#I’m not feeling the identity crisis today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkbluekies · 2 months ago

Text

GOLDEN TRIAL PT2: A slippery slope

Part 1

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: after your adventure on Normandie, you've been dealing with the consequences of the horror. Unfortunately, you start to realize that you might not be the person you think you are. It doesn't help when a certain doctor finds you again.

Warnings: lingering head trauma, identity crisis, kidnapping, mocking, dog collar (lol), syringes/drugs, forced tattooing,

Word count: 9.3k

You get off the subway in silence and push your way through the crowd, walk up the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. Blinking, you try to fix your blurry vision. Sometimes, even though it’s been three months since you were hit on the head with a glass bottle, you’re reminded of the events on board the liner Normandie. You had been running around over two days before going to the hospital about the blow to your head. It seems to have been too late. What could have been brushed off with some bandage and disinfection had now given you minor problems you are dealing with daily. Not enough to hurt or bother, but enough for your agency to hesitate sending you out on missions.

These last months have been weird, to say the least. Not only have you been forced to take a break from your job, you have been lonely. So very lonely. You haven’t done anything and the only time you’ve went outside the door is when you go to your doctor’s appointments and when buying food. After the ominous note you got, you have been careful about going outside, scared that you will meet them again. How long will your life be forced to be like this? Maybe you should leave New York and start over somewhere new, where you can live a normal life. No more detective work, no more hiding, no more … fear. Perhaps a farm on the west coast?

You open the door to the private hospital. It’s located in a house no other than any of the other houses on the street. The first time you were here, you thought that you had been given the wrong address and waked into someone’s private house. Quietly you walk into the reception. The young woman behind the desk has always been friendly. Her sparkly blue eyes and chestnut hair remind you of a squirrel.

“Good morning”, the receptionist smiles at you. “Name?”

“Y/N L/N”, you say. “I’m here for a revisit at eleven am.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you. Your doctor is currently on sick leave, so there will be another doctor taking care of you today. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Take a seat and the doctor will see you in a moment.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You sit down in one of the wooden chairs. The clock on the wall ticks like a doomsday clock. You can’t help but shiver.

Your eyes wander in the small room. A mother with her young son, a father with his daughter, an old couple. And you, alone. There’s paintings on the walls, as if to distract one from the horror they might have to partake in when they step through one of the three doors on the right hand side of the room.

You’re not sure why you’re here. You have been going to this doctor for three months and all he’s done is to confirm that you do, indeed, have head trauma. As if you couldn’t figure that part out for yourself. Sometimes you wonder if you still have shards of glass stuck in your head.

“The doctor will see you now, Mister Y/N”, the receptionist suddenly says. “It’s the middle door.”

You stand up and walk over to the doors on the other side of the room, opening the middle one. Behind the desk, a man sits. He looks up at you and you can feel your heart stop, and so does the clock. For a second, you wonder if it’s one of the side effects from the glass bottle, but you can still hear your heart pound loudly in your chest. He’s trying to hide a smile, trying so hard to make it look like you’ve never met before. What do you do? Do you close the door behind you and get into his office or do you make a scene and get away? Your hand still holds onto the door handle behind you.

“Close the door, if you don’t mind”, Doctor Kry says and raises his eyebrows testingly when you flinch back. “Don’t even think about it. Close the door.”

With a frustrated sigh, you close it, but remain by the wall.

“I figure that you’re not going to sit down”, Doctor Kry says and rises from his chair.

“Don’t come closer”, you say quickly. “I will make a scene.”

“I’m fine with that. Easier for me to get you into a lunatic asylum.”

You freeze.

“Your usual doctor is on sick leave, so I’m here today”, Doctor Kry continues as if the prior conversation never happened. “I hope that is fine with you.”

“I am not comfortable with having you anywhere near me”, you spit. “How did you even know that I went here?”

Doctor Kry leans back against his desk with his hands in his pockets. “I can’t take the credit for that, unfortunately. It was my dear friend miss Carter who managed to find you.”

“Hedwig?”

“Yeah. Who knew that a young heiress with a phenomenally large contact net and money would be able to find someone like you. Unbelievable.”

You don’t give in to his joke.

“Sit down, Y/N”, Doctor Kry says and pulls out the chair for you, “or I will get you dragged out of here in a straightjacket.”

Involuntarily you sit down in his chair. Doctor Kry walks around you and you follow him in the corner of your eye.

“I read your report”, Doctor Kry says. “Trauma to the head? What happened?”

“You fucking know”, you spit.

“Oh, right.”

You want to slap that smirk off of his face. He continues to smile as he puts on his gloves.

“Let’s get it under control”, Doctor Kry says and takes your head in his hands.

You flinch, silently praying that he won’t twist your neck and break it.

“Don’t touch my neck”, you say.

“How else am I going to treat you?” Doctor Kry scoffs.

You start to wonder if he’s messing with you when he’s just touching around. He’s too close to your neck, he could snap it.

“Can you hurry up?” The words just slip out, before you have the time to shut your mouth.

To your horror, he chuckles. You freeze in your seat.

“Why did you go so stiff all of a sudden?” Doctor Kry asks smugly, grabbing your shoulders. “Are you scared that I’m going to hurt you, Golden Boy?”

The familiar pet name sends a wave of nausea through your body. You feel how every hair on your body stands on edge. Terrified to meet his blue eyes, you concentrate on a point on the wall where it looks like a small bug has landed.

“You threatened me with a tranquilizer”, you breathe out. “You could have helped me with my head that night — you’re a doctor — but you didn’t. You could have prevented me from coming here.”

“I could have”, Doctor Kry says. “But why would I? Remember what I told you? I’ve never said that I was nice.”

You stand up, shaking off his hands.

“We’re done here”, you decide and start to move towards the door.

“Alright, I suppose so”, Doctor Kry says.

You grab the door handle with your shaking hand and open it forcefully.

“I guess that I will see you soon, Y/N”, you hear his voice say behind you. “Can’t let a patient go before they’re healed, now can I?”

You ignore him. Stumbling on trembling legs, you pass the patients in the waiting room, struggle past the receptionist and out of the house. You throw up in the nearest bush.

For a few moments, the world has gone silent again. You can hear your heart thumping in your ear, feel every nerve in your body beat alongside it and you have to sit down on a nearby bench to collect your spinning head. That eerie feeling you had on board the Normandie returns … as if you’re being watched. You look around in a dizzy, blurry haze. Everyone looked like each other. Anyone could be them. If Kry had found you, what says that the others aren’t around the corner?

Going home feels wrong. What if they follow you and see where you live? Where do you go? What do you do?

Your numb legs take you to a nearby telephone booth. With shaking fingers you call your boss and tell him about the incident.

“You told me that I’d be safe!” you shout. “I knew that it would end like this! I knew that this would happen!”

“Y/N-”

“If I die, it’s your fucking fault, okay? You sent me out on that ship alone and now I have to deal with the consequences of your choices!”

You throw the telephone back in its hold and scream in frustration. The sound doesn’t escape the little telephone booth, which is probably for the best. You don't want to go to that mental asylum Doctor Kry threatened with.

You stand still for a few seconds, breathing heavily. You feel like crying.

The coming days can't be described as anything less than torture. You look over your shoulder for every step you take, flinch at every sound. Just as paranoid as on board the ship. Those four days will haunt you for the rest of your life … and the ones who caused it will hunt you until you're in their claws.

To calm your nerves, you've had to drink strong whiskey. Nothing else seems to work. Should you leave the country? You shiver. The thought of stepping aboard another ship again makes your skin crawl. You take another sip of the whiskey. It doesn't burn anymore.

The world started to blend together in blurry waves ages ago. It's starting to shift into black. Finally you're going to fall asleep and not have to worry about anything in this world. You’ll be safe in dreamland.

A small sound reaches your drowsy ears, but you’re too far off to react in time, almost as if you’re drugged. The door opens slowly and a dark figure enters. Everything is fuzzy. The person says something, but you can’t hear it. A cloudy wall separates you from you and whoever has broken into your apartment. A cloud which quickly turns everything black.

When you wake up again, you feel every muscle in your body pulsating, hurting and a nauseating feeling roars in your body. You’re lying on a couch in what looks like a warehouse … or a basement.

“He’s awake!” a familiar voice gasps.

Hedwig jumps up from a chair right by your head and waves for someone to come over. You hear the sound of people move closer. You try to pull yourself up on your elbows.

“You son of a bitch, Y/N”, you hear Silas say, a clear smirk in his taunting voice. “You thought that you could get away. How naive!”

“I want to put it on”, Jerry says and takes something from Edmund’s hands.

“Fuck sake, Jerry!” he hisses and pulls his hand quickly away. “I've told you to trim those nails!”

Jerry doesn't bother to answer. She walks over to you and slips something around your neck. You're too dizzy to realize what it is before it is too late. A collar and a leash. Like a dog. Just like they had promised.

“What an obedient dog”, she snickers. “Letting me put it on without protests.”

She tugs on the leash, causing your head to rip forward. The air in your throat gets abruptly cut off. Their laughter feels your aching head.

“Golden boy deserves a treat”, Edmund smirks and holds a piece of chocolate to your lips.

You turn your head away.

“Don't touch me!” you cough.

“A little too late for that”, Doctor Kry says and shrugs. “How do you think we got you here?”

You try to get up from the couch. Nausea roars through your body. Jerry pulls the leash towards her. You stumble before falling down on your knees, catching yourself with your hands on the hard cement.

“Just face it”, she says cockily. “You're too hungover to overpower us, and once you're sober enough you will already be broken. Don't bother to try anything. Hm, maybe he should stay on his knees, or what do you all think?”

“Stop fucking around”, Edmund sighs in annoyance and grabs the leash out of her hands, pulling harshly. “Stand up.”

It's on shaking legs that you manage to get on your feet. You're the same height as the king, but feel unbelievably inferior. Is it the collar around your neck, the degrading look in his eyes or the fact that you know what they're capable of that makes you terrified? You can't meet their eyes.

“This is humiliating, can you stop?” you hear Hedwig asks.

She's standing on the far end of their little line, a few steps away from them, with her arms hugging herself. Disgust covers her face.

“I feel nauseous just watching it”, she mutters.

“Don't worry, Hedwig, we're just playing with him”, Silas smiles and ruffles your hair with his hand. “We're not hurting him.”

“Hedwig shouldn't take him”, Edmund says. “I don't trust him.”

“What do you want?” you ask, trying your best not to sound like a pathetic little puppy.

“What did you do with the list of names?” Silas asks. “The one behind the painting.”

“And where is my fucking painting?” Edmund asks.

“The painting, I don't know”, you say and meet Silas black eyes. “Your list was hidden on board the ship, but my contacts have found it. They're on the way to arrest everyone on your list.”

“Oh, are they now?” he asks deadly calmly. “And I suppose that you are still their shining Golden Boy thanks to that?”

You lower your eyes.

“Or did someone get put on an indefinite hiatus because they're a security risk?” Silas continues, moving closer, tugging ever so carefully on the leash. “Are you sure that you're their favorite? You never seem to have much protection, despite the threat against you. Don't worry, Golden Boy, we will make sure nothing ever reaches you. We will make sure you stay hidden.”

“If they don't want to give us our note, we won't give them their darling dearest”, Jerry says, shrugging.

You feel a lump in your stomach. Your contacts will never give over the note … and in that case they'll never give you. Wonderful.

A tug on the leash brings you back to reality.

“It's healing quite nicely, don't you think?” Jerry asks, tilting her head to get a better view of the back of your neck.

“It's still fresh, it's nowhere near healing”, Doctor Kry says with his monotone voice, arms crossed over his chest.

