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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Unfair Of You to Leave Me Behind

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Oscar's world comes crashing down on him in Vegas.

Warnings: Graphic injury descriptions, lashing out in anger, car crash, Lando's 2023 Vegas crash, grief, panic attacks, blood, pregnancy mentions, miscarriage, death

Notes: I'm back to make you cry again. Me and the requester who shall not be named were cackling while coming up with this idea.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She kisses Oscar when they first wake up. The only way he ever wants to wake up is with her in his arms. Despite the fact that it's the afternoon Vegas sun shining through the window, he could care less.

She's racing today in place of Carlos, and he couldn't be prouder of her. He's devastated that Carlos got injured from that stupid grate, but his girl is driving a Ferrari. He's pretty sure the Spainard will understand.

Oscar laughs softly to himself, recalling the memory or how their 'rivalry' started.

~~~~~

"Carlos! Wait up!"

The Spainard slows his pace and waits for Oscar to catch up. "Hey man, it's not your fault, I didn't give you anywhere to go."

"I'm sorry too, didn't mean to be so... I don't know..."

"Seriously, mate, we all make mistakes on track." Carlos claps him on the back and gives him a reassuring smile. "Was that all? I, unfortunately, have to go he eaten by the media sharks."

Oscar laughs at the comparison. "Actually, I had an idea."

"Oh? Do tell?"

"I thought it might be fun to cause some chaos."

The two males find themselves huddled over Carlos' phone, crafting a petty tweet that will definitely get people's attention.

Thus was the start of their 'rivalry'.

She'd laughed so hard with Lando when they found out. The utter ridiculousness of Oscar being any kind of petty had them in tears.

"Oscar, if you weren't dating my sister for so long, I might believe you."

"Might?! I'm petty when I want to be!" He huffs and crosses his arms.

"Petty? My love, you are the king of unbothered. This thing with Carlos is cute, though!" He pouts in disappointment but quickly forgets about it when her lips meet his. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

~~~~~

Oscar spends his morning (afternoon) complaining about the diet Kim has him on. It's completely unfair. They both sneak a cookie anyway. Giggling as they get away with their crime.

He walks her to the Ferrari garage and drops her off with Charles. He doesn't want to let go; the goodbye kiss is longer than neccecary, and Charles makes a fake gagging sound.

"Shut up, Charlie. Like you don't make out with Max." She waves off Charles indecent noises.

"I'd rather not watch baby Norris get it on. Not when I have to face Lando sooner or later."

Oscar shrugs. "What a way to celebrate his birthday, no?"

"We'd be having a funeral for him if that ever happens." Charles watches them with fondness, leaving each other's embrace for the last time.

Lando teases up until they are forced to separate and head to the grid. A plethora of jokes about Oscar with his sister in Vegas are had. To the point where Oscar manages approximately one indecent joke and Lando shuts up.

"That's my sister, mate."

"And she's my wife, your point?"

~~~~~

Oscar stands nervously at the edge of the water. Daniel and Max keep reassuring him it'll be fine. However, he wouldn't put it past those two to push each other into the water while officiating.

Logan stands beside him. He smiles happily and nods to where she is walking down the beach.

Oscar may be unfazed by most things, but he is only so strong. She looks ethereal walking down the Australian beach in white, flowers decorating her hair.

Lando is the one walking her down the aisle on her request. Both her sisters trail behind her.

It's just their immediate family and a few close friends. It's intimate and small, just the way they wanted it.

Daniel does end up pushing Max into the water. Oscar is to wrapped up in his new bride to notice, let alone care.

His entire world came together that day. Oscar could lose everything but still have her and live the rest of his life a perfectly content man.

~~~~~

The faster her drives, the sooner he can get of this car and go check on Lando. The crash looked awful; like the car just slipped out from underneath him. It's making him more nervous than he would like.

His lover can't be fairing much better, that's her brother. The last thing she needs right now is to be distracted. Which he most definitely is not.

Oscar drives because he can't wait to see her after, to tell her how proud he is. Maybe he'll worship her tonight if she'll let him. If she isn't too exhausted-

The world moves in slow motion. She was ahead of him after his last pit stop. She was running in sixth, he's seventh but they both are lapping cars at this point.

The red Ferrari and the blue of the Williams collide. Oscar is barely able to dodge the debrief flying everywhere.

For a brief second, her car is over his. He wants to reach out to her; grab her and tell her it'll be okay.

Then she's gone.

Oscar hears his engineer talking to him, but he only has one thing on his mind. He stops the car, pulls of the belts off and bolts in her direction. Except it's worse than he imagined. The sight we he turns around is brutal.

The Ferrari is in pieces. The entire front is wrapped around the pieces of wire barrier it took out. The fence is decimated and the car itself is smoking.

Oscar puts himself to work. He can see her, clearly unresponsive. The marshals are talking to him. It's fuzzy, but he knows they are helping.

He tries to pull her out and has to choke back his tears while doing so. Metal rebar from the car sticks into her through her abdomen. Her head lolls to the side like it's been snapped.

Oscar pulls her helmet off instead. He makes eye contact, and shatter. She's trying to talk to him, but it's incomprehensible.

His body is half in the cockpit with her as they cut the car away. He's not being useful now, but they have to understand. This is his entire world bleeding out for everyone to see.

He cups her face tentatively, as gently as he can manage. "Please love, stay with me - please - you did so well, come on love - open your pretty eyes for me." He chokes on broken sobs. He rips his gloves off, longing for the feel of skin of skin. Forehead pressed against hers, he will her to stay awake.

The marshals try to pull her away, but he knows as soon as they do, she's going to start bleeding worse. He screams at them defensively, not sure why, he just needs everyone to leave them alone.

Logan is the one to pull him off with the help of a few others. Oscar whips around out of Logan's grip. "This is your fault!" He regrets the words when they leave his mouth. Logan looks sick, pale and clammy.

~~~~~

Logan sits next to Oscar after filming another video for Prema. He's never been the biggest fan of media, but Logan makes it more fun.

"You gonna ask her out today? Like I suggested a month ago?" Logan wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Oscar shrugs. He'd been working up the nerve to ask her, but knowing who she's related to scares him a tad. She's out of his league by miles. "Not sure yet."

"Well, she's coming over here right now."

Oscar looks her way and has to fight the urge to cringe when they make eye contact. She is beaming at him. "Hello Oscar and Logan!"

"Hey! You got any plans for tonight?" Oscar reels when Logan sounds like he's going to ask instead. He'll say something like 'You snooze you lose, Piastri' after this encounter is over.

"Not that I know of."

"Great, Oscar doesn't either, He'll meet you tonight at six!"

"Will he be the one talking?"

Logan looks at Oscar and sighs when there is no response. "Hopefully."

"Okay then, I'll see you tonight, Oscar."

He does spin himself after she leaves and shoves Logan's shoulder. He mumbles some kind of thanks before crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

"Bet you she's the one."

And at the time, Oscar had laughed like it was a joke.

~~~~~

He only stops his seething at the distressed American when somebody pulls him away. He wants to push them off and run. He'll sprint to the hospital if he has too-

"Oscar, we're gonna get you there, okay?" Max and Daniel are escorting him off the track. They make no mention of the fact Oscar is converd in her blood.

Andrea tells him he can leave. Kim throws extra clothes at him and his phone. He can't look at it right now. The thought of dealing with any kind of media has him gagging as Max peels out of the parking lot.

He blocks out the drive. He tunes out the voices of Max and Daniel, trying to calm him. He'll be calm when he gets to her. Not a second before.

Oscar fights his way to her room. Determined to see physical evidence that she's okay.

Only, she's not moving.

The door to her room is wide open. Lando is sat curled next to Jon with his own medical equipment attached. His teammate is sobbing into his trainers chest, clutching his sisters limp hand.

Oscar takes tedious steps in. She looks so peaceful, entirely undisturbed. His knuckles run across the cold flesh of her cheek.

A doctor comes in, but he doesn't pay any attention. Not until the confirmation finds its way to his ears.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Both of your losses."

Oscar turns his attention to the doctor. "What do you mean both?" He snaps.

The kind looking woman looks disheartened. It makes Oscar's chest crack further. "She was pregnant. I'm so sorry."

~~~~~

"Osc, seriously, I'm not too worried about it." She wraps her arms around him from behind.

Oscar spins her around so he can see her eyes and peck her lips. "You could be pregnant."

"Or - hear me out - I could be stressed." She cups his face and stares at him with adoration. "I want to have a baby with you - I just - I don't want to get my hopes up, you know?"

"Whatever happens, we're in it together. Baby or stress, we'll figure it out."

She pulls him back to bed despite it almost being the afternoon. "If it's a girl, we should name her after one of our mums."

"And a boy?"

"Jack, after his daddy, the greatest man I've ever met."

~~~~~

Oscar collapses.

He shatters.

He screams until his lungs give out.

He holds her one last time.

He whispers his praise.

Then he watches her leave, taking everything with her.

His world is gone.

The funeral comes around far too fast. The last name on the grave includes his, the hyphenated one. It was her idea to conjoin the two. He wanted to match.

Charles had been around to tell him what actually happened. Both him and Carlos are devestated. The Spainard believes it should've been him.

The sketchy patch jobs over the grates had been quick. Carlos had been the first victim. Oscar's wife had been the second.

The grate hit the underside of the car and knocked it off the racing line. Right after she passed Logan. The American just happened to be close enough that it looked like they collided. He'd just been an innocent bystander in a brutal accident.

The FIA and Ferrari are pinning it on her. The statements made, despite the footage and data, are claiming it a driver error. It makes Oscar sick.

Oscar refuses to go anywhere near a track until the FIA own up to their actions. So does Lando, Max, Charles, Daniel, and Carlos.

They get everyone to take a stand. Soon enough, there are no drivers to put on a show.

The FIA has nothing. They took everything away from Oscar, so he did it right back.

~~~~~

A year goes by too quickly. He feels like it was yesterday that she was kissing him goodluck. Now she's a Ferrari reserve, getting ready to test the car.

He's fretting over her like a mother hen, but he can't help it! He might actually cry prideful tears over how proud he is of her.

He always kisses her in case it's the last time.

~~~~~

Oscar kneels over her grave. Logan sits beside him, arranging flowers in the shape of a heart.

The Aussie had cried his apologies to his best friend as soon as he found out what happened.

He's been winning races left and right for a few years now. Lando and him have dominated. He's not got a title yet, but Lando does. Her brother has dedicated it to her. They are both winning for her. He wishes she was here to see it.

"You were right Lo, she was the one."

