#I THINK I SAID BEFORE ILL STILL BE HERE ON OCCASION

[latenightwestern]

sorry for basically abaonding this account i like undertale now

[foldingfittedsheets]

I grew up lucky for a queer person. My area wasn’t actively hostile to me. My parents accepted the news that I had a crush on my best friend with no major upset.

There was homophobic comments made in my household in line with the era, but without hatred behind the words. I got called “lesbian” by bullies but honestly it just rolled off of hurtful and hit funny.

That’s why I was so ill prepared for my move to Arizona. I was moving to live with my at-the-time girlfriend, Taylor. She was native to the state and I’d met her while living there for one miserable year in high school. I’d had a crush on her for ten years before we started dating.

In the process of moving my parents were helping by driving a uhaul with my stuff while Taylor and I drove down in my car. It was a two day drive and we rolled into my new city one warm desert evening. We stopped to get some water and wait for my parents to catch up in the uhaul.

We got out of the car, stretching our achy limbs and heading toward a little fast food place in the strip mall. Across the parking lot a group of men started hooting and whistling at us. Words like “beautiful,” and “come here” drifting along the still evening air. We didn’t react and they grew louder until I casually flipped them off.

The tenor of their calls changed instantly. Now we heard “dykes” and “bitches” and “teach you a lesson”. For the first time, I felt afraid to be walking along in a lit parking lot. I looked at Taylor and to my horror she had started to turn in their direction.

I grabbed her arm and she shook me off. The men were moving away but I didn’t want to see a fight or worse break out if she caught up. But Taylor wasn’t heading to follow them. She was arrowing toward the truck they’d been lounging across.

“What are you doing?” I asked her anxiously.

For answer she reached for guys front tire and started letting the air out. A nervous giggle escaped me and I stood to keep lookout. She had the front two tires done before the trucks owner came storming across the parking lot.

“You should have just slashed them!” he snarled, “Woulda been faster.”

Taylor rose and coolly said, “That’s destruction of property, I was just checkin’ your tires, bro.”

Emotions flitted across his face from surprise to rage but after a moment he mastered his anger and said, “Okay. I get it. We were out of line before.”

He held out his hand as if to shake hers and I tensed. His eyes told a very different story than his mouth. Taylor casually flicked his air cap at him and it bounced off his chest. We turned and walked away without another word.

It was my first night in my new town. The scene would set the stage for later interactions. People who would ask me if I couldn’t empathize with parents who kicked their gay kids out for spreading sin. I’d go on to be followed and harassed on more than one occasion. That night showed me how privileged I’d been and how vulnerable I was at the time. But I at least had the satisfaction of thinking back to that man filling his tires back up with air.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

5 acts

words: 2k

warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)

5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner

make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it

take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders

organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them

pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage 

set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening

rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.

“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.

“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.

you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.

“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.

“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.

it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.

you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.

act 1

rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.

rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.

rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.

he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.

rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.

rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.

“good morning ba-”

“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.

“i didn-”

“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.

“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”

rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.

“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”

“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.

act 2

“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.

“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”

“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.

“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.

rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.

you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.

rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.

rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.

“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”

“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”

“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.

“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”

rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”

act 3

“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.

“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.

“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.

“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”

“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.

rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.

“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.

“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.

“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.

act 4 

“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.

“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“you already treat me better than i deserve.”

you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”

you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.

you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.

you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.

you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.

“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”

you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”

“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”

“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.

“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”

you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”

“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”

“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”

“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.

“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”

“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”

“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”

“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”

“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.

act 5

you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.

“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”

“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.

“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.

“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[celtrist]

This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

[reasonsforhope]

Story from the Washington Post here, non-paywall version here.

Washington Post stop blocking linksharing and shit challenge.

"The young woman was catatonic, stuck at the nurses’ station — unmoving, unblinking and unknowing of where or who she was.

Her name was April Burrell.

Before she became a patient, April had been an outgoing, straight-A student majoring in accounting at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore. But after a traumatic event when she was 21, April suddenly developed psychosis and became lost in a constant state of visual and auditory hallucinations. The former high school valedictorian could no longer communicate, bathe or take care of herself.

April was diagnosed with a severe form of schizophrenia, an often devastating mental illness that affects approximately 1 percent of the global population and can drastically impair how patients behave and perceive reality.

“She was the first person I ever saw as a patient,” said Sander Markx, director of precision psychiatry at Columbia University, who was still a medical student in 2000 when he first encountered April. “She is, to this day, the sickest patient I’ve ever seen.” ...

It would be nearly two decades before their paths crossed again. But in 2018, another chance encounter led to several medical discoveries...

Markx and his colleagues discovered that although April’s illness was clinically indistinguishable from schizophrenia, she also had lupus, an underlying and treatable autoimmune condition that was attacking her brain.

After months of targeted treatments [for lupus] — and more than two decades trapped in her mind — April woke up.

The awakening of April — and the successful treatment of other people with similar conditions — now stand to transform care for some of psychiatry’s sickest patients, many of whom are languishing in mental institutions.

Researchers working with the New York state mental health-care system have identified about 200 patients with autoimmune diseases, some institutionalized for years, who may be helped by the discovery.

And scientists around the world, including Germany and Britain, are conducting similar research, finding that underlying autoimmune and inflammatory processes may be more common in patients with a variety of psychiatric syndromes than previously believed.

Although the current research probably will help only a small subset of patients, the impact of the work is already beginning to reshape the practice of psychiatry and the way many cases of mental illness are diagnosed and treated.

“These are the forgotten souls,” said Markx. “We’re not just improving the lives of these people, but we’re bringing them back from a place that I didn’t think they could come back from.” ...

Waking up after two decades

The medical team set to work counteracting April’s rampaging immune system and started April on an intensive immunotherapy treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus...

The regimen is grueling, requiring a month-long break between each of the six rounds to allow the immune system to recover. But April started showing signs of improvement almost immediately...

A joyful reunion

“I’ve always wanted my sister to get back to who she was,” Guy Burrell said.

In 2020, April was deemed mentally competent to discharge herself from the psychiatric hospital where she had lived for nearly two decades, and she moved to a rehabilitation center...

Because of visiting restrictions related to covid, the family’s face-to-face reunion with April was delayed until last year. April’s brother, sister-in-law and their kids were finally able to visit her at a rehabilitation center, and the occasion was tearful and joyous.

“When she came in there, you would’ve thought she was a brand-new person,” Guy Burrell said. “She knew all of us, remembered different stuff from back when she was a child.” ...

The family felt as if they’d witnessed a miracle.

“She was hugging me, she was holding my hand,” Guy Burrell said. “You might as well have thrown a parade because we were so happy, because we hadn’t seen her like that in, like, forever.”

“It was like she came home,” Markx said. “We never thought that was possible.”

...After April’s unexpected recovery, the medical team put out an alert to the hospital system to identify any patients with antibody markers for autoimmune disease. A few months later, Anca Askanase, a rheumatologist and director of the Columbia Lupus Center,who had been on April’s treatment team, approached Markx. “I think we found our girl,” she said.

Bringing back Devine

When Devine Cruz was 9, she began to hear voices. At first, the voices fought with one another. But as she grew older, the voices would talk about her, [and over the years, things got worse].

For more than a decade, the young woman moved in and out of hospitals for treatment. Her symptoms included visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as delusions that prevented her from living a normal life.

Devine was eventually diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which can result in symptoms of both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She also was diagnosed with intellectual disability.

She was on a laundry list of drugs — two antipsychotic medications, lithium, clonazepam, Ativan and benztropine — that came with a litany of side effects but didn’t resolve all her symptoms...

She also had lupus, which she had been diagnosed with when she was about 14, although doctors had never made a connection between the disease and her mental health...

Last August, the medical team prescribed monthly immunosuppressive infusions of corticosteroids and chemotherapy drugs, a regime similar to what April had been given a few years prior. By October, there were already dramatic signs of improvement.

“She was like ‘Yeah, I gotta go,’” Markx said. “‘Like, I’ve been missing out.’”

After several treatments, Devine began developing awareness that the voices in her head were different from real voices, a sign that she was reconnecting with reality. She finished her sixth and final round of infusions in January.

In March, she was well enough to meet with a reporter. “I feel like I’m already better,” Devine said during a conversation in Markx’s office at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, where she was treated. “I feel myself being a person that I was supposed to be my whole entire life.” ...

Her recovery is remarkable for several reasons, her doctors said. The voices and visions have stopped. And she no longer meets the diagnostic criteria for either schizoaffective disorder or intellectual disability, Markx said...

Today, Devine lives with her mother and is leading a more active and engaged life. She helps her mother cook, goes to the grocery store and navigates public transportation to keep her appointments. She is even babysitting her siblings’ young children — listening to music, taking them to the park or watching “Frozen 2” — responsibilities her family never would have entrusted her with before her recovery.

Expanding the search for more patients

While it is likely that only a subset of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and psychotic disorders have an underlying autoimmune condition, Markx and other doctors believe there are probably many more patients whose psychiatric conditions are caused or exacerbated by autoimmune issues...

The cases of April and Devine also helped inspire the development of the SNF Center for Precision Psychiatry and Mental Health at Columbia, which was named for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, which awarded it a $75 million grant in April. The goal of the center is to develop new treatments based on specific genetic and autoimmune causes of psychiatric illness, said Joseph Gogos, co-director of the SNF Center.

Markx said he has begun care and treatment on about 40 patients since the SNF Center opened. The SNF Center is working with the New York State Office of Mental Health, which oversees one of the largest public mental health systems in America, to conduct whole genome sequencing and autoimmunity screening on inpatients at long-term facilities.

For “the most disabled, the sickest of the sick, even if we can help just a small fraction of them, by doing these detailed analyses, that’s worth something,” said Thomas Smith, chief medical officer for the New York State Office of Mental Health. “You’re helping save someone’s life, get them out of the hospital, have them live in the community, go home.”

Discussions are underway to extend the search to the 20,000 outpatients in the New York state system as well. Serious psychiatric disorders, like schizophrenia, are more likely to be undertreated in underprivileged groups. And autoimmune disorders like lupus disproportionately affect women and people of color with more severity.

Changing psychiatric care

How many people ultimately will be helped by the research remains a subject of debate in the scientific community. But the research has spurred excitement about the potential to better understand what is going on in the brain during serious mental illness...

Emerging research has implicated inflammation and immunological dysfunction as potential players in a variety of neuropsychiatric conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and autism.

“It opens new treatment possibilities to patients that used to be treated very differently,” said Ludger Tebartz van Elst, a professor of psychiatry and psychotherapy at University Medical Clinic Freiburg in Germany.

In one study, published last year in Molecular Psychiatry, Tebartz van Elst and his colleagues identified 91 psychiatric patients with suspected autoimmune diseases, and reported that immunotherapies benefited the majority of them.

Belinda Lennox, head of the psychiatry department at the University of Oxford, is enrolling patients in clinical trials to test the effectiveness of immunotherapy for autoimmune psychosis patients.

As a result of the research, screenings for immunological markers in psychotic patients are already routine in Germany, where psychiatrists regularly collect samples from cerebrospinal fluid.

Markx is also doing similar screening with his patients. He believes highly sensitive and inexpensive blood tests to detect different antibodies should become part of the standard screening protocol for psychosis.

Also on the horizon: more targeted immunotherapy rather than current “sledgehammer approaches” that suppress the immune system on a broad level, said George Yancopoulos, the co-founder and president of the pharmaceutical company Regeneron.

“I think we’re at the dawn of a new era. This is just the beginning,” said Yancopoulos."

-via The Washington Post, June 1, 2023

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he coos softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?”

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I think it's canon that stan smokes and gets high when he was younger

So I'm thinking reader (they are as old as the og mystery twins) is the type to smoke when they're stress and they say that smoking/getting high clears the fog in their brain

So how do you think stan & ford react to this? I mean they know it's bad but it helps them

Most research about the negative effects of weed I found online, whether or not half of them are actual negative effects is beyond me.

Stan isn’t a hypocrite, he’s gotten high before and so he knows what state your life must be for you to resort to getting high as a stress relief.

He fully understands why you’d always resort to doing such a thing but would remind you that you could always come to him if anything was ever bothering you instead of resorting to getting high.

‘I appreciate it but I don’t want to bother you with what goes on in my head, half of the time I can’t even put it into words that best describes what I’m going through but with this,’ you raised your blunt, ‘it helps me in ways that talking to someone else never could.’

‘Okay, just know I’m here to talk toots.’ Stanley said as he patted your shoulder and left you be.

Stan did it to escape everything and avoid the consequences of his own actions, so much so that he often abused the substance on more then one occasion, but after Dipper and Mabel came for the summer, he has later learned to cut down his smoking sessions for the betterment for the twins and himself.

So whenever he sees you heading out towards your designated smoking spot- the top of the shack- he’d sometimes join you for a smoke, especially when Ford came back and had been nothing but a stubborn nuisance as you shared common worries while the smell of his cigarette and weed was all you could smell.

Neither of you spoke but there was a solidarity between the two of you until you were done. Stan knew that it wasn’t exactly healthy but he wasn’t going to cut you off weed completely if it helped when you needed it most, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t not join you to make sure you weren’t abusing the substance like he did when he was younger.