Their eyes turn to your neck and you gulp, realizing that part of the pain isn't coming from your head, but from the back of your neck, easily mistaken as the brainstem. You lift your hand and try to touch whatever is hurting you. Hedwig picks up a pocket mirror from her pocket and hand it to you. You’re in disbelief when you see black marks on your skin, drawn in a strange symbol you have never seen before. The skin is swollen and tender to the touch.

“What is this?” you question in pure fear.

“We told you that you would be tattooed, didn’t we?” Silas smiles. “That tattoo is the symbol of my group. It’s somewhat of a trademark. Everyone who sees you will know that you belong to me.”

“I hate that you are the only one getting associated”, Edmund mutters.

“Well, I am the only one with a symbol, aren’t I?”

“You are so self centered.” Edmund puts his hand on Hedwig’s shoulder. “As if we haven’t got one?”

“‘Self centered’, you absolute hypocrite”, Jerry scoffs.

“I did not consent to this!” you shout angrily. “How could you just tattoo me when I wasn’t even conscious?!”

“It was pretty easy since you were, as you said, ‘not even conscious’”, Silas smiles teasingly.

“Enough of this foolishness”, Doctor Kry cuts in. “We have things to do. The train leaves tomorrow morning and we still have things to do.”

Train?

“Give the poor boy some food and make sure he sleeps”, Silas says. “It’ll be a long day for him tomorrow.”

They start to move towards the stairs of the basement, all but Hedwig who have went upstairs to get you a plate and Edmund — the man who’s holding the leash.

“You don’t have to be here”, she says. “I can take care of him myself.”

“I don’t trust him”, Edmund mutters angrily and wraps more of the leash around his hand. “He knocked Jerry over when she was guarding him and — fuck it — she is tougher than you. I am not letting him anywhere near you alone.”

“Can you at least let go of the leash?” Hedwig asks.

Edmund lets it go with great dramatic effect. You sit down on the couch with a thumping heartbeat. Hedwig sits down beside you, turning towards you. Edmund stands behind her, towering over the young woman like a giant, glaring at you. It reminds you of a lioness behind their cub.

“Are you hungry?” Hedwig asks and looks down at the plate. “I’ve watched my maid cook ever since I was a little child but I don’t have much experience with it myself so I apologize if it isn’t the best.”

“I’m nauseous.”

“Then some sleep will do you good.”

“What train did he talk about? I’m not going on some train!”

“You are”, Edmund says, “and you’re doing it tomorrow morning. In a box.”

You look at him, baffled. “What?”

He looks at you with mockery in his icy blue eyes. “Nobody told you? You’re getting a first class ticket. I heard that they make those wooden boxes are quite comfortable nowadays.”

“I’m not going in some fucking box!”

You stand up in a swift, aggressive motion. Not only will they bring you onto a train going to who-knows-where, but they’re also stuffing you in a trunk? No shame.

“Where are you taking me?”

“My father has a house on the coast, by the beach”, Hedwig replies. “You’ll like it. Hey, If you’re not going to eat, then will you please go to sleep?”

“I will not be able to sleep. If I have to drink myself to black out, do you really think I will be able to fall asleep here?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. You don’t want to see a sympathetic look from her. It’s their fault, after all. They took everything from you … and now she’s looking at you as if she’s pitying you.

You refuse to sleep, refuse to even sit on the couch. It doesn't take long before the door to the basement stairs open and the sound of footsteps fill the air. You look up, seeing Doctor Kry walk down. In his hand, he holds a transparent syringe.

“I suppose that you are familiar with this”, he says and looks at the needle. “I thought that it was finally time for you to get acquainted with it.”

“Don't come close”, you warn him.

He's quicker than you've anticipated. Before you know it, you're tackled onto the hard floor. It knocks the air out of your lungs. Doctor Kry is stronger than you could have imagined. He doesn't look muscular underneath his clothes, and he probably isn't as muscular as Silas, but he is strong with firm grips. You try your best to fight against the needle coming closer to your neck.

“Goodnight, Golden Boy”, Doctor Kry says and finally punctures your neck with the sharp end of the needle.

He gets off of you immediately and you try to get up and run. You manage to get a few steps forward before your legs give up and you fall down on your knees. You start to lose your hearing, and your sight start to darken. Doctor Kry grabs your shoulders and pull you over to the couch. The last thing you see before it all turns back is his blue eyes staring down at you.

You’re not sure if you have opened your eyes. You try to shut them tight, then open them again. It’s just as dark. Your knees are pressed to your chin, arms folded over your chest. Panic rises in your body, suddenly feeling every single cell of your body and what it touches. Painfully aware that you’re squashed together in a wooden box.

“Let me out!” you shout and try to bang on the walls, floor and ceiling.

A harsh slap on the side of the box makes you flinch.

“Shut the fuck up”, Silas voice hisses through gritted teeth, shocking you for being too close. “Do not make a single sound, whatever you do.”

You breathe heavily and crawl together. For these past months, you’ve felt scared … but never like this. The only thing you can compare it to is that morning when you ran around the Normandie with the painting tucked under your arm. Your heart has never beaten that quickly before. And here you are now, in a wooden box with a dog collar around your throat and a tattoo in the back of your neck. The leash is gone.

They won’t kill you before they have gotten the list, right?

You hear men's voices and suddenly the box jerks. Your head slams against the side and you groan, quickly biting your lip to avoid making sound. Silas will probably punch you if you disobey his command. You form fists.

Whoever is handling the box does not care for it. It seems to go back and forth, up and down, with you hitting your head with every jerking motion.

Finally, finally, it stops. The moving, the sound, everything stops. You breathe out, listening. Where are you? Can you get out of the box? You try to push the top of the box, but it won’t budge. Neither will the walls. With a frustrated yell, you kick and then, in defeat, sink down again.

Silence keeps you company for what feels like ages. Suddenly, the ground under you start to shake and move. You gasp. The train!

It takes a while before the top of the box is moved. Bright light hits your eyes and you squint.

“Good morning”, Silas smiles and pulls you up from the box.

Your muscles are stiff and aching, popping when you try to move. Your legs threaten to give out.

“Ouch …”, you moan.

“Did you have a nice time?” Jerry smiles and claps your back.

You look around, blurry eyes being met by a cargo hold. Silas and Jerry are the only ones here.

“What are you doing?” you ask, stressed.

“What do you mean?” Jerry wonders.

“What do you want? Why am I out?”

“Did you think that you were going to spend the entire trip in the box?” Silas asks.

“Edmund said-”

“And you believe a single word that stuck up manchild says?” Jerry scoffs and grabs your arm. “Come now.”

They take you out of the cargo hold and into a thin corridor. Running along your left are cabins and to your right are windows. Silas opens a door and directs you inside the cabin. It’s a suite, and a gorgeous one a that. A king sized bed, couches, big windows, drapes and your own bathroom. Hedwig and Edmund sits on the couch doctor Kry is leaning against the window. Behind him, America swooshes past.

“Here he is”, Jerry says.

“What’s going on?” you stutter. “What do you want?”

“We are not going to let you be alone in cargo hold”, Silas says. “We are not monsters.”

I have other opinions.

“We’ve decided that you are going to be by our sides so that we can keep an eye on you”, Hedwig says and smiles. “If you are in the cargo hold you could die.”

“You’re not going to wear the leash because that will cause people to be suspicious”, Doctor Kry says. “Yes, we are not the only ones on this train.”

“You will not talk to any of them”, Jerry says.

“You will stay here in my cabin”, Silas says. “My second in command will be in Jerry’s cabin, so don’t think that you can do anything towards me. He’ll be just on the other side of the wall.”

Why does he have to be here too?

Everyone leaves the suite but Silas. You sink down on the bed with your head in your hands.

“Why do you do this?” you groan.

Silas sits down beside you. “You did this to yourself”, he says, voice weirdly calm. “You put your nose into the wrong business, knowing that it could put your life in danger.”

“It was my job.”

Was.

“I still don’t understand why they sent you on that ship without backup … or any kind of protection at all besides that pitiful gun. Almost like they wanted you to get caught.” Silas furrows his dark brows and looks at you, unreadable hint in his black eyes. “Are you even sure if they liked you at all?”

This has to be some kind of scare-tactic. Don’t fall for it.

“Of course they did”, you mumble. “I had a high position, a good salary … they liked me. They did.”

“Are you saying that to reassure me or you?”

Silas stands up and breathes out.

“Let’s go eat lunch, I’m starving”, he says. “You must be hungry too, I heard from Hedwig that you didn’t eat dinner last night. Come now.”

Silas walks out of the room, holding the door open out to the corridor. His words ring in your mind. Who are you trying to reassure?

“I’m not waiting all day”, Silas calls out. “You’re not getting lunch if you stay in there.”

You hurry to stand up and follow him out to the corridor, having to pass him on the way. The thin corridor is big enough for one of you. He walks closely behind you, peering over your shoulder. You’re led into a restaurant car with tables of four, each having seats instead of tables. The carriage is divided in two with a with a glass wall with open space where a door normally sits. Silas chooses one of these seats.

“Sit down”, he says. “Now. By the window.”

You give him a questionable look before sitting down in the seat closest to the window. Silas sits down beside you, blocking your escape to the middle aisle. His second in command is already sitting by the table in the seat in front of you. Silas holds three menus laying on the set table in front of you, giving you one.

“Choose what you want”, he says. “I have money.”

“I don’t doubt that”, you mumble. “With your dirty businesses you must make a lot of money?”

Silas scoffs, but there’s a small smile tugging on his lips. “More than you can imagine, Golden Boy.”

You start to look through the menu for things you like. You are, indeed, starving and head for a grilled salmon while Silas chooses a medium rare steak. When a servant is taking your orders, you look out the big window at the blurry obstacles whooshing by. Where are they taking you? You’re not leaving much, but you can’t bring yourself to start over. New York is not for you, not anymore, but you don’t want them to force you to leave your home. What will they do to you? You can’t give them the painting, you don’t know where it is anymore, and you don’t have the list of criminal names. You’re not sure that you will be able to be switched with it. You don’t have anything to offer them, but yourself … but why would they want you?

“Pretty quiet today, huh?” Silas says. “You usually quite quick-witted.”

You pull your eyes away from the window and look at him. It’s almost comical, how a secret agent is having lunch with a mafia leader and his second in command. You have done it before, but under much different circumstances.

“I don't have much to say”, you answer shortly.

Everything in your body is hurting, which isn’t weird since you’ve spent the night crammed into a wooden box. Your broken head is not a help.

Silas converses with his second in command — a man you haven’t heard talk more than necessary.

The food is served by a servant in a spotless tuxedo and slicked back hair. You thank him. It'd be so easy to let the words slip out of your mouth. A simple ‘help me’. The words are soft and rounded, it wouldn't be hard to pronounce them, but the fact that Silas and his second in command are sitting right here makes it impossible. The words are so simple. But as soon as he arrives, he disappears.

“I've heard that the food on board is tasty, it better be”, Silas jokes and his second in command chuckles quietly.

He has gotten beef with grilled asparagus. You pick up your knife and fork and start to eat in silence. Silas is right, it’s delicious. Better than any of the food you have aten these last few months. It makes you guilty for enjoying it.

“I have some rules, Golden Boy”, Silas says from beside you.

You look at him. You are not a Golden Boy. He said that himself. Silas meets your eyes.

“If you disobey us”, Silas starts, “by either trying to talk to someone, or come up with some stupid idea to get off the train, I will handcuff you to me, got that?”

Imagining being handcuffed to him, forced to join his every step, not have a single second to yourself is enough to make you shiver.

“Yeah”, you reply shortly. “I understand.”

You let your eyes wander through the restaurant car, at the other passengers sitting and enjoying their meals. An older man is reading the newspaper while enjoying a bowl of soup, a mother and daughter pair are eating cheeses while chatting. How many on this train belong to Silas? He wouldn’t travel with only one man.

“I’m thinking about getting another car”, Silas smiles at his second in command and shoots a fork full of steak to his lips. “Any tips of a model?”