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sigyns-drafts · 1 year ago

Note

Hey there, can I request for ROR anubis x modern reader where the reader is bored and try to summon anubis for fun and think it wouldn't work, but it end up working and now there a random Anubis in her room feel free to add what after this ~ thank you

A/N: Gladly anon! I'd love to write about silly little nubby. Hope it's what you wanted ♡

The unlikely jackal-headed companion 🐺🎃

Ror!Anubis x fem!reader

➩ A modern day girl who's favourite interest had always been Egyptian mythology, especially the god Anubis.

Found her adult life to be rather boring, so when she stumbled upon a website that could help her summon these ancient gods.

For fun she tries it, not expecting it to work until she is proven wrong and now Anubis himself has entered the mortal realm, as well as her home.

➩ Reader type: fem!reader.

⚠: Platonic & Romantic Fluff!!

In a small suburban town, nestled between towering buildings and grey streets, lived a young lonesome woman named y/n.

She was currently seated in her room adorned with posters of ancient Egyptian art and books, filled with its fascinating mythology, gods and history.

Something y/n had been fond of ever since she was a child.

But life as an adult was rather boring now, with work and other tasks keeping her away from her interests and hobbies.

Until y/n felt that sudden urge of curiosity again, rushing through her mind and body.

Soon enough y/n found herself engrossed scrolling online, stumbling upon an online tutorial on summoning the ancient Egyptian gods.

Half out of scepticism and half out of sheer boredom, y/n decided to try the summoning ritual for Anubis.

After all, Anubis was one of her favourite deities. Y/n chuckled at the stupidity and the fact this wasn't going to work.

Because it wouldn't, right?

She gathered the necessary items - candles, incense, and a makeshift altar adorned with skulls and other trinkets she found around the house.

Thinking to herself:

"If Anubis really does exist he would definitely like these, hah!"

As y/n chanted the ancient words she had gotten from the website, with a hint of amusement, she never expected anything to happen.

But to her surprise, a sudden wind and glow enveloped the room, and a mysterious figure materialised before her.

Anubis, the god of the afterlife with his jackal head, stood before her in all his majestic glory.

Y/n eyes widened in disbelief as she stumbled backward, tripping and falling to the ground. Her heart was racing in her chest, more than ever before.

"W-What..?! That wasn't supposed to-"

Y/n stutters to herself, trying to keep her cool as she shakes uncontrollably at Anubis's presence.

Anubis, as he looked around the room slowly, taking in his new surroundings was still barely visible to really make out. Because of the sudden glow to have hit the room.

While trying to adjust her sight, y/n was certain Anubis was here to collect her soul or at least judge her heart for having called upon him as a joke.

However, to her shock when the god spoke, he sounded rather thrilled to be there.

"Well, this was unexpected and delightful!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating through the room.

It wasn't as deep and booming as y/n had imagined it sounding like.

In fact, he sounded like an excited puppy who somehow knew how to talk.

Did she hit her head when she fell and was now dreaming, or perhaps even worse had she gone mad?

Unused to being summoned in the modern world, Anubis continues to look around with childlike wonder, his dark eyes sparkling.

Y/n was almost left with her mouth wide open when she finally got to see and admire the god before her.

His head wasn't actually the head of a jackal, but instead it was his headwear!

Underneath all that he was a handsome man, with dark tanned skin, sharp teeth and piercings on his chin, but also tongue.

Y/n had to gulp and blush slightly to herself, for some reason feeling embarrassed about this humanoid form of his.

Noticing y/n's bewilderment, Anubis approached her closer with a grin, offering his hand to help the woman up.

"Greetings, mortal! I am Anubis, the guardian of the afterlife. What brings you to summon me today?"

Stammering, y/n managed to grab a hold of the gods hand reluctantly while replying, she was scared his sharp nails or claws would touch her at first.

"I... I didn't really think this would work, please forgive me my lord!"

Anubis chuckled lightly, his soft laughter was admittedly very cute making y/n's heart skip a little beat.

"The whims of mortals! Fear not, if this wasn't a part of your plan I totally understand! But if you don't mind me asking, what assistance can I be to you then?"

With a nervous expression, y/n took a deep breath and the chance to think about it.

What could she possibly come up with to make Anubis, a literal god's time, be worth the while in the mortals realm?

"I suppose..somehow entertain me? If that isn't too much to ask for of course!! It's just that, these days are quite uneventful.."

Y/n to ease her nerves starts twirling some of her hair using her index finger.

A common habit she did whenever she needed a distraction.

Anubis, realising the woman was still tense, smirks to himself and thinks about a way to help her.

"Then I am here to make your mundane day more thrilling, my lady! I see your room is decorated with quite a few familiar things."

He happily pointed out, already seeing y/n's eyes light up at his comment and sharp eye.

"Oh really?! I'm so glad you find them familiar, I was afraid it would look weird to you somehow, considering I'm not from ancient Egypt!"

"Hey, don't worry about it, I love seeing people appreciate my culture."

"Phew, what a relief..!"

"But a particular reason why I am your favourite~?" Anubis without warning teased y/n, raising his eyebrow as his face leaned in close to hers.

It felt like her whole body was about to explode and her face turned red.

Damn it! She should have prepared herself for this question considering the jackal headed gods depiction was included almost everywhere!

"W-Well, you are my favourite..!"

Y/n responded in a panic, was he seriously playing with her right now?

Was this a way to catch her off guard or to test her in some way or another?

Before y/n could say anything any further, Anubis, ever the playful deity, leaped into the air out of pure happiness.

"Yippee~!!" The god exclaimed as he accidentally landed near her.

The sudden weight caused y/n to lose her balance, and she tumbled onto the bed alongside the ancient god.

"Oh uh..that was an accident, I didn't mean to scare or get that excited!"

Anubis pleaded, genuinely upset about his actions. He quickly got off y/n but all the woman could do was sigh as she had accepted her new fate.

"Honestly, this is already keeping me entertained enough."

#writing #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #fluff #romantic #romantic fluff #platonic #platonic fluff #reader x canon #reader x character #fem reader #ror anubis #snv anubis #ror x reader #Anubis #anubis x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 4 months ago

Note

Agsfgs

He's a god of fertility, among other things

Imagine if Y/N prayed to Khonshu for their own fertility and just

Khonshu appears, offers them help with fertility, he gives them a few options. Just the regular magic method of helping or he physically helps them get pregnant... with his child, of course

Like, hot, but also can you imagine praying to a god, they show up and basically say "okay I can help you the normal way, or we can do this the fun way and make a baby together"

Obviously Y/N agreed to have a kid with him cuz like. C'mon. Look at him

He's of course a very attentive father and partner afterward. He's not blind to the struggle new life brings along with the joy

Okay, okay, I know this isn't exactly what you were picturing but--

Wings of A Prayer

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Infertility problems, mentions of miscarriages, self-doubt, depression, suicidal thoughts, sort of alcoholism, fluff, hinted at sexy times but nothing is pictured, Marc and the boys learn that there's more to the pissy old bird than meets the eye! (Naturally canon-fudging and merging with the comics again) And a major time skip! My personal headcanon that Khonshu looks like Oded Fehr rears its head once more!

A/N: Whew... this one is long! Surprisingly, no smut in this one. But I realized I am sorely lacking on Khonshu fluff since y'all are almost always just as horny for him as I am. I also did some research and... Wow. Some scary stuff. I'm sorry if this strikes a painful chord with some of you. I had to stop writing this a few times and take a break because it was making me tear up.

It had been... horrible, to say the least. Your life had been one giant trainwreck so far. Your heart had been wanting for something for so long, and... Well...

Your apartment was a gray, flat... hollow living space to you. It was lacking in... something. And that something was a giggly, chubby, cuddly little person. You thought about getting a pet, but... there was an itching inside of you. And itching for something--someone--of your own.

You had been living on your own since cutting off contact with your parents; and dating had been an absolutely dog shit experience since your teen years. But as you got older, and your friends all went their separate ways, living their own lives and starting their own families, you realized... You wanted that. To be the home you never really had growing up, a source of unconditional love and understanding.

You weren't stupid--you did your research beforehand, looked into every legal document you could. Instead of getting pregnant, you'd looked into fostering or adoption.

But you just... you couldn't afford it. The cost of adopting would have bankrupt you, and your increasing financial instability as the economy fluctuated was an obvious deterrent for most agencies. The same was for fostering--you simply worked too much to bre as present as they wanted you to be for a foster placement. And it didn't help that your particular neighborhood wasn't... stellar or "perfect" for a growing child.

The worst insult, perhaps, was when you looked into IVF after adoption and fostering were out of the question. It sounded like the best option, and so you went to your doctor. As uncomfortable and relatively invasive as the pelvic exam and tests were, your doctor assured you a pregnancy was easy enough to accomplish with the fertility treatments if you were able to get into a program.

Only... you hadn't. Your insurance wouldn't even cover half of the procedures, and your heart was sinking at the thought of going bankrupt and not being able to afford the child you so desperately wanted.

That was a low blow, but, you knew you still had options. You could get pregnant naturally. The real trick was finding a man who was willing, healthy, and responsible enough to agree to father your child.

As distasteful as sleeping with someone relatively strange to you was, you made the decision to be tactful. You made a profile on a dating website with the clear intentions that you wished to find a partner that was clean of any STIs, drug or alcohol addictions, and wouldn't cause problems for you if the impregnation was successful.

And of course, you assured that should they not wish it, you wouldn't put them on a birth certificate or come after them for child support. It would be difficult, surely, but you knew you could manage. There was always well-fare and WIC to help out with needs, as well as a few charities you could apply to. Your elderly neighbors even agreed to watch over your baby when it was born because they didn't have any grandchildren of their own; and the presence of a baby would brighten up their droll days when you needed the occasional break.

When you found a partner who was ready and willing to commit to your "requirements"--especially the STI tests with you present to be sure they were not lying--you both agreed to meet several times a week at his apartment to get down to business.

You planned your meetings carefully around your ovulatory and menstrual cycles, drank and ate anything that supposedly "boosted fertility"; and took every vitamin under the sun to help ensure it.

And then, you got the most wonderful news. You had been late on your period for nearly two months. Missing the first month wasn't a cause for alarm; after all, you had relatively irregular periods--which your doctor assured were because of stress and diet problems--and you weren't insistent upon a pregnancy test until you began to get sick during random times of the day or night and your body began to ache in places it hadn't before, such as your breasts.

You got your blood tested at your doctor's office and sure enough... you were pregnant! You reached out to the father when you got home, and after some arrangements, he agreed to send an unofficial check to you for the baby at the start of every month, but he wasn't sure if he could promise to be present for their childhood; which worked fine with you. It was more than you expected, anyways.

You immediately began to budget, alongside with the financial aid of the father of your baby, and began to prep your bedroom into a shared nursery for your impending arrival.