Ford fully understands that weed is a natural product that can calm people who suffer from anxiety and stress related issues, but over-usage of it was highly discouraged.

Ford knew his brother did similar things in his youth and hated it then, but knowing that you did also only made his distaste for the strong smell stronger as he would then avoid any and all areas that you smoked in, and yet the smell clung to you like second skin and Ford was reminded of how much he hated the stuff and would try to give you something that would hopefully act as a replacement for weed.

Unfortunately for Ford it didn’t work and by the end of the week you were back to smoking weed almost on the regular to destress.

He’d even list off the risks you’d run if you low using the substance.

CHS syndrome

Elevated anxiety

Paranoia

Psychosis illnesses such as schizophrenia

Addiction to weed, if you hadn’t already formed one.

Confusions and or potential hallucinations

And so many more but the more he listed the less you seemed to care as you had relied on the weed for a good majority of your life, and did so in controlled quantities but understood Ford’s worries regardless in the matter and placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘I’m fine Ford, I know it’s not exactly good for me but it’s the only thing that helps.’ You tell him.

‘I’m here.’ Ford replied, a little hurt that you didn’t think of him as a good option for distressing.

‘You’re far too busy in your lab or out monster hunting to sit still for ten minutes and listen to me talk about my worries.’ You said as though it was obvious. ‘So weed is my only resort to calm mind.’

‘Meditation exists, so does journaling and or scrapbooking?’ Ford suggests and it was obvious that he was trying to mitigate any permanent damage you might do to yourself in the future.

‘Not my thing and I lack the patience when this mind is loud as fuck.’ You shrugged before walking up to the top of the shack to smoke, leaving Ford a little at a loss of what he could do for you now. He didn’t condemn you for your usage of weed, but he just worries that an addiction will grow from it and he wants to be there for you, he just doesn’t know how…

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Hiromi Higuruma; Wardrobe Malfunction

a/n: my first hiromi fic and it's for kinktober eeee! I love him. 18+ only. Hiromi fucks reader in courtroom and fucks reader from behind, wardrobe malfunction, dirty talk, hiromi is pretty smooth lol, reader's quite hard on herself. wc 2.0k

Kinktober Masterlist

You knew the blouse was a bad idea.

You were a goddamn fool. Why had you waited so long to do laundry? So you could shuffle into court, more court jester than lawyer, and astonish everyone with your messiness. You’d rolled out of bed this morning only to find all of your work clothes, save some slacks and your current blouse, crowded in the washing machine. Because of your negligence, you had no other shirts to wear but the ill-fitting hand-me-down courtesy of your sister’s you adorned now.

You made it to court, but just barely. You couldn’t disappoint Higuruma, the man you were shadowing — but maybe it would’ve been better had you stayed home; giggles and chuckles followed you all throughout the proceedings. Higuruma had gestured to you to bring him something pertinent to his defense. You raised to the occasion, reaching out an arm.

“Here you go, Mr. Higu —“ 

You felt the buttons of your blouse snap, revealing your pink bra underneath —

You yelped, withdrawing your arm from a wide-eyed Higuruma to shield yourself. Thunderous laughter followed your plop back down in your chair.

“All right, enough,” said the judge among the raucous laughter.

 But giggles persisted regardless, albeit fainter after his order. They came to an end when and only when Higuruma offered you his suit jacket soon after.

After it was over, you were red in the face. Notes full of messy penmanship sat in your jiggling lap. You felt close to crying. 

“It’ll be all right,” Higuruma said, ever the gentleman. He came over to you as people in the courtroom cleared out. “The prosecution probably didn’t even see —“

“Oh, spare me!” You ran a hand over your ruddy face, felt tears well up in your eyes. “I looked like an idiot today and you know it!” 

I looked like an idiot in front of you, too.

A blink and Higuruma had a hand around your recessed shoulders. He pulled your hand away from your face. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, blinking miserably up at him. “Mr. Higu —“

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Higuruma said. “Call me Hiromi.”

A flutter danced in your chest despite your misery. “Hiromi …”

But he wasn’t looking in your eye anymore, his gaze having dropped down to your chest currently still covered by his jacket.

“I believe they laughed because they’re jealous,” Hiromi said. “That gorgeous figure of yours …”

You were red now for very different reasons. “I …” You trailed. “What do you mean?”

Tentatively, Hiromi brought his hand to shy away the front of his jacket. Your ruined shirt was exposed again, along with hints of your cherry-blossom bra. “I,” he said, voice husky, “like how you look in my jacket …”

“Hiromi …” You were astounded, felt an instinctive need to cover yourself again before Hiromi shed his jacket from your shoulders.

“But, I think I’d prefer it if you wore nothing …”

This was insane. What was happening? In your pregnant pause, Hiromi leaned forward and captured your lips — gently at first, for you startled at the suddenness of it all — and held your chin in his palm. 

The unreality of it all kept you rooted on the spot, but your shock had to rival the touch of Hiromi’s kiss. It melted away; your body reacted so fluidly to his gentle yet insistent touch, and the kiss that grew more peremptory by the second. 

“This is inappropriate,” You said in between kisses. You shivered at Hiromi’s hand slipping past the lace of a bra cup. “We — oh — could get …” 

“It’s okay,” Hiromi murmured. “There’s no one else here after all …”

But this was a courtroom. Surely the two of you wouldn’t be alone for long. What would they think to see Hiromi Higuruma fondling his apprentice? 

But your concerns dissipated when Hiromi’s thumb flicked at a nipple, his tongue simultaneously swiping at the roof of your mouth before coaxing your own tongue into further play.

“Oh, fuck …” You pressed into him, your groin knocking into the hard shell of his knee. 

With a soft grunt Hiromi withdrew, but barely, his lips teasingly close to your own. You could just lean forward and … “You’re right; we should be quick about this.” He increased the distance; you glanced at his tie, disheveled and barely hanging on to his collar. Did you do that? “Stand up …”

You did so. He followed you, towering over your frame as he maneuvered behind you, fingers grazing over the hem of your skirt.

“What are you …?”

He paused when you glanced behind you, the ghostly, seductive touch at your thighs disappearing. “I was …” Hiromi’s gaze angled downwards. “Unless you don’t want me to …”

Your attention flickered from Hiromi to the double doors that could open at any moment. Your doubts returned, but it was like a fork of lightning, a flash of a reason, felt and then gone. You tugged Hiromi by his wrangled tie and gave him another kiss. He groaned when you gave a challenging nibble on his bottom lip. 

“You —“ You stammered when you drew away, but not before leaving a parting kiss on his nose. “You should make it worth it, okay?”

Hiromi gave you a soft smile. “I intend to.”

And you turned back around to the feel of him pressing into you. You sighed, angling your ass against his hard dick, as Hiromi’s lips reconnected with your skin, this time loving your neck with heated kisses. He hiked your skirt up before weaving his hand to cup your cunt.

You moaned, your head falling back as Hiromi’s much bigger frame surrounded you. His index and forefinger teased your lips through the fabric, spurred on by your sighs.

“Such inappropriate choice of underwear …” Hiromi’s lips grazed your ear. He shifted the center of your panties away and began stroking your folds in slow circles. 

“Oh, fuck, Hi —“

“Almost like you planned all of this.” His voice was right in your ear, his fingers now cornering your clit and pressing into the tight nub. “Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all …”

“No …”

“Maybe flashing your tits is just how you get off —“

“No, I swear!” Your voice was impassioned as Hiromi abandoned the act of teasing your cunt to slide down your panties. Content with the garment hanging around your knees, he hiked your skirt higher. 

Despite being nearly fully clothed, his hands made you feel naked, and they were everywhere; kneading your thighs, your ass, swiping at your clit again before a hand finally settled at the small of your back to incline you forward. You placed hands on the bench to the suspicious sound of a buckle being undone, the descent of a zipper …

“Oh …”You hung your head when Hiromi’s cock slid past your slick folds and back again, rubbing your juices onto his shaft to both tease and test your wetness.

“You’re perfect, you know?” he murmured from behind. “You’re excruciatingly pretty…”

You closed your eyes against the warmth of his admission, your face redden at the praise. “I never knew you thought so …”

“Who couldn’t?”

The tightness in your chest, always present, lessened to know your crush had been reciprocated all this time.

“Aaah …!” Hiromi’s cockhead brushed against your clit, followed by a chuckle from him at your restless writhing. “Hiromi, fuck, please …”

“Hm?” Hiromi caressed the junction of your thigh and ass, petting the skin there. He was rocking into you now, brushing his cock through the tight space between your legs. 

“Please,” You begged. “Please, c — c’mon —“

Hiromi kissed into your rolling shoulder blades, deciding to leave a trail of them over the span of your upper back. “But this is inappropriate.”

“I don’t care!” You were shuddering now, rocking back as Hiromi rocked causally into you — but not into you. You truly didn’t care; if you didn’t have Hiromi’s cock soon you would surely go insane. Your writhing accomplished nothing worth mentioning. Growing madder by the second, you had half a mind to rub your clit if you didn’t also sense Hiromi would swat your hand away from your snatch. “I need you, just, please, fuck —“

Another kiss, this time at your neck. “Of course.”

The presence of his cock disappeared, and you were left to wrestle with the intimacy of that parting kiss before he buried himself inside of you seconds later. 

“Fuck …” Hiromi took hold of your hips, simultaneously keeping you steady as he saw fit to fill you to the brim with his impressive length. “You feel even better than I —“ 

You moaned as Hiromi buried his face in your neck, his nose smooshed against your pulse. His hand freed one of your tits to fondle. Another thrum of pleasure sang throughout you to know he’d thought of this before. One hand fixed still on your hips, he snapped his hips into you, skin rippling from the thrust. You yelped, bit your lip against the pleasure.

“Oh my god …” You squeezed your eyes shut against the assault of senses: Hiromi’s discipline failed him as his thrusts quickened. You were in love with the long drag of his cock. You seized the railing, needing something to squeeze as much to hold on to. Hiromi resumed making out with your neck while his other hand’s fingers busied themselves tormenting your pebbled nipple. “Fuckfuckfuck, Hiromi, please …!“

Hiromi’s moans mingled with yours. His hand had abandoned your tit and was traveling upwards, long fingers grazing your neck —

“Hiromi!” You clenched around him, sure he was set to choke you.

“Nrgh!” Hiromi’s fingers trembled against your lips instead. Both his hands were gone from your hips now — not like you needed his help fucking yourself back on him — with one’s new position shoving your panties down farther and fingering your clit. 

“God, it feels so good, so —“ You choked as the combination of his cock and fingers were becoming too much to bear. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, resisting the urge to bite down hard on the offered digits. Hiromi’s sounds of utter pleasure at your ear told you he wasn’t going to last, which only added to your pleasure, making you convulse around him a second time —

Hiromi breathed out your name in utter adoration. “Where do you want it?” he rasped, pistoning into you now. “Tell me where you want me to — aargh —“

“I — in —“ You lurched over the bench, losing yourself to him. His balls slapped against your clit, fulfilling the much needed friction when his fingers grew too lax. “Inside, yes, god, please —!”

Hiromi had enough clarity remaining to ask, voice breathy, “You sure?”

You had no choice; wherever Hiromi received his strength from it was enough to topple you over the edge. His hips swerved a particular way, and with it your mouth fell open, lost in the feel of his fingers circling your clit and his cock spearing you again and again. Hiromi’s groan roared loud in your ears, but you could make no sense of anything as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, I’m — fuck —“ You felt Hiromi’s cock inside you, and with a few more sloppy thrusts he was coming, muffling his cries in your neck. 

With effort, you fucked yourself back on him, brain full of cotton, until Hiromi had the sense to pull out of you, lest you drove him into another state of arousal. He braced himself on the bench beside you, catching his breath as you did. 

His gaze dropped to your mangled bra, still stuck on you. “It’s a very nice bra, you know.”

You shot him a sheepish smile. “You can have it. I’ve got ones I like a lot more.”

“If that’s true, I’d like to see them.”

You set to redress yourself, blushing under his appraisal. “Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. 

Once your skirt was set right, you unclasped your bra and offered it to him, your other arm dipping forward to retrieve his jacket.

Hiromi blinked, stunned by your sudden moxy. He held up the bra with two fingers, his face tinted pink. “I didn’t think you’d actually give it to me.”

You kissed him on the cheek. “Want the blouse, too?”

[guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy]

i know the end - vettel

(gif not mine @usersewis)

pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

summary: Sebastian came into your life in 2015 and left in 2020 - but you fell in love with him and he just wanted a championship.

themes/warnings: alcohol, ANGST, no use of y/n, description of a panic attack, unrequited love, waxing poetic about ferrari - can you tell they're my fav team, kimi mentioned, charles is here too !! THIS IS FICTION

wc: 3.6k

a/n: someone on tumblr said that ferrari is a haunted house with a picket fence and i have never stopped thinking about it since. i have also never stopped thinking about sebastian vettel - subcategory of seb thoughts is seb in ferrari. also still open to do requests - trying out this whole fic writing thing. will also need help with organising my blog if anyone is keen :)

read on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/60713827

Sebastian joined Ferrari in 2015. The team were ecstatic to have the four time world champion join their ranks, determined to bring Ferrari back to its former glory. 