“One of those Ford models”, he replies. “It was good enough for Bonnie and Clyde.”

The news of the infamous couple’s death broke out in May last year. Some colleagues had been working on that case, from what you remember. For years.

“I’m not Bonnie and Clyde”, Silas says and smiles. “But I’m a bit jealous of them. Imagine having a partner in crime like that. I mean, more than just a brother in arms, a love partner. Or what do you say, Golden Boy?”

You look up from your plate. Your vision has started to blur again.

“Don’t you want a love partner, hm?” Silas asks, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Someone to back you up when needed?”

“I don’t want to answer personal questions.”

He exchanges a look with his second in command before smiling into his plate. “You’re shy, I see. Didn’t know that you were so cute.”

You ignore him.

When lunch is done, Silas decides that it’s time for you to get back to the cabin. You get up, from your seat and scootch out into the middle aisle. You’re not sure if it is the moving of the carriage or your balance that causes you to stumble. Silas catches you by the arm.

“That wine you had with lunch didn’t make you drunk, did it?” he asks.

“No”, you reply and gulp. “It’s my head.”

“I see.”

You’re sure that it isn’t meant for you, but you can see how Silas gives his second in command a murderous look. Doctor Kry had told you that it had been Jerry and Silas’s second in command who had hit you with that glass bottle that night.

“You should go rest, Y/N”, he says and places his hand on your back to guide you.

He leads you back to your suite. The second in command closes the door behind him. You sit down on the couch, but Silas pulls you up again.

“What do you think that you are doing?” he asks. “The bed is over there.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you”, you mumble.

“You are. Stop being childish and go to sleep.”

You’re pushed towards the bed. He’s quickly after you to pull the neatly fixed covers before you can change your mind. The mattress is softer than anything you’ve ever rested your back upon.

“Sleep”, Silas orders. “I will get you for dinner.”

He asks his second in command to keep an eye on you.

The gentle rocking of the train both soothes you to sleep and wakes you softly. You sit up and yawn. The second in command moves his eyes from the window. You can’t help but wonder if he ever does anything for pleasure or if he can turn off his emotions and needs whenever he wants.

You reach for a glass of water on the bedside table and halt. After everything they’ve done, you wouldn’t be surprised if the water is contaminated.

“It’s not dinner time”, the man says. “Back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired anymore.”

“Lay down.”

You sigh and lay down again, listen to the gentle rocking of the train against the rail. Last time you spent a night in a cabin with them was when you were tied on the floor. You should never have taken that mission. Your mind involuntarily drift to what Silas had said and feel how your heart squeezes in pain. It can’t be.

Suddenly, the door opens.

“Time for dinner”, Silas says. “Get up, you need to eat.”

You groan and pull yourself up from the bed. The second in command follows closely to the restaurant cart. One table can only fit four passengers. They have to separate three and three, and then you’ll have to choose whichever combination is the least bad.

Hedwig, Edmund and Doctor Kry … or Silas, Jerry and the second in command. You sit down besides Hedwig. Edmund is quick to have her change seats with you, so that you’re by the window and she’s blocking the exit out to the middle aisle. The girl smiles at you and takes your hand.

“You look much better without that inhumane leash”, she says.

“I think he looks better with it”, Edmund mutters and inspect his silver knife.

She ignores him. “What do you want to eat, sweetheart?”

You shrug, telling her that she can choose for you. You don’t say anything throughout dinner, even though Hedwig tries her best to spark a conversation with you. She talks about the scenery swooshing past outside the window, the beautiful interior, how much she has missed you and how happy she is to have you back. You drown it all out to the point of wondering if her voice is all just a hallucination.

You’re barely active during dinner, only being able to think about your — former — job. Heart feeling unbelievably heavy.

“I have to leave”, you whisper to Hedwig. “I have to be alone.”

“Are you okay?” Hedwig asks worriedly and watches how you stand up.

“I need to go.”

“I’ll come with you.”

She excuses the both of you from the table. You can feel the others eyes linger on you, burn right through you. You’re sure that Edmund wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut for once. Hedwig takes your arm and leads you back to the cabin carriage.

“I don’t understand why they’re so afraid of me being alone with you”, Hedwig giggles and opens the door to Silas’s suite. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

At this point you’re not sure what you would and wouldn’t do.

“Do you want to sleep?” Hedwig asks and walks over to the bed. “I can tuck you in.”

You lay down in bed and Hedwig makes sure that none of your body parts escapes the covers. She looks pleased with herself and lets her hand caress your cheek. Her hazel eyes look down at you with immense love and for the moment that is the only thing you can believe. That kind of look can’t be mistaken.

“Are you tired?” she asks softly, continuing to caress your cheek.

You nod, despite not feeling the slightest bit tired. Exhausted, but not tired.

“I will let you sleep”, she says and kisses your forehead.

You close your eyes, hoping that she will think that you’re asleep and leave the room. You need to be alone, but Hedwig is making it impossible. As long as she knows that you’re awake, she will cling onto you like a leech. She’s like a dog, a puppy.

But she doesn’t leave. You can feel her sit on the side of the bed, and without opening your eyes, you know that she is staring at you with that same look of extreme love. As if you are the most important thing in the world. Her sun, her solar system.

Eventually, she leaves. You wait a few seconds before opening your eyes and letting out a sigh. Lying down makes it hard to breathe. You try sitting up, but the pressure over your chest remains. You pull at your tie to open your airways, but neither that or buttoning up the first buttons on your shirt help. Your fingers claw at the window lock, but it remains in place. God, how badly you need air. You hurry over to the door and open it, exiting out to the corridor. They can get you, you don’t care. You need air and you need it now.

You walk through the claustrophobic corridor in the opposite direction of the dining hall. You reach a door with a window. The rails run away from the train, towards the horizon. You rip the door open and find yourself on a balcony. Fresh air roams around you and you grab onto the oval railing, breathing in deeply until your lungs can’t take anymore, welcoming the pleasurable feeling of light headiness. You sink down on the floor with your back towards the train’s wall, watching the surroundings disappear further away. The sun is setting in the horizon, like in a painting.

The thoughts return. Was everything a lie? Were you nothing more than a pawn? Why were you put on that mission? Did they know that you would be taken? Broken? Damaged? They didn’t bother give you any security or backup, and when you weren’t killed or taken, they use the trauma they caused to put you on hiatus and made you look at fault. You have worked for them since you left school, given them your everything. Did they want to get rid of you? Were you worth nothing more? Did they ever care about you?

Suddenly you’re aware of the tears running down your cheeks.

“There you are”, a voice sighs.

You flinch and look over your shoulder. Jerry is standing in the doorframe, holding her hands on either side. Out of all the people who could find you, why did it have to be just Jerry?

“Everyone is looking for you”, Jerry says.

“Didn’t mean to”, you mumble.

“You better have a good explanation.”

She sits down on the other side of the door, in arms reach of you. The door closes behind her, leaving the two of you on the balcony platform. It’s first now that she seems to notice that you’re crying.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” she asks in a sarcastic tone, clearly mocking you. “Feeling homesick?”

“No”, you sigh and look down at your hands. “Just leave me alone.”

“Can’t do, princess. You are not allowed to be alone, you know that very well. But sure, I can leave. I can tell the other that you have attempted to escape.”

Your hand shoots forward to stop her from leaving. “No, don’t say that!”

“Then tell me. Hurry up, princess, I don’t got all night!”

You sigh and rest your head back against the wall. She’s doing it on purpose, you think, riling you up to the breaking point so that she has something to punish you for.

“Jerry, stop”, you plead and hold your head in your hands. “I’m asking you nicely. Don’t do that.”

“In what position do you think you are to speak to me like that? Do I need to go get the leash to remind you who you are? Hm? Is that what you want, Golden Boy?”

The name breaks something in you. You feel so stupid. Like an absolute fool!

“Don’t call me that!” you shout. “I never was a fucking ‘Golden Boy’! They just used me! And I just let them do it! Like the idiot I am!”

Your head pounds worse than ever. You’re afraid that it is going to rip out of your skull. You can feel how Jerry moves closer.

“They never fucking cared about me”, you hiss. “No one does!”

“Now, who told you that?” Jerry sighs.

“It’s obvious! Just look at how they’re treating me! They wanted to get rid of me, that’s why they sent me on that ship, wasn’t it …?”

Jerry sighs heavily and runs her hand through her black hair. “Well, fuck … I don’t know what the fuck to say.”

“Be quiet, then.”

You don’t want to hear her ‘I told you so’ mantra. You’ve understood how much of an idiot you are, you don’t need her to remind you. She removes your hands and forces you to look at her.

“It does not fucking matter what they thought of you, okay?” she says. “I get that they tricked you but you’re never going back there, so drop them. They’re not worthy of your attention. Just look at what a mess you become when you think of them! And I don’t want to hear that shit again, about no one caring about you. We have looked for you day and night since that last night on the ship!”

“That’s different. You know that. You won’t get the list or the painting. If they wanted me gone, they won’t trade me for it. I’m useless to you.”

She sighs frustratedly and runs her hand through her black hair again.

“Fuck, I am not made for this”, she mutters and looks around for help, but the only thing nearby are the passing landscape. “Listen, Y/N, we could have done things a whole lot differently. We didn’t actually need you, alright? Not for business. Hell, we don’t even want the same things! Me and Silas are the only ones wanting the list. Edmund wants his painting. I don’t even know what the doctor and Hedwig want, but do you know the only reason why the five of us stay together? Because of you, dumbass.”

She grabs your head and holds it to her chest, letting you cry.

“The term ‘Golden Boy’ isn’t just because of your job, it’s more than that. Don’t take it the wrong way. Now stop talking like that, it is getting on my nerves. Pity yourself to someone else.”

Silence. You listen to the rattling sound, the wind and Jerry's irregular breathing.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask quietly, emotionlessly. “Why did they do that to me?”

“I don’t know, Y/N”, Jerry answers softly. “Some people are horrible. There is a difference between people who's openly bad, and those that pretend to be good but are rotting on the inside. I can’t stand those people. If you’re going to be a bad person, at least stand for it.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“You are a fool, but it isn’t your fault. You did what you had been told, like everyone else.”

“I wish that I knew why they decided to let me go … I mean, that way I could have prevented it … or fixed it.”

“Stop thinking about it. I told you that you’ll never deal with those people again. You’re with us now.”

You sigh. Listening to Jerry’s heart beat makes you want to laugh at how hard it is beating when she has acted like she doesn’t have one.

“Get up”, she says after a while. “We can’t sit here the entire night. It’s starting to get cold.”

You drag yourself up on your feet. Jerry takes your hand and leads you back inside. Warmth hugs you the second you reenter the thin corridor. She takes you back to Silas’s cabin where you find him arguing with his second in command. You catch something along the lines of ‘you hit him so hard he’s lost his mind’ and don’t have to think twice to know who he is talking about. A new punch in the chest. Does everyone view you that way? As a loser who can’t take care of himself after what happened? As a dog?

“Where have you been?” Silas asks angrily. “Wasn’t I very clear what would happen if you tried to leave?”

“I didn’t fucking try to leave!” you burst out, unable to do anything else beside matching his energy. “How could I when the train is moving at two hundred kilometers per hour?!”

“Yeah? What were you doing then?”

How dense is he?

“I tried to get one second to myself to try to think! My life is falling apart and no one is caring! Everyone is just mocking me!” Tears blur your vision. “Why is no one treating me like an actual human being?! No one respects me!”

Your knees give out. The carpeted floor does nothing when you fall. A few seconds pass where you’re left to sob in silence before a pair of arms wrap around you. They’re too muscular to be Jerry’s and the second in command would never touch you. It has to be Silas.