And as you were settling into your new routine and adjusted workload, you awoke during one night with intense vomiting. As you perched over your toilet bowl, pain began to radiate from your abdomen and deep into your body and pelvis, like sharp, pulsing, searing pain from inside of you.

It wasn't until you stood up to wash your face and brush your teeth that you realized you were bleeding. Your sleep shorts stained a disturbing shade of red. You immediately panicked; and simply ignoring the cost of an ambulance, you called 911, and phoned the father of your baby as dread began to soak into every pore.

It wasn't for several hours after all the tests and exams that the doctor from the ER finally came in with a sad, pitiful look on her face as she delivered the news.

You lost your baby.

It felt like the world opened up beneath you and you were swallowed by a void. You didn't even know you screamed until your vision went black around the edges; prompting you to take a much-needed breath. The father of your baby was sympathetic, he talked calmly to you, rubbing your back and speaking with the doctors for you while you struggled to cope.

They kept you for another day (after giving you some pill) to make sure you... passed the remains of the fetus so you didn't get sick from retained products of the conception.

You fell into a deep depression after that.

Weeks afterwards, you were a drone. You woke up, ate, worked, showered, slept, and performed the same duties again and again as if you were on autopilot. The father of your baby, Alain, checked in on you now and again, and at some point even introduced you to his new girlfriend (who was confused by the awkward situation at first, but in seeing what had gone wrong in your life, felt more pity towards you than anything).

Your elderly neighbors cried for you, made you food when you felt the absence of the want to cook or eat; and said they would offer up prayers for you.

You began to hide how... rotten you felt on the inside, after that. You feigned your old, "normal" behavior if not to just get everyone to stop treating you like some... Faberge egg that needed delicate handling. A doll so fragile from trauma and abuse you had to be put on a pedestal to avoid getting any more broken.

But deep inside you, that raw, twisted, pained feeling festered like a bad wound. It worsened when you discovered that your doctor had been horribly, profoundly wrong.

Your reproductive organs weren't in "perfect, healthy" shape. You had uterine scarring that appeared to line up with what was called Asherman's Syndrome. Your uterine cavity, as such, had a buildup of scar tissue and caused it to shrink, and the resulting damage is what likely triggered your miscarriage.

The doctor that had diagnosed your condition became suspicious, and called for an investigation into your primary doctor.

Turns out, he was responsible for many, many misdiagnoses on over a dozen patients. Many of which required some women to have hysterectomies done to save them; or have to be rushed into cancer treatments immediately. One had unfortunately lost her life due to a misdiagnosis and a fallopian torsion that wasn't treated in time. She left behind a husband and three little children who had to grow up without their mother.

The resulting lawsuits caused a media circus; and once again your life was thrown into disarray when you decided to be a part of it, having to recite the trauma of losing your poor, little baby to a bunch of strangers.

Your heart festered with rage. If you had known that your body was incapable of the one fucking thing it should have been able to do naturally, that you were one different decision away from the heartbreak you now suffered--you would never had tried to get pregnant. But like many of his patients, you took his word for it because he seemed so trustworthy. And if you couldn't trust the person your health was so reliant upon... who could you trust?

The doctor lost his license, and went to jail for the wrongful death, medical negligence and manslaughter of the woman he failed to properly diagnose and failed to treat.

The settlements were of little comfort to you all; those who suffered now-lifelong health problems, the family mourning a beloved wife and mother... and you, who mourned the life of the baby you never even got to feel kick, let alone name.

Your neighbors, Ebony and Malcolm Harris; Alain and his now-fiance, Amelia, had formed a bit of a cushion around you. Having an explanation for your misfortune, and then the financial boost from the punishment of the one responsible aided the pain somewhat... But it still hurt you so, so much.

Part of the settlement included paid-for counseling for those affected, and you took it. As dry and sour as it felt to yet again revisit the pain, you went through it.

But it still didn't help you when you looked at the toys, the unused clothes and set-up crib still sitting in your room, never to be used.

You spent a lot of time on the roof of your apartment building, contemplating... something. You wouldn't take the pills the doctor gave you. All they did was make you feel groggy and... numb. That felt worse than the guilt and grief, it didn't help.

You weren't sure anything would. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted to feel something, again.

You just wanted to be a mother.

"Oh, she's so... she's so..." Ebony sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her handkerchief. Malcolm sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders and sniffling himself. They loved you like their own child. They had none to speak of, since their son died overseas almost 20 years ago. You were the first person whom they felt a familial connection with--who didn't treat them as pitiful, childless old folks who were one bad day away from a nursing home.

"We're so scared for her," Malcolm whispered, pursing his lips. Just like his wife, he loved you like a daughter, too. And seeing you so consumed with pain and want hurt him badly. "She's hurting so badly."

"She wanted to be a mama so badly!" Ebony warbled, her wrinkled hands trembling as her husband held her. "That poor baby just wanted her own baby! She was so excited! Showed us everything, talked about it--I even started knitting a blanket!"

Malcom's own nearly-withered features twisted in sympathetic agony, "Please... is there something--anything--you can do for her? Help her, somehow? Like you helped us?"

The man sitting behind the desk kept his hands linked together as he peered over them at the couple. It was true. He had helped them.

When Ebony grew ill and eventually required dialysis, her body had been becoming increasingly weak and fragile; they were left without options. They tried prayers with pastors and in churches--but it didn't exactly do much with an absent god ignoring another desperate worshipper.

They were nearing the end of their rope when they heard through some whispers about him--the enigmatic "Dr. Moon".

They had only seen his face once, and that was after Ebony was miraculously cured following his strange "treatments", her kidneys back to functioning better than they had in her early 30s. After that, they attended private prayer sessions with him, the second high priest, after Marc Spector, whom he had only really interacted with a handful of times... And did not like how often he went against their god, Khonshu's word.

Begrudgingly, "Dr. Moon", later known to be one Yehya Badr, had started what would be known as the "Midnight Mission" with Spector. In his constant absence, the two agreed that it would work better if Yehya saw to the Mission while Marc traveled to hunt the cult of Ammit, and Khonshu's former high priest, Arthur Harrow.

And, while watching over the Mission and the innocent people... Yehya used his healing abilities and decided to open a free clinic from within the holy place. Many were hesitant to accept treatment from a religious institution, but soon patients and potential followers alike began to trickle in from the streets. People like Ebony and Malcolm.

Yehya felt for the couple and the story they now told him, his brow creasing beneath his white mask, mouth twisting into a pained frown. You sounded on the brink--ready to take one last hurdle into the beyond for the sake of the child you never got to hold.

"Healing something like that..." Yehya sighed sadly, standing up from his chair. The wheels squeaked softly as he pushed it back, and walked to the window that overlooked the street below. "...it won't be easy. I may not be able to do it alone, like when I treated you, Ebony."

"Can't you--can't you call on Him, again? Like you did before?" Malcolm pleaded earnestly. The love these two elders had for you touched him, made his own heart squeeze in his chest.

"Please... if--if His power can come from love, just--just take ours and give it all to her... please!" Ebony sniffled, burying her face in her hands.

Yehya swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly pulled his mask away from his face, walking over to take their hands in each of his. He could feel their heartache through their frail and gentle grip.

"I will see what I can do. Your faith--and love--might help this young woman you two adore so much. But I cannot predict how Khonshu will help her, should he choose to directly get involved."

Another repetitive day. You managed to force yourself to eat some takeout you had leftover from last night and microwaved that for dinner, eating alone in front of your TV as it droned on with some boring reality show you weren't really paying attention to anymore.

For the eighth time that week you contemplated packing away and donating all the baby items in your apartment. But every time you touched them you just broke down into a sobbing fit; your heart rending itself from the reality of what had gone wrong with you.

You couldn't even bring yourself to go into your bedroom, anymore. Everything was in there.

So, you'd taken to sleeping on your couch for the past few months. You only went into your room long enough to get things you needed, clothes and the like (the former just sitting in clothes hampers unfolded after laundry days) before fleeing in the bland space that was your meager living room.

After you finished eating, you sipped at the hard lemonade in your hand. Drinking to cope was bad, but something inside of you kept you from relying on it too heavily. And you never drank to get drunk; only enough to fuzz your senses enough to let you sleep on some nights.

And tonight was one of those nights.

You were on your fourth lemonade when the lights began to flicker in your apartment; your TV freezing frames when it began. Maybe your landlord was fiddling with the power to the building again? Had a fuse blown to the building? Whatever...

"I don't need this right now..." You grunted, taking a deep swig; one mouthful closer to the bottom of the bottle.

"Wasteful." A disembodied voice rumbled, making a chill creep up your spine.

"I... What--" Your head whipped around as you tried to figure out where it had come from--your TV was still frozen, so it couldn't have been that--you were still relatively sober so it couldn't have possibly been drunken hallucinations.

Suddenly, you jumped and yelled in surprise when the bottle went flying from your hand and smashed to bits on the wall, the drink within running down the drywall in rivulets from the impact.

"What the f--"

"My priest told me of you," The voice hummed. It felt as if something unseen was circling you like a predator does with its prey. "And of the pain you have endured, little one. There are those close to you who pleaded for my aid to help you, to heal you."

You felt the presence stop behind you, crowding you in and making your blood still within you; but you just couldn't bring yourself to turn around. The lights flickered weakly once more before going dead, as did your TV, swallowing you in darkness.

As your eyes adjusted to the inky darkness, this voice's words sunk in. "Heal you". "Help you".

"Who are you?" You swallowed.

"I am the god, Khonshu. I protect the innocent, I bring justice. I heal those that ask for it."

Yeah, no. You must have slipped and hit your head. You remembered Ebony and Malcolm saying they'd pray for you--but this was... this was impossible! But... some aching, gnawing, painful part of your heart begged for you to hear the voice out.

"How could you..." You cleared your throat, trying not to sound as scared as you felt. "How could you help me?"

"That remains to be seen." The voice replied with a thoughtful tone. "How do you wish for me to help you? I was told but precious little of your story--only from those around you. Not from you. What is it you wish my aid for?"

Your eyes slowly move to where you instinctively knew your bedroom door was. Even in the dark, you could feel the depressing aura clinging to the space call out to you like a siren in the black sea. The voice seemed to be able to "see" what you were looking at, as well.

Somehow--this Khonshu knew immediately what you were too scared to voice.

"I see." He told you, his voice growing soft and somber, if a touch sympathetic. His presence leaned away from you.

"You wish for me to heal the damage done inside of you?" He mused gently, "To enable you the ability to bear a child? It is easily enough done; but I sense something else bothering you."

Your hands knotted in the hem of your shirt; your stomach twisting itself into a nasty ball of writhing, anxious snakes.

"I... I can't go through it all, again." You croaked, your voice coming out hoarse. "The stress of finding... I just... I can't. It just... I don't want to--to risk it happening all over again, even if..."