You were working on the strategy team, fairly new but established enough to be listened to on the rare occasion. 

You met Seb in the pre-season at his factory introduction. He made his speech, charming the floor with his near perfect Italian. He popped into the strategy meeting room during his tour, a war room that had become home for you with its laptops and papers spread out. Sebastian was the perfect gentleman, shaking hands with everyone, though you thought he may have held on a bit longer with you.

The season started soon after, the entire garage working overtime. You were given the opportunity to accompany the team at races, rather than being stuck at Maranello.This is how you became Sebastian’s favourite strategist. 

You’re not exactly sure when it happened. You made a good strategy call in Malaysia, a well timed pit stop in Hungary and by Singapore, the lion knew your coffee order from the Ferrari cafeteria, ensuring to always pass you some before a long meeting. 

Falling for Sebastian was drawn out, comprised of lingering greeting hugs, good conversation at team dinners, long nights at the factory and searing glances across foreign nightclubs. 

You didn’t realise it for a while, and you wouldn’t realise it until it was too late. The attention you received was perhaps just part of Seb’s charm, and he had the whole motorsport world wrapped around his infamous finger. 

2016 brought on a winless year for Ferrari, both Kimi and Sebastian unable to make it to that crucial top step. 

You found Seb at the back of the Ferrari motorhome after a particularly tough race, hiding between tyre stacks. You overheard his PR team scrambling to find him - you slipped out to the back unnoticed, knowing exactly where he was. 

The tyre stacks were sort of a shared place for you and Sebastian, free from the prying eyes of the world. The only person who knew about it was Sebastian’s head mechanic, who accidentally stumbled upon you two sharing champagne after a podium last year. 

I’ll be there soon. Sebastian recognised your footsteps before even looking up. 

You sat down beside him, trying to find the words while he absentmindedly played with his water bottle. 

I’m sorr-

I don’t want to hear it. 

Sebastian had never snapped at you. You knew the strategy calls were bad today, resulting in an ill timed pitstop and Sebastian falling through the other. This Seb, this was completely foreign to you. 

Seb stood and left, sparing no further glance at you. It was a punch to your gut. Did he blame you? Drivers were always temperamental, that you knew, but Sebastian had always been nothing but kind and mature with you. 

Your body went into autopilot mode, packing up what you can before the team debrief. 

Sebastian barely spared you a glance as everyone settled in for the debrief. Perhaps a sign that he calmed down during media duties, but you knew better than to play detective with another man’s emotions. 

Strategy seemed to be the biggest issue to tackle with your boss taking the lead. You half listened, taking notes occasionally until he mentioned your name. 

One of the plans you brought up in pre-race meetings was bold and daring. It was entertained, but ultimately shoved aside for what ended up happening during the race. However after witnessing what happened in the race, it would have gained the team some higher positions. 

Ferrari is a team, one where we win and lose together. Every aspect is just as important as each other. Admitting mistakes and learning for them is how the team gets stronger. 

The strategy admission had Sebastian sneaking glances at you for the rest of the meeting. You felt it, but you weren’t exactly ready to forgive yet. 

You returned to your home in Maranello without so much as another word to Sebastian. You were, however, greeted by a bouquet of peonies on your dining table, along with a note from the man you were so desperately trying not to think about.

By 7PM the same day, you and Seb were sharing a blanket on the couch and watching a romcom, having devoured pizza and now working your way through a giant bag of chocolate wafers. 

Unfortunately, Seb knew the way to your heart. As you tucked yourself into bed that night, you realised that you never shared a conversation with him about Sunday and an even scarier thought, you had forgiven him. 

2017 saw you and Sebastian grow even closer. Movie nights at your apartment became the norm and Seb often took you to dinner on race weekends, despite your protests that the dinners were too fancy. He had to spoil his favourite strategist would always be his response. 

Sebastian returned to the top step of Monaco that year, the Italian anthem blaring across the track along with a chorus of devoted Tifosi. He sneaked off after the celebrations, pulling you with him to the tyre stacks, champagne bottle on the other hand. 

Seb passed you the bottle and you took a large sip, pushing down the thought that his lips were on it mere moments ago. 

Are you coming to the afterparty?

Yes, but I don’t have anything to wear? 

No party dress packed? Ye of little faith. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved the bottle back into his hands. The endless banter and teasing simultaneously made you forget about your feelings for Seb but also made you fall harder for him. 

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. He kissed your cheek and walked away. 

Cheek kisses weren’t new for Seb, having evolved from greeting hugs long ago. But “take care of it”? Well, he better not be doing what you were thinking. 

You returned to your hotel room to a large black box on your bed, an extravagant red bow tied around it with a handwritten note, definitely scrawled on by a tipsy Seb. 

The box revealed a red dress, and on top of it, another small box. You opened it and out dangled a small necklace with a heart charm. Engraved on one side was the number 5. Sebastian. 

Sebastian knocked on your door two hours later, dressed sharp and ready for the night ahead. He took you in, the dress he picked out was the perfect fit against your skin. There was however, one missing detail. 

The necklace? 

It’s a bit much, no?

Nonsense. 

Sebastian walked into your room and spotted the necklace on the bed. He took it out of its pouch and motioned for you to stand in front of the mirror. He stood behind, putting the necklace on you. His fingers ghosted over your neck, raising the tiny hairs on your skin. 

Team number 5. 

Sebastian kissed the side of your head and his fingers trailed down your arm to grab your hand. You followed him out in a daze to the elevator. 

The dim light of the elevator and Sebastian’s intoxicating cologne enveloping the cramped box. The elevator dinged, letting in more people. The sound woke you from whatever spell Sebastian cast. You counted down the floors until you had to leave the warmth of Sebastian’s side and his calloused hand around yours. 

Ground floor. The air was clearer as you exited the bubble - reality. Because despite everything, Sebastian wasn’t yours. He is Ferrari’s. You are Ferrari’s. For now, sharing a home would be enough. 

You never left Sebastian’s line of sight all night. Between partying with your girlfriends, sharing a drink with your boss and a few dances with Seb, the clarity in the haze of the club was Sebastian. 

As the night began winding down, Sebastian approached you at a booth. He was holding a mystery drink and his pupils were blown wide. He began blabbering about something Kimi did, the Finn possibly to blame for Sebastian’s current state. You took one look at him and began arranging a cab back to the hotel. 

You managed to drag a half asleep Sebastian back to his room. You sat him on the edge of the bed while you filled up a water bottle. You came back and found him spread eagle on the bed. At least he took his shoes off. 

Goodnight Seb. 

You were halfway out the room when you heard it. 

I love you.

You froze. Looking back, you saw Seb snoring peacefully, hugging a pillow to his chest. No, he’s drunk and sleeping. It wasn’t for you. It could’ve been for his bed for all you cared for. It didn’t matter, despite your heart wishing it was for you.

2018 was another successful year for Ferrari. Sebastian came home with five wins that year, placing second in the drivers standings and Kimi in third. All in all, you were quite proud of the team’s efforts that year and you knew you could unlock more of that potential. 

However, you could feel something bothering Sebastian. An itch that had been present all season. You had asked a few times, but Seb always insisted it was nothing. You knew Sebastian well enough by this point. You could read him, to an extent. But if he truly wanted to hide something, you would be helpless at getting it out. 

Sebastian invited you to stay at his farm in Switzerland for a week during the winter break. You happily obliged, having not seen him since wrapping up in Abu dhabi. You could use the tranquillity of farm life for a bit. 

Your days there were spent helping Sebastian with the animals. He taught you horse riding and you taught him baking. You let yourself get lost in that life, if just for a mere moment. Perhaps in some alternate universe, this was your home with him, that you weren’t only playing house for a week. 

You and Sebastian were laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, sharing a bowl of attempted smores. It was your last night there before you had to jet off back to Maranello to begin pre season work. 

Seb got quiet, not exactly rare but it was different when something was on his mind. 

Would you ever leave? 

Leave where?

Ferrari.

No. Ferrari is home. 

Sebastian hummed, adding nothing more but deciding to bite into another smore. A bit of chocolate dripped onto his chin. You chuckled and wiped it off with your thumb.

Besides, you don’t need to worry about that new French kid. You’re still my favourite, world champion. 

Sebastian laughed, but you missed the melancholy in his eyes and the smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

Being a Tifosi came with many highs and lows - any balding Italian man can tell you that. It was felt even more within the team, especially for Sebastian this year. 

2019 saw the meteoric rise of Charles Leclerc, the predestined. He cemented his place as not only the future of Ferrari itself, but of the sport as well. 

Charles was full of energy and light. You grew fond of the kid and it was nice to have his company amidst the turmoil surrounding the team that year. 

You went into that year determined to get Sebastian his championship he so desperately craved. You were instead met by cheating rumours, bad calls, power shifting and well, an increasingly frustrated Sebastian. 

Sebastian who has been chasing that championship feeling for years. Sebastian who bleeds Ferrari red. Sebastian who is determined to bring the team back to the top. Sebastian, who is not quite yours, but you devoted your red heart to. 

Perhaps that’s how you ended up in this position. 

Sebastian pulled you into his driver’s room after a race. The habit has raised a few eyebrows from passing crew, but none have said a word. 

Nothing ever happened anyways. 

Seb would sit you on his couch and you’d listen. Listen as he rambled in a heinous mix of German, Italian and English. Listen as he let out his emotions after a race and all the lows he went through that weekend. 

You’d bring up some of these points to relevant crew members. It would be worked on and by the following race, it would be better. But it was never enough for Sebastian. 

You understood, he was supposed to bring Ferrari back, follow in the footsteps of his mentor and hero. It was an immense pressure and responsibility that has been carried for years. Now, the Italians have put their faith in his teammate, throwing him aside like an old toy. 

It was draining for you too, being subjected to this almost every weekend. It wasn’t your burden to bear, but this was Sebastian. He is still Rosso Corsa, and you weren’t one to deny a cry for help. 

Singapore rolled around, one of Sebastian’s favourites. He crossed the line in first place that night. You haven’t been so happy in months. 

Sebastian found you at your desk after media duties. You were still on the adrenaline high, but the tiredness began seeping back into your bones. You knew you weren’t sleeping well, the stress of the season getting to you and your eyes looked darker than ever. For Ferrari, the pain was always worth it. 

Come out tonight. 

Seb, I feel dead. 

And the race winner is personally inviting you. 

You could never resist him, which is how you have an extremely plastered Seb on your arm as you walk back to the hotel. Apparently being part of Team 5 also meant babysitting when he’s had one too many. 

I LOVE FERRARI! I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE! FORZA FERRARI! 

Sempre. 

May 2020. F1 was still on the break. The only place you went was your home in Maranello and occasionally the factory. You hadn’t seen Sebastian in months and to be honest, you haven’t heard from him as much as you wanted to. 

Then, the announcement. Sebastian Vettel to leave Ferrari by the end of the 2020 season. 

It came as a shock to you. Seb’s contract was up for renewal, you knew that. But he never said anything about leaving, at least, not to your face. And to find out from Instagram, rather than from the man himself, that was a whole other issue. 

You left several messages on Seb’s number over the next week, all remained unanswered. You knew he was a bit of a recluse sometimes, preferring quiet company over the glitz and glamour other drivers seemed to surround themselves with. Ignoring you however, that was unheard of. 

You asked some of Seb’s mechanics, but none have heard from him. You even asked Charles, but all he received was a polite thank you message. 

After a while, you gave up on contacting him. You knew better than to beg for a man’s attention, even Sebastian’s. It broke your heart to walk away, but you had to keep pushing and Ferrari needed to keep pushing. 

Red Bull Ring, Austria. The first race back was a much quieter environment than what you’ve been used to. Despite wanting to stay in Maranello, mainly to stay safe but also to avoid a certain German, your boss wanted you at the races. Who were you to deny the call of the Prancing Horse. 

You ignored him all weekend, refusing to make eye contact or be in his general presence at all. It was perhaps a bit petty, but you deserved to be after the last two months. 

Charles placed P2, a great result from the team for the first race back. You chatted to him at your desk after the race. Charles was a young man that had raw talent, immense passion and was wise beyond his years. You were lucky to call him a friend. 

Mid conversation, Charles glanced behind you. You knew exactly who was standing there, but he could wait his turn. 

You finished up with Charles, giving him a hug before he left. 

You stared at Seb standing awkwardly in the doorway. He shifted on his feet, for once not knowing what to say to you. 

Please say something. 

I have nothing to say to you. You’re the one who went radio silent for months. 

I’m sorry. 

You shook your head and looked away, not wanting him to see how much this affected you. 

I didn’t know how to tell you. 

Seb moved closer, stepping into your space. He reached out a shaky hand to yours. You gripped his, you couldn’t help it. A silent sob escaped your body. 

Come with me. 

You whipped around, searching his pleading eyes. 

Come with me. To Aston Martin. 

His other hand came up to the side of your head, cupping your cheeks and wiping away the tears on your cheek. 

Come with me. I need you. 

His hand brushed down the side of your neck, fingers finding the necklace he gifted all those years ago. 

Team 5. That’s our home. Please. 

