herself, the young woman grabbed the first object that was within her reach and struck for the first time. Then a second. Then a third. She, who had never fought in her life, unleashed all her rage and fear on her opponent by beating him up.

(Y / N) only ceased her blows when her attacker stopped moving. Not understanding what had happened, she looked at her hands and discovered in horror that they were covered in blood. And on top of that, she was holding a knife. She glanced at her nurse's uniform, which was also stained with blood.

She glimpsed at her aggressor and noticed that he laid on the ground, inert, with his eyes wide open and his chest pierced with multiple stabs.

It was then that she understood what had happened: for the first time in her life, she had just killed a man. Admittedly, it was self-defense, but (Y / N) was appalled by her gesture: how were the others going to react when they discover her crime?

Trembling, she let go of the knife and fell to the ground, breathing erratically and unable to emit a single sob ...

Meanwhile, the Bastards were returning from town with their provisions.

"We have everything we need: we'll be quiet for a while!" Andy said.

"What are we doing, Lieutenant?" Hugo asked.

"We're staying here for tonight, and we'll be heading to Lyon tomorrow morning! We have an appointment with members of the Resistance!" Aldo replied.

For his part, Donny walked in silence, holding in his pocket the present he planned to give to his angel. He didn't like being away from her, even if it was only for a few moments, because he feared he couldn't protect her.

"Don't worry, Romeo: you will be soon reunited with your Juliet!" Wicki joked sweetly.

Suddenly, Smitty listened:

"Do you hear that?"

"What ?" Hirschberg asked.

"Hush, listen!"

Everyone fell silent and heard moans in the distance as if someone was hurt. When they realized it was a woman's voice, they all thought of the same person:

"(Y/N)"

They ran towards their camp as fast as they could, praying that nothing wrong had happened to their nurse.

The one who worried the most was Donny: if anything had happened to (Y/N), he would never forgive himself.

A few minutes later, they arrived near their camp and discovered traces of the struggle.

"But what the heck happened here?" Hirschberg asked, stunned.

"I don't know, but that doesn't reassure me!" Simon replied.

"Somebody got into a fight here, for sure ... But where is (Y/N)?" Hugo exclaimed.

Suddenly, they heard wheezing near them. The Bastards turned and saw their nurse lying on the ground, breathing heavily, and her chest covered in blood.

At that moment, Donny had the impression that the ground gave way beneath his feet: all he feared had happened, he had failed to protect his angel.

"NO! Y/N!" he cried, rushing towards the young woman, and holding her in his arms.

"Oh, my God !" Utivich panicked.

"WICKI! COME HERE QUICKLY!" yelled Aldo.

The Austrian arrives near the young woman and begins to examine her, fearing to find too serious injuries. As for the others, they were petrified: they blamed themselves for having left her alone. If she had come with them, they could have protected her.

But when he finished, Wilhelm looked puzzled.

"So what's wrong with her? Are her injuries serious? But answer me, damn it!" the Jewish Bear said impatiently.

"How can I tell you ... It's not her blood!"

"What do you mean ?" Aldo asked.

"She has no physical injuries ... other than that bruise on her face!"

"Who hit her?" Omar asked, ready to gut the one who had dared to raise his hand on his best friend.

"Probably the Fritz who looks like a colander and is lying on the floor!" Andy replied, pointing to the corpse of the Nazi lying on the ground.

Seeing the body of their enemy, the Bastards did not take long to understand what had happened during their absence. But it was necessary to be clear about it.

"Tell me (Y/N), what happened?" Aldo asked.

The young woman looked up at her lieutenant, and the Apache could see in the nurse's gaze anguish, shame, and immense sadness.

She tried to explain, but she could only let out a strangled sob. Her guilt was suffocating her.

"Don't worry, doll, I'm here!" reassured her Donny, who hugged her.

"Take your time. We will listen to you when you're ready," Simon said to her.

Catching her breath, the young woman began her story:

"I was doing some tidying up when he threw himself on me ... It went so fast that I didn't understand what was happening at the time. I defended myself as I could. I thought he was going to kill me. After that, everything happened so quickly. It became blurry. And I only stopped when I saw all this blood on my hands. "

She looked up at her companions, on the verge of tears:

"I know I had no choice but… I felt like I had betrayed Nightingale's pledge, and I was so afraid of your reaction!"

"(Y/N), don't be upset about it. We all know you fought back, and you did well. No one will blame you for stabbing a Fritz." Wicki told her.

"Still, you did not miss him: the Kraut is very messed up!" Hirschberg joked.

But seeing (Y/N) 's desperate face and the glare that his companions gave him, he realized that it was not the right time.

"Frankly, Hirschberg, just shut up!" Hugo sighed, rolling his eyes.

Night fell, and the Batards took advantage of the calm of the forest to feed and rest before the long journey that awaited them.