"I see..." He murmurs again, giving you your space to breathe, "Then there may be another option--a guaranteed method--to ensure a healthy pregnancy and a healthy child..."

The way your heart hopefully leapt within your ribcage almost hurt--your stomach dropping into a pit. Sure, you may be going crazy and this could be a hallucination... But would it be so bad to give in, to live in some fantasy to alleviate the pain and grief you've been suffering with for nearly over a year?

"So you... you're... offering to... what, be the father of my baby?" You whispered.

A feather-light touch brushed your arm, the feeling warm and gentle on your skin, "Only if you wish it. I can help you, but only if you want me to. I can heal you, but only if it was what you truly want. When a child is produced, I will ensure there will be no struggles for you and the babe."

"You... promise? That it'll work?"

"I swear it."

You swallowed. Thinking hard.

But some part of you had already made a decision--and that part of you spoke: "Okay."

"Very well, then..." Khonshu murmured.

In the span of a breath, you felt large, warm arms wrap around your waist, tugging you close. And then, the next thing you knew... you were laying on your back, in your bed, with him hovering above your in the dark.

Even with the dim lights in the streets below barely filtering in through your blackout curtains, you couldn't clearly make out his appearance. The shadows that were being cast merely gave you an image that couldn't possibly have been true.

"Can I see you?" You whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Only if you wish it." He reminded you softly, his hand caressing your hip, beginning a slow, sweet trek up beneath your shirt.

"I do."

The dim light of the candle at your bedside table flickered to life--the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla filling your senses.

You finally got to see him. And you weren't afraid.

Marc felt uneasy as soon as they got off the plane, and Layla soothed him with a touch as she linked her fingers with his. He didn't like being here--the city was teeming with cruelty and injustice... and he knew Khonshu wouldn't let him rest long. Him, Steven, or Jake.

"Marc, just breathe." Layla said to him as she adjusted the strap of her travel bag with one hand, her other squeezing his. "It'll be fine. If Khonshu has a problem with you taking it easy--"

Layla scoffed, blowing a puff of air from out of her cheeks as they walked out of the terminal, Marc hauling their suitcases behind him, their wheels squeaking sadly beneath the weight. Some of their less... legal belongings were being smuggled in and would be delivered to their destination later in the night.

"Well, the old bastard can deal with it. I'm here, and I'll pick up the slack if I gotta." She assured him.

Marc's shoulders sag; he can feel Jake plucking at the edges of his mind, giving him gentle reassurances and his oath that if anything happened; he would be the one to bear the brunt of Khonshu's work in his stead. Even Steven spoke up to voice his assurances that all would be well--after all, they had Layla with them!

"Yeah," He sighed, smiling at her and bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, "You're right. It's also just..."

"Just..?" She led on, quirking a brow at him.

"The last time Badr and I spoke, it kinda ended in a fist fight." He smiled warily.

"Oh, gods, of course it did..." She snorted.

"I mean, I shattered his nose and he broke one of my knees, so... Yeah. Bad." Marc grinned, earning an elbow to the ribs from his lovely wife.

"Can it, Spector. Don't make me worry about you even more!" She laughed with him.

"Ouch!" A man holding a dry erase board laughed; the writing on his sign clearly stating "SPECTOR" in bold black letters on it. He stood in front of a pristine white car. It was Marc's. Or, well... apparently it was Jake's... A purchase he'd made without Marc's knowledge at some point... like the limo back in London.

Jake would apparently make spare cash when he would take over while Marc slept and Steven lay buried. All without their knowledge, of course...

"Hitting you with the Spectorrrr, is she?" Jean-Paul grinned, his thin, pointed mustache quirking like a fidgety caterpillar. "So cruel!"

"Well, he deserves it." Layla grinned, leaning in to hug him, "Frenchy! So good to see you! How've you been? How's Rob?"

"Happy as a clam in some nice clean water! And my physical therapy has almost concluded." Jean-Paul smiled, kissing each of Layla's cheeks in an affectionate greeting when she asked about his lover.

He lifted his eyes to spot Marc, bringing him in with a closed fist to give a shoulder-hug, "I'm glad you've gotten yourself sorted, Marc. Rob and I were worried about you!"

"As sorted as a guy with two other guys living inside his head that's in service to a pissy god can be, anyways..."

"Ahhh... Right. Right." Jean-Paul said, clicking his teeth as he popped the trunk to the car so Layla and Marc could load their things up. He opened up the back door for them to climb into the backseat."

"Hey, I can always drive us, Duchamp." Marc smirked at him, the corners of his eyes creasing in humor, "After all... it is technically my car."

"No, no--" Jean-Paul grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Let me do it, c'mon. It gives me something to do, today!"

Layla nudged Marc with a giggle and he relented, climbing in behind her.

Marc sighed as Jean-Paul helped them unload their bags, his eyes following Marc and Layla's to the building in front of them; the doors decorated with carved crescent moons in the frosted glass.

He had been to the Midnight Mission only a handful of times--and every one of those times was to assist Marc as his pilot during intense missions for Khonshu. And he of course met Yehya Badr, the two men had a respectful relationship. He himself had conducted a few healing rituals to help with the phantom pains Jean-Paul occasionally felt in his legs.

But he knew that Badr and Marc didn't always get along; Yehya being a die-hard and devout follower of Khonshu and Marc being a bit of a renegade who tended to go against his word and do things his own way. And he knew it had been a few years since the two parted on... well--rather bad terms.

"Well, better get the torture and inevitable lecture over with..." Marc grunted, shouldering one of the duffels. Layla helps gather the rest, letting Jean-Paul close the door and trunk.

As they crossed the threshold, Jean-Paul winced, "Oh, right! There's something you should know about, by the way..."

Marc looked at him over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Well, Yehya isn't the only one who lives in the Mission anymore." Jean-Paul grinned as their floors squeaked on the waxed marble floors.

"Okay, and...?"

He rubbed his mustache with his index finger, smiling a little bashfully as he looked away. "Well, er... it's kinda... Uh, awkward... Well, I mean, that is--"

"Spit it out, Frenchy." Layla smiled, rolling her eyes.

A door could be heard swinging open from somewhere down the hall as they leave the foyer, and Jean-Paul laughed, grinning from ear to ear as a small, rambunctious human suddenly appeared, colliding with Marc's legs and wrapping her arms around his legs and giggling.

"Daddy!" She giggled excitedly, rubbing her face on his jeans.

Marc on the other hand, began to immediately panic--his eyes going wide as he looked to Layla, whom in turn looked at Marc with her eyebrows risen the highest on her brow Marc has ever seen--awaiting an explanation.

Marc began to sweat, "Baby, I swear to God I didn't--"

The child looked up at him, and frowned. Her little brows creased and she pouted, her bottom lip poking out as she studied Marc. "...Oh." She said dejectedly, sighing deeply. "You're not my Daddy."

Marc's heart felt like it was gonna explode--Jake and Steven had come to co-front to see what all the fuss and anxiety was about. Steven immediately began to go on about how darling the girl was, her shiny and clear her eyes were--how smart and at the same time seemingly ancient they looked. Like polished obsidian stones, a dazzling array of lights shimmering from somewhere deep within.

Jean-Paul laughed and clapped his hands, his face turning red from the force of his laughter. The child brightened up and rushed towards him, allowing him to scooped her up and swing her in a circle, "Hello, petit gâteau!" He crooned, kissing the girl's cheeks.

"Uncle Frenchy!" She giggled as he swung her around one last time before setting her down.

"Yes, yes, it's been a while! A whole week!" He grinned down at her, letting her hang off of his hand. She swung from it for a moment, studying Marc and Layla curiously, the fabric of her dress flowing almost like water as she did so.

"This is--well, I guess this could technically be your... er..." Jean-Paul smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your big brother Marc? And Layla, his wife."

Marc and Layla's jaws dropped, their confusion and curiosity only growing more and more.

(Oh, this'll be good...) Jake snickered, rubbing his chin. Through their reflections in a nearby portrait, Marc could see Steven elbow him.

'Ay, lay off! We can be curious without bein' rude about it, yeah?' The Brit huffed.

Jean-Paul was about to explain, but...

"Savah!" You sighed in relief, running out to see them. You knew Jean-Paul, from his healing sessions with Yehya and how he loved to babysit your daughter. He was apparently a trusted friend and ally of "Moon Knight's" so you knew he was harmless.

"I... agh. I'm so sorry if she jumped you..." You smiled apologetically at them as you scooped her up, bouncing the tot on your hip as she giggled into her hands. "We were playing hide and seek--and she must have slipped out when I wasn't paying attention!"

Steven couldn't help but squee at how adorable the girl was, Jake had to concede that, yes... she was stinkin' adorable. Even Marc was having a hard time arguing the point, and he was very, very awkward with kids.

"Savah, it's one thing to go up and hug your Uncle Frenchy, but it's another to go up to strangers you don't know." You say, gently scolding her. Her little grin falters, and she frowns cutely.

"I felt it... I thought it was Daddy..." She mumbled, plucking at one of the buttons in your blouse.

"Felt" it?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and looking back at Marc and Layla.

"Right! That brings us to the introductions, eh?" Jean-Paul spoke up, rubbing his hands together. "This is Layla el Faouly--er, well, actually Spector now, ain't it?--and Marc Spector, her husband. He's the Moon Knight."

Marc jumped, his eyes going wide at how casually Jean-Paul had introduced him with his mystical alter-ego, barely even registering it when he introduced you by name; "And this lovely little bon bon, is Savah, her daughter."

"Ohhhh..." You said, your posture relaxing, "That's why she got her "funny" feeling! Sorry, she thought you were her dad."

"I, uh... No harm no foul, but..." Marc laughed nervously, smoothing his hair back, "I could've lived without the heart attack of me possibly blacking out and oops'ing a baby with somebody at some point in time..."

Layla actually laughed, "Oh, please... like you have game with anyone but me, Marc."

He looked at Layla and deadpanned; "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised at how many people swoon for Jake's "Spanish charm"."

You blinked, looking at Jean-Paul for an explanation, and he gestured to continue down the hall, "Ah... let's go and... get some tea, hm? Explain a little bit."

"Right, right, I've never actually met this one." You reply, nodding.

"Mhmm, and he definitely doesn't know about you."

Basic introductions happened over warm cups of tea in one of the furnished rooms off the foyer. Badr had shaken hands with Marc, surprisingly polite and almost friendly before he briefly turned his attention to little Savah, helping fix her doll she had accidentally popped the leg off of when she got too rough, and ruffled her hair before leaving once more.

However... Jean-Paul had yet to fully introduce the two of you to the couple. He mostly let Marc and Layla explain who they were, and what they had been doing. Since obviously, you were so trusted as to even know about Yehya's identity as Hunter's Moon; they trusted to tell you about hunting Ammit, and ultimately defeating her.