Sebastian fiddled with the charm. He found the engraved 5 turned around, no longer facing outward like how you’ve always worn it. 

You took Sebastian’s hand and pressed a tender kiss to it. 

Ferrari is my home. I can’t come with you. 

You dropped his hand and looked anywhere else but him. You couldn’t bear to see the tears welling in his eyes. 

Please leave. 

Sebastian walked out, hesitating at the door. He took a last look at you and left. 

You let the cries come out. Every emotion you’ve kept the last few years came out in a tidal wave. 

You felt an arm wrapping around your shoulders, recognising Charles’ hand. He helped you to the floor and let you lean against him. 

I’m sorry. 

You requested to be transferred to Maranello for the rest of the season, citing health concerns. The team was sad to see you go, many of them enjoying your company on long race weekends. 

You only saw Sebastian in passing for the rest of the year, heard about him from mechanics, through strategy feedback and once from Charles. He knew not to press, but you didn’t miss the occasional flicker of sympathy from his eyes. 

Sebastian came by the factory after the season ended, a formal goodbye to Ferrari. There was food and drinks passed around and some quick speeches made. 

Sebastian was the last to come forward. 

It has been my dream to race for the Scuderia since I was a boy. Here I stand now, as a Ferrari driver for six incredible seasons. It still feels like cloud nine everytime I get to walk into this beautiful place and be greeted by the passion from every single one of you. I thank you all for the hard work you’ve put in all these years. 

Sebastian took a breath, as if hesitating on what to say next. You found yourself waiting, a small part of you hoping for him to say something, anything that would allow you to forgive him. 

I want to say a special thank you to those who have been by my side. You know who you are. I know I haven’t always made it easy, and I am sorry for that. But I am eternally grateful for you. 

Sebastian’s eyes found yours in the crowd. You found yourself fiddling with the necklace for comfort, forcing your eyes to hold back tears. 

Thank you all. Forza Ferrari sempre. 

The crowd erupted in cheers, applauding Seb as he made his way back into the crowd. 

Your ears were ringing, vision blurry and the swell of the crowd was suddenly too much. Your feet relief on instinct, turning you around and leading you towards the exit. 

A hand found your arm as you reached the lobby. Charles. The youngster took one look at you and said something about a car and to wait. Your body curled into a ball as you heaved. 

This was it. Sebastian was leaving. Leaving Ferrari and the home you built in it, with him. And neither of you could muster the courage for a proper goodbye. What an irony, Ferrari who creates heroes and legends but two of their best and brightest are cowards with each other. 

A sleek black Ferrari pulled up to the front. The rumble of the engine was enough to push yourself to stand and stumble your way to Charles who had opened the door for you. 

You turned, taking a look at the building. Ferrari is always going to be home, but the people in it give it meaning. Sebastian left, and your sun set, but it will rise again soon. 

You were at the door and hesitated for the briefest moment. That was enough for Sebastian to come running into the lobby. 

You stood in the moonlight with windswept hair and teary eyes. From the distance, Sebastian could just make out the glimmer of the necklace he gave you all those years ago and the most important thought - you were still the most beautiful woman he ever got the chance to know. 

He loved you. Loves you. It was real all along, not some drunken stupor that he convinced himself it was all those years ago, hiding because it would be easier than to let himself fall. 

He understood. You were always by his side, and he was too late to notice it, much less be grateful for it. You can't forgive him now, and he’s caused too much harm. It would be selfish of him to keep you tethered.  

��He needs to let you go. 

Sebastian nodded at you from his frozen place in the lobby. This is the end. You touched your hand to your heart, where your necklace fell. In another life. 

[cheesecakeluver]

AT FIRST GLANCE

hamzahthefantastic x reader

ᶻ𐰁 ࣪ °⋆ when you arrive in Toronto, after three years from home, you meet with your close friend Mandy, who has a visitor that you know, at first glance, is bound to be yours.

———————-

As the taxi slows, i find that my stomach turns and churns in excitement. The idea that now, after three years, ill see Mandy again, after being apart for so, so long, enthralls me. We constantly facetimed and messaged after i had to move, for work purposes. Los Angeles was a great city, but once you really got settled and started to understand life there.. it made you miserable. Thankfully, my work as a journalist had moved me back to Toronto, and i could finally see my friends and family.

I retrieve my heavy suitcases from the boot of the car, thanking the driver and sending him away with a twenty dollar bill. I don't think i'll ever get over the price differences between Canada and the USA. I stand outside Mandy's place, which she shared with her boyfriend, Martin. Of course, i'd heard all about him, because as soon as i moved away, they met. She updated me on every date, every exciting occasion, and every detail of their lives together, including his youtube channel, whom he shared with a friend unknown to me, though Mandy constantly called him clingy and annoying, which left me laughing.

I knock on the door, one, twice, and then thrice. I see a figure moving towards the door, and i get excited, recording the whole moment with an old camera. I'd recently started youtube myself, and had had a good amount of luck, my first two videos not exactly blowing up, but doing pretty well for my first time. I see the figure head towards the door, and i shove the camera in front of me, my smile wide, grinning even.

The figure opens the door, and i'm stunned. It was in fact, not Mandy i was met with, who stood at 5,4. No, this was a nearly six foot tall, dark curly haired man, who looked like he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Uh.. who are you?" he mumbled, wiping his dark curls out of his face, pushing his rectangular glasses up on the bridge of his nose, his chocolate brown eyes widening as he stared deadpan at me.

i pull the camera down to my side, revealing my face as my smile drops. i stutter a little, taking a step back. Had i went to the wrong address?

"Does Mandy live here?" i asked nervously, my concern become increasingly evident on my face. I was never good at hiding my emotions.

"Oh, yeah. She said something about someone coming over today. Just didn't mention who." The man said, his eyebrows unfurling as the confusion fled his face, allowing me to view him more. He was attractive, and even i couldn't deny that, as i stared into his dark eyes. The worry wiped off my face as he opened the door wider, allowing me to step into the home, where Mandy was snuggled into Martin's side, a blanket over them on the couch, as i heard the nostalgic theme of 'Gilmore Girls' playing on the tv.

I smile, leaving my bags by the door as i hear Mandy ask whose at the door, until her eyes land across me. She screams, ditching Martins arms and she runs to me, hugging me and jumping with glee spread across her face. I hold her in my arms, happily.

"I've been waiting for you to arrive!" she says, pulling away from the embrace, still smiling so hard i believe it must hurt. "That's Hamzah, by the way, the one who answered the door. He's the one who does the podcast, and youtube with Martin" She explains, babbling on about what the boys did. I listened eagerly, intrigued, as she told me about this podcast, which i'd never known of before. She asks me how i am, knowing how hard Los Angeles hit me, leaving me emotionally drained.

"I'm excited to be back in Toronto, really. I've been wanting to come back ever since i left. Los Angeles was.. alright at first, but god, once you really get settled, and begin actually connecting.." i sigh, drifting off. The people that inhabited Los Angeles, were just not the people i was made for, and oh how glad i was to be back in Toronto. Back home. I look around, impressed at the new house they'd just moved in to, which now looked like a home due to the decorum, as i see dinner bowls lying around.

Martin cleans them up, putting them in the sink and introducing himself. "Sorry, we just ate.. probably should've cleaned that up earlier." he jokes, wrapping an arm around Mandy.

The whole time, the boy i know now as Hamzah had just been by the door, his keys in hand. i came to the conclusion he must have just been heading out when i arrived.

He jingles the keys in his hand, grabbing my attention. He looks a little nervous, his eyes darting around. "I'm gonna head out, it was good meeting you.." he says, finally looking at me, smiling, his hands in his pockets. He lingers on, and i catch the hint he wanted my name.

"Oh, y/n" i smiled, a little flustered as his eyes remained steady on me, a glint in them. I found myself drawn to him, even though this was our first meeting.

Mandy turns to me, Martins arm still wrapped around her. "We were just going out, for ice cream, if you wanted to join us?" she smiles at me, Martins arm rubbing hers and he stared at her, entranced.

I think about it, but ultimately decide against it, as i had ate the shitty food served on the airplane, and felt as though my stomach deserved a break after. That, and i wasn't in the mood to become a third wheel, especially as jet lagged as i was.

"I need to sort through the boxes as well, get my apartment into living conditons, but thank you guys, i appreciate it." i say, thanking the couple in front of me.

"Call me tomorrow though, we'll meet up then?" i ask, and Mandy nods, smiling. "Of course! Im so, so happy your home. Atleast now i've got someone to hang out with when these two are filming. Ooh, and maybe even double dates, and-"

Hamzah coughs loudly, interrupting her, and their eyes land on each other, and something, almost like realisation, hits Mandy.

I look between the pair, an awkward silence filling the room, as the four of us just looked at our feet.

I knew Hamzah had been there a couple of times when i had been facetiming Mandy, as i heard him and Martin in the background, but i never thought anything of it.

I pull my phone out, prepared to call another taxi, and head out of here, as i gather my bags and suitcase by the door.

"Anybody know how much a taxi from here to Parkson street costs?" i ask, breaking the silence

Martin speaks up immediately, as if snapping out of a trance.

"Hamzah, don't you live near Parkson street?" he asks the boy, who averts his gaze from mine, eyes focused now on Martin, as a pink blush cascades over his caramel skin, slightly covered by the messy curls strewn on top of his head.

"Yeah, i live on Parkson street" He replies, and i see Martin wink at him, before he speaks again.

"Oh, okay yeah, do you need a ride?" Hamzah says, eyes on mine as i see his hands fiddle inside of his pockets, causing me to smile.

"Yeah.. thank you. Really, your helping me out a a lot here." i blush slightly as he helps me with a couple of my bags, and our hands brush together, my face heating up, as does his.

"Really, you don't have to-" i say, prepared to take the bag, as he shakes his head in defiance, which leaves me to sigh, smiling as i do.

"I could see you struggling when you first arrived, let me help you" He says, picking the bags i struggled with up easily, impressing me as his biceps bulged whilst doing the action, causing me to stare.

Martin interrupts us, as he begins saying his farewells to Hamzah. I make my way over to Mandy, one last time, knowing ill meet her tomorrow.

"Call me tonight, and tell me everything" she says, with that knowing look in her eye, causing me to softly chuckle as i embrace her again.

We part ways with Mandy and Martin, saying goodbye to the pair as they began to get ready to get dessert. I smile at the couple as i leave with Hamzah, wishing i had the type of relationship they had, watching them laugh and cuddle and kiss. In my dreams i guess.

As Hamzah walks me to his car, we begin small talk. He asks about my life back in Los Angeles, and i tell him about my journalism and my small channel, as he told me of his podcast. He seemed passionate about it, using his hands as he spoke, and all i could do was become entranced by him. I had met this boy less than twenty minutes ago, yet already he had caught me attention, and by the looks of it, i had caught his.

"I originally started the podcast by myself, and did around.. i think thirty or so episodes before Martin joined. Honestly, its much better when your not just speaking by yourself, to a camera." He explained, hooking me in with every word he uttered.

"I guess i can kind of understand. When i film, so far, its always been by myself. My job as well, it gets lonely, because journalism isn't a very.. i don't know.. social type of job. Sure, I sit and write about all the things i love, but sometimes i just wish i had someone to talk to about my interests, instead of people just reading my words via a news outlet, or magazine."

i let out my thoughts, feeling slightly vulnerable when doing so. Hamzah watches me talk, allowing me to explain what's on my mind, and for the first time in a long time, i feel seen.

"Listen, i know we just met, but honestly, i feel like i know you already. I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to, even if its just about the stupid stuff." He says, a little shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he speaks. I find myself walking close beside him, and we continue talking back and forth, all the way to his car.

Once we reach his car, he opens the door for me, and just when i'm strapped in, does he make his way to the drivers side, causing a feeling of warmth to erupt in my stomach.

Getting in, he sets his phone on my lap, smiling. "Since your a guest, i'll trust you to pick something good" he says, as i notice spotify opened infront of me.

It nearly made me melt, as i saw his recent listens. "Men i trust, Freddie Dredd, The maria's.. you have good taste" i smile, seeing some artist that we have in common.

I see him smile warmly, staring at the phone as i type my favourite song in, hoping, no, praying he would like it.

"Bags by Clairo.. you have good taste" He replies, copying me, as the song begins to filter through the car, and i hum lightly to it.

entranced by the music, and the feeling of content flowing through me, i rest my head against the window, taking in autumnal Toronto in all its beauty, realising just how much i had missed this place.

I feel Hamzah's eyes on me, and i turn to him, a grin erupting from me without my consent, as his curls fall into his eyes, and his hands mark the wheel.

We continue the rest of the ride in silence, the only thing heard is Clairo's majestic voice through the speakers, and both of us are okay with that. Upon arriving at Parkson street, i feel a little disappointed, missing Hamzah's banter and voice already, even though we hadn't parted from each other yet. I needed to get a grip on myself.

We get out, still walking close to each other, our arms brushing against one anothers, and begin walking back to our apartments, noticing we both strode in the same direction.

"Hamzah, what apartment number is yours? Not to be a creep or anything.." i joke, seeing his eyes light up.

"I'm 112.. what about you?"

I feel myself smile, pink flushing my cheeks, and not just due to the autumn chill in the air. We stop outside of his apartment, and he sees where my gaze lies, his cheeks flushing as well.