Recovering from his emotions, Y/N stayed close to Donny throughout the evening, seeking comfort from his lover.

Even though her guilt was starting to fade, she couldn't help but feel disgusted with what had happened. Of course, the war revealed the dark side of the human being, but the nurse hoped, deep down, that she would not fall into this trap.

"Is everything all right, princess?" Donny asked.

The young woman shyly nodded:

"I'm doing a little better..."

"Come on over there ..." her lover said softly, taking her against him.

(Y/N) let himself go into the sergeant's muscular, protective, and reassuring embrace.

"I understand that you are still shaken by what happened. But that does not change anything for me: you remain my ray of sunshine ... And the others think the same."

"Really ?"

"I swear to you: they were impressed that you, the most pacifist among us, killed a Nazi. And that proves that you are indeed one of us."

He reached into his pocket and handed her a necklace adorned with an angel medallion made of bluestone.

Without a word, she picked up the object and stared at it, fascinated, before returning her attention to Donny, who was staring at her fondly.

"Don't forget (Y/N): even if the blood still flows at your feet, even if it stains your clothes, even if it strews your face, you will always remain my immaculate angel ... And I'll always be here for you!"

To his relief, a moved smile lit up the face of the young woman who kissed him.

"Thank you for your trust!"

"Anytime, doll. Anytime."

They hugged with strength. The young nurse whispered:

"I love you, Don."

"I love you too, (Y / N)"

And as they were about to fall asleep, the young nurse had a calm mind: yes, the innocent do not shed blood, but as long as they are surrounded by those who love them, nothing can defile them.

And she knows her Bear Jew is watching over it.

Thanks for reading ! I’m waiting for your requests and your reviews !

#requests #eli roth #donny donowitz #ellise chappell #inglourious basterds #imagine

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secondpubertyscene · 3 years ago

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8.14.21

This year has been one of major change. In Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, there’s this quote, “God is Change. Beware: God exists to shape and be shaped,” and I think for the first time since reading it, I get what was being said. While I subscribe to the idea that there is a higher power of some kind, I also believe that we (as in, us as individuals) have great power as well. That power lies in our ability to change, to grow, to persevere. This year has been one of major change, and we really have to talk about it.

It is easy to look at this last year and think, “Well, that fucking sucked” because frankly, it did indeed fucking suck. I could write you a list of things that brought me great pain this year, unbelievable, undeniable, unrelenting pain that still lingers now. But, see, the beauty of it all is that none of that pain happens in a vacuum. Along with the pain, I’ve come through it all with more wisdom, more compassion, more empathy, more gratitude, more peace, more love, and more confidence. I’d like to share how those things all are connected, but first I would like to acknowledge something.

While I don’t know for sure if this is just an American thing, it does seem very clear that Americans aren’t fantastic at processing grief, death, and pain collectively. We often are encouraged to suck it up, to shut up about it, to not make others uncomfortable with our tears and trauma. I believe this is in large part due to the fact that American Exceptionalism doesn’t quite allow us to acknowledge when our systems have failed us or when we are suffering in the “greatest country in the world.” I don’t intend on participating in that toxic positivity or to dismiss the seriousness of the year past. I simply intend on acknowledging the nuances of my experiences, the complexity of it all. Now, let’s begin.

Without recounting every moment in large detail (in part because that would be far too much and also because I don’t need to relieve my traumas today), the events of the last year have been as follows: 1) COVID hit, 2) I had a severe emotional breakdown that resulted in a short stay at the hospital, 3) my grandma passed away, 4) I broke up with my partner of a year, 5) I was officially diagnosed with adult ADHD (inattentive), 6) I got into a PhD program for sociology (fully-funded), and 7) I moved to Ohio (two weeks ago now). So much happened in what feels like a blink of an eye. When you’re a kid, you think a year lasts forever. Now, a year feels like a couple months!

Anyhow, all of these things had super intense negative impacts on my life and most of them had super intense positive impacts on my life. Let’s talk about how. I won’t say that COVID had any “positive” impact on my life, because it’s still currently making things difficult and it is still destroying lives (full worlds) every day. The emotional breakdown that I experienced shortly after COVID began, however, was the impetus for some of the greatest change I would ever make in my life. It began with new therapy, medication for the first time ever to treat my mental illnesses, and a new relationship with boundaries.

Out of this breakdown, I came to realize a few things. 1) I wasn’t really feeling most of my life up until that point. That isn’t to say that I didn’t feel at all or that I wasn’t aware of my feelings all the time, but to say that most of the time, I numbed everything out that was too hard to bear. I didn’t cry, I didn’t write, I didn’t even take the time to try to identify exactly what emotions I did feel. I just lived through it and waited until I felt better. Or, I would breakdown with rage and then feel better. Therapy, especially the group therapy I participated in for a couple weeks after leaving the hospital, changed that in huge ways for me.