“Get up, Y/N”, Silas says. “You need to sleep. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

He tells Jerry to get the doctor and she disappears out of the room. Doctor Kry comes in two minutes later. In his hands he holds an identical syringe to the one he injected you with before you got onto the train. Silas holds you down as the sharp needle pricks your arm. You can feel the foreign — yet painfully familiar — substance enters your bloodstream. Damn them, you think before the darkness swallows you, damn all of them.

You wake up with him sitting by the round table. He’s already dressed. You wonder how long that syringe makes you sleep.

“Good morning”, Silas says.

“Hi”, you mumble as memories from yesterday wash over you, like an ice cold shower.

“I thought that you’ll stay here for breakfast. I’ve already ordered room service.”

Your eyes lay upon the silver tray with coffee, toast and waffles on the table, when you sit up.

“Jerry filled me in about what you talked about”, Silas says. “I don’t want more of that, got it? You don’t get to run around causing havoc like that. You need to tell us instead of getting a melt down. Surprise, we might actually help you.”

You scoff and roll your head against the headboard. “You don't want to help. You just want to hurt me.”

Silas sighs.

“Is that why I have tattooed my symbol on you?” he asks. “To hurt you?”

You don’t answer. How should you know?

“It never crossed your mind that I tattooed that on you so that you wouldn’t leave?” Silas asks. “Maybe because I want you here?”

“It doesn’t excuse what you have done.”

“Okay, maybe not, but ask yourself something, Y/N: where would you go if not here?”

You try to avoid his dark eyes. They burn right through you, confirming everything you have been thinking. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. Nowhere where you are safe, nowhere where you feel like home. Not anymore. The only thing that kept you in New York was the pride in your job and now, if you go back, the only thing that is associated with that city is shame and hurt. With Silas tattoo on your neck, no one will want to have anything to do with you, for fear of him.

Silas leaves you be. He doesn’t ask you questions, doesn’t try to get you on better thoughts or distract you. He lets you sit by the table with him, lets you feel your feelings. Lets you try to sort out the fog in your head.

“How long do we have until we reach Hedwig’s house?” you ask after a while. “I’m getting tired of people.”

“Two days”, Silas answers. “You’ll like it. It’s far away from everyone and everything. You’ll be able to go somewhere quiet, where you can rest for once.”

The thought of resting makes you almost tear up. You can’t recall the last time you actually had a moment of peace.

“I don’t know what you want, I don’t have anything more to give you”, you mumble. “I don’t have the painting, or the list of names, or any contacts. You can’t trade me for the list, and it’s too late now. They’ve already seen the names.”

“We don’t care about the list anymore”, Silas says. “When are you going to realize that?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to … think.”

Silas grabs your neck and pushes your head onto his shoulder. You let him. And there it rests until you’re feeling better.

You decide to get out of the cabin before it’s going to swallow you whole. You make your way down the carriages until you get to the lounge. People sit chit-chatting in their seats, drinking tea. You wonder how many of them belong to Silas, how many eyes he has on board. You do your best not to stare at any of them. Instead, you walk towards an empty table and sit down by the window, staring out towards the horizon. You’ve never been so … lost before. And yet, you feel better — just a tad bit. One day at a time. Things will be fine. Hopefully.

“Good afternoon”, you hear a voice.

You look up to see Edmund carrying a deck of cards.

“ Have you finished sulking now?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Not even these kinds of stupid questions deserve stupid answers.

“If you have, why don’t we play a game of cards?” Edmund asks and sits down in front of you.

“Sure”, you sigh. “What do you want to play?”

“What can you play?”

“A little poker, I suppose.”

“Good. Let’s play.”

Edmund starts to sort the cards. He shuffles them skillfully.

“What do we play about?” he asks. “What do i get if I win?”

“What do i get if I win?” you conquer.

A spark ignites in Edmund’s eyes and for once, it gives him a human touch. He leans forward, over the table, and smirks.

“What do you want, Golden Boy?” he asks.

You think about it. What do you want?

“I don’t know”, you reply and when he rolls his eyes, you add: “I actually don’t know. A bit more freedom, maybe.”

“Oh, as in?” Edmund asks.

“Be able to walk around freely without anyone going insane, like yesterday. I can’t run anywhere on here, now can I? Just being able to go wherever I want on the train whenever I want would be a comfort.”

“Alright, I can work with that. And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

Edmund leans back in his seat and looks out the window, thinking.

“You need to call me ‘your majesty’ or ‘your royal highness’ from now on”, he says, looking pleased.

Any traces of humbleness is gone.

“Haven’t I been humiliated enough?” slips out of you before you have the time to stop yourself.

Edmund smiles boyishly. “Nope. Not nearly enough.”

There’s a small tug at your heart, and your first instinct is to feel offended … but you can’t help but feel relieved that, while the others are trying to keep you from breaking down, Edmund is still the same.

You smile slightly.

“Alright, let’s start”, you say.

He’s a skillful player with sharp eyes. You wonder who he has trained with.

“Oh, you’re an idiot, Y/N.”

Doctor Kry stands by the table, watching the table amusedly with his arms crossed over his chest. Edmund grins up at him.

“Aren’t I smart?” he asks and nods at you. “This dumbass has to call me by my title — as he should have from the start — from now on.”

“The game isn’t over yet”, you remind him.

“Just throw the towel in and die a hero. That way you’ll have some dignity left.”

“No.”

Edmund shrugs. “Alright.”

You’re not sure how, but you manage to beat him. Doctor Kry laughs behind his hand. Edmund glares at him.

“Beginner's luck”, he insists.

“Good job, your majesty, now you've given him free roam over the entire train”, the doctor says.

“Don't get so fucking happy, doc, I can still have you executed”, Edmund warns him with dark eyes. “I don't care if Silas has you under his protection.”

Doctor Kry doesn’t seem affected. “It’s just a day.”

“This motherfucker did quite much in a day last time.”

“I’d like to see our friend Axel Ainsworth trying to do his stunts here.”

You rise from your chair and bid farewell to the two men, happy to show that you are allowed to walk away. Your last day on board won’t be too bad, you reckon.

You take the time to sort out your thoughts and think. Sitting in the lounge, looking out the window with a glass of whiskey, listening to the sounds of the train moving and the other guests chitchatting. Your head starts to make sense, for the first time in months. Your heart beats in your chest. You hate them, hate what they did to you. How they played you. How they used you for bait.

“Can I sit down?”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts. Hedwig stands by the armchair in front of you, wearing a sweet pink dress. You nod. She squeals and sits down, looking giddy.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” she asks. “Maybe something to dilute the whiskey with? Drinking on an empty stomach isn’t good, you know?”

“What do you know about that?” you ask. “Are you a heavy drinker?”

“No, but Edmund is … and I guess that you can imagine how ha is when he is drunk.”

“I’m not drunk … but yes, i can imagine how he would be. He’s not the politest sober either.”

“He’s nice, in his own way.” She shakes her head, as if she’s shaking herself free from thoughts. “How are you feeling? I heard that you had some troubles. Do you want to share them with me?”

“No, I’m okay, I think I got it now. It’s been nice to sit and think … to deal with it myself.”

“What have you come up with?”

“That I don’t want anything to do with those bastards in New York anymore. If I had the list, I’d give it to Silas and Jerry. I wish I had written down the names.”

“You remember some of them, don’t you?”

She picks up a notebook out of her purse and places it on the table. A golden pen is connected to it.

“Write them down”, she says.

You stare at the notebook, questioning if you really should give away the little information you know. You would never have done that before. An old saying pops into your head — my enemie’s enemy is my friend.

You pick up the pen.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere oc #yandere king #yandere female #female yandere #yandere rich girl #male reader

396 notes · View notes

aahedanqar1991 · 2 months ago

Text

The Palestinian Cause: A Long-Standing Struggle and Endless Sacrifices🇵🇸🍉

Since 1948, the Palestinian cause has symbolized a continuous fight for land, identity, and freedom 🌍. Palestine, especially Gaza, has endured waves of wars and aggression, resulting in immense destruction and indescribable suffering. Civilians in Gaza, who have been under siege for years, face harsh daily conditions: electricity is scarce ⚡, clean water is limited 💧, and economic opportunities shrink with every new crisis.

Our Family’s Story Under Siege and Bombardment💔🚨

My name is Ahed, I’m 33 years old, and I’m from Gaza, Palestine 🇵🇸. I used to work as an aluminum technician, but my work has struggled since our home was bombed, and we lost everything 🏠💔. I live with my wife Maysoun (29 years old) and our three young daughters: Fatima (9 years), Iman (6 years), and Noor (1 year) 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧. At one point, we dreamed of giving our children a quiet life filled with safety and joy, but the war had other plans.

Our humble home in Gaza no longer exists. It was destroyed by an airstrike, and we’ve been forced to flee multiple times in search of shelter. Today, we live in an old school in southern Gaza, lacking basic necessities, as we face the threat of bombing and the scarcity of food and water every day 🚸💦.

Imagine the fear a 9-year-old like Fatima feels when running to escape bombings, or the struggle to comfort my youngest, Noor, who cannot yet understand why the world around her feels like it’s falling apart 🥺💔. Iman, at 6, clings to her mother, fearing we may lose her too 😢.

A Message to the World✉️📢

Now, I’m sharing our story not just to talk about our suffering, but to call on you to stand with us. We are facing immense challenges, but we hold onto hope that someone cares and will reach out to help 🤲. We need your support, whether by sharing our voice with the world 🌎 or by helping us get through this difficult time.🙏❤️🙏

202 notes · View notes

hp-hcs · 11 months ago

Note

Can maybe request some slytherin boys with gay awakeing trope? Maybe headcanons or shorts

gay awakening headcanons — mlm! slytherin boys x male! reader

hella short cause of some ✨personal stuff✨ going on, but i just wanted to get something out 🤷‍♂️

me? blame my shitty writing skills on my current health problems? what no never

❕not proofread❕

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

mattheo

immediately has a mental breakdown

identity crisis anyone?

i feel like he would have that panicky gay moment where he realizes that his friend is actually his More Than Friend, ykwim?

like, you just do something innocuous like sling your arm over his shoulders while walking to class and babyboy just FREEZES

the second that happens, he immediately drops out of your life while he freaks out gets his shit together

like, homeboy just deadass vanishes

doesn’t show up to any of his classes

doesn't show up to quidditch practice (draco threatens to kill him for that, cousin or not)

meanwhile you’re just there like 🧍 “what did i do?”

because my lil darlin mattheo cannot healthily express any emotion ever, he would “solve” his problem by just like, purposefully running into you in the halls and kissing your cheek, then just full-on 🏃💨 SPRINTING 🏃💨 away without a word

theo

also has an identity crisis, he’s just better at hiding it

gotta save face, amirite?

but anyways-

you weren’t even doing anything out of the ordinary, you were just hanging out with him in his room and ended up lighting his cigarette for him

that’s it. homeboy is already whipped for ya.

like, straight up simp.

i feel like theo’s a “i’m definitely going to have a panic attack over this at two in the morning, but for now i’m just going to not think and enjoy 😌💅” kind of mentality

just flat out says it

“you know, you look really hot today.”

y/n: 😳😏………..💏💋😘

draco

have you ever had a friend that was so clearly Not Straight but they just kept denying it for years before finally coming out?

well that’s draco <3

you were at a party and agreed to join some kind of kissing game

like, spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, post office…

(does anybody actually still play post office?)

and obviously, you both end up having to kiss each other duh

homeboy is not doing well

but not in a “what?? i don’t know what’s going on!!” kind of way

in a “ah shit my friends were right every time they called me gay, fuck” kind of way <3

immediately start dating after the party and everyone’s like 🤨👀

blaise

i feel like blaise already knew/suspected, but just didn’t have the vocabulary to describe his sexuality, ykwim?

i’m getting pansexual vibes frfr

could not give less of a fuck

is just like “shit alright, d'you wanna make out then?”

i mean……..it’s not like you’re gonna say no

this man. tHIS MAN. he’d be such a gentleman omfg

also i’m not gonna say sugar daddy but sugar daddy

would absolutely buy you anything you even looked at. you looked at a ten thousand galleon wristwatch in a luxury store? it’ll be on your bed waiting for you by the time you get home

if anyone was homophobic or wtv, he wouldn’t beat them up per se, but he would do something unnecessarily extra, like wear a dress and makeup just to be like “wdym? we’re a straight couple, obviously”

(he would tell his friends about the homophobe though, and they wouldn’t be quite as composed and respectful as him 👊😠🩸😵😵‍💫)

enzo

this man seriously does not care

like, he’s just like “oh i’m queer? hahah that’s crazy”

this man has no qualms about asking you out in the middle of class in front of everyone

like, in the middle of potions or smth he’d just be like “y/n, wanna go get dinner sometime?”

and you’re like “…aren’t you straight?” 🧍

enzo: “who knows? not me! does saturday at eight work?”

he’s so silly goofy i just love him sm

this boy would be a hella fine kisser, i just know it

WOULD ASK YOU TO THE YULE BALL 🕺🕺

AND WOULD GET YOU GUYS MATCHING BOUTONNIÈRES 💐

regulus

“ah shit i owe the boys twenty galleons, fuck”

resigned, more than anything

he can’t even come out, either cause like, what would that even be?