"I'm apartment 113” i say, grinning, our proximity exciting me like nothing before. maybe, just maybe this meant i did have a chance. endless excuses we’re running through my mind, thinking of ways i could interact with him on the daily.

He smiles, walking me to my door and setting the suitcases and bags in my doorstep, his cheeks tinted pink, and his eyes on me the entire time, looking me up and down with ease.

He smiles at me, one last time. "I'll see you around, y/n" he says, walking the two paces to his apartment, next door. My heart fluttered, and the minute i go inside of my new apartment, i jumped on the bare mattress, not caring about the unboxed suitcases and bags, picking up my phone and dialing my best friend.

"Mandy, i think i’m starting to like him."

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

[dyns33]

In the stars and the Book

So people wanted a new Dream of the Endless story for today. I hope you will like it !

It was rare for Destiny to give advice.

For several good reasons, which his family understood well, even if they were sometimes annoyed or disappointed that he did not break the rules to help them in difficult times.

His interventions were never really his doing, but permitted by his Book, if not obligatory.

More than any other member of the Endless, Destiny was fully and entirely his function. He loved his siblings though.

He always showed a small, almost imperceptible smile when he had the opportunity to help his family, who always listened attentively.

This time, Dream was the lucky one who received a call from Destiny's gallery.

Of course he was going to answer, it was part of his responsibilities. He'd had some problems since the Magnus had captured him, freed himself, gotten his tools back, rebuilt his kingdom, and ever since he'd felt a little empty.

His brother's call could be excellent news, or the start of new troubles. But he was going to answer anyway.

As always, Destiny greeted him quickly, not leaving his book and not clearly answering his questions. This was not what was supposed to happen.

Then, when Dream was calmer, he finally looked at him.

“Y/N.”

"The witch ? What about her ?"

“You will know happiness, true happiness, until your end, after she gives you a kiss.”

Morpheus remained stoic as he knew how to do so well, despite the storm that was brewing within him. The people of the Dreaming must have been totally panicked, even if they were used to their creator being quite upset after an encounter with any Endless other than Death.

“Goodbye, little brother.” was the last thing Destiny said, already turning his back on him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

His relationship with Y/N ​​had always been complicated. They had almost killed each other the first time they spoke. A real disaster. But she was still young, while he had yet to learn patience and empathy.

No doubt he was also too romantic, since he no longer even remembered the reason for their argument, but only her eyes full of passion, her hand on his cheek when she had the audacity to slap him, her perfume when she had vanished into thin air, vowing never to see him again.

They had seen each other again, several times, without ever doing it on purpose, as if fate was doing everything for them to end up together.

Over time, their exchanges had become more cordial, almost friendly. Dream had to recognize that Lucienne, Hob, his sister, many people had helped him a lot to realize the value of this little witch, who had also helped him on many occasions.

Yet he never thought he would feel love for Y/N. Admiration, affection, a need to protect her, but love ? Dream had often been in love. At least he thought he was.

It was true that each of his relationships had ended like shooting stars, passing very quickly, before burning and disappearing into nothingness.

His big brother had just revealed to him the secret of a certain, infinite happiness, a happiness that he seemed to deserve against all expectations, he who had ended up thinking that he was made to remain alone. There was no reason to hesitate.

Y/N clearly had some hesitations.

Despite his many advances, he still didn't seem to know that it was not proper for mortals to appear in a living room uninvited or unannounced.

First misstep, because it was not by scaring his sweetheart that he was going to succeed in seducing her. The poor thing even asked him what she had done, convinced that he was coming to punish her.

“I’m not here for ill reasons.” he tried to reassure her. "I needed to see you. It's been a long time, I forgot how beautiful you were, χαρα μου."

"… Is everything okay ? You need a spell and you're hoping it'll be for free ? You know, I heard what happened to you. It's not pity at all, but maybe I can lower my prices for you this time."

"Your concern touches me. But I don't need anything except you. I think we could be happy together."

"Wow. Okay, you're dying."

He was going to have to use all his wooing skills to get her to kiss him.

Certainly he could have kissed her, here, right away, but his brother had been clear. It was she who had to give him this liberating kiss.

Even though Dream was now sure of his feelings, Y/N probably needed a little more time. She hadn't received Destiny's advice.

Despite all his many improvements since his release, patience had never been Dream's strong point. Yet he was literally the expectation, the hope, all the ideas, the stories, the fantasies of humanity. Not getting the promised happiness right away shouldn't have bothered him so much.

Plus, beginnings were always the most exciting part. Observe Y/N responding positively to his advances, his compliments, his gifts. However, she remained suspicious, expecting a game or a disguised exchange of good behavior.

The witch set traps for him, to reveal his true intentions. The master of nightmares found this charming and amusing at first. Then Morpheus was a little hurt and exasperated that she didn't seem as infatuated with him as he was with her.

"… You say you love me ?"

"Indeed."

"Since when ? The last time we parted, I stole several of your books and you threatened to hang me. Fortunately your librarian likes me. I returned the books to her by the way. I don't t think we can be together, we'll end up tearing each other's heads off."

"It has to happen though. Destiny said we were meant to be together."

"… What ?"

The news did not please the little witch at all. She was making fun of him, but she wasn't necessarily having a bad time. Their arguments had become like a form of dance, a nuptial ritual.

Why did he always have to ruin everything ? He, the prince of stories, really had a problem with his choice of words.

He tried to hold her back, explaining that what his brother said had to happen, it wasn't his fault.

Seeing the tears in her eyes silenced him. The last thing he wanted to be hurt her, this vision pierced his heart.

"I can't believe I could be so stupid."

"You don't understand… We can be happy, together. Love each other."

"No. I loved you. And I thought maybe you loved me too, finally. But you're here out of obligation, like always. I never want to see you again ! I'm serious this time !"

There was no spell in the world that could hide a being thinking of Dream of the Endless. Those who thought always ended up dreaming, entering his kingdom.

Yet he left her sleep in peace, the rare times Y/N closed her eyes, trembling every night at the idea of ​​finding him in her dreams.

He wondered if she was right. If he only chased after her because his brother had put him on this path, and not by choice. By feeling. It was true that he hadn't asked himself the question before Destiny called him, and he had rushed straight to the front of his happiness.

Now that he was fully taking the time to think about it, knowing that the witch had loved him in silence all this time, that he had hurt her, that she deserved better than that, he thought that he had undoubtedly always loved her more than the others.

He loved her so much that he kept his distance, because everyone he wanted ended up leaving him, suffering, or dying. And he didn't want that for her, never for her. His tender Y/N, brave, intelligent, lively little witch. Who treated him normally, standing up to him without fear, making him see his missteps.

A whole week passed, before he showed up at her place, this time knocking on the door and waiting for it to open.

He raised his hand in a peace sign as soon as their eyes met, making no move to try and enter.

"χαρα μου… I'm sorry. For my behavior, and for my presence here, when you clearly expressed your hatred for me. But I owed you this apology, and as punishment, I agree not to see you again. Thus, I condemn myself to never knowing happiness, which I do not deserve after all. My brother did not say that you could not be happy with another. Just know that I loved every moment spent with you, and I will cherish them until the end. If it wasn't happiness, it looked like it."

"… Is this a ruse to get me to fall under your spell again ?"

"No. I still find it hard to believe that you could have loved a being such as myself. I don't think I would have ever imagined it, even in my wildest creations. My brother must have known, he who knows all."

"Hob says you're a sweet fool, full of pride, but with just as much kindness, fear and humanity deep down."

“I will have to think about visiting my dear friend very soon.” Dream said while keeping a stoic face.

This made Y/N laugh. Her magnificent laugh, accompanied by a smile that she gave him too rarely. He would populate the nights of many dreamers tonight.

But for now, Morpheus wondered if he was awake, seeing her continue to smile at him, placing her hand on his cheek. They had never touched each other like this, not once, since their first meeting.

"Don't sulk, it wasn't a criticism. I knew I could only love you when he assured me that you weren't as terrible as you showed yourself. A facade, necessary because of your status."

“I’m not sulking, I’m not…”

The kiss was quick. Morpheus would remember it until his sister took the whole universe with her. Those lips on his. All this love, for him, all this time, contained in a simple kiss.

He remained as still as a marble statue, which made her smile again. Then Y/N kissed him on the cheek this time, whispering that they could go to the New Inn for a drink, before closing the door.

"… Boss ?"

“Yes Matthew ?”

"You've been here for three hours, people on the street are starting to notice you. Are you going to stay long ?"

“Until my love came out and we went to the New Inn for a drink.”

"Yeah, I don't know if your brother helped you or not, but if the witch finds it cute and not creepy, that will be proof that you two are indeed meant to be together."

Y/N found this both creepy and adorable. The poor raven returned to the Dreaming with a sigh to announce the great news, although the bright sky was not unwelcome.

It was very often a magnificent weather in the future, and until the end.

[senbbonzakura]

hii!! don't be shy posting anythin, that's cool when new people appear who write south park stuff! 🤍 can i request (f!reader) picnic headcannons with kenny, stanley and kyle? it can be platonic or romantic(sure, aged up), idc

sure!! thank u sm for being my first headcannons req anon !! 🤍 ill try my best with these bc i never was on a picnic so i have to use my imagination on how it works.. also i made this romantic, theyre like 17-18 here

⋆ PICNIC WITH MAIN 3 :

✩ — STAN !

this guy was so flattered when u asked him to go do a picnic with u

he was so excited he couldnt sleep

brought cookies and dr pepper...

its because he was walking around the store for like 30 minutes in denial of what would you like to eat 😭😭

like.. will u like it? what if youre picky? mostly everyone likes cookies so cookies it is

butttttt he brought money to the picnic too in case you need something

he picks a nice outfit for himself!!

and by that i dont mean a suit or anything like that... its just a tee that you once said you liked and his fav baggy jeans

so nervous before meeting u for the picnic. mostly bc of the food. what if youre not happy with the food he brought☹️

he brought a picnic blanket too tho!!

he tries to settle it himself but its sort of windy and he drops the blanket...

it flies away

but dw luckily he got it!!

he tries to settle it ahain but DONT trust him with that bc its gonna fly away again so help him pls😭

once its all settled he tries to make it romantic somehow?? he doesnt know how to be romantic without it being corny tho😕

so he just passes u everything u ask for!!

totally did not put the picnic basket next to himself on purpose..

with stan its mostly just giggles and stuff. he will hold your hand or hug you there and there but he enjoys just talking with you like he would with a best friend, if you know what i mean??

he kisses your cheek and thanks you for all the effort you put in everything <3

✩ — KYLE !

he suggests the picnic 🤗

kyle is the most organized one of them all

before the picnic he knows what to bring and what food you like

like what??? how did he know that?? did he put cameras around ur house or smth

or maybe ur parents just like him a lot so they told him stuff..

keeps checking if he has everything

he also brings you a flower!!

hes a gentleman😭

somehow manages to settle the blanket himself??

he also picked the perfect time of the day so it would be sunset

puts sm effort in to show you how much he loves you!! hes so sweet

brought like a backup hoodie for you just in case youre cold😕

he doesn't really like touching you in public, so expect a hug and a kiss from him only after it gets darker after the sunset

or if he thinks no one is watching

ike definitely wanted to go with you two

kyle said no

he wants it to be a moment just for you and him

ike still comes along with sheila "on accident" but for like a few minutes bc kyle begged them to leave you two alone😭

HE WAS SO EMBARRASSED THAT HIS MOM CAME TOO💔

he apologizes to you

its not like hes embarrassed bc of sheila, its just the fact that his MOM came, if u get what i mean

what more can i say?

besides that its all perfect !!

✩ — KENNY !

you suggest the picnic

he thought abt it before and wanted to ask you too but money... 😕

he immediately said yes and saved money just for that occasion

he knows what food u like

its because usually when you two hang out he randomly asks you stuff like "whats your fav food?" in that case

and he remembers every answer u give him🤗🤗

he brought food and you brought the blanket

he actually made sure to bring enough for the two of you

thats so sweet😕

he doesnt gaf abt public, he will show his love to you everywhere

so he has his arm wrapped around you most of the time

and also kisses your shoulder or cheek sometimes !!

he would do the rizz thing with "hey you have something there" while pointing at ur chest and then he would grab ur chin so u look at him and he kisses u

its just a joke tho😭

thats not a great way to flirt in his opinion

he would also chuckle before kissing u !!

sweeeeeeeet

after the picnic he offers to walk you to your home <3

he also holds your hand while walking

when youre about to leave he hugs you and thanks you for everything too🤗

fill my requests up guys!!

[theangelsheardyou]

In the mood for some angst? Here's some bsd men x terminally ill reader🩷

Dazai:

• Atsushi notices that everyday, Dazai leaves work early to go...somewhere. it's not like the guy is the type to follow a schedule so he can't tell where exactly he's been going lately. When he asks he just plays it off as a joke, tho he does notice how his gaze seems to be so distant lately.

• turns out, everyday these past few weeks Dazai has been visiting you in the hospital. He always comes with a sweet little gift, nothing extravagant, maybe a flower he knows you like or a cup of coffee from a place you used to frequent.