Because I was able to sit in my pain, in my discomfort, I was able to actually work through some of my issues. I began to identify the areas in my life that made me genuinely unhappy and began to grant myself permission to feel disappointment. I granted myself the permission to expect more, to want more. I granted myself the permission to set boundaries without guilt or shame. I granted myself freedom. It is an ongoing journey of mistakes and back-peddling and trying again, but it is mine and I am proud of it. Had I not had that breakdown, I don’t know that I would be where I am now.

My grandma dying is one of the most painful things I’ve experienced and honestly, I haven’t dealt with it all the way yet. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her in person, I still am battling the feelings of guilt despite knowing that there likely was nothing I could have done, and my chest still feels heavy thinking about her. Even as I write this, I feel that pain. I know she is not truly gone and that she lives within me, but oh, I do miss her physical presence. The nagging, the phone calls, the hugs, the cooking, her soft hair and beautiful hands. I miss her. Because of her, though, I have been able to rehabilitate another relationship in my life. The relationship I share with my mother.

My mother is a lot of things, but for whatever reason I continually forgot that she too is a victim of hardship brought on by nothing but sheer luck. In this last year, she lost her mother, the man that she loved, multiple cousins, friends that went back to childhood, and who knows who else. She suffered a lot this year and she has suffered a lot over the course of her 61 years of life overall. For the first time, I have been able to really acknowledge her as a full being with a complex history and understand her as a person, rather than just as a parent. I’ve set new boundaries with her as a result, boundaries that have completely change the dynamic of our relationship and will continue to do so as we both learn more about each other. Gone are the days where she relies solely on me for emotional support or financial support. Gone are the days where she feels comfortable talking down to me and then expecting any kind of favors from me. She understands and respects that I am an adult, that I am independent, and that I can terminate our relationship should it get to a point where I feel unsafe again. While this might sound like a threat or even negative, it is in fact quite the contrary.

We now share the belief that I deserve better from her and that my continued relationship with her is founded upon our mutual growth. That’s a beautiful thing that arose from us being pulled together by the loss of someone we both loved more than we maybe even loved ourselves. Thankfully, though, I have come to love myself more than anyone else on this planet. This newfound self-love and respect resulted in the severing of my relationship with my partner.

I won’t pretend like my ex was this horrible person because she wasn’t. She was kind, loving, intelligent, hilarious, unique, complex, and so many other amazing things. I still love her with all of my heart and have thought about her every single day since we broke up. It is not for lack of love that our relationship came to a close. The issue was that I needed more than what she could give. I needed someone who could really sit in my shit with me without invalidating my feelings jokingly because they didn’t know what else to say. I needed someone who could make me feel safe and secure, not fearful and insecure. I needed someone who understood boundaries as openings for futures, not closed doors. I needed someone who could show up for me the way I showed up for them, even when they hurt me, even when they lied out of fear. She wasn’t able to do that. She wasn’t able to stick beside me during the worst days of my life. She wasn’t able to see me beyond our relationship. When my grandma passed and our relationship was on the rocks, she made it about us. She didn’t stop pestering me about our relationship for long enough to give me support on losing someone who meant the world to me. I couldn’t trust her after that and I also realized, I wasn’t required to.

Boundaries in that relationship weren’t healthy. I felt unseen, unprotected, and sometimes even unloved. While I am sure that she has grown even more since we have parted, the reality is that when I ended things, I knew that doing so was the most fair thing I could do for the both of us. This is because I deserve someone who sees my value inherently. I deserve someone who takes the time to understand me, to love me, to see me. Not just see me and them together, but me as an individual separate from them. More importantly, I needed to be able to ask for those things without feeling guilty or bad. As of now, I still don’t know that she sees me as me, as a singular person, and maybe she never will. That is okay. I still love her anyway. I just love me more now. As a part of that love I’ve grown for myself, I also now have sought out more help for myself. This seeking of resources led me to realizing that I was ADHD and helped me change my life.

Being diagnosed with ADHD at 21 felt absolutely ridiculous. How could I be ADHD when I can sit still most of the time and have a pretty decent amount of impulse control? The answers came from my psychiatrist, breaking down the stereotypical understanding of ADHD and allowing me to find myself within the diagnosis. Finding the right combination of medication has been difficult, but what hasn’t been hard at all is finding more resources that help me manage my symptoms. It’s because of some of these resources that I am able to sit here and write this.

A huge part of ADHD is this perfectionist mentality that makes it nearly impossible to start or complete some tasks. Every time I sat down to write in the past, I told myself that I absolutely had to write every single day, once a day, or I should just not do it. When it came to this blog especially, I had so much shame when I failed to post for a long time or had a lull, that I would either consider deleting the whole thing to start over, or just never posting again. I realize now that those were just cop outs for my brain, that I can write as little or as much as I want because it is for ME. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it doesn’t have to be anything but what I need it to be. Waiting for perfection would have me waiting forever because it’s simply not how my brain works. Accepting that is a large part of how I got into my PhD program.