“guys, i have to tell you something……i’m gay”

“yep. what do you have to tell us??”

you asked him out cause you thought he was gay

and he was just like 😳🤨🤷‍♂️🙂👍

you guys went to fortescue’s!!! 🍦🍨🍧

(he’s def a mint chocolate chip kind of guy i’m just saying)

y’all end up being like, the it couple at hogwarts i don’t make the rules

575 notes · View notes

letters-to-lgbt-kids · 6 months ago

Text

My dear lgbt+ kids,

What do you need to know about lgbt+ history as a lgbt+ person?

Well, if you ask like that: nothing, actually. You do not disqualify from being lgbt+ if you know nothing about history whatsoever. There’s no exam to pass.

It also doesn’t make you a bad person or a disgrace to the community or an embarrassment if you haven’t heard about a specific chapter of lgbt+ history yet - saying so would be really unfair! Maybe you live in a situation in which you don’t feel safe to do a lot of research on lgbt+ related stuff. Maybe you are a young person growing up in hard times and you’re busy just surviving. Maybe your brain works in a way that makes it harder for you to learn or retain new information than for others. Or hey, maybe you already know lots - but your learning simply focused on a different chapter than the one that hypothetical exam would be on!

Of course there are many benefits to learning about lgbt+ history. You get the general benefits of learning new things (such as training your critical thinking skills, which will help you in your everyday life, and even supporting your brain health!) but there’s also specific benefits to learning about this specific subject.

History isn’t all “learning boring stuff about dead people” - learning about past events and their consequences also helps you understand present events and gauge their potential consequences for your future. This will for example empower you in your voting decisions (or help you understand how politics influence everyday life at all, if that’s your starting point!).

Knowledge about lgbt+ history also helps you to notice misinformation more easily and enables you to counteract homophobic myths with facts.

It may even help you on a more personal level: reading up on all the people who came before you can foster a sense of identity and belonging. It might make you feel more confident to know that people like you have been around forever and have achieved so many things!

So, rather than “what do I need to know”, I think the much better question is “where do I want to start?”.

Nobody knows everything about lgbt+ history (or about any given topic, really!) and unrealistic expectations will only set you up for disappointment. It’s best to let your curiosity lead you! You’re much more likely to actually read up on something you are genuinely excited to learn about than something you’ve only been told to read.

With that in mind: it can feel overwhelming to pick a topic to start with! Especially if you’re pretty new to lgbt+ history, you may not even know where to start. So I do want to make some suggestions here. Not as a “you need to research all these today or else I’m revoking your license to gay”, just to spark your curiosity! I will not add explanations right here in the post, I just want to give you some terms you can easily put in the search bar. (Important: these are in random order, not ranked by importance or anything like that!)

US-Centric lgbt+ History

1. Stonewall Riots

2. Harvey Milk

3. Marsha P. Johnson

4. Sylvia Rivera

5. The Lavender Scare

6. Obergefell v. Hodges

7. Don't Ask, Don't Tell

8. The Mattachine Society

9. The Daughters of Bilitis

11. The AIDS crisis

12. Bayard Rustin

13. Lawrence v. Texas

14. The Gay Liberation Front

15. The Human Rights Campaign

European lgbt+ History

1. Section 28 (UK)

2. Oscar Wilde

3. Alan Turing

4. Magnus Hirschfeld

5. Paragraph 175 (Germany)

6. The Homomonument (Netherlands)

7. EuroPride

8. James Barry

9. The decriminalization of homosexuality in the UK (1967)

10. ILGA-Europe

11. Homosexual Law Reform Act 1986 (New Zealand, part of the Commonwealth)

12. The Equality Act 2010 (UK)

13. Transgender Europe (TGEU)

14. The first same-sex marriage in the Netherlands (2001)

15. Dora Richter

Have fun learning!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

P.S: You may wonder “But what about places other than the USA or Europe?” (or those of you who already know a lot about lgbt+ history, “but what about (topic I haven’t mentioned here)”) - and that’s actually a really great point! It highlights what we talked about above: nobody knows everything + lgbt+ history is way too rich of a topic to put it all into one short list! This isn’t meant to be a comprehensive list of everything important, just some potential starting points that hopefully lead you to topics beyond ones mentioned on this list.

#lgbt #lgbt+

285 notes · View notes

starrgazed22 · 5 months ago

Text

THE OFFICE'S HALLOWEEN

Jim Halpert x gn!Reader, but Pam and Dwight are also in this. :) Word count: around 600 Summary: Reader needs to quickly think of a Halloween costume to not get K.O.'d by Dwight's ego. Author's note: I became obsessed with X-men again after seeing Deadpool & Wolverine and I've got this idea! Enjoy!

As you step into the office, a sinking feeling hits you like a ton of bricks. The atmosphere is different today, buzzing with an excitement you can't quite place—until you look around. Every single person is in a costume. Pam at the reception, with her whiskers carefully drawn on and a headband with perky cat ears, looks up at you and offers a soft smile. Across the room, Kevin stands proudly in a superhero costume that’s almost comically tight, and, unsurprisingly, Angela is also in a cat costume… and Phyllis too.

You freeze for a moment, dread creeping up your spine. Halloween. How could you forget?

You walk to the reception, greeting Pam. Then, like a scene from a horror movie, you catch sight of Dwight. He’s sitting there, shrouded in a long black hooded robe, his eyes piercing you.

“You’re late…” Dwight announces, his voice dripping with ominous intent, clearly trying to stay in character.

“Yeah… there was crazy traffic down there,” you respond, scrambling for an excuse.

He inhales deeply, then lets out a dramatic sigh, clearly enjoying his role a little too much. “What are you supposed to be?” His tone suggests he’s already anticipating your failure.

Your mind races. You can’t let him know you forgot it was Halloween. That would be handing him a victory in whatever unspoken battle the two of you are constantly fighting... sometimes three of you, when Jim joins.

You need to think of something fast. Something that’ll completely throw him off.

You got it.

Dwight opens his mouth to speak again, ready to announce your defeat. “I could’ve—” he starts.

You cut him off, smoothly drawing your index and middle finger up against your temple and squinting your eyes in concentration. “—thought so…” you finish his sentence, trying to mimic the deep, contemplative voice of someone who’s just accessed the hidden corners of their mind.

Dwight’s expression falters for a second, his usual expression of suspicion giving way to genuine shock.

“I am Professor X, Charles Xavier,”you declare, trying to sound as confident as possible.

He snorts, immediately slipping back into his usual skepticism. “No you’re not. He’s bald.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, just imagine him young!”

“He was always bald, because of his mutation, dumbass,” Dwight snaps back, and you can tell he’s savoring this moment.

You lean in closer to Pam and whisper, “What a nerd.”

Pam stifles a laugh, as she watches you stroll to your desk, which, unfortunately, is directly across from Dwight’s.

“And you are?” you ask, gesturing to his dark, ominous ensemble.

“I am a Sith Lord,” he declares, his voice dripping with melodrama as he pulls back his hood slightly, revealing his intense, steely gaze.

You tilt your head and smirk. “Oh really? I thought you were having an identity crisis. No offense.”

Dwight opens his mouth, ready to retaliate, but he’s suddenly distracted by the sight of Jim walking in through the door. Jim is wearing his usual attire, except for three black circles taped to his shirt.

Dwight is done. “And you are supposed to be?”

Jim glances down at his shirt, then back up at Dwight with a grin. “Three punch holes, Dwight. Normally I’m just Jim. Today, I’m three-punch-hole Jim.”

Dwight stares at him, annoyed that no one seems to take Halloween seriously here. “You’re both so boring. Seriously, you’re made for each other,” he mutters, shaking his head as if the sheer absurdity of it all is too much for him to process.

Jim gives you a look, clearly remarking the last sentence Dwight said. You can’t help but blush slightly. Suddenly Dwight storms off in disgust, robe billowing behind him like a dark, disgruntled shadow, making you, Jim and Pam laugh uncontrollably.

In this bizarre office, it’s the small victories that matter, and you and Jim know you’ve just won this round without even trying.

Another author’s note: I know Professor X as James McAvoy had hair in the films, but they only know the X-Men with Stewart + I read somewhere that in the comics he didn’t have hair at all so Dwight may be right. :D

#jim halpert x reader #dwight schrute #jim halpert #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert fanfic #the office #the office fanfic #pam beesly #john krasinski

176 notes · View notes

kazuhahalol · 3 months ago

Note

Hey queen, I was wondering if you could write some more Kurapika headcannons? It could be about anything!! Thanks you so much if you do!!⭐️✨⭐️

Kurapika General Headcanons P.2 ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

thank you so much for requesting (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ! I’m sorry if these headcanons aren’t as good as the previous ones. I was a bit messy today.

warnings: none

❥ The poor boy is sleep deprived. With the pressure of avenging the Phantom Troupe, alongside the haunting memories and nightmares of his clan, he barely gets any rest.

❥ Does not trust easily. Young and rather naive in season one, he made good friends with Killua, Gon, and Leorio. In the succession arc, he seems a lot more vigilant. It took him a good month or two for him to become comfortable around you.

❥ Natural born leader.

❥ Often has an identity crisis. Sometimes he’ll dwell on what’ll happen to him after he kills the Phantom Troupe. Not if, he knows he’s going to kill them. He doesn’t know if he himself will die, or if he will have no reason to live after that, and it frightens him deep inside knowing he’s truly lost himself.

❥ Cannot cook for shit. In 1999, he literally rolled a live fish in some rice and called it dinner. He probably lives off of some granola bar he found on the black whale. I feel like he was eating better under Izunavi’s care, but now that he’s all alone, he’s probably not taking care of himself.

❥ Often feels guilty for the bonds he creates. He first started to feel it when Gon and Killua got caught in the Yorknew arc. He noticed that he’s doing pretty much nothing for his friends but get them in trouble, thus ignoring Leorio’s calls when Gon was in the hospital, not wanting them to get hurt again.

❥ Even though I said he was touch starved in my other post, I feel like he’s not the biggest fan of affection. He hasn’t felt it in years and may not be used to the feeling of someone’s hands on him, as he was caught off guard in the group photo in season one.

❥ Even though vengeance is the only thing on his mind, Kurapika has stated he will never stand with immoral acts. He has a wavering moral compass. His goal is to kill the Phantom Troupe and the Phantom Troupe only. He would never kill an innocent person, meaning he would not be a Yandere for you. (I know, I know, I like that trope too.)