• he would spend hours with you, just the two of you in that sterilized little hospital room, talking about anything and everything. His demeanor is nonchalant, yet more soft and sensitive to you. He's always had a soft spot for you after all.

• when he learned of your condition he didn't try to "cure" it or "fix" it. He decided that he will love you and stay with you and make you feel like nothing has changed as much as he can. He keeps up with the jokes, the gifts, and tries to make you feel as normal as you used to feel.

• you notice how he stares at you more often, how he looks deeper into your eyes when you talk. As if he's trying to memorize every feature before it all goes away.

• he's decided that once you're gone, is when he will go too. He doesn't want to live without you. He laughs to himself a little bit, a soft, gentle chuckle, at the thought. "It's not the way I would have wanted, but now I finally get to die with you."

• he thinks he's so good at keeping this plan from you. That he's hiding it completely out of your line of sight. But you know Dazai. You know him better than anyone. You know how much he loves you. And the day you part ways your last wish to him is that he continues to live, to move on, to be with his friends and do what he wants to do. And once you're gone, he never thinks of suicide again.

Chuuya:

• at first, he does everything he can to find a cure. He spends thousands on doctors and doctors all specializing in your condition. But they all say the same thing. It can't be cured.

• you notice how much this is eating him up, how he's been more cranky, more irritable, he's never resting. He barely even gives time to visit you at the hospital as he's always on the search for a new doctor who will finally tell him what he wants. That there's a way out of this, a way for you to continue being in his life. But to no avail.

• your request is final, it's the last thing you ask him for. You want him to rest, to give up, and to just enjoy the time you have left. At first he's speechless. His eyes are smaller and wider than you've ever seen them. It feels as though his heart had stopped beating, his blood stopped pumping, and the world just went quiet for a second.

• then there comes the anger. The frustration. How can you just ask him that? To let you go? To just stand by as this stupid illness takes you away? Don't you know how much you mean to him? Don't you care?

• Chuuya doesn't visit you for a while after that. He spends time alone. Not even drinking the wine he loves so much, the bottles he had been saving for a special occasion, the ones with you in it. He stares blankly at nothing, thinking of nothing. The world could end right there and then but he would still be in this state. At least we'd go together, he thinks.

• meanwhile, you remain at the hospital, in the same bed, in the same room. A part of you is happy, because now Chuuya can move on. He can forget about you and finally be happy, happier than he'll ever be with you. You smile at the thought. You used to think that this time would be full of tears. But you were never one to cry. Neither was Chuuya.

• it's sunset. The end of the last month your doctor said you had left. Your body has weakened, you can't even get out of bed. At this point they've stopped trying, stopped filling you with meds and serums and shots. Stopped plugging you into machines and machines and machines. There are no more pipes around your body. No more wires. No more tubes. They've decided to let you go peacefully, and make you feel as if you were sleeping in your own bed, in your own home.

• on the last day, Chuuya is there.

• he stands at the doorway, calm and collected. He enters the room without a word. All he does is sit next to you, and take your hand in his. You look at him and smile.

• "I'm here, doll." He says.

• he wants to apologize. To atone for leaving you alone for so long. For forcing you in this room by yourself. But he knows you hate apologies. He just wants to spend the last remaining moments he has with you, with you.

• as he's sitting on that little chair next to you, watching your breathing get slower and slower, softer and softer, your life force fading away, he examines your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. He examines how your hair is fixed into the way you always did it, as if nothing has changed.

• he wants to say something, the last thing you will ever hear.

"I won't forget you,",

"I'll never leave you,"

Something like that. But he doesn't.

Instead he sits and watches you, in complete silence. He only realizes now that you two have been so loud and noisy the whole time you've known each other. Simple conversations are said in such loud voices, but you both loved it that way. But this time, you both decided it would be quiet. Peaceful. A contrast to the unusually loud and vulgar lives you both have lived. An end to a chapter.

Fyodor:

• Like Chuuya, Fyodor isn't one to give up so easily. He goes beyond doctors, or medicine, or anything so ordinary.

• he goes for the Book.

• the one thing that can change anything. All of this. He can give you a better life, one without all the dirt and bloodshed he had associated you with. One where you're happy, living in the house of your dreams, with all the things you've ever wanted, happier than ever.

• a life without him.

• Fyodor loved you too much to watch you get tainted by his own filth. He always thought it was too late for him, but not for you. But now you don't have all that time. Now he has to erase everything. Erase every part of you that was dirtied by him. With a new life free of him, you would finally, truly, be happy.

• He's off on dangerous missions. Making all sorts of enemies. All to do the last thing he could to make you happy.

• "Fedya," you called, your voice as sweet and soft as it always was. He snaps out of his trance, not realizing his gaze was so far away. "Yes, dear?" He answers, hard, sharp eyes softening upon seeing you. "Come here," you ask.

• he stands up from the chair he was sitting on across the room from you, and walks to your bedside. He puts a hand on your pillow, careful not to touch you. He knows very well that your unique condition is not one that is contagious. Even if it was that wouldn't be the reason he isn't touching you. It's all symbolic, he doesn't want to dirty you any more than he already has. He wants to keep this valuable, albeit cracked little porcelain doll in this state, before it slowly disappears.

• "Hold my hand, Fedya." You tell him. Breaking from his symbolic gestures, he takes your hand in his, caressing you with his thumb as he does so.

• "I want you to do something for me," you ask, not meeting his gaze. "Of course, dear." He answers almost immediately. He knows you never ask him for anything unless it was really important.

• "I want you to stop looking for that book." You say. Fyodor's eyes widen a little, a frown almost forming on his face. But he's smart enough to not need a reason. And he knows you well enough to know you don't want a sappy little conversation between the two of you filled with tears and cries.

• It takes a moment, but he smiles and nods. "Okay," he says. "Anything for you, myshka."

• your final moments are spent with him telling you a story, reading from a book you used to love. It was in Russian, and he would read it to you as a pastime before going to bed together. Even after you're gone, he keeps reading. All the way until he finishes the book. He closes it and looks at you. Your eyes are closed, your mouth is slightly open, as if you were just asleep. He gets up and kisses you on the forehead, and doesn't leave until the doctors come in.

Ok that's all! And sorry but usually when I say "bsd men" I mean these three idiots who I love with my whole heart and my whole pussy🤗 also sorry if some were kinda out of character, especially fyodor, I haven't seen him much in the anime yet since I haven't gotten to s5😅

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Bound by blue ribbon

*not my GIF

Requested by: Anonymous - hiiii! If ya are still taking request!! Then may I get one of the ribbon scene from Rule of Wolves (I think???? I’m not surrrre) but it’s fem!reader x Nikolai? And instead of in her hair, it’s around her neck like a choker??

Just IMAGINE it with the classic character A walks down the staircase looking absolutely STUNNING and character B is s p e e c h l e s s trope! -

Dearest anon, I’m not sure I can properly convey just how much I loved this request. Like, you don’t understand, I am OBSESSED with how good this idea is! So much so that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to write anything that did it justice, but I tried my best. Hope you like it 🙏

Disclaimer (because I’m not looking to get sued): Some lines/dialogue directly borrowed from RoW, with a few minor changes. Obviously, I do not own those words and don’t claim to - they are the property of Leigh Bardugo and all rights belong to her and/or Netflix. Fanfic is for fun only; I am not making any money from this in any way.

Word count: 6Kish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Dual POV, idiots in love, fluff, the teeniest smidgen of angst if you squint, A little triumvirate cameo, more Genya than anyone - because someone needs to get these idiots together, soft!Nikolai, minimal plot, fem!reader, smut, oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

The party to celebrate Nikolai’s saints day was going to be beyond anything Ravka had ever seen before. Lavish decorations were being put up, the palace kitchens were working on a complicated menu, and the best musicians had been hired to perform. Nikolai hadn’t wanted such a fuss, but the triumvirate had invited every eligible maiden in the country, and most of the neighbouring countries as well, insisting that it was the perfect occasion for the king to finally choose a bride. Which was exactly why you had decided not to attend.

Nikolai had been your best friend since childhood, and you had been in love with him for more than half that time. Over the years, as you had grown from a child into a young woman, you had hoped that maybe he might see you in a romantic light, but unfortunately that hadn’t happened. You didn’t hold it against him, in fact you treasured his friendship, and you wanted only the best for him. You just weren’t sure your heart could withstand watching him fall in love with someone else.

The day of the party, you kept to your room, feigning illness. Nothing too serious, just a headache that would prevent you from attending the party, so that Nikolai could meet the potential woman of his dreams without you having to witness it. Unfortunately, sitting alone in your room all day gave you endless time to think, and your mind was determined to linger on thoughts of Nikolai with some faceless princess. Before dinner, you decided to take a bath, hoping to distract yourself. When you returned to your bedchamber, you found Genya lounging on your bed, alongside a large box.

You stared at your friend, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself. “How did you get in here? And why are you here, shouldn’t you be at the party already?”

“Unimportant,” Genya said breezily, waving her hand as if brushing the question aside, “and yes, I should, but someone had to help you get ready.”

You opened your mouth to tell her she needn’t have bothered but she cut you off with a disapproving click of her tongue. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me you’re ill, I know that’s a lie.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “but I’m still not going, even if I wanted to - which I don’t - I have nothing to wear.”

Genya gave you a sly smile, holding out the envelope she had hidden in her hand. It bore the royal seal, and was addressed to you, but it had already been opened.

“Have you been reading my private correspondence?” You questioned, irritation bleeding into your tone.

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “it seems the king has sent you a gift. How very thoughtful of him.”

You eyed her suspiciously as you pulled the note from the envelope. The message was short, just two lines, written in Nikolai’s familiar cursive.

~ I hope you’ll wear this tonight. Lantsov blue looks good on you. N ~

Your brow furrowed in confusion. That shade of blue was reserved exclusively for the royal family. The closest you ever came to wearing it was a baby blue silk ribbon that you used to tie your hair back every day. A ribbon you had stolen from Nikolai himself, many months ago. He had been using the blue silk to tie his invention blueprints, keeping the rolls of parchment together and relatively organised when he wasn’t using them. On that afternoon, you had been wearing your hair down, but it was hot in his workshop, so you had pulled your hair back into a braid, snatching up the ribbon to secure it. You had meant to give it back, eventually, but then you had forgotten, and soon it had become a part of your daily wardrobe. You hadn’t even realised he had noticed it.

Genya opened the box to reveal a beautiful gown of pale blue silk, overlayed with a layer of tulle, embroidered in a galaxy of sparkling silver stars. You moved closer, lifting it from the box to finger the delicate fabric.

“See, problem solved.” She announced smugly.

“I can’t wear the king’s colour,” you protested.

“Clearly, he wants you to,” she argued, “would you really deny him?”

You gave her a withering look, “You know full well that I would never deny him anything,” you grumbled, “but people will talk.

“So? Let them,” she shrugged.

You bit your lip, deliberating. On the one hand, the thought of Nikolai buying a dress specially for you to wear on his birthday made your stomach flip pleasantly, but on the other hand, you had already decided not to go to the party and a pretty dress wasn’t going to change your mind. But surely it couldn’t hurt to just try it on … right?

“Well, you have to try it on, at the very least,” Genya insisted, as if she had read your mind, “a dress this beautiful deserves to be worn.”

“Alright,” you conceded, “but just for a moment.”

Genya smiled widely, clapping her hands together with glee.

The second you stepped into the dress, soft silk slipping over your skin, you knew you had made a mistake. Genya laced the corset up with practiced ease and when she was done, she stepped back to admire you. She gasped as she took in the full effect of you in the dress, and as you turned to look at yourself in the mirror you could see why. It fit you like a glove. The colour complemented your skin perfectly and the fabric clung to you in all the right places, accentuating your waist and the curve of your hips. The sweetheart neckline was so low as to almost be scandalous, putting your breasts on full display. You wondered what Nikolai had been thinking when he picked it out. If he had picked it out. Either way, now that you had seen it on, you knew you had no choice but to go to the party. A dress like this demanded to be seen. Genya fixed your hair, sweeping it into an elegant updo and leaving a few curls to fall loose around your face. You kept your jewelry light, diamond earrings and bracelet to match the stars on your dress, but none of the necklaces you tried were quite right. You didn’t want anything that would draw focus from the gown. Genya suggested your hair ribbon, and when you fastened the light blue silk around your throat as a choker, she helped you to tie it into a simple bow at the back.

“Perfect,” she declared, lips curving into a smile, and as you looked yourself over in the mirror you thought she might just be right. The two of you walked together to the ballroom, but when you got there, she dropped you off in the queue of nobles waiting to be announced, insisting you should make a grand entrance. She slipped away before you could argue, muttering something about how she couldn’t leave David unattended any longer, lest he use the opportunity to retreat to his workshop.

You waited at the top of the staircase, just out of sight, as your name was announced. Your heart pounded as you made your way down the stairs. It felt as though everyone’s eyes were on you, but then you saw Nikolai, standing at the foot of the stairs as if waiting for you, and suddenly everyone else melted away. It was just you, and him, and his eyes on yours like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

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

Nikolai was having a dismal evening. So far, he had suffered through what felt like a lifetime of conversations, the longest of which was with the Kerch ambassador, a pompous peacock of a man with an impressively large moustache and unfortunately low IQ, followed by a highly uncomfortable discussion about politics with both the Shu and Fjerdan delegates. To top it off, every time he managed to escape, Zoya would appear with a new princess for him to meet, each one less suited than the last, and he would be forced to spend several painful minutes listening to them talk about their own virtues, of which there were many, apparently.