I’m not going to lie. I am still trying to figure out all of the feelings I have regarding this PhD program. I am shocked that I got in, shocked that I got full-funding, shocked that I am now in Ohio, shocked that I am in my own apartment, and overall shocked that I’ve made it this far in general. While I do not believe that I am stupid or not capable of greatness, I am realizing that I’ve always seen myself pursuing something more straightforward. When I was younger, I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted to do even as those things changed. I knew what was required of me, I knew what I would ultimately do, and I took refuge in that. Doctors go to medical school. Chefs go to culinary school. Forensic anthropologists get masters degrees and do field work. It felt clear cut, straightforward, safe. This is uncharted territory. What do you do post PhD? What do you do DURING PhD years? I suppose I’ll just have to find out!

Anyhow, this year has been intense. Change is always present in our lives and sometimes it brings with gifts that we can only receive when we’re healed enough to take them. I’m hoping to keep healing, keep growing, keep loving, and keep going. I’m learning so much about myself and about the world. I’m loving myself more than I have in the past. I am incredibly proud of where I am. And I’m not done yet.

#personal blog #vent blog #black ftm #black transman #black tpoc #black mental health #personal writing blog #sociology #sociology phd program #covid #grief

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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Just Like a Woman - Part 7

A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The angst continues. Don’t worry, though, relief is coming :)

Warning(s): mild descriptions of violence

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7 here we go!!!

Roger didn’t speak the entire drive to the hospital. You studied his face. His mouth was a hard line. His eyes were fixed on the road in front of him. You started to console him but decided against it. There was no definitive way to say that everything was alright. You knew as little as he did.

When you reached the hospital, you expected there to be chaos, only there wasn’t. It was a fairly typical waiting room, and the nurses sat patiently behind the counter. Roger marched right up to them.

“I’m here to see my wife, Dominique Beyrand,” he said.

“Oh, yes, she was just admitted,” the nurse said. “I’m afraid she isn’t suitable to visitors just yet, but we do need you to identify the clothes.”

“Identify the clothes?” you questioned. “Is she -”

“She’s alive,” the nurse assured you. “Only, we don’t know for sure which way she’ll go yet.”

Roger swallowed hard. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Stay positive,” you encouraged.

“Easier said than done,” he replied.

You nodded. The nurse started to lead Roger back, but she stopped you.

“He’s her husband,” she said. “But who are you?”

“I - uh - well…” you sputtered.

What were you at this point? You and Roger had kissed after dinner, but what did that mean? You didn’t get the chance to figure it out.

“She’s our lawyer,” Roger answered, coming to your rescue. “I’ll want her present while we speak to police.”

You wanted to argue this. You had never handled a criminal case in your career, but you decided to go with it and try to remember anything you could about criminal law. That is, if it came to that tonight. You still were clueless to the circumstances around it.

You and Roger followed the nurse back to a waiting room among the patients’ rooms. It was off to the side of the corridor. There were two police officers there, a man and a woman. They looked rather grave.

“Mr. Taylor?” said the male officer.

Roger nodded.

“I’m Officer Colmes and this is my partner, Officer Dotson,” he said, indicating the woman.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, Colmes and Dotson?”

The three of them looked at you.

“Surely you see the irony,” you insisted. “Colmes and Dotson? Like Holmes and Watson?”

They all continued to stare.

“Alright, not the moment,” you conceded. “But one day, we’ll look back on this and -”

“Y/N,” Roger said sternly.

“Right, sorry.”

You stopped talking. You didn’t know why you were so nervous.

“Mr. Taylor,” said Dotson. “Can you confirm this was the dress your wife was wearing tonight?”

She held up a shimmery garment contained in an evidence bag. You would have admired it if it wasn’t covered in blood. The deep red stains were mostly around the collar, so you realized most of the attack must have come to her face. You tried not to wince.

Roger looked white as a ghost.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “That was the dress she had on.”

“We only ask because she didn’t have a purse or anything on her,” Colmes said. “A nurse thought she recognized her from a magazine, and we went from there.”

“Can I see her?” Roger asked.

“Not yet,” Colmes replied. “They’re still sorting her out.”

“What happened?” you wondered. “Was her date injured too?”

Dotson’s brow furrowed. “She was alone. We were hoping you could provide us with some answers. She was on a date?”

She looked at Roger with a hint of judgement.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve been separated for a while, and our divorce is going to be finalized soon. She still lives with me, though, and we’re friends.”

“O...kay,” she said. “Did she tell you anything about the date? His name or where she’d be meeting him?”