❥ Refuses to look at himself in the mirror.

❥ He’s one of those people that hide their real laugh. He only has 25 seconds of screen time of him smiling, so we don’t hear him laugh often, but I bet your bottom dollar if you make him laugh enough on a good day, he’ll show you how he really laughs. In public, he may just give you a quiet chuckle or a smile.

❥ Holds grudges. I think this one’s pretty obvious. If you do something that annoys him, he’ll remember it and bring it up next time it’s convenient. He’s been deprived of social contact for 5 whole years, so he may not realize he’s being rude or toxic at times.

❥ Whenever there’s a family nearby, he stares enviously and wonders what life would be like if his family were still alive.

❥ Sees Pairo whenever he looks at Gon.

❥ Doesn’t really want kids nor is he in a mental state to have any. Once Kurapika kills the troupe, he’s certain he does not have that long left to live. He’ll wonder what it’s like to have a family of his own, but knows it’s not possible. He’d rather live on a secluded farm by himself or with the love of his life before he goes.

❥ Knows he needs help but will not ask for it. He knows this is something he must do alone.

❥ His ideal type would be someone understanding and patient. Physical attributes do not matter to him. What matters is someone who’s willing to stay with him through the trials life has given him.

❥ Liked Yahtzee as a kid.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #kurapikaheadcanons #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta #kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika #kurapika fanfic #hxh x reader #x yn #x reader #headcanon #i just lost my dog

89 notes · View notes

dragonfly0808 · 14 days ago

Text

TimeBomb (Fix-It?) Fic with a side of Zaun Revolution

The inspiration really hit today, I feel like I blinked and all of a sudden I had 7k of a new fic.

what is it about? Well…

Whilst I really enjoyed s2 of Arcane and I loved almost everything about it, I will admit there was one specific plot point I was really disapointed didn’t go anywhere and one character decision that I just couldn’t get behind.

First off; watching Arc 1/2 and especially episode 4 I was fucking pumped at the idea of a Zaun revolution plotline, and, since i watched the seasons back to back, I’ll be honest, watching episode 4 combined with the fact that in the opening credits we see Jinx waving a flag, my immediate thoughts were OH MY FUCKING GOD JINX IS GONNA LEAD A REVOLUTION AND FULLFILL SILCO’S DREAM OF AN INDEPENDENT ZAUN…

Obviously I felt like a clown when that did not happen

and then for the character decision… I’m not really a fan of the ‘you’re too far gone the only thing you can do now is sacrifice yourself for the greater good/to save someone’ character arc. Especially because I really wanted to see Jinx get better since, at the end of s1 her identity crisis is over, she choses Jinx and then I thought that maybe we could get maybe not a redemption arc but at least see her get better whilst staying partially chaotic

A part of me really likes what they did (up until her sacrifice) but a greater part of me is just- disappointed. Especially after the whole ‘No matter what happened in the past it’s never too late to build something new’ bit. It just felt a little cruel.

And i know of the Jinx is alive theory and I believe it but still- I just don’t like that this was the end for Jinx in Arcane, I would’ve loved to see her and Cait having to come to terms with both their crimes and what they allowed their respective grief to turn them into.

also Ekko didn’t deserve to end the series alone, not after everything he did and everything he gave up.

and so, with these two specific things in mind, pondering on it I found myself writing a little smth.

A fic that takes place right after the Stillwater breakout BUT- Jinx, Sevika and Isha escape before the Beast gets there AND Ekko returns from the alternate timeline early, pushing Jinx along with Sevika to convince her to be a part of the rebellion.

So far, I’ve got 7k words on this and I’m thinking on how to involve Vi (another thing is that I felt we should’ve gotten a bit more time with her) since, in my mind, the revolution of Zaun should’ve been led by Vi, Ekko and Jinx.

Ekko to represent the fight for the future and as the face of the Firelights.

Jinx to represent the fight for the present (since her arc would involve starting to heal and finding smth worth fighting for) and of course to also represent Silco and his dream

And Vi to represent the past (since a big part of her character is being stuck in the past) and Vander

Jinx and Vi get to right the wrongs of the past and join forces like Silco and Vander never got to! (Because why include that letter if nothing really came from it?) also, as a sister who’s had a lot of ups and downs with her big sister, I would’ve KILLED to get to see more of their new dynamic ‘Here’s to the new us’.

Also Isha lives because she deserved better and also Ekko gets to be her dad.

still unsure on how/if I incorporate Cait cause I LOVE her arc and would love to write her and Jinx/Ekko interacting

but yeah basically, this is a Timebomb fic with a heavy focus on Jinx becoming the leader of a revolution (since at first it’s more, Jinx is the symbol, Ekko is the brains. And maybe at some point it’s more like; Ekko is the heart, Jinx is the symbol/leader and Vi is the strength OR Ekko is the leader/brains, Jinx is the symbol/leader/face and Vi is the heart, you know cause- YOU HAVE A GOOD HEART DON’T EVER LOSE IT)

Also a big part of chapter 2 somehow wound up being a look into Sevika’s mindset and why she’s lowkey the biggest supporter of Zaun? So if you like Sevika I got you!

so uhh… yeah.

i’m thinking on the name and just to know what yall think, knowing what the focus would be what title do you think would work best?

Will prob start posting once I’ve got 5 chapters, which, if I keep up the pace will prob be in 2 or 3 days

also, should i tag it as Fix-It? Not sure if I should tbh

Here’s a few little peaks! A tiny part of Ekko convincing Jinx to be a symbol (that was a LONG scene)/Part of the speech that starts it all/Isha being adorable in the Firelight’s base

Ekko adjusted his coat on her, she hadn’t really noticed him getting close enough to do so, “I fought so long to make the undercity a better place, or to at least create a safe place in it, but I got so wrapped up in all the ways that we’ve been screwed over, failed, in all the ways that it wasn’t even half of what I’d dreamed of no matter how hard I tried that I was starting to lose hope. But seeing that world… it helped me realize that… no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new.”

Jinx forced herself to met his eyes, unsure of what to do under the weight of his soft eyes and the careful way he’d somehow gotten his hands in hers, stopping her from digging her nails into her palms.

“…someone worth building it for.”

Jinx felt something in her starting to crack, “I don’t know if I know how to build anything.”

“That’s alright,” he quickly assured her, his own eyes glittering with tears, “we can learn. This right here Jinx… this is our chance. I saw the murals, the posters, what you said back in the airshaft- if Piltover is targeting us… then maybe- just maybe, this could be our chance to bring all of the undercity together. To stand against Piltover, make them finally see us. I’m not saying we burn them to the ground but- we can fight back, fight for respect, for a seat at the table.”

Jinx took a step back, shaking her head, “I can’t- I’m not like you- I’m not a leader or- or some inspirational figure. They’re just desperate for anything to believe in. I’m not- I don’t deserve their faith.”

“But you’re the first to take a real stand in a long time. Sure it was an… explosive stand but a stand regardless. Directly against the Council, the people who have passed all the laws to try and make us less than them in the past. Who have had no trouble ignoring our struggles and claiming blissful ignorance when they screw us over. You have the chance to help bring people together. If we can stop killing each other over Piltover’s scraps and for territory… we can stand our ground. This could be the start of a rebellion. A revolution.”

“…I’ll screw it up. I always do.”

“You won’t… and if it does go wrong… it won’t be on you. We can do this Jinx, together.”

Jinx looked back out to the city line.

It’d been Silco’s dream.

To be recognized by Piltover.

He hadn’t been able to bring Zaun together, sure, but everything he’d done had forced Zaun into progress… even if it wasn’t always in the best of ways. His biggest dream had always been of Zaun being it’s own nation.

It was the dream that’d been within his grasp, close enough to touch but that he had meant to reject in the end.

For her.

She’d bombed the Council as a way to honor him.

To finally show them all.

Everything had gone to shit the moment he was gone.

But now… now all of Zaun had a common enemy.

There had been no singular group in Stillwater. Instead a coglamoration of Jinxers and Firelights and members from every gang Jinx knew of.

That meant that there had been no division at Sevika’s rally.

That for once, every part of Zaun had been open to the possibility of fighting for the same cause and had been promptly punished for it.

Jinx slowly turned back to Ekko.

Building something knew… he’d said Powder used her abilities to create instead of destroying… could she do the same?

Someone worth building it for… she thought of the hopeful look in Ekko’s eyes. Of the way the people of Zaun had, for a moment, embraced her, wrapping her in gratitude and misplaced but real hope as they passed by her. And of course, she thought of Isha, who deserved so much more than… this.

“I’m not saying I’ll be good at it… but I suppose I could give it a shot.”

Ekko reached out quickly, Jinx barely having time to flinch before he was tugging at her and-

Pulling her into a hug, all but crushing her against him, arms wrapped tightly against him.

She exhaled, falling against him, hiding her face against his chest.

They stayed like that for what was possibly an embarrassingly long time.

When she eventually managed to pull back, she turned away to wipe away her tears.

“So… how exactly does one start a revolution?”

—————————

“This is the time to stand together!” Ekko’s voice came as he stepped out from the crowd, wearing his firelight mask, going to take it off as he went to stand next to Sevika, “To leave aside the labels and separation and to work together, it’s the only way we’ll survive what’s coming next. Piltover wants us divided. They have always benefited from us killing each other, being at each other’s throats, fighting for territory and for their scraps. Not anymore! We need to stand together! To show them that we will not backdown! That they can’t invade our streets, our homes and expect us to just lay down and take it! That-”

“Where is Jinx?!” Demanded a voice, thought she couldn’t tell exactly where it came from.

Ekko sighed, casting a glance her way, waiting.

Jinx took a deep breath.

“Right here!” She called out as she went to take off her cloak, the people around her quickly going to clear a path as she sauntered on forwards, stopping next to Ekko for a moment before going to stand on the metal box Sevika had left on the floor, “You wanted to see me? Well here I am!”

Most of the crowd gathered around her, after a moment of stunned silence, started applauding, whilst some other looked like they wanted nothing more than to shake her and ask her what exactly her plan was.

Jinx glanced to Ekko, who gave her a quiet encouraging nod.

Welp, she didn’t really have anything to lose.

“Now… I don’t know much about leading, or about being some- revolutionary… but I do know about fighting. And I know about Piltover’s crimes.”

She recalled all of Silco’s sermones and every story and complaint he ever told her about all Piltover had and constantly took for granted.

This had never been her dream. But it had been her dad’s. And maybe it had started becoming her own the moment Isha had dropped into her life.

“I know that Enforcers have killed hundreds of us, a lot of times, for no good reason other than to show us that we are lesser than them, for us daring to stand up for ourselves, for doing what we gotta do to survive. That they have thrown dozens of us in cells without a trial just because they can. But the second we lay our hands on a single one of their precious Council members they suddenly have the right to invade our streets? To cry for justice to be delivered? It’s bullshit!”

A lot of them started nodding along, she could see the anger rising up in them.

——————————

Jinx took a deep breath before gently placing Isha on the railing, keeping a hand on the back of her vest, “Look at that kid. You like it?”

Isha’s eyes widened in a way that would’ve been comical if it weren’t heartbreaking. This was probably the first proper tree she’d ever seen.

Jinx set her down on the floor and the girl started jumping from foot to foot, clearly thrilled.

Ekko chuckled as he went to crouch down, “You see that platform to the right?” He asked as he pointed, Isha following before nodding, “That’s where the kids we have here play. We even managed to get our hands on some Piltover toys if you wanna go check it out. Jinx and I will be by the base of the tree if you need us.”

Isha hesitated, going to grab Jinx’s leg.

The girl had gotten a lot more confident since Jinx had first met her but it was obvious she had some anxiety about being apart.