It was less than an half an hour after that, that Savah suddenly perked up again, hopping up and down into place, her eyes sparkling even brighter. The glimmering lights in her dark depths caught Marc's attention, stopping him dead in the middle of his sentence, "Uh..."

"Oh... look's like he's home after all... wonder what he was waiting for?" You muse, smiling at your daughter happily, watching her as she ran to the door when it began to open.

A man with tanned skin, graying black hair, and a short beard walked in; his white suit crisp and immaculate. His hazel eyes were stern, his chiseled features only softening as Savah rushed up to him, holding her arms up expectantly until he picked her up and cradled her body gently against his, kissing her forehead gently.

"Daddy!" She squealed, giggling as she tried to wrap her tiny arms around him. It was now pointedly obvious this man was indeed to be her father--especially because of how many of his facial aspects she had. She had your skin tone and hair color, but certainly had his looks...

You rose from your cushioned seat and walked over to them, brushing your nose affectionately against his with a smile as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

"See? See?" Savah said excitedly, grinning like mad. "I told you I felt Daddy! I always do!"

"Yeah, you do, munchkin. Yeah, you do." You snorted, shaking your head.

Jean-Paul cleared his throat and awkwardly stepped around the three of you; "Well... I guess I don't have to do the rest of the introductions after all... I'll see you two later!"

"Bye bye!" Savah called out to him as the door shut with a faint click behind him.

Savah's father looked at Marc with a rather bored expression, almost... annoyed, really. Gave Layla the same look, as well. Marc rolled his shoulder stiffly, suddenly very uncomfortable under his unflinching gaze.

"It took the both of you long enough to get here." He said in almost a sneer; his voice unmistakably, painfully familiar.

Layla and Marc shot to their feet, almost falling over themselves as the realization dawned on them. Jake and Steven were in an uproar within Marc's mind.

"Khonshu?!" They both cried.

His brow quirked upward in an unimpressed gesture, "Gah. How can you two be so perceptive when hunting artifacts and evildoers, but cannot pick up on this? I am disappointed in you, Marc. You should have figured it out, first."

"Th-that's why her... her eyes--?!" He sputtered.

Finally, the corner of Khonshu's mouth tilts upwards in a cocky smirk; his eyes flashed an almost blinding white. And when Savah looked at the both of them, they could see the lights in her eyes swirl and shine even brighter and in tune with Khonshu's, shifting and dancing until they briefly solidified in an unmistakable crescent-shape before parting in a fractured dance, again.

"Yes, this is my daughter." He stated proudly, his arm tightening around you a fraction, "And my wife."

"Wife, huh? When did that happen?" You snorted, giving him a snarky look.

"I assumed it happened sometime after Savah was born." He hummed, his snark matching your own, "After all, you live under my roof, mother my child, sleep in our bed..."

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, "Smartass."

You looked at the couple across the room and smiled awkwardly, "I never did get to explain much... But, since that's outta the way... mind explaining to me why there's such a weird vibe in the room, right now?"

Marc and Layla merely blinked at you, before once again exclaiming in unison:

"You had Khonshu's god-baby?!"

#🌙 answered #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #layla el faouly #khonshu #khonshu x reader #Khonshu x you

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streamafterlaughter · 6 months ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain.

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you.

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car.

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door.

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope.

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it.

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?”

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders.

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you.

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl.

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!”

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself.

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four.

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?”

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

#st #fics #munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x oc!reader #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #slow burn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #modern au #reader is not an elder emo per se... she's 23-24ish #stranger things

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kpopbestie96 · 6 months ago

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Looking for you - Bang Chan Cinderella story

Hi lovelies! I know I said I was on a break but I was watching Cinderella with my little cousin when I came up with this short story. So I just wanted to do a quick write, it took me like two hours. So please don't judge it, it was something fun I made because why not. If it's stupid just scroll past it. If you like it...well I hope you do❤❤

Its kind of long, so I separated it by chapters. Hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Notes: When you see italicize, bold it means they're speaking in Korean.

Warnings: cussing, multiple parts, very delusional. Please don't take any of it seriously, it's just for fun.

Chapter One:

"There was an error with your ticket, I'm sorry," your friend Sarah said with a pouty face.

"What do you mean??" You panicked as it was you and your two friends Sarah and Melissa on face time the night before going to see Stray Kids in concert. "I already took off work, we have an outfit planned together, we-."

"I know, I'm sorry," Sarah interrupted you as Melissa sat quiet on the other end. "For some reason I'm only seeing two tickets in my Ticketmaster."

"Did you try calling or emailing them??" Your head was thumping, making it hard to think properly.

"I did! And they gave me an excuse, saying they couldn't do anything." You heard her voice go high pitch, an indicator that you know she is lying as you saw Melissa put her head down. Are they seriously lying to me?? You three have been best friends for years and know every little detail about them.

You stared at your outfit that sat on the chair in front of your vanity, waiting to be worn tomorrow. We were all going to match wearing their case 143 outfits but guess that's not happening now.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked as you were too pissed to even look at her through the phone.

"Yup..." Is all you could let out before piercing your lips tightly together, trying to hold yours tears from falling.

"We'll talk to you tomorrow..."

"K...bye." You hung up the phone and let the tears stream down, frustrated and confused. You tossed your phone away from you, couldn't stand to look at it right now.

Why didn't they want me to go? There's no way there could have been a problem with the tickets...this fucking sucks...

A ding went off, grabbing your phone to see Sarah sending your money back since you paid for your half. And we had floor seats too...this whole day is fucking ass.

You turned your body around and stared up to the ceiling, wonder what you could do. You figured if you go on to the websites, tickets will be marked up to a crazy amount. Let me see if there's a person out there selling tickets online... There's always another way.

You went on to Facebook in the Stray Kids group chat that was purposely made for the city you live in, where they were performing. You typed your question, seeing if anyone was selling tickets for tomorrow night. You even posted your question on Twitter as last resort.

A few hours go by while you tried watching TV, reading A03 stories just to past the time away when you finally heard a notification from your phone, quickly checking to see if it was someone from the group.

Gabby: Hi there! I saw your post in the Stray Kids group chat and I actually have an extra ticket if you're willing to sit with me and my friends. We can get a little loud lol

You: Hi! 🙋🏻‍♀️ That's not a problem at all! I'm ready to fan girl! I don't care where we are sitting but how much?

Gabby: so they're $589 because we're on the floor with sound check. Our friend couldn't make it because she got sick and didn't want anyone else to catch the flu. Is that something within your price range?

You: Yes! I can send you the money. But just want to make sure you're a real person. Lol 😅

Gabby: 😂 I understand! Here, we can face time that way I can tell you what time to be there and everything!

You: sounds good!

You fixed your hair a tiny bit, wiped away the tears that were left and saw her using face time through Facebook messenger.

"Hi there!" Gabby waved.

"Hi, thank you so much for reaching out! And I love your hair, you're so pretty!" You complimented her hair that was black with dark blue highlights.

"Of course! And thank you! I got it done just in time for the concert," she laughed. "Here are the tickets, since I bought them." She held up her laptop, showing them.

"Cool, what's your Venmo so I can send the money?" She told you her Venmo as you typed it in, "thanks!"

"Of course! But may I ask why your asking for tickets so late?"

You could tell she was being sincere and you didn't know why but before you knew it, you were explaining everything that happened.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, that's fucking terrible! They're not good friends."

"Yeah...im realizing it now. It's just...they're the ones who got me into K-pop. My other friends could care less about the music."

"Well, consider us your new friends! We're going to have a fun time! I just got your money...so can't wait to see you tomorrow. Lineup to check in is at 10 and sound check is at four. I'll send you my number so you can call me when you get there. We're planning to arrive at like 9:30 since the seats on the floor are assigned."

"Okay, perfect. Sounds great! See you tomorrow morning!"

You hung up and threw your body back on to the bed with a smile on your face, couldn't believe someone so nice reached out to you. And not with any ticket...but floor seats, plus sound check! Great, I'll run into Sarah and Melissa. You rolled your eyes annoyed but knew you were going to ignore them and have the best time of your life.

You looked over at the outfit you had originally planned, making you think of something else.

You got up, threw the outfit into the hamper and searched your closet for a last minute outfit.

You found a thin yellow long sleeve shirt that your mom got you one year and have only worn once. Paired it with a washout denim short skirt that sat on your thighs and found your light brown Dr. Martens boots that made your a bit taller from the thick bottom. I'll add some jewelry in the morning and I'll be good to go. Maybe I can stop at the store in the morning to get a can of blue hairspray to match his from the music video?

You got ready for bed and quickly fell asleep, excited for tomorrow.

Next Chapter >

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fishwithteeth · 4 months ago

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Firstly, I realized you are one of the people who reblogged my 049 art like almost half a year ago, thank you! Second of all, I saw your view on how 049 is made by other people from Snezkas post, and made me realize I'm slowly falling into that, like I stopped paying attention to the doctor part, and focused on relations with other SCPs. (Which I know isn't bad, just makes me worried I'll completely lose that part of him.) Since you said you've been in the SCP fandom for a bit now, probably longer than me, do you have any tales or stories with 049 you recommend? I would love to read stories that aren't just fanfic on social media, and hopefully get ideas how to stay consistent with him 💜💜

HI! Yes I love your 049 art, I have some of the rest of it liked, I love how you draw him! You make him so pretty. 😭🙏🏻💕

This ask startled me so much and also flattered me in a weird way, because I’m so insanely obsessed with the SCP foundation and 049 as a whole so I’ll take any chance to talk about him and the foundation as a whole, but also please don’t feel bad for having your own interpretations of him, or just having fun with him in general! You certainly don’t need permission from me or anyone else in the fandom to have fun with the characters you enjoy. Like I said, that’s the joy of a fandom is fan interpretations and creations.

I think the best way to stay in touch with his character is really to just go back and listen or read his original SCP log. I know what sounds basic, but really read into. Like REALLY read into it. The dialogue, his breakdown after killing Dr. Hamm, the way he had a stupid walking stick that the foundation had to take from him cause he was too dangerous with it and kept accidentally hitting people when waving it around while talking. Like just make head canons based off of certain things, that’s kinda what you have to do in this fandom if it’s not outright given to you lmao.

Another great thing to do is go and just look up “SCP-049” on the SCP website or the tale foundry. One of my favorite tales with him is “Pestilence in the Court of the Hanged King” which takes place with 049 slowly losing his mind in Alagadda. It’s a whole small series that’s a really fun but really bizarre read.