It seemed like everywhere he turned was some ambassador offering him thinly veiled threats disguised as polite conversation, or one of his ministers trying to push their own agenda whilst they had him alone, or worst of all, another pretty, but vapid, young lady, waiting to be thrust upon him as a potential bride. In truth, he wasn’t interested in any of it, because all he found himself thinking about was you.

As the minutes passed, he started to worry that you wouldn’t come, that you would leave him to deal with the vultures all on his own. And more than that, he worried that he had overstepped with his gift. He had been full of confidence when he helped to design it, chosen every detail to compliment you perfectly, but now he was second guessing himself. Would you like the gown? Would you understand his meaning, about you looking good in blue? Would you return his feelings? He wasn’t sure.

He was contemplating this - whilst only half listening to one of his ministers drone on about the dangers of allowing farmers to have control over their own crops, when Genya suddenly appeared at his side. She politely excused them both from the conversation, pointedly ignoring the minister’s indignation at being interrupted, and looped her arm through Nikolai’s, pulling him away. She led him quickly across the room to stand near the bottom of the stairs.

“Stay right here.” She instructed him sternly, and Nikolai could only blink at her, perplexed, before she was gone, melting back into the crowd without even giving him a chance to respond.

He felt a prickle of annoyance at being ordered around, honestly, wasn’t he the king? He considered walking away just purely on principle, no matter how childish that might be, but then he heard your name being announced, and he wondered if Genya had known. He looked up, his heart hammering in his chest, and when you walked out onto the staircase, he thought it might have stopped beating altogether. You were wearing the gown he had picked out, your hair curled and styled perfectly, and around your throat, that scrap of pale blue silk that haunted his dreams. Usually, you wore it in your hair, and it was eminently practical, but it had the unfortunate effect of making him want to untie it. Seeing it around your throat made that idea all the more appealing. You were stunning. He realised his imagination had not done you justice, could not even come close. The sight of you quite literally took his breath away.

He reached out almost automatically as you got near enough, offering you his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you down the last few steps.

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

“Hi,” you breathed once you were standing face to face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but Nikolai just stared at you, slack-jawed, for what felt like an eternity. You began to fidget, feeling self-conscious.

“Do I look ok?” You asked, smoothing down your dress nervously.

He shook his head. “‘Ok’ would be a gross understatement,” he said, “You are a vision.”

Your face lit up in a smile, pleased at the compliment, and you could feel the warmth of a blush spreading across your cheeks. Nikolai dropped your hand, and you almost mourned the loss, but then he pressed his hand to the small of your back instead, and all you could focus on was that intimate point of contact as he led you away from the stairs and further into the room.

“I was beginning to think you had abandoned me,” Nikolai said, his mouth tipping up into a small smile.

“I wasn’t sure I’d come,” you found yourself admitting quietly, “but then someone sent me this beautiful gown, and I changed my mind.”

“You like it?”

“I do,” you assured him, “Thank you. It’s a very generous gift, although it’s your birthday, shouldn’t I be the one giving you a gift?”

“You deserve it,” he said, voice low in your ear, “and seeing you in this dress is a gift for me.”

You were sure you were blushing again. Was he flirting with you? Surely not, that had to be wishful thinking on your part.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked, changing the subject lest you embarrass yourself.

“Yes,” he murmured as he took your hand again, leading you out onto the floor.

He held you close as you moved together through the steps of the dance, effortlessly in sync. You focused completely on him, enjoying the intimate feeling of being pressed against him, his eyes on yours and his hands warm on your body. Being so close to him was the sweetest kind of torture, and you quickly began to feel overheated, as your mind inevitably drifted to all the other ways you could enjoy being close to him, of his hands in much more intimate places. You looked around, trying to clear your head, and you realised that it hadn’t been just your imagination, people were staring, but you found that you didn’t care at all. As your eyes met his again, you were surprised to see that same feeling of desire reflected back at you. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking after all.

When the dance ended, he asked if you wanted to get some air, and you agreed, following him across the room and out into the hallway.

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

Nikolai pulled you into an alcove, just off the main hallway. It was quieter here, with less chance of being seen or overheard.

“Genya and Zoya won’t be happy when they realize you’ve ditched your own party,” you told him, “They’re determined to find you a wife tonight.”

“I don’t care,” he said honestly, “and I’m not interested in any of those girls.”

“You must marry, Kolya. You can’t put it off forever,” you insisted, even though it pained you to say it. “You’ll have to choose someone eventually.”

“You’re the only one I would choose.” He confessed. The words were out before he thought better of them, and there was no way to pull them back.

You studied him carefully, your heart racing. “As your friend?” You asked, offering him a chance to right the ship, to take you back to familiar waters.

He could have lied, could have given you a hundred different easy replies. Instead, he said, “As my queen.”

“Because I’m dependable,” you said cautiously, tentatively, “or because I know all of your secrets?”

"I do trust you more than myself sometimes- and I think very highly of myself." He said, and you huffed a laugh, convinced that any moment now he would take it all back.

“But I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time."

You wanted to tell him that you wanted him too, that he was the only man you had ever wanted, or ever would want, but it wasn’t that simple. He was your best friend, and he was also your king, and you had to be practical. “As your friend, I should tell you that would be a terrible decision. You should make a political choice, take some foreign princess as your bride. Someone who was born to be a queen.”

He met your eyes, voice steady and earnest when he said, "As your king, I should tell you that no one could dissuade me. No prince and no power could make me stop wanting you."

Nikolai felt drunk. You were going to laugh at him. You would knock him senseless and tell him he had no right. But he couldn't seem to stop.

"I would give you a crown if I could," he said. "I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, as my friend, as my queen, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn." He reached out, fingers brushing over the blue silk ribbon tied around your throat. "And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon on our wedding day."

You should say no, you should tell him he was making a mistake, but you couldn’t. You wanted him too, and not just tonight, but forever. You wanted a future with him, and if you closed your eyes, you could see it, as clear as day. Standing at an altar set before the Saints as a priest named you man and wife. Mornings spent together, eating breakfast and sipping coffee while you discussed the day ahead, and nights spent tangled together in his sheets, sweaty and sated. Soft touches and words of affirmation whispered in the early morning light. Two - or maybe three - golden-haired children, with your eyes and his smile, running about the palace, happy and loved, and constantly getting into mischief. A million inside jokes, and shared looks, and fights about nothing, easily forgiven. A lifetime of moments, big and small, side by side with him. You wanted it all.

“Yes,” you said simply, meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” He repeated, as if he didn’t dare to believe it.

He cupped his hand to your cheek, his palm warm against your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheekbone, and when your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, his eyes followed the movement. You wanted him to kiss you, so badly that you ached with the need of it. You tilted your head up slightly, lips parted in invitation.

He dipped his head, then paused, lips hovering just inches from yours as he searched your eyes, waiting for permission. The heat of his gaze was like flames across your skin. You leaned into him, pressing a hand to his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your palm. “Yes,” you said again, barely above a whisper, and he bent his head forward, finally, touching his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and sweet, just the barest brush of his lips over yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You made a needy sound, chasing his lips when he moved away, and his mouth curved into a smile.

He pressed you back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips and then his mouth was on yours once more, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. His tongue met yours hungrily, desperately, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. You grabbed a handful of his shirt, crushing the fabric beneath your fingers as you hauled him closer, but it still wasn’t close enough. You reached down with your free hand, tugging your skirts up so that you could curve your leg up around him and he groaned low in his throat, his hand immediately dropping from your waist to the bare skin of your thigh.

He pushed his hips forward, and you could feel the proof of his arousal, pressing against you intimately. You gasped, tipping your head back against the wall. He ducked his head, his tongue darting out to taste the smooth skin of your exposed throat, and he nipped lightly at your pulse point before trailing kisses down to the dip of your shoulder and along your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, teeth just barely grazing your skin, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion, wasn’t he doing that already?  

“I want to taste you,” he said, his fingers skating up and over your inner thigh to press at you lightly over the lace of your underwear. Oh. The thought of having his mouth on you, there, sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

“Yes,” you murmured after just a brief hesitation, and his smile turned wicked as he sank to his knees in front of you.

You hiked your dress higher, bunching the fabric above your hips so that you could watch him as he dragged your underwear slowly down your thighs and helped you step out of them. He stuffed the scrap of lace into his pocket, before he ran his hand up your calf, bending your knee and then lifting your leg to rest it over his shoulder. He kissed a path from your knee up your inner thigh towards your centre and then he stopped, warm breath ghosting over you and eyes fixed on your core, until you began to squirm. He stilled you with a firm hand on your hip.

“Nikolai,” you started, but you were robbed of the power of speech when he leaned in, his face disappearing between your thighs.

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He licked a broad stripe across you with the flat of his tongue and you gasped, your hand shooting down to fist in his hair. He licked into you slowly, nose bumping your clit, until you were writhing and panting above him. His fingers worked you over, drawing lazy circles over your clit as he explored every inch of you with his lips and tongue. He dipped two fingers inside you, moving them in and out, crooking them slightly to search for that spot that would have you seeing stars and he knew he had found it when you moaned, clenching around him.

Nikolai had always enjoyed this, drawing pleasure from his partner with his mouth and hands, and he prided himself on being good at it, but he had never found it such a turn on before. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and he thought he could probably come untouched, just from the taste of you and the sounds you made. He turned his head for a moment to draw a ragged breath, and he smiled against your inner thigh when you whined impatiently, using your grip on his hair to drag him back where you wanted him.

He went easily, happy to oblige you, and this time he closed his lips around your clit, sucking it against his tongue. You cried out, your hand tightening in his hair hard enough to make his scalp prickle. He kept the pressure of his mouth gentle but non-stop, as your thighs began to shake, your hips jerking against his face. He couldn’t hold back his moan as he felt your body shuddering, his mouth flooded with wetness when you found your release. He worked you through it, lapping at you gently until finally, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He shifted from his knees back to his feet, and you reached for him as he stood, wanting to keep him close. His hair was sticking up at all angles, mussed by your hands, his cheeks flushed, and his lips tilted in a lopsided smirk. He looked utterly debauched in the best possible way. You swiped your thumb across his bottom lip before you leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and you were surprised to find that it wasn’t unpleasant.

You reached a hand down between your bodies, to cup him over his pants and he groaned, pushing himself into your palm. A door opened somewhere, the sounds of the party drifting out into the hallway, and you froze, the illusion of privacy shattered.

The noise from further down the hallway brought Nikolai back to his senses so suddenly, he felt like he’d been doused in ice water. Had he completely lost his mind? Your first time together shouldn’t be like this, frantic and dirty, pushed up against a wall in a public place, where anyone could discover the two of you at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, “I got carried away, I shouldn’t have … this wasn’t…”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to find the right words. You deserved better from him. You deserved a white veil, and matching rings, and a promise made at an alter set before the Saints. He wanted to give you all of that, and he would, but not tonight. Tonight, he could at least give you a soft bed, and gentle hands, declarations of love whispered in the dark. Romance, because you deserved that if nothing else.

He pulled back, letting you drop your skirts down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You felt your face fall before you could stop it.

“Oh,” was all the response you could muster, the sting of disappointment sharp, and so bitter you could almost taste it. You closed your eyes, willing away the tears that threatened to form. Was he saying this was a mistake? Had he changed his mind? Had you done something wrong?

“I only meant, we should go somewhere more private,” he said, watching you carefully.

“Oh,” you said again, relief flooding through you.

“Unless… if you’d rather return to the party, that’s fine too.” He clarified.

“I don’t,” you said quickly, and you almost blushed at how eager you sounded.

“No?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You gave him a smile that you hoped was sultry. “No. Take me to bed,” you purred, and you knew you’d hit the mark when his eyes darkened in response.

He took your hand, guiding you through the palace hallways until you reached his rooms. He opened the door for you, ever the gentleman, allowing you to enter first, and then he followed you inside, locking the door swiftly behind him. There would be no more interruptions tonight, not if he could help it.

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

You came to a stop by the foot of the bed, waiting for him to join you. He crossed the room in just a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms, and then his mouth was on yours again, hot and demanding. You let your hands roam, over his shoulders and into his hair, before the desperate need to feel his bare skin against yours took over, and you set to work on removing his clothes.

Your nimble fingers made light work of the knot in his cravat, pulling it loose and free of his collar in just a few short movements, and you quickly moved on to his shirt, opening the first few buttons. He pulled back for just enough time to yank the shirt off over his head, and then he was back to kissing you like his life depended on it. When you moved to unbutton his pants, your knuckles inadvertently brushing up against his hardness, he groaned low in his throat and pulled away again, this time to spin you around so that he could unlace your corset and free you from your dress.