Roger shook his head. “No, nothing. I didn’t ask, I didn’t want to pry…”

“Where was she found?” you asked.

“On the street in a neighborhood,” Colmes said. “A woman out jogging found her, and we don’t consider her a suspect.”

“Why not?” Roger wondered.

“Her hands were clean and free of any bruises,” Dotson said. “Which she would have had if she was the one who beat her. Also, she was rather small.”

Roger took a step back at that, as if Dotson had swung at him herself.

“Beat her?” he whispered.

Colmes nodded. “I’m afraid so. The medics who picked her up said it looked like whoever did it was didn’t use a foreign object or anything, just their hands. But Dominique fought hard. She has defensive wounds. Whoever did it has probably got a black eye and a nasty scratch on them somewhere.”

“Do you have -”

“We have officers out looking for a suspect, Mr. Taylor, rest assured,” Colmes said. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t found for a while. By the time the jogger found her, much of her blood was drying.”

“So she was just lying out there like that?” Roger asked. “All alone?”

Dotson nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor, but I have to ask. Where were you this evening around ten o’clock?”

“I was with Y/N,” Roger said, indicating you. “At my home. My nanny can confirm it as well. Her name is Verity Bridges.”

“We’ll speak to her,” Colmes said. “That’s all for now, Mr. Taylor.”

“Thanks,” Roger said weakly.

The officers shook his hand and left. You watched them go, feeling lost. With them to talk to, you felt like action was being taken. Now what?

“You two can stay in this waiting room,” the nurse said. She had remained during the police interview. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to see Mrs. Beyrand tonight, but -”

“We’re waiting,” Roger said firmly. Then he looked at you. “At least, I am. You’re free to go home, Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Roger,” you returned. “I’m here for you.”

The nurse nodded and left, leaving you alone again. As you watched him sink down into a chair, it was hard to believe that half an hour ago you and Roger were making out on his kitchen counter. His jaw clenched. Because of his past, Roger was particularly sensitive to cases of men hurting women or children. You took a seat next to him and offered your hand. He took it, interlocking his fingers with yours.

“I shouldn’t have let her go,” he said.

“You couldn’t have stopped her,” you told him.

“I should have asked the questions,” he went on.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you said.

He stopped and you looked at him.

“Roger, this isn’t your fault,” you insisted. “No one could have seen this coming.”

“Can you help us press charges?” he asked suddenly.

“Well - I - um - I’m not a prosecutor,” you said. “I’ve never handled a criminal case. But Bill has loads of experience, I’m sure he can help.”

“I want you, though,” he said.

“That’s flattering, Rog, but if you want to win a case, you need the best lawyer for it,” you said. “Besides, this only matters if Dominique wants to press charges. Going through all of it again in front of a judge and jury could be quite painful for her.”

“She can’t just let him get away with this!” he cried.

“Roger, please!” you returned. “Calm down! We don’t know anything yet!”

“I can’t just sit here,” he spat, letting go of your hand and getting to his feet. He began to pace. “I feel like I’ve gotta do something.”

“There’s nothing to do,” you reminded him gently. “You must be patient and be there for Dominique when she wakes up.”

He sighed, looking moodily at the floor.

“I know you want to fix it,” you said. “But you can’t undo this. All you can do is be supportive.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, a doctor entered. You and Roger’s eyes were glued to him.

“Mr. Taylor?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Roger said, stepping forward to shake the doctor’s hand.

“I’m Dr. Wesley,” he said. “I’ve just finished treating your wife.”

“How is she?” Roger asked.

“She’s stable, for now,” Dr. Wesley said. “It could be touch and go for a while. She’s suffered severe injuries to her head.”

“Can I see her?” Roger wondered. “Please?”

“Sure,” Dr. Wesley agreed. “I must warn you, it may be a shock.”

Roger’s jaw clenched again as he braced himself. Then you followed them to Dominique’s room down the hall. As you came upon it, you swallowed. You were unaccustomed to violence, and seeing it always made you feel a bit sick. There were times as a kid when Roger came over after his dad was through with him that made you shudder to recall.

When you saw her, you clapped your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream. Dominique was nearly beyond recognition. Her face was swollen around her eyes. Her nose was already covered in bandages, but you could see it was disfigured and most likely broken. Her lips were caked with dried blood, but the split in her bottom one was clear. Her head was wrapped up as well. Purple bruises bloomed around her neck. The first two fingers of her right hand were in a splint. The knuckles were bruised. Her fingernails were broken and uneven. To top it all off, she had a tube in her nose and an IV in her arm.

You looked at Roger, but his face was unreadable. He was just staring at Dominique blankly, as if he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Oh, Dom,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

He reached out and took her left hand. His thumb absentmindedly ran over her ring finger, where her wedding band had left an impression.