There was another entry in that small series that I think was removed, and I don’t know why, but it was 049 getting assigned to “cure” a man by the foundation, an older man who 049 deemed was clean of the pestilence, though he was dying of some sickness. And the old man just asked him to stay with him, and 049 just sat with him quietly in his last moments. I’m unsure of why it was removed but I really liked it, I might be remembering some parts wrong though, it was a while since I read that entry.

Another tale is “The Brothers Death” which gives you a look into someone’s idea of 049’s origins. Once again, kind of a series and hints and there being more masked beings like 049.

Also the sedition tapes on YouTube. Whether you want to see them as “official” or not is up to you, idk where they stand with that but I think they’re cool af.

But yeah, overall if you want more quote on quote “official” content of him, best thing you can do it just search and click around the official SCP wiki, cause some things just briefly mention him and you can gather stuff from that. If you find any tales that you think are neat please don’t be afraid to share them with me even if you think I’ve seen them before, I’m always hungry for content of this bird.

#scp 049 #scp

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loveundrwrld · 1 year ago

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m yan business owner (owns a rage room) x f customer reader

f reader is a hyper independent eldest daughter who pays for the most expensive package m yan offers.

m yan is scared but also intrigued as f reader destroys the heck out of the room and caves in the selected weapon of choice (metallic base ball bat) while california here we go by the garden blares through the speakers

i have this scene in my mind where f reader looks at m yan through the security camera situated in one of the upper corners of the room, bat pointed at the camera, “turn that song up now” and proceeds to smash everything as the music plays loudly that it leaks into the other hired out rooms (idk how rage rooms work i want to go to one).

yes i am living vicariously through this request

ok ty

i love this request! ur valid, it's totally okay to be self-indulgent here.

i really like how detailed your request is- i did look up some stuff about rage rooms, which was interesting!

i'd never heard of them before. they do sound like they can be a little dangerous though, anon, so if you go to one in real life be careful- smashing electronics for instance is not recommended irl, there's a lot of stuff in computers and such that are not meant to be airborne. not trying to rain on your parade though, ofc, just do make sure to proceed with caution 👍

_____

burnt out female reader x rage room owner male yandere

(cw: dysfunctional family dynamic)

you were fed up with everything. exhausted, burnt out to the core. on the palms of your hands there were crescent marks from clenching your fist tightly all day, and your lip felt raw from biting them.

all day you had to do everything- go to your job, listen to your stupid boss's inane requests, drive your younger siblings to soccer or school, and run errands for your aging parents. and what thanks did you get? only a small acknowledgment if any. you were your parent's most "responsible" child, the eldest, so it was expected of you.

you got a job at an early age, and moved out when you were very young. you were hoping that being successful would make you feel better and would make you help you feel better about yourself. make your life feel more full. you tried your best to do everything by yourself, hoping that would make you look like a better daughter in your parents' eyes. and yet, you felt painfully empty. and you knew exactly why.

it was all criticism for you. no praise. even though you were great at your job and highly accomplished, it didn't matter. to your parents, all that mattered was that you could have done better. even though you were no longer living in their house, you could still feel the stress of their eyes on you weighing you down.

you decided that it was about time you have a little stress relief. punching your pillow could only get you so far. and by coincidence, you found an ad for something local that fit your interests- a "rage room." you could get all your anger out easily, and let your real self out. you could forget the mask of the "perfect daughter," if only for a little bit.

you thought for a second and realized that you couldn’t remember the last time you took a day off just for the sake of it. you could just take one vacation day for fun, and then you’d go back to work the next day feeling much better.

and, besides that, you were so busy being a careful, diligent daughter that you barely spent any money on yourself. you had plenty of money stored up, so why not use it?

you decided to just take a chance and do it. you dipped into your ample savings and reserved a room for yourself, and picked the most expensive option- a room reserved just for you, with someone coming in and giving you even more stuff to destroy so you can spend hours smashing as much stuff as you desire. it was the perfect idea.

when you got to the location, you were surprised at how small the place was. it looked a lot bigger on the website... and a lot cleaner, too.

the person that greeted you was a nervous, mousy-eyed teenager. he was wearing coveralls with a little name tag saying “max.” max spoke to you with a small, nervous voice, constantly darting his eyes.

"so, where's the owner? is it you?" you said with a smile, joking, but max only gave you a pained look in response. a sore subject, you guessed. it seemed you weren't the only person here with a terrible boss.

he silently passed you some forms to fill out, which you skim through and sign. it's just a standard liability form, you figured.

once he led you into your room, he handed you a face shield and some heavy-duty gloves, as well as some coveralls to put over what you were wearing. you put them on while he talked about the safety precautions.

you just nodded, your brain turned off. sure, you didn't catch all he said, but it couldn't be that important, right?

"... so, ma’am, make sure you don't get too distracted, or else you could get hurt, okay?" he said, giving you a nervous smile.

"hm. sure. okay. now, max, is there any way i can play some music here?"

---

"stupid parents, stupid fucking job, stupid fucking responsibilities-"

you yelled, smashing into the third television set with wild abandon with your bat. your favorite song was playing on the speakers too, so loudly you could nearly feel the bass through your feet.

this was a great choice! you were already feeling much better. your throat was a bit raw from yelling over the music that was playing over the speakers, and your arms were feeling the burn of swinging over and over again.

your body was pulsing with energy, and you felt absolutely unstoppable. what a great little vacation! who knew being consumed with rage could feel so good!

---

at that moment, unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you from the security room. rhys, the owner of the place, was settled in his security control room, watching around the feeds idly to make sure that everyone was following the rules as expected.

he was half paying attention while he was scrolling on his phone, bored out of his mind, when one feed happened to catch his attention. it was you.

when you first came in, he thought you looked like a typical prim, proper, well-mannered girl. dressed nicely with a tidy appearance, you paid him in advance for a specialty reservation. he thought you were a typical rich girl having fun with her parent's money. nothing too special.

but now, to his surprise… you were smashing everything in sight like there was no tomorrow. you were becoming almost manic in your efforts, forgetting even that someone was in the room with you. glass and metal shards were flying everywhere, and your metal bat was becoming dented as you kept using it with all your might.

a shiver went down him. part of it was fear, of course. he wouldn't want to get on your bad side. but, another part of him was feeling something else as he watched your sweet little face become almost demented as you swung your bat over and over again.

right now, he was beginning to be grateful that he put down cell phone numbers on the forms he made his customers sign. maybe he could give you a little call and ask if you'd like to become a "loyal customer"... or, better yet, he could give you a job offer for a little side hustle…

the door opened, and max came in, interrupting his precious viewing session. he turned to glare at the young employee.

he was always babbling on about the customers, coming in and complaining about them being rude or scary. it was one of the annoying parts of owning your own business- you had to hire other people to help, and with a minimum wage job like this, only squirrelly little teens looking for extra money were applying for the position.

"s-sir, the lady in our specialty room isn't following proper safety precautions, and the music is already way too loud and it's bothering the other customers but she wants it even louder, but when i tried to talk to her she couldn't even hear me-"

rhys waved his hand dismissively, turning his head back around to continue watching the feed of your security camera. his large fingers tapped quickly on his desk, impatiently.

"yeah yeah, so be it. anyways, see that?" he pointed to you swinging the bat on the monitor. "it looks like her bat is almost done, it's so dented it's nearly caved in. you gotta get her a brand new one."

"... s-sir? you want me to go back in there?"

"yeah. what's the big deal? a little broken glass?" he scoffed. "i don't pay you to just sit around."

on the feed, he could see you stopping for a bit, heaving in large breaths. you turned your head, looking around. your eyes widened.

"see, kid? she needs you in there."

you stepped forward to where the security camera was, staring up at it with fiery eyes. your arm came up and pointed towards it.

for a second, he felt like the two of you had a connection. like you knew exactly who was watching you, and was pointing and staring directly at him.

then, your lips moved, mouthing words. you were saying "music... louder..."

he couldn't help but to smile, amused by your antics. you really were something, weren't you?

and now, he realized he didn't want to send max in there. he had a chance to get even closer to you, be around you physically. he didn't want him to be the one doing tasks for you, getting your attention. he wanted all your fiery passionate anger, all for himself.

the fear and excitement just thinking about it ran shivers through his spine, and a coil of heat down his stomach.

"actually, on second thought. i'll be the one to help her out, 'kay?"

#yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere boy

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evilrwbyfan · 12 days ago

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you give major like 2017 vibes in a really good way /pos

this... makes sense. 2017 was a very particular year for me and i have a fixation on my own nostalgia, as im sure many people do, and it heavily influences how i create, talk, and generally am. combine a fixation of nostalgia with a genuine love for 2010s internet cringe, you get me

i enjoy cringy things, corny things, dark things, things that are randumb xd, or simply make no sense whatsoever. i enjoy freely and openly, i try to be an unfiltered version of myself both publicly and privately even though i do tend to struggle with it publicly more than in private. i pride myself on overall not caring about what others think about me though, ive never been happier after learning how to just be me and have my creations be catered to me rather than what society thinks i should do

cringe culture is a plague both online and offline, i wont let it affect me too. i encourage people to be as cringe as they like, as weird as they like, as creepy as they want, at the end of the day as long as its not illegal or actually harming people, it doesnt matter. im very firm on my mindsets and i will always take the time to reiterate my personal beliefs regarding self expression as many times as i get the chance to because its a good way to help me reinforce my ideas in my own head and make others around me more comfortable that may be dealing with being afraid of expressing their true, inner self

part of the reason i post my creations on tumblr more than any other site is because i know i wont be seen. maybe that contradicts anything ive said here, but my blog is very specifically for myself and myself only. that might sound selfish especially when its a public account, but ive learned that the only way to be truly happy is to be as selfish as you want when it comes to what you create. this type of rule cannot be applied on everything otherwise youll come off as an asshole, but if youre the type of person who worries about post engagement more than "does this make me happy?" then you should definitely start letting yourself be more selfish

i have a private account on a completely separate website where i roleplay as a teenager in the timeframe of 2010-2015 because it makes me happy to have a persona like that. i draw intentionally shitty art and post it to that account because it heals a part of myself that was taken from me as a child (self expression). its fun, its harmless, and it makes me happy. if something you want to do checks out all those boxes, do it. you dont even have to do it publicly, sometimes doing something society deems stupid in private is enough to satisfy a part of you that was lost at some point in time

maybe what im saying means nothing to you or maybe it means everything, but i dont mind what it means to you personally because i prioritize myself over strangers. this is an issue ive noticed many people online, especially teenagers with a large following, tend to catch themselves dealing with. but to the people who do follow me, support/like what i create, and generally think im cool, i appreciate it more than you could ever know. i know some of things im saying here might potentially sound pretentious, but i do love every single follower of mine even if youve forgotten who i am

i honestly dont know why i started rambling but i guess its nice to air these thoughts out publicly, even if this is not what you were wanting/expecting from me anon. whoever you are thanks for the compliment and i hope if you stay to see how i grow on here that youll have a good time and enjoy what i make

#evilrwbyfan spouting bullshit nobody cares about. GO!#XD

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kate-bot · 1 year ago

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OKAY SO I've gotten two asks about my Noisette cosplay AND THANK YOU SM FOR THE KIND WORDS !!!!!!!! It was sm fun to make this cos, so I will gladly explain everything I did in hopes that it might help someone else!! also both anons please share your cosplays with me when theyre done i would love to see them....