He placed kisses across your shoulder, and down the length of your spine as it was revealed to him and once you were completely nude before him, he wrapped an arm around your waist to tug you back against him, his clothed arousal against your bare ass. You brought your hands up to your throat to untie your ribbon, but he stopped you. “Allow me, he murmured, voice low and rough in your ear. He hooked a finger into the bow at the back of your neck, tugging gently until it unravelled, soft silk sliding over your skin, and then he curled it up to put into his pocket, joining your underwear from earlier.

He cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened into a peak, while his other hand travelled down the side of your ribs and across your lower abdomen to your core. You moaned as his fingers found their mark, dipping inside you to gather the wetness there before rubbing gentle circles over your clit. Only once you were panting, your head falling back against his shoulder, and your hips moving in small circles along with his hand, did he nudge you in the direction of the bed. You took the hint, though you were loath to give up the delicious friction of his talented fingers. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed first, watching with bated breath while he took off the last of his own clothes.

Once he was undressed, you scooted backwards onto the bed, so that you were positioned comfortably on the pillows, and he climbed over you, covering the length of your body with his. You gasped as you felt his erection pressing against you, almost, but not quite, in the right place. He pinned one of your hands to the bed beside your head, fingers twining with yours as he dipped his head to kiss you, licking into your mouth until you were both breathless. You bent your leg up around his hip, opening yourself up for him instinctively and he kept his eyes on yours as he flexed his hips, entering you at an agonizingly slow pace. You were warm, and wet, and perfect, and you dug your heel into the back of his thigh, urging him deeper. He groaned, his eyes slipping closed and his hand squeezing yours tightly.

Once he was fully seated inside you, he had to stop. He let his head drop to your shoulder and he held completely still, desperately fighting to get a grip on his self-control. Late at night when he lay alone in the dark, his wildest fantasies playing out behind his eyelids, it was your face he saw and your name on his lips when he came. He had dreamed of having you so many times, in a thousand different ways, but nothing could compare to the reality. It was as if he was suddenly a boy of sixteen again, green and eager, ready to spill himself at the slightest hint of friction. You shifted beneath him, wriggling impatiently and only once he was sure he would not embarrass himself, did he raise his head to look at you.

“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up into an amused little smirk, “did you need something?”

You just barely resisted the urge to smack him, and instead clenched your inner muscles around him, watching with a smug sense of satisfaction as his eyelids fluttered, the smirk dropping from his face.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes dark with arousal as they met yours, but he still didn’t move.

“Please,” you begged, and you would have been embarrassed by how needy you sounded if not for the way that his hips bucked in response.

He dipped his head, slanting his mouth over yours as he withdrew slowly, almost completely, only to fill you again with a sharp thrust of his hips. His hand was warm in yours, palms pressed together, and fingers intertwined, the connection anchoring you as he started to move in earnest, settling into a perfect, maddening rhythm that was somehow altogether too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

The muscles in his biceps were straining with the effort of holding himself up and you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down on to you until his chest was flush with yours. He nuzzled at your throat, as he maintained his languid pace, drawing out your mutual pleasure for as long as he possibly could, and you were torn between the desperate need to climax, and the desire to stay entwined with him like this forever.

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

When he felt the beginnings of his own climax, Nikolai reluctantly released your hand so that he could slip his between your bodies to thumb at your clit. Within moments, he felt you tightening around him, your orgasm beginning to ripple through you, and he kept the movement of his hips slow and steady, drawing it out until you were writhing beneath him. He removed his hand as the last tremors ran through your body, and he lifted his head, mouth finding yours, as he finally allowed himself release. He sheathed himself fully inside you, as he shuddered and came.

He collapsed onto you, pressing you into the mattress, and you stroked your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close, as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your bodies were tangled together, completely enveloped by each other, and neither of you wanted to move.

“I love you,” he murmured after a moment, turning his head so that he could press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too,” you assured him, holding him tighter.

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

In the morning, you had woken early and taken the opportunity to study Nikolai in the light of the sunrise, his face relaxed and boyish in sleep, and when he woke, he had nudged you onto your back and made love to you again. That had been followed by a bath, in which you both ended up dirtier than you had been upon getting in, and a second one - strictly for getting clean, and one horrifyingly awkward conversation with your maid, during which the girl giggled and blushed furiously, as you begged her to bring you something to wear. All of this meant that it was late, long past noon, when the pair of you finally emerged from his room.

You walked hand in hand to the council room, where the triumvirate were already assembled. Genya and Zoya were standing over the table, heads bent as they looked over a map, talking quietly together. David sat across from them, scribbling away, fingers stained with ink. Genya lifted her head as you entered, smiling knowingly at you.

Nikolai cleared his throat. “I… well, we, have something important to tell you all,” he announced. “We’re getting married.” Subtle as ever.

“Thank the Saints,” Zoya muttered, without even looking up, “I thought I’d be old and grey before you two ever got your act together.”

“I told you it would work!” Genya said gleefully.

You and Nikolai shared a confused look. “What worked?” You asked.

“The party,” Zoya explained, speaking very slowly, as if she were talking to a pair of particularly dim children, “the one we planned, to push you both into admitting you’re in love with each other, obviously.”

You both just stared at her.

“Someone had to do it,” she continued with a shrug, “Saints knows neither of you were going to do it on your own.”

“I would have done it without your intervention,” Nikolai said defensively, “eventually.”

“Yes, of course you would,” Genya said mildly, her tone just on the edge of patronising.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in frustration. “So, just to be clear - you conceived an elaborate plot, which involved throwing an expensive party with hundreds of guests, and making me suffer through hours of mind-numbing conversation with prospective “brides”, all so that you could manipulate us into confessing our feelings for each other?”

“I wouldn’t say manipulate,” Genya objected, “more like give you a loving shove in the right direction.”

“A brilliant plan, really,” David piped up, “and, clearly, effective.”

Genya smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, dear.”

And suddenly it all made sense, the way Genya had come to insist you go to the party, the way she had pushed you to wear the dress even though it was Lantsov blue, the fact that she had made you wait to be announced, and that Nikolai had mysteriously been waiting for you the moment you entered the room. The mysterious coincidence that all the young ladies Zoya had introduced to him were almost comically unsuitable. They had engineered it all.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread over your face. Perhaps you should have been upset by the idea that they had manipulated you both, but honestly you weren’t. You shared another look with Nikolai. He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now too, and you knew he shared your feelings on the matter. This whole charade might have been ridiculous, but how could you hold it against them, when it had resulted in the happiest night of your lives.

[hypostatic-oath]

Hiii! Welcome back!!! After reading your recent post, i had a thought about what if the isekai'd Overseer was founded wandering around Fontaine when the Traveler had yet to reach said nation. Do Focalors still trying to arrest and judge the Overseer, or do they belong to the category of the divine that she knows not to make an enemy of?

Hiii! Thank you so much, for the welcome and for the ask :D

Oh, I like this one. I'n usually afraid of writing characters before I have read all their lore (not me struggling with the locked voicelines for Neuvillette oof), but I think that Furina has provided the answer already - she is very much ready to put the Overseer on trial, and to make a big show out of it too. Why? Because of what happens with the Traveler, of course!

When the Traveler arrives in Fontaine, they are already known far and wide - Furina herself recognizes them and comes to "greet" them personally, albeit in her own way. I'd say that SAGAU Furina definitely knows that the Traveller is the First Vessel. There is no way she doesn't, either by means of being an Archon, or simply by word of mouth or the Steambird, in the same way she'd heard other things about the Traveler.

And what does she do as soon as we step foot in Fontaine?

Yep. An isekai'd Overseer would very much need to get their Phoenix Wright impersonation ready. I do believe she doesn't have ill intent, or that she actually wants to sentence the Overseer - it's more of a mixture of "hey, look at me!" and "I'm acknowledging your importance by coming here personally and making a fuss". One should feel honored, really. Furina likes entertainment, and I do believe that her theatrical worldview and the outlook of a lot of Overseers out there (guilty as charged) are rather similar - for us as players, the world of Teyvat really is a stage where a story plays out - better yet, it's a story wherein we can control the main character to make the story go further and interact with the characters! Of course, the difference lies in the fact that for an Overseer, the world of Teyvat really is just a game... while for Furina it's still her reality, no matter how many theatrical elements she adds to it.

As for whether she'd recognize the Overseer as a divine being she shouldn't make an enemy of... depends entirely on the way the Overseer interacts with her. We've seen her mask slip when the Traveler accepts her challenge ("Fighting gods? I've got a resume"). We've seen her take a step back in other occasions, too. But it all depends on whether the Overseer chooses to indulge her. The more drama-loving you are, the more you indulge in the theatrics, the further she'll go! After all, she's just found a kindred spirit. She's very excited if you play along! But if you're a no-nonsense Overseer with no time for her antics... she might just call in Neuvillette to accompany her the next time she needs to speak with you. Or she'll avoid the meeting altogether - forgive her, she's nervous.

[gotta-pet-em-all]

Pokemon-induced healing

And why you fuckers shouldn't rely on it for everything, Arceus fuck stop forcing your poor Chansey to take care of wounds that you should seriously go to the hospital for

* * * * *

okay. SO. To preface this, I volunteered in a Pokemon center for a while. And while this was just a volunteer position and not something I had medical training for, I've also got personal experience. Due to my poor coordination and shitty connective tissue, I tend to fall over, bump into things, and bruise very easily. So trust me when I say I know what I'm talking about.

So, how does pokemon healing work?

That's a fucking complicated question. So, let's start with the healing moves and narrow it down. The main ones I'm going to be talking about here are Heal Pulse, Life Dew, and Floral Healing.

Actually no I'm not qualified to talk about Floral Healing. If any comfey trainers wanna add on, feel free.

Heal pulse and life dew! So, Heal Pulse is the one I have the most familiarity with, and it's essentially a wave of energy that encourages your body to accelerate the natural healing process. No, it does not artificially age you, and it will not reduce your lifespan, but let's be real for a moment. If you get injured and need healing that much, your lifespan may be in danger for other reasons.

However. There are other dangers to it that really aren't talked about a lot, namely: repairing tissue damage, and infection. There are a lot of situations in which heal pulse can be risky:

-injured person has an artificially suppressed or otherwise compromised immune system.

-injured person has a heart condition, particularly where arrhythmia is a symptom

-injury is infected or contains foreign substance

-dead tissue is still attached to affected area

And I'm gonna break down one by one, why all of these are bad!

So, it's not quite as well known, but heal pulse actually does have an impact on the immune system. In ancient times, it was believed that cursed pokemon would make you sick when they healed you, but in actuality, this phenomenon was simply the pokemon kicking the immune system into gear for a minor/dormant infection that would have happened anyways. However, this can be dangerous for people with a compromised immune system, because you're basically trying to squeeze blood from a stone. In most cases, it can make their immune systems worse, and while this is thankfully temporary, it's still deeply unpleasant and may interfere with someone's plans because you've abruptly shunted them to the hospital when they were going to have brunch with the girls this week instead.

Next is arrhythmia. I've got this one, it flares up from time to time. I cannot stress enough that disabled people are everywhere. We don't just exist as tokens at the edge of your imagination. We're probably at the grocery store or on public transportation. It may just be that I'm a bit jaded, but it pisses me off more than anything that I have to experience symptoms when I would love to be frolicking through the woods. Anyways, heal pulse relies on the heartbeat to synchronize with and distribute the energy-- so when the heartbeat is uneven? Things can start getting a lil fucky. Usually this results in dizziness, nausea, feeling flushed, and on rare occasions fainting. People with heart conditions are more common than you think, please ask us before messing with our bodies.

Third thing is infections. Remember how I said that heal pulse kicks your immune system into overdrive? Well, the immune system is responsible for expelling all foreign matter from your system, not just illness. This is why you'll want to make sure to clean a wound first, unless it's urgent. You can skip the wound cleaning part if it's an emergency, but... it's not really pretty. Seriously. I don't advise it.

Fourth reason! Okay, so, this is gonna be a little gross, but let's say you trip and skin your knee. It's bleeding, you've got a weird little flap of skin hanging off. Normally, that skin will turn white (or at least it does for me; I have light skin, but I'm told it may turn a pale greyish color for people with dark skin. That said, I'm gonna be real. I do not want to look up pictures, so I am trusting the dark skinned folks reading this to know what dead/peeling skin looks like for them) and eventually fall off. HOWEVER. If you apply heal pulse to it? There's a decent chance that your body may attempt to revitalize the dead skin at the same time as it scabs over the wound and then the skin closes up and eats the scab. It won't kill you, and eventually the extra flap of skin will die, but it's still. Geh. It's really not pleasant. Don't do it.

If this sounds fucking horrifying, that's because it is! All of these things are fucking horrifying to happen to your body! Don't ask me how I know this!

Now that you've all been suitably terrified of the dangers of heal pulse, let me introduce you to an alternative: life dew! Life dew does not interfere with arrhythmia, can be stored with special preparation, and generally has much weaker effects. It tends to help with the process of clotting and scabbing more so than healing, so if you've made any mistakes, they're generally easier to remedy.

Pokemon healing, like any other type, requires consent. Yes, there are exceptions-- sometimes a person cannot reasonably consent in their current state, or there was an accident with a wild scyther and consent is the last thing on your mind with all the blood everywhere. Even so, please always keep in mind that you need to respect the sanctity of other people's bodies and take accountability for your actions as a trainer.

That's all!