“I’ll give you some time,” the doctor said, and then he left, closing the door slowly behind him.

There was a long moment where the only sound was the beep of Dominique’s heart monitor. You watched a tear roll down Roger’s cheek. Your throat tightened with emotion. He was not in love with her, but she was the mother of his children, and he cared deeply for her. You also cared. You considered Dominique your friend as well.

“When I was really little,” Roger choked out. “My father roughed up my mother.”

“I remember,” you said.

“D’you also remember what I told you?” he asked. “The week after we met?”

“How could I forget?” you replied. “It was such a daring declaration at the time.”

“Remind me what it was,” he said.

“Roger, I don’t think -”

“Say it.”

You took a deep breath. “You said, ‘One day, when I’m big and strong, this won’t happen anymore. I won’t let it.’”

“Now look at what’s happened,” he said slowly.

“It’s like I said, Rog, no one could have predicted -”

“Don’t argue, Y/N,” he cut across you. “Please.”

“I can’t let you keep blaming yourself,” you replied. “And remember, your dad didn’t hit anyone once you were big enough to hit back. But you can’t protect everyone.”

The doctor returned with a clipboard, which evidently contained his notes about Dominique.

“Mr. Taylor, would you like to hear about her injuries?” he asked. “We can give you our best guess as to what happened, but obviously, we can’t know for sure until she wakes up.”

“I don’t need to hear it, I’ve got the general idea,” Roger said. “Thank you, though.”

“Will you be staying the night?” Dr. Wesley asked.

“Yes,” Roger said, then he looked at you. “You should go home, Y/N. You can’t keep your mother waiting.”

“That’s true,” you agreed with a sigh.

You walked over to where he stood beside the bed. You took his hand.

“Good night, Roger,” you said.

You realized you had come to the end of the date - or not date, as it were. Only, this was not at all how you pictured the night ending. He looked at you and cleared his throat.

“Good night, Y/N,” he replied. “Um, would it be alright if we put things between us -”

“On hold?” you finished, and he nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Give your mum a kiss from me, yeah?”

“Will do,” you promised.

You kissed his cheek. Then you started toward the door, but on your way, you stopped and gave Dominique’s knee a pat.

“Get well soon, Dom,” you said. “We’re all here for you when you do.”

You left. You hated to leave Roger alone, especially now, but he seemed eager for the time to himself. Plus, you needed to get back to your mother. It was almost midnight now, and she was probably getting worried.

As soon as you came into your flat, you saw your mother sitting in your recliner, reading a book. It was one of your dad’s. You burst into tears and she looked up.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” she wondered, getting to her feet and setting the book aside. “Did something happen?”

“Something terrible happened, Mum,” you sobbed.

She took you into her arms. You felt like a little girl again. She shushed you and brought you over to the couch. You caught your breath and explained to her what had happened. She listened carefully.

“Oh, the poor dear,” she sighed when you finished, referring to Dominique. “Is there anything we can do for them?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I mean, what is there to do? She hasn’t even regained consciousness. The whole thing is terrible.”

“Who’s watching the children?” your mother wondered.

“The nanny,” you said. “Which reminds me, I need to call her and tell her Roger’s staying out.”

“Well, do that, sweetheart,” she said. “But afterwards, let me make you a cup of tea and put you to bed, alright?”

“Please,” you replied, in desperate need of maternal affection.

Everything felt so out of control right now. Even your relationship with Roger.

The next day, your mother was leaving in the evening to head back home. She asked if you’d like her to stay, but you refused. You needed to get back to work. On your way to the train station, you stopped by the hospital to see Dominique.

Roger was still there. He clearly had not been home since he was still wearing the clothes he had on the previous evening. He looked more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. But when he saw your mother, he went straight to her and threw himself into his arms, letting out a long awaited sob. He sagged against her while she patted his back.

“Roger, dear, it’s alright,” she cooed. “Let it all out, my boy.”

He heaved out another cry and she held him tighter. It was choking you up to watch him succumb so deeply to his despair. Like you, he needed someone to tell him it was going to be okay. Like a parent.

“I remember when you were little, and I’d put you on my lap and sing to you,” your mother said fondly.

Roger half-chuckled, half-winced at that.

“It’s all going to be alright,” she said again, pulling away to cup his cheeks in her hands. She wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “There, now. No more tears. She mustn’t see you’ve been crying.”

He nodded and sniffled.

“Are you heading home?” he asked her.

“I am,” she said. “But if you need anything at all, love, you can always call.”

He nodded again. “Course. Thanks for stopping by.”

“I love you very much, dear,” she told him.

“I love you too, Viv,” he replied, with a small smile.

He kissed her on the cheek. Then he reached out for you. You stepped toward him and he pulled you close and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Be careful going home,” he whispered.

“I will, Rog,” you promised.