I've tried to link everything where I can, where I got stuff etc... I only rarely cosplay (although I am thinking of going as the noise in May Comiccon) and this was my biggest ever project so!! It's very trial-and-error! But without further ado

KATES EXTENSIVE(ish) GUIDE TO COSPLAYING NOISETTE FROM THE HIT GAME PIZZA TOWER!!!!!!! (warning its kinda long)

THE HAT

Okay i’m gonna be real my mum helped me so much she basically did all the sewing for me. Sewing is the fucking bane of my existence I hate doing it so much so we planned it out together and she basically executed it. Props to her for that she’s so real… She also wrote down what she did!! So i’ll just paste and colour that in for you to read!!

“The black material (seen in the above image) was originally a beanie hat that was picked apart to use as a template…

This was game changing basically. We had experimented with making the hat from scratch but it was far too difficult and we were both too stupid so we just unstitched a pre-existing hat and stole the template. The hat we cut up was one we had lying around for years so i cannot tell you where to get one from, but any beanie that is stitched together will work i guess! So I would recommend finding a hat that fits you snugly and doing the same thing!

…and the wool fabric that was utilised gave the finished product was stiff enough to be structurally sound.

I just got this from my local fabric shop, I would recommend wool over something like felt because it’s super sturdy and I was pulling on my mask a LOT.

Once sewn together, I attached a stiff card facemask to the front to help provide some structure, and to locate where the eye holes should be cut.

I think this picture shows it pretty well, my mum was able to curve the shape of the fabric to fit a pre-existing mask- we got ours from Hobbycraft, just one of those stringed white template masks yknow. We cut off the string, made the eyeholes a little bigger and just stuck it straight on!! I should mention this was pretty much all done with a sewing machine as well!

After that, we made two ears from a paper pattern, stuffed them and put some wire inside to allow them to be positioned, before sewing them onto this headband, which was then sewn into the hat. The bottom of each ear was also stitched to the crown to give it some additional stability and to secure the headband correctly in position (having fitted it on the wearer).

Yeah it was actually less of a mask and more of a headband!! That was what gave it most of the support and meant the ears would stay up, I’m not sure how it would work without it!! The ears were the only part that I could actually help with LMAO i just freehanded a little template, stuffed it, and then put in some modelling wire to make them able to be posed :)

Then it was a lot of hand sewing, and glueing the eyeholes to the mask to create a cohesive look.

AND YEAH that’s pretty much all it was! I also attached some little felt eyelashes to add to it as well. Honestly I could never come up with a step-by-step guide for the process because it was such a trial and error thing (i’d made two test-hats before we even came up with the method) but it was so fun!!

I would 100% recommend if you want the ears to stay UP to stuff them AS MUCH AS U CAN and/or put wire in them!! :) I also made some cute little bows to clip into my wig in the same fabric to make it more cohesive!! I also put a bow (and a bunny tail heheh) on the back of the dress too!!

THE DRESS

Super simple! I just found one online (okay for some reason the link has been taken off of the website, but just look up "overall dress" on google shopping and you will 100% find something super cute)- I made sure to buy the dress first, and then take it to the fabric shop to try and colourmatch the mask fabric as best as I could. Then it was just buying some big ol buttons off eBay and sewing them on!! (I could actually do that bit by myself, I'm bad at sewing but im not THAT bad)

EVERYTHING ELSE

Cute patterned knee-high socks cuz shes cute like that. Leg warmers, I think I got them both off of Amazon... Converse I got from Depop and I had wanted to buy a pair anyway so I was super stoked to get them cheap!! I chose converse over a pair of high-heels or Mary Janes just for comfort reasons, I was walking around loads at the con so... Everything else apart from the shirt was from Amazon or just. Somewhere online(I have no idea where to get fancy white gloves LOL) and the shirt was from Depop as well! I liked how frilly it was, re: Noisette is cute like that!!

oh yeah and the wig. I hate wigs it was awful. I have no idea how to style them. underneath the hat was the most awful bowl cut ever I just. It wasn't my best moment. Dont ask me about wigs please .

Also I should mention I got this bag for the cosplay (which I now use all the time cuz its so cute) because i needed space to store shit and I wanted something on-brand with her cafe... this isnt the exact link I used but I just got it off of ebay :P

PROPS

Unfortunately I don't have a lot of WIP pictures of my props but they were pretty simple to make!! The coffee cup was literally just spraypainting over a reusable coffee cup and using POSCA pen to draw on the front! Fun fact the cup says "To Peppino" because originally my boyfriend was gonna go with me as Peppino before the Cruetly Squad brainrot got to him so. YEA

And the tip jar was also pretty simple, I just painted on the lid a plastic jar (can't be glass, not allowed at ComicCon) and cut out a bit of vinyl to work as the sign. The cobweb was just hot-glued 3D printer filament, and the spider was made with foam modelling clay (literally the best thing ever if you're making small models like that) and i stuck him to the lid of the jar with Kandi string so he'd bounce around :]

AND I THINK THATS IT!! i may as well post a pic of the full cosplay since I dont think many people would have made it this far.... But I think it turned out pretty cool!! I got recognised a few times as well which was amazing!! (cropped out my bf cuz idk if he wants his face on tumblr gfhhfg)

SO YEAH!!!! if anyone has any questions please let me know.. but GOOD LUCK IN UR COSPLAY MAKING FRIENDS!!!! :D

#ask #pizza tower #noisette pizza tower #noisette cosplay #pizza tower cosplay #Yes this is very longwinded! But I really wanted to include all the details!!!#also second anon im so sorry it took me so long to reply i completely blanked on its existence #I HOPE THIS IS HELPFUL TO SOMEONE... ANYONE #re:noise cosplay in may? i'd love to try out making a mask (like out of paper-mache of his whole face) rather than a fabric one #might be fun? not sure #also face reveal ig i hate How i look in the cos cuz i rely so much on my hair to look half decent but.#IN THE NAME OF HELPING SOMEONE... ough #anyway ill stop rambling #thank u for the asks!!!!!

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docholligay · 11 months ago

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When you hear an accent/dialect/we're not going to get into that debate here that sounds 'odd' to your ear, think about that! Not even in a "Wow, I hate that" way, or a "I need to examine my classism/racism/etc way I am a bad person way, but in a secret third way called, "curiosity and openness to experience"

I was EXTREMELY EXTREMELY FORTUNATE to have a required class in college called "History of the English Language" which was one of the 'weeder classes' for the English majors at my school. It was very very difficult, but the man who taught it had an INSANE passion for English. He LOVED IT, he would talk about it all goddamn day, and it taught me so much about how and why things get changed and said the way they do, and it made me so CURIOUS about why something is unusual or fun for my brain to listen to.

So now, anytime I hear someone pronounce something or verbalize something in a way I think of as "odd" I get so excited and curious*. What is it I haven't heard before? Sometimes my tongue will move around my mouth trying to figure out how they make that sound (I am REAL bad at this. Accents are in no no no way my forte, which is annoying because I'm very good at HEARING them and hearing the differences between them, I just can't DO it) because it is so interesting and cool all the different ways one fucking language has been DONE over so many years.

Anyway I so far off track I am no longer a train, but looking at dialects as you might look at an interesting bug instead of like a pop song on the radio or a sign font is a really good way to start opening your mind to language as something other than a value marker. And that doesn't HAVE to be another way of whipping yourself for being a piece of shit--I assume you have plenty of reasons--but a way of going, "Oh, something unexpected!"

*Also not to attempt to introduce nuance on the 'no nuance we die like men' website, but I think there is a big difference between loving teasing and mockery/cruelty. I don't actually mind if friends, especially ones with VASTLY different ways of speaking, imitate my accent I think it's fuckin funny as hell! Jetty has the WORST rural western accent on the planet, and I love to make fun of whatever the fuck she's got going on there, but it is FUN and there is a sense of LOVE that comes with it. And it's not even a "well yeah, Holligay, when you've known someone for a long time" No no, I once sat in a shitty pub on the east end, now closed (rip) and me and my mom ending up striking up a conversation with two old-school cockney guys, and as soon as he tried to say "Montana" the way I did, the race was ON, and it was FUNNY, and we all laughed and had a good time, it is about attitude.

And I know I'm gonna get something about "well how do you KNOW and that is why i turned off reblogs but come on y'all, 9 times out of 10 you can tell when something is done with deep affection or camaraderie or because even just something feels cool in your mouth it's fun to try. I can't do 87% of the linguistic features I think FUCK SEVERELY (intrusive R, the way a word that genuinely does not start with the letter h has a different sound than a word when the h is uptaken (this has a fucking word and I cannot find it it's making me nuts)) but I LOVE them.

Quick quiz to help though: Are you affecting this accent to in some way sound stupid/ridiculous? We can go back and forth about that a little: one of my buddies says "well shiiiiit" exactly the way I do, for funsies, but it just...feels neat. What I'm saying is you have to use some discernment here and I know we are all allergic to that but give it a shot/go/whatever the hell Australians say for this.

Post script: All of this reminds me also about how I studied the phonemes and linguistics of English with intense fervor in college, and got REAL COCKY, and then in the Orkneys had my very first ever, in life, "We are both speaking English but damn" moment. Normally I am The One for this. I am unruffled. My wife gets confused by the word takeaway (she is smart I swear) but I'm rock-solid. Until. Hubris.

This guy is rollin on up in his van, which is the 'bus system' on Rapness, and it's cute as hell as a system, but I ask him something stupid about the timetable, and he answers me in what I can only describe as a Nordic-flavored Scottish accent. It is actually really remarkable and I went on a weird deep dive of the Orkneys afterward because I had never heard anything like it but I digress. I DID NOT GET A FUCKING WORD. And so, because I panic, I do what I always do when I feel flustered or emotional or angry: I sound like Yosemite fucking Sam. So now he can't understand what I am asking him!

Good news is, we both give a little bit of a laugh, I go, 'Let's try that again" and I do manage to exchange that this van picks up outside of the Pierowall hotel in time for the ferry.

#I would say this is rambly as hell but this is #in fact #essentially what it's like to have any given conversation with me #fuck I love English

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doom-gender · 2 years ago

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Amy looked at the website with confused apprehension. "ApeFist.net" it was called, the design looking straight out of the early 2000s; a simple gif of a starry night sky repeated ad nauseum forms the whole of the background page. "I thought Geocities died?" she thought.