Jinx went to crouch as well, gently running her thumb over Isha’s eyebrow before playfully pinching her cheek, Isha trying to act annoyed and push her away but smiling, “You should go kiddo. See if they got any good stuff. I’ll be right down there, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Isha inspected her for a long moment before nodding along, adjusting her metal helmet as though it were armor before starting to make her way towards the platform.

“She seems like a good kid.” Ekko said.

“She is. She’s the best.”

#arcane #jinx arcane #ekko #jinx #arcane violet #vi and jinx #ekkojinx #ekko and jinx #timebomb #arcane s2 #sevika arcane #sevika #Cait? Maybe?#I feel like I’m on shimmer #arcane vi

74 notes · View notes

world-in-a-nook · 2 months ago

Text

A call for warmth...

characters : Aventurine x gn/reader relationship : established relationship art : @miikanar (edited) synopsis : Aventurine calls you after a day on a buisness trip, he misses you deeply warnings : hurt/comfort, self-loathing, identity crisis, petnames (my love, my dear,honey), bantering wc : 1k60 nda : not my native language

It was one of those nights for you both: one away at home, the other on the work trip. Since you had gotten into a relationship with Aventurine, you knew it would mostly be long distanced. You never minded. After all, technology helped you cope, and he wasn’t the type to ignore your texts or calls. Speaking of which, while you were working, a notification appearing “Incoming call from My darling. Answer?”. You excused yourself to your colleagues and went outside, leaning on the wall before answering:

“Hello darling!”

A second, then two. You frown because he isn’t always that silent. Finally, he spoke in a slurred fashion that told you he was probably drunk:

“Good evening my love. How are you?”

“I’m good Aventurine. And you? I can hear that you’ve drank…”

“Is it that obvious?” The slight tease and hint of smile reassured you slightly.

“Yes, my love. You should go to bed. Isn’t it late on Salsotto?”

You could hear his steps on the carpeted floor as he whined on the other side:

“But I wanted to talk to you! And my goodnight kiss! And my hug!”

You can’t refrain a chuckle as you slowly sat on the floor while responding:

“But we can’t, my dear. At least not for now… You’re coming home soon, don’t worry it will be alright…”

There was another moment of silence. This time you could hear him open a door and the distant city sound. He had probably gone on the balcony of his hotel room. It was part of his night routine, teasing about how you were both looking at each other from afar. You were about to scold him again and insist he should go to bed, but he spoke first:

“I miss you…”

“I miss you too my love…”

“No, no I miss you. I miss your scent, your embrace, the twinkle in your eye. I feel so strong when I’m with you, like…like I could make the biggest bets…”

“But you’re strong my dear.”

“No, I’m not.”

You frowned and unconsciously leaned forward as if trying to protest while facing him but he insisted:

“I’m not strong. I’m just a manipulator who tricked you into loving me. I’m just a lucky bastard who can’t live a normal life without being scared.”

“It’s normal to be scared Kaka—”

“Don’t call me that. Please, don’t…”

You opened your mouth to say something, yet the silence crept between you. You had known his name randomly a few years ago: when he had put offerings for Gaithra Tricolps on the chimenea’s mantle and explained it was for the day of Kakava. Though you already knew that unconsciously, it was also a gift for his family. A quick sentence on how it was linked to his name, and he went back to his playful safe, trying to evade your questions by announcing one of his many purchases. So you too, you randomly called him Kakavasha. It was a pretty name, it rolled off the tongue. And Aventurine didn’t mind, in fact it sounded comforting, a warmth of intimacy and trust from those four syllables.

Yet today, he didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t know how he didn’t want to associate with this name, with his people, with this loneliness. So you tried again but this time with another :

“Aventurine I—”

“I’m not Aventurine ! Aventurine is just-… just-…It’s just a façade, a farce!”

Aventurine of stratagems, the stone of the lucky ones. Was he even lucky? He had lost everything just to attract wealth. He was a lucky charm yet a curse for those who dared to touch, even approach him. And yet here you were, on the other side of the phone, listening to his nonsense and blurry words. At least tonight, you didn’t have to smell the blend of alcohol and his cologne, nor did you have to help him undress and fully lay in bed. You were away from him, away from his supposed luck, from his cursed wealth. It was better for you that way. But was it ?

“My love?” your voice came through the fog of emotions

At the two words, his heart fluttered with joy, and he weakly answered:

“Yes honey, I’m here…I’m-I’m still on the line…”

The words felt comforting yet sour, as if he wasn’t allowed to call you this. Someone else should take care fo you, hug you and make you feel happy. He quickly uttered:

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, honey. You must be working. I-I need to go to bed…”

“Honey, I’m alright. Please listen to me. As I said, everything will be alright. You’ll be home soon.”

He swallowed a tear and wobbled until he fell on his bed, barely taking off his designer shoes. He repeated:

“I miss you love… I miss you so much…”

“I know, I know. And you’ll be home soon. I’m not the only one who misses you, you know. I’ll have to battle with the kitties for your attention.”

He let out a chuckle before responding:

“Don’t worry, this time, you’ll be the first to have my kiss.”

“Otherwise, I won’t give you any pancakes!”

“Oh, come on! The fly is gonna be super long and I’ve missed you!”

“Then I’ll need my kiss and to be the first one! Don’t go rushing to the kitties!”

“Fine, fine. You’re a tough negotiator, you know?”

You exchanged another hearty laugh as the conversation continued. A long talk, talking about your shared life, present and future. Even if his mind had been tarnished by his insecurities, you had managed to comfort him, as always and you would continue to do so.

It’s when you asked him a question that you realised the silence on the other line of the phone. After a few seconds, you could hear his breathing slow and steady. You couldn’t stop the soft smile appearing as you realised, he had fallen asleep during the call. Usually, he couldn’t sleep when on a trip. He would tire himself out with running or any exercises. On the rare occasions you couldn’t answer the phone, he would also drink to make the thoughts go away. Yet this time, he had fallen asleep during the call because you had been his home, and he needed you more than anything.

#hsr #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai aventurine #kakavasha #star rail aventurine #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #hurt/comfort

75 notes · View notes

i-miss-2013 · 5 months ago

Text

I feel so bad for the 13 year old girls of today

A long rant about “aesthetics”

I was once 13, and I participated in countless of trends, but I still felt like I had a little freedom and individuality at that age.

But it feels like 13 year olds now NEED to fit into a mold COMPLETELY to fit in???

Scrolling on TikTok is so scary. Seeing these teens just completely form themselves into an “aesthetic” is so sickening and bizarre! I feel so bad..

Where’s the personality? Their own identity?

Again, I was 13 too, and i understand the struggles of finding yourself, but there’s seriously no need to force yourself into a mold!

The “clean girl aesthetic” is what makes me the most sickest. Like a 13 year old girl revamping her closet to such plain clothes, getting rid of any childhood memories in her room, having the same ‘aura posters,’ a plain phone wallpaper, and the list goes on.

I’m tearing up on the fact of these girls getting rid of things from childhood and preferring just plain, blank, and white.

There’s nothing wrong with liking the “clean girl aesthetic.” It’s something these 13 year old’s like. Yay interests! But it’s the fact that they’re forcing themselves into a mold and forcing themselves to embody the aesthetic like their life depends on it.

To the 13 year old girls: There’s nothing wrong with liking multiple, different things!

I have a marvel calendar on my cork board that has a pink zebra print frame that I ducktaped myself, I have a disco ball pillow along with Sanrio and Justin Bieber pillows, I have white sheets, I like doing a full beat of makeup, I play Valorant, I have Y2K bags, I have Star Wars keychains on my college backpack, I have sailor moon manga, I have multiple Ariana Grande perfumes, I enjoy talking about mental health, I have uggs and hokas but I also have “emo” boots and wedge sneakers circa 2014, my playlist can go from Harry Styles, Sabrina Carpenter, Kali Uchis to Korn, Deftones, Loathe, my laptop stickers have Star Wars and “preppy” flowers to Sanrio to Gigi Hadid, I sip from my Stanley or pink Hydroflask whilst I talk about the new Deadpool movie and can’t wait to watch It Ends With Us.

I like what I like.

I’m turning 20 this year and I’ve gone through SO MANY identity crisis — and I’ll still have plenty of identity crisis in the future. So, there’s no need to “find yourself” at just 13 years old! Just enjoy your interests, like what you like, whenever you like, etc.

Don’t force yourself into a mold

(I hope what I said in this post made sense)

#blog post #rant #rant post #personal rant #mini rant #sorry for the rant #aesthetic #aesthetics #i miss 2013

75 notes · View notes

felagund-the-valiant · 4 months ago

Text

Your Father's Son - Curufin x maia!reader

For the first time ever, Curufin wishes he wouldn’t resemble his father so much.

Words: 1.3k

Tags: Curufin has a bit of an identity crisis, fluff, reader is a Maia of Aulë

A/N: I genuinely never thought the day would come where I write a fic for this guy. Honestly don’t care that this is probably not really canon compliant, this version simply speaks to me so much more. Since it’s pre-oath, I imagine the daddy issues just hadn’t taken on their final form yet. Guess I can still sneak this into @doodle-pops underrated character event 👀

Whenever Curufinwë and his family visited the Halls of Aulë, his father really lived up to his name. The fire of his fëa glowed in his eyes and filled his voice with an insurmountable passion, captivating all who listened, as he described new projects and techniques he had come up with. His mother always stood next to his father, beaming with pride at her husband’s accomplishments and occasionally chiming in with remarks about her own craft.

Today was a truly remarkable occasion. His father stood at the centre of the hall, holding an intricately crafted box in his hands.

“Thank you for so graciously receiving me and my family, Lord Aulë,” his deep voice boomed across the room. “Today, I am here to reveal my greatest creations yet. Behold.” He opened the box and produced three brightly gleaming gems. A collective gasp went through the hall and excited whispers broke out amongst the present Maiar and Elves.

“The Silmarils,” his father continued, “imbued with the light of the Two Trees themselves.” Curufinwë watched with pride, as his father was immediately swarmed by curious onlookers, hoping to gain a closer look at the Silmarils and ask him all manner of questions about the creative process.

He spotted a familiar face in the crowd and a pleasant tingle spread through his body. You wore an expression of pure awe, eyes glued to his father’s spectacular creations. How he wished you would look at him like that. He would gladly rip the Silmarils from his father’s hands to offer them to you if that’s what it took.

Sometimes he wondered if his feelings could ever be reciprocated. The Valar and Maiar seemed so close and yet so far away and to his knowledge, Maia and Elf couples weren’t exactly common.

Your eyes met and you offered him a happy smile, making your way over to him. “It is lovely to see you here, my lord,” you said with a polite bow.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, taking your hand to ghost his lips across the back of it, delighting in the surprised blush on your face.

“What your father created … breathtaking. We’re all honoured to be in the presence of such a master craftsman,” you gushed.

Curufinwë’s smile almost bordered on smugness. How else could anyone feel in the presence of the greatest of the Eldar? He knew how much work his father had put into creating the Silmarils. How much of his fiery fëa had flown into them. All the sleepless hours slaving away in the smouldering forges had more than paid off.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your mother showed me one of the new hair brooches you made for her. It was stunning, you truly are your father’s son. With all the talent you inherited from him, surely there are creations rivalling the Silmarils in your future.”

Curufinwë felt an unexpected pull in his chest. You truly are your father’s son. Words he had heard more times than he could count and that he normally perceived as the greatest of compliments, but somehow it felt different when they came from you. Was that all you thought about when you looked at him? How much he took after his father?

He should be honoured, like he always was. Who else but him could even dream of holding a candle to his father’s genius? And yet … I’m more than just my father’s son, his mind told him, but he immediately suppressed that ridiculous complaint. He clenched his jaw and gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I pray you are right.” His façade could never hope to deceive the perceptive Maiar.

“Are you all right, my lord? Did I say something to upset you?” you questioned but he only shook his head silently and took his leave with a grumbled Please excuse me.