It was a bitter parting. None of you had a dry eye as Roger squeezed your mother’s hand one last time. But she couldn’t linger. She had a train to catch.

It was much harder than you anticipated to say goodbye to her now. You felt like you and Roger were young again, in such need of parental guidance and comfort. But you were adults. You had to handle this on your own. Even so, you had each other.

On Monday morning, there was still no news of Dominique. You headed to work, grateful for something to occupy your mind. You knew you’d be busy after taking some time off.

Roger went home briefly Monday morning to shower and change, and then he went right back to the hospital. He already called Freddie and told him that he would not be in the studio for a while. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Dominique.

“Daddy, can we come?” Felix asked as Roger headed back out the door.

“I’m sorry, lovie, not just now,” Roger replied gently. “Mummy’s still not well.”

He told Felix that Dominique was sick. He couldn’t let the boy see his mother in that state, it would destroy him. Roger recalled seeing his own mother after strikes from his father and how deeply it upset him. So, Verity was working overtime and caring for them while Roger stayed by Dominique’s side.

As he returned to that post, a fresh coffee in hand, his mind finally landed on you. He missed you a great deal, but he could never ask you to just sit here and wait with him. He knew you had work. He just felt so achingly lonely. He needed the reassurance that Dom was going to be okay, because each time he thought about it too long, he reached the conclusion that she was going to die and he’d have to tell his children one day how their mother was brutally…

He shook his head to clear it. Once again, he thought of you. He thought of your hand holding his and the feel of your arms around him. He recalled the heat of your kisses and the way your forgiveness made him feel. It was a comfort to his breaking heart.

He sat with Dominique by himself until lunch. Then there was a light knock on the open door. He turned to see you standing in the frame, take away bags in hand.

“Have you eaten today?” you asked.

“No,” he said, as if realizing it all of a sudden.

“Good, ‘cause I brought a ton of food,” you joked.

He attempted a smile to no avail.

“Did your mum get off alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “She called me when she got home. She said she misses us already and to tell you again how much she loves you.”

“That’s sweet,” he said.

You handed him a salad.

“Well, you know her,” you said. “No matter how old we get, we’ll always be her children.”

Roger’s stomach gurgled with the newfound hunger.

“She’d kill me for going this long without food,” he remarked.

“That’s right, so you better watch it,” you teased.

He sighed, neglecting the salad and looking once again at Dominique.

“I haven’t been a good husband to her,” he said.

“Nobody is a perfect spouse, Roger,” you said.

“I know,” he replied. “But...I cheated. That wasn’t something I ever thought I’d do once I settled down.”

“Well, no one wakes up one day and decides they’re going to cheat,” you said. “It’s something that happens out of...extenuating circumstances.”

“Spoken like a true attorney.”

“If you’ve got energy to joke, you’ve got energy to eat.”

He picked up his fork and shoveled a mouthful of greens between his lips.

“Don’t beat yourself up over mistakes,” you said. “Everyone makes them.”

“Not everyone,” he said after swallowing. “Your dad wasn’t like that.”

You stopped chewing for a moment and looked at him. You swallowed.

“Actually, my father had an affair once,” you told him.

He met your gaze, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

You nodded. “Yeah. With his secretary. It lasted a few months and he cut it off to stay with Mum and me. He wasn’t in love with the woman or anything. It was just a lapse of judgement. It can happen to anyone.”

He looked back at the food in his lap. “Oddly enough, that does make me feel better.”

“Nobody expects perfection from you, Roger,” you said. “It’s enough that you’re trying.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, taking your hand. “I was feeling...bad hurt.”

“We somehow manage to find each other during those moments, huh?” you said.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied. “You’re the one person I want most when I’m feeling that way.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you said.

You smiled at each other. Then, a delicate moan came from the bed. Roger’s eyes snapped to Dominique’s face. You followed suit. He let go of your hand and jumped to his feet, spilling the salad across the floor. Her eyes had just barely cracked open.

“Roger?” she croaked.

He took her hand - her left one so as not to pain her broken fingers on the right - and he gazed at her in awe.

“I’m here, love,” he said gently.

She offered a shaky smile.

“Thank goodness.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

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mbti-notes · 4 years ago

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(Pt1.) Hello, I am a 19 yr old female INTP and I have noticed a common occurrence in my thoughts is sorting through all of my problems mentally and finding solutions and feeling at peace, but then worrying about what I will have to "work" on next. For example, last year I had ideas for traveling and working to make my future life plans more stable. My plans seemed too "easy" and I was concerned about my life getting boring.

[con’t: However, COVID-19 essentially obliterated all of those plans, which I was mostly ok with, as it gave me new problems to solve. Currently, I have been looking into MBTI again and I have noticed that I have made quite a bit of progress towards my goal of being a more well rounded and healthy person, mentally and physically. I have always had a healthy Ti and Ne. In highschool I struggled some with a possible Fe grip, but moved on to develop Si, quite well I believe. I still think Si is a little bit of a work in progress, but I think I have a lot of influence from my ISTJ mother, making it a smoother process. Currently, I am in a leadership position at my college, interacting with a wide variety of people from different backgrounds who share many emotional troubles and I sense I can feel my Fe adjusting and improving. I have also refreshed my knowledge on function development and now have a sense for what stage a lot of the people I interact with are at. It is way easier and more fulfilling to empathize with people and consider ways to help than it has been in the past. As I have realized this, I am thinking once again, what will come next? If things continue to go smoothly and I find myself comfortably filling out into a stable and "complete" person, what will I have left to work towards? I know most likely, I will easily find other material and external life goals to work towards, and extraordinary and unpredictable circumstances could arise again, but unless I am hit with a sudden, intense and deep mental trauma, what comes next in my functional development? At only the age of 19 (almost 20), what have I left for the rest of my life?]

What I hear you describe is the process of flitting from one thing to another throughout life. You create a pleasant facade of being “purposeful”, yet there is no real substance underneath all the activity, which perhaps means that there is little substance to you. You don’t seem to have much insight into your own motivations beyond doing what you believe you “should” do to be whatever you imagine is a “healthy”, “well-rounded”, or “complete” person. The recurring notion of “next” indicates that your understanding of type development is wrong. A shallow understanding of "development” is likely to be one important factor behind the underlying arbitrariness and aimlessness that pervades your decision making. In other words, you don’t know yourself very well. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking someone else about what to do with your life.

I would never deride anyone’s efforts to improve themselves, and I’m always happy to hear about people doing well. But, as I often have to warn people, self-help or self-development, undertaken for the wrong reasons or self-deceptive reasons, is liable to lead you into a dark place eventually. The fact that your efforts to develop yourself are threatening, in a repeated fashion, to lead you into what basically sounds like an existential void is a huge warning sign that something isn’t right. Emptiness is the logical result of existential aimlessness.

At present, I don’t have enough info to pinpoint the exact source of the problem. It could be that you are mistyped, but I can’t be certain without a proper type assessment. There are some elements of your cognition that don’t mesh well with the INTP functional stack. It could be that you have misinterpreted the ideas you’ve read, but I can’t verify, since you just claim to have well-developed functions without providing any concrete evidence to prove it.

What I do know for sure is that the level of self-awareness you display is quite low, which means that your level of ego development is low - but this is normal and consistent with being 19 years old. I know it sounds condescending or insulting, but I’m speaking only factually when I say that teenagers barely know themselves. They simply haven’t had enough life experience from which to learn in depth. You do yourself no favors by believing that you can “mind over matter” yourself into a higher stage of psychological development when it isn’t realistically possible.

I can certainly understand the drive to become healthy when one is suffering from being unhealthy, so that’s not a mystery. Most people write to me because they don’t know how to deal with their unhealthy behavior. What is a mystery?

What’s the real reason behind you caring so much about being a “well-rounded” or “complete” person? It seems that you are nowhere near being “complete” if you’re always beating back feelings of emptiness, so there’s something wrong with your definition of “complete”.

Why is it that you bring up “feeling at peace” in life as though it is the main motivation for your efforts at self-improvement, yet you mention nothing about why you don’t feel at peace, and instead only talk about how successful you’ve been? It seems that you are manipulating perception of your self-image and putting forth what you prefer to see in yourself, as opposed to confronting the darker reality of what you are.

Why not simply be content as you are? Why not simply live the life that you’re living and be content? It seems that you are very preoccupied with “becoming” something and “planning” for something, as though you’re not good enough as you are or life is not good enough as it is.

Why is it that you don’t seem to care about much else other than “feeling at peace” with yourself and what it takes to achieve it? It seems that everything you interact with in the world is just a tool for you to feel better about yourself, which means that you may actually be much more trapped within yourself than you know. That’s not usually good news for introverts.

Why is it that there is a big world of opportunity out there but you can’t think of good ideas for going forward? It seems that you suffer from lack of imagination? That’s not good news with regard to Ne development.

All signs point to lack of self-insight. This means that your development isn’t as far along as you believe it to be. You seem to treat type development like a video game, trying to “level up” and then asking “what’s next?”, in much the same way that a child seeks to receive pats on the head for learning the rules but without understanding what the rules really mean. It seems that you are focused on proving your abilities as a means to alleviate whatever is disturbing your “peace” - that’s the path to emotional stability perhaps, but it’s not the path to deeper self-awareness. Self-awareness is the aim of type development, because personal growth isn’t possible without it, and what you’re doing doesn’t seem to be taking you in that direction. Maybe that is where the misapprehension lies.

#development #ask

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