He didn’t know how many corners he had turned when he just so happened to find himself in front of a mirror in an empty hallway. He recognised the frame’s design immediately – it was one of the first crafts for Aulë he had helped his father with. He could still vividly remember the pride he felt when his father had praised his diligent work and how he had begun to chase that high ever since. For as long as he could remember, nothing had mattered as much to him as gaining his father’s approval.

Curufinwë stared into the mirror, watching his father’s piercing gaze stare back at him. His face contorted into a scowl, just like his father’s did, when in the presence of his blasted half-brothers.

He tentatively reached up to loosen the pins that held his hair in place, watching it cascade across his shoulders and back like liquid midnight. No matter how much he wrecked his mind, he couldn’t think of a single hairstyle that his father did not favour as well.

“There you are,” your voice suddenly appeared next to him. He tried to hide how startled he was as he turned to face you.

“You followed me?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” you said timidly, as if debating whether or not to regret your action. He couldn’t give you an honest answer, so he remained silent.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, he spoke up. “Is he all you think about when you see me?”

“He?”

“My father.”

“What? Of course not-“

“I have talent of my own, you know. Everyone always says how alike we are. How grateful I should be, to have inherited his skills. But-“ His breath quickened, and he turned his back to you, running his hands across his face in frustration. I’m more than just my father’s son. “I don’t want you to think of me like that. Not you, of all people.”

You moved to stand in front of him and took his hands away from his face, holding them in your own instead. For a moment, Curufinwë thought he saw something akin to genuine affection in your eyes, but surely his mind was deceiving him.

“Who says that’s what I do?” you said tenderly. “I adore you for who you are. Your father-“

“You adore me?” he interrupted you in disbelief. A sudden realisation seemed to dawn on you, as if you hadn’t meant to use those words.

“Well, yes, of course I do,” you floundered, “A great deal. You are an amazing craftsman in your own right and the passion you show for your works is most certainly your own. I love when you come to me to show me new ideas, I … could listen to you for hours.” You bit your lower lip and looked away, your statement hanging heavy in the air for a moment.

Curufinwë swallowed strongly and then took hold of your chin to turn your face towards him slowly. “I … adore you, too,” he confessed and felt his heart swell as your eyes lit up with joy and your lips curved into a smile. “There’s only one opinion I value more than my father’s when it comes to my craft. Yours. Sharing my ideas with you is one of my greatest joys.”

“I don’t really know what to say,” you replied, but the smile on your face never faded.

“You don’t need to say anything. For now, let’s just … I don’t know. Come to terms with these feelings. And forget about my embarrassing insecurities,” he mumbled the last part and felt his cheeks heat up, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable.

You laughed and nodded. “I’d like that.”

A small part of him wondered if this is how his father had felt, when he discovered his mother’s mutual feelings, but he silenced that part immediately. Not now, idiot.

He shook his head, and a relieved smile graced his features. Maybe the Maiar weren’t so far away after all. Maybe – just maybe – he didn’t mirror his father as much as everyone told him.

Coming from you, he chose to believe it for now.

#tolkien #reader insert #silmarillion #curufin #curufin x reader #underratedcharacterevent

59 notes · View notes

miniwheat77 · 2 years ago

Text

Childhood trauma with 141 + König.

!CW! Abuse, trauma, neglect, lasting issues from a bad childhood, (sorry if I miss any.)

König:

König didn’t realize your behavior was out of the ordinary until the military forced him to go to behavioral classes. They went over all kinds of topics. The childhood trauma topic is what really made him perk up. König noticed this small thing with you pretty much immediately after you’d begun dating. While you were awake, you were normal. Casual, hugs and small kisses when nobody was looking, but when you were sleepy, or asleep. You cling to him. Like your life depends on it. You’re a bit of a crazy sleeper, so sometimes you’ll have a hold of some random part of his body. Like his foot, or his leg. But it’s usually his arm. Sometimes you’ll even hold his hand while you’re asleep. He always thought it was really sweet until he seen that video.

The first thing he did upon returning was cornering you to ask you. “Liebling, can I talk to you?” He mumbles. You nod your head with a smile. He walks toward you, thankful this was able to happen while the both of you were home from the military. “They spoke about childhood trauma today.” He mumbles. You nod your head, blood running cold. You knew what he was going to ask. “And.. the way you cling to me in your sleep. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks. You release a defeated sigh. “It’s nothing that important.. it’s just.” You pause. “When I was a kid, my dad wasn’t all that nice and my mom slept in my room because he wouldn’t hit her when I was around. I always fell asleep holding onto her for safety and comfort, and… I fell asleep holding onto her one night and when I woke up, she was gone. That was when I was 5. I never seen her again.” You look down. König feels his heart break. Grasping your wrist and pulling you into him to hug you tightly. “Ich werde dich nie alleine lassen” he whispers it into your ear and he can feel you relaxing into him. “I love that you hold onto me. I will keep you safe.” He breathes. Feeling you tighten your grasp around him.

Ghost:

Ghost could pick up on trauma pretty easily because he had a lot of his own trauma responses. You always talked a lot about how you seemed to have a pretty good childhood for the most part, but you did something that made him wonder what actually happened during your childhood. The first fight the both of you had shared was pretty brutal. A lot of hurtful words were spoken and when Ghost came to you to apologize the following day, you wouldn’t say it back. No matter what, you wouldn’t apologize for anything. Ghost took everything you said with a grain of salt, but he secretly hated that you wouldn’t apologize when you said hurtful things. After a particular fight, he seen a certain look in your eyes. He seen the pain in them. You didn’t like saying hurtful things. But he could tell this is what you were used to. For some reason, you believe it was fight, never flight. During one particular night in with him, the both of you laying comfortably in your shared bed, he decided to bring it up.

“Why don’t you ever say sorry?” He asks. You turn to look at him. Sending him a weird look. “What?” You ask. You’re completely confused. “You know.. sometimes when we fight and I apologize, you never do.” You look confused. “Oh.. I didn’t realize I did that.” You laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry Ghost. I just.. it’s a bad habit that my family had when I was growing up.” Your cheeks are red, and he can see that you feel bad. “It’s okay.” He slides his hand along your hip and pulls you into him. “We’re going to work on everything together so that you’re comfortable. You help me get over my identity crisis, I help you learn empathy.” He laughs. You look up at him. “I think as long as we have each other, the rest will be easy.” You laugh. “I think so too. I’m sorry that your parents never apologized to you.” He breathes. “It’s okay. I can fix that, but I can’t fix what I say to hurt you.” You breathe. He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be just fine sweetheart. We have each other now.”

Captain Price:

Before the two of you started a relationship, he caught on to something pretty quickly. You dropped a piece of paper during a meeting, and Captain Price picked it up, handing it to you. You flinched when he held it out for you. Trying to play it off and thanking him. Anytime he’d reach his hand out for something, you’d flinch away from him. He picked up on a few more signs here and there, when everyone else would go home, you’d always stay back. Saying you’ll keep an eye on the base for everyone. It was during a family gathering the task force had, a dinner to invite families to, where Captain Price seen it. He met your father, shook his hand. Through the entire night, he noticed the way you’d flinch under any slight movement he made. At the end of the night, Captain Price told him to leave, and that he wasn’t welcome anymore. You were surprised and so was your father. Captain Price had no idea about your past.

That was the night you opened up to him about everything. The abuse, how you joined the military to escape from it. Tried everything to make your father proud but it never worked. You spent the entire night laid up in bed with Captain Price, and that’s when you confessed your feelings for one another. Under the sheets, no clothing. He stared at you, perfect toned body, lower half hidden underneath silk sheets. He caressed your cheek, reassuring you. He had himself propped up as he looked at you. Hair sprawled across his pillows. “You didn’t deserve that. And I would never raise my hand at you, not ever. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Never again.” He mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Tears welled in your eyes and you smiled up at him. Having to explain this is the first time a man has ever been kind to you. It broke him inside. It really did. But he’d always be there for you. For every step of the healing process. No matter what. After that night, he was different around you. Way more protective. Anytime you flinched for any reason, he pulled you into his side, or pulled you behind him during drills when you were uncomfortable. He always did his very best to make sure you were comfortable, and you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Soap:

Soap noticed that you were able to memorize a lot of things about the others on base. It started with their tone of voice, you’d joke about your Captains tone of voice. Laughing and saying he seemed pissed about something. You could tell just by the tone of voice what kind of mood they were in, and Soap found it odd because he couldn’t tell. When the two of you started sneaking around together, during the night when you heard footsteps passing your room, he would tense up and you would reassure him. Saying “it’s just Ghost, don’t worry.” Of course he’d ask how you knew, and you’d say by the sound of the footsteps. Eventually he caught on too. He ended up coming across a video online about common trauma responses in adults from their childhood and that was a big one. He wondered what had gone on in your childhood for you to develop a response like that. Sometimes when you heard specific footsteps, you’d tense up, or scramble to get rid of whatever you’re doing.

During one night when you were with Soap, he decided to ask about it. You were sitting at your desk and he was laying in your bed. “Sorry to interrupt your work lass, but I have a question.” He mumbles, sitting up on your bed. “Yeah what’s up?” You turn to him. Spinning in the chair. “Well.. you know how you memorize certain things?” He asks. You look at him confused. “Like footsteps? Or a tone of voice?” He asks. “Yeah?” He nods his head. You’re following him. “I read online that that’s a common trauma response. Were your parents mean to you when you were a kid?” He asks. You smile. “I wouldn’t say mean. Just strict. I memorized their footsteps so that if I was up to no good or needed to hide something, I knew who it was. And I could usually tell by their footsteps if they were coming to yell at me, and I could tell by their tone of voice if they were mad or not so that I could avoid them.” You explain. He nods his head. It’s almost as if it’s clicking in your own head as the realization washes over your face. He reaches out, grasping the chair and sliding you toward him. “Nothing to worry about now, I’ve got you. If anyone treats you like that, they’ll have to face me.” He pulls you into him, kissing you.

Gaz:

You and Gaz started out as really good friends. Somehow you were always paired with him on missions and you got along with him really nicely. During one mission, you and Gaz had gotten stuck somewhere for a couple days, and took turns taking watch. While you were asleep, Gaz accidentally slammed a door shut, and you jolted awake. Looking around in a panic. He reassured you that it was just him, and that it was an accident. He assumed it was just the mode you were in from being in the military. But you had this habit anywhere you were, and it was only certain noises. Doors slamming, glass breaking, heavy footsteps. Gunfire and bombs never seemed to bother you, and that’s where Gaz was confused. You slept like a rock through gunfire. You might wake up here and there from a bomb, but never like you had that night when he accidentally slammed the door. When the two of you ended up together, he noticed small signs more and more and one night as he went to fall asleep, he put two and two together.

He corners you one night on watch, and asks you. With a sigh, you confess that your parents fought a lot when you were a kid, and you could tell your dad was home because of the door slamming and heavy footsteps and when they’d fight, your mom would break dishes and throw stuff. Sometimes when they took their anger out on you, your door would open and you’d wake up immediately. Gaz comforted you and reassured you, obviously. But he knew it would take time for you to feel better. That same night, he was laying next to you. He’d snuck into your room and you had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier. The sound of a door slamming shut outside had you awake in a panic. Gaz reached a hand out, caressing your arm. “Hey, it’s just one of the others. Relax.” He mumbles. You nod your head, laying back down. He pulls you into him, running a soothing hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your racing heart. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve got you now.” He mumbles. You relax almost immediately, falling back asleep. He needed to sneak back to his room soon, but he just can’t yet. He hates leaving you alone to worry. He hates seeing you like that. Something so small throwing you into such a panic. But he’ll always be there to calm you.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #mw2 headcanons #mw2ghost #gaz mw2 #könig mw2

614 notes · View notes