At the fore of the webpage there was a small box for text input with the words "Make your Wish" sitting above it.

At first Amy laughed at it. The link had been spammed by some raider on her favorite trans support discord; it was stupid to even click on it, but she was compelled to check what it was in hopes that it was some kind of NFT scam - she loved making fun of NFT bros and so did most of the server.

She didn't really believe in wishes either, certainly not those given out by a webpage less modern than Craigslist. However that does not mean she had nothing to wish for. Amy's transition was a lifesaver, but her personal results are much less than she was hoping for. She started at age 19 and now at age 24 she's worried that the bulk of her transition is over. Her tiny mosquito bite tits can barely fit an A cup and her hips are practically non-existant - this combined with a general lack of confidence keeps her from being very confidant in her personal style.

After a couple minutes of consideration, she shrugs her shoulders and types into the box.

> I wish I had the body of a thick goth girl with big boobs.

She hit enter and immediately felt silly, she basically just fell for an equivalent of chain mail.

That was before the burning started.

A fire erupted in Amy's chest as she keeled over into the fetal position. Her chest began inflating outwards, settling at two jiggly mounds that were about the size of basketballs. Her stomach grew outwards with a healthy layer of fat as her hips and ass ballooned, giving her that super thick hourglass figure. Her skin prickled as it slowly lightened to a near pale white, her hair itched as it turned into a stylish black bob, and her clothes melted into a simple all black outfit.

When the pain subsided, she took stock of her body; grabbing at her curves and pawing at her crotch to realize her little e-dick had even turned into a pussy. She looked back to the computer to see not the wishing website but... a webcam software? Why was that...

She immediately became drowsy, the late golden hours of the sun shining through the window as it fades ever closer to nightfall. She passes out onto the couch.

---

Amy awoke to the sound of... Moaning? She was sitting up now in what felt like a desk chair. When she opened her eyes she could see through the groggy glaze a computer screen with... herself on it. Her new, goth self at least.

She was squeezing her tits and moaning provacatively into the camera - Amy could see the name at the bottom of the stream: "bigtiddygothgf".

As she came more and more to her senses she expected to feel what her body was doing on the stream, but as she became more intune with her body she became aware of a different stimulation. A hand wrapped around her cock.

She looked down, the messy contents of the desk flashing by her view before it settles on her body. A hairy man's body with a much bigger cock than she'd ever had before. She wanted to freak out, to scream, but all she could let out was a loud grunt as her hand continued to mercilessly jack off her huge, hard, manly cock.

She saw the username next to the chat input textbox: "FatBalls88". 88? Was she a 35 year old man now? The thought died as the stroke of her hand passed the head of her cock once more, matched by the perfect bouncing of the goth girl's tits on the screen.

"Fuck... So hot..."

She didn't say that! Or... did he? She was slowly losing context for why she was here, memories of her life as Amy, her job, the struggles of her transition, the events just preceding these, all began to be replaced with "Adam". Adam is a 35 year old self proclaimed "deadbeat"; in truth he's not doing that bad, he's got a fine apartment, a good job, and he keeps in reasonable shape. What he does not have is a girlfriend, explaining his semi-excessive spending on cam girls.

Amy fought back against these thoughs. "I could use a beer, that would help." She thought before realizing that was more of Adam consuming her. Amy was being deleted from all sides and shlacked over with Adam as s-s-- he came ever closer to cumming.

*click*

"Oh! Thanks for another donation FB! You're my favorite viewer." the girl smooched out at the camera while jiggling her massive tits with her hands.

Adam exploded, his eyes rolled back into his head as white hot cum splattered the bottom of his desk. His chair creaks with strain as his limp body leans further and further backwards. The absolute destruction of whatever remained of Amy and the sudden influx of everything that was Adam left the man dazed for quite awhile only to gain awareness of a ticking sound from the stream.

A spinning wheel full of the names of everyone who donated this stream stuck in front of the visage of "bigtiddygothgf". Adam grunted primally, angry that he could no longer ogle the tits, until...

"Omg FB congrats! Y'know you're my best supporter I think you deserve it the most. DM me and we'll see where we can meet up!"

Adam shook off his lusthaze and remembered: the promise of this stream was that each $1 donated gave you a chance to meet up with the goth cam girl and fuck her live on her next show.

Knocking trash and old beer bottles to the floor he rushed to attention at his keyboard and slid into her dms to set a date.

"Finally," he thought "I'll have that body all for myself..."

#mtf detrans kink #mtftm jackoff fuel #mtf detrans

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possession1981-moving · 2 years ago

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Can you believe I recently (well, over a month ago now definitely, but I'm lazy so let's ignore that) hit 5000 followers on this blog because I sure cannot. Either way, I did and I am soooo sososososoooo grateful for ever single person who follows me and who appreciates my dumb jokes (such as this perfectly on-brand, tacky, campy, ridiculous but beautifully made gif of Shinee) and who reblogs my gifs and edits, especially when you put very very sweet comments in the tags it's a joy to be able to have a space to share my little creations that may not really mean much to the outside world but they do to ME.

Anyways! As a token of my appreciation I have decided to do a little gif request event which will be open until I say it's not anymore tbh... No set time limit we'll just see how my stamina is I suppose. The request rules will be at the bottom of this post. However, first I want to give a quick shoutout to SOME of my most beloved mutuals who make scrolling on this stupid website so much better. (As you know, there's a cap on how many tags we can add to posts, so to those mutuals who may not be mentioned here know that I love you SOOOOOOO much still, and I kith u!)

@aintgonnadance 🖤 @awek-s 🖤 @baeseongyeob 🖤 @berryjaellie 🖤 @byunbaekhyunie 🖤 @catchmewjsn 🖤 @cheolmatez 🖤 @dokyeomini 🖤 @dongkwan 🖤 @duovxq 🖤 @exidtual 🖤 @filmopen 🖤 @flops 🖤 @gaykey 🖤 @glowinseong 🖤 @got7 🖤 @hoshifromkpop 🖤 @hozierbyrne 🖤 @hwangcha 🖤 @hwiyoungies 🖤 @hyunpic 🖤 @hyunseungs 🖤 @jeonwonwoo 🖤 @jikyu 🖤 @juyeonis 🖤 @kangyeosaang 🖤 @kyubins 🖤 @librapropaganda 🖤 @moonsua 🖤 @notyuta 🖤 @park-doha 🖤 @ryudaeng 🖤 @seonghwasblr 🖤 @shnryjn 🖤@smartrabbit 🖤 @smingi 🖤 @sodacreams 🖤 @stepmom 🖤 @sunmisbf 🖤 @sunwoonie 🖤 @taeminie 🖤 @taeminnomuyeppeo 🖤 @wantbytaemin 🖤 @yejiswife 🖤 @yirenz 🖤 @yoohyeontual 🖤 @yukuz 🖤 @yunkyoung 🖤 @yunwooz 🖤 @yutaslaugh

REQUEST EVENT RULES AND REGULATIONS I will be taking three kinds of requests for this event! Two are music video requests, and the third is a fun option if you want a surprise.

Full music video - this is exactly what it sounds like. You may request that I gif any kpop music video, however I reserve the right to choose not to gif it if it's an artist or group I don't want to gif (I won't list them, but it's a pretty standard group), or I can't find a file that lets me gif to the standard I want to keep.

Member music video - very similar to the former, you may request gifs of any single member of a group from a specific music video and I shall be at your command, although the same reservations as above apply. Since these are much faster to do than full mv sets, they are preferred over the latter.

My favourite x - this is the option if you want to venture outside of music videos, and it's here because my beloved Eri suggested it. You may request gifs of my favourite of whatever you want. Favourite hairstyle on x idol? Favourite era of x group? Favourite styling for x group? etc. etc. The same reservations as above apply, however. Don't ask me for my favourite beet member.

Okay, that's all I think! Please send asks via my ask box only, and please have some patience because well, I'm mentally ill. Requests are open for anyone who wants to send one, and I take them on anon as well. Once again, thank you soooooooo much for the 5k I love you all.

#5k

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 days ago

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I saw your post on The Pitt and I’m intrigued by your comment because I feel like I’m in the trenches at the moment as I read ship war discourse….like this is not the takeaway we should be having from this show. I actually don’t know how to put it into words but I just feel that shows like Grey’s Anatomy, Chicago Med and The Resident have skewed how we view medical shows. To me, they are all essentially soap operas because they focus on personal drama where the characters just happen to work at hospitals. But a show like the Pitt focuses on the medicine and how the characters navigate it because they are working in what we know is a broken/overwhelmed system which is hard enough but then you are also bringing in you own personal history, experiences and biases while still going “how can I provide the care these patients need in a system that is actively working against everyone while actually learning how to be a competent doctor or navigating burnout/PTSD from a system that grinds you down at a spiritual level of the years?” IDK like maybe it’s my own personal bias and opinions where we have all these complex and flawed characters who are actually so representative of the state of healthcare and medicine and so many of them being badass women that I could care less about shipping Dr. Mohan or Dr. King with their chief residents/superiors and reducing them to that…..if you want that go watch Grey’s Anatomy….

Hmm, I see what you're saying. In some ways I agree. But I have no problem with shipping. It is a fun and mostly harmless activity. I think it's fun. As for the ship wars, as long as there is media there will always be ship wars and they will always be needlessly contentious.

My issue is with all the other conversations around the show. Many just miss the point so hard. I'm probably too close to the subject matter and will maybe sound really uppity in my response lol, but I'm honestly not trying to judge anybody for the way they engage with this show. Some of it is just a little.... disappointing.

I LOVE medical shows. Always have. I've seen everything under the sun. They all have their merits. I'm not about to preach about what makes the pitt so unique bc I think anybody who pays attention can identify what makes it different from your average network medical drama. But:

We live in a period right now of rampant and malignant distrust in the healthcare system. Particularly since COVID-19. I'm speaking specifically from my experience as a USAmerican. I won't go too deep into that, because that is a whole other mile-long post, but what has resulted from that is a destabilizing series of blows to an already decrepit system, and the people who suffer the most are the ones who are ultimately the least culpable: the healthcare providers.

I hear from my family and from friends and post after post on this website about how much people hate doctors and nurses and how they think they are stupid and useless and heartless monsters. It's hard to defend yourself from this when you're inside it and see firsthand the complexity of it, because it is SO far from perfect, but there are also SO many people trying to do good. The main reason I was excited for the pitt was because it invites the audience at large into the fold for the day. Rather than an outsider looking in, the intimate slog of the way the show is directed makes you feel like you are there and you are IN IT. This is what it's like. Day after day week after week year after year. How do you maintain your humanity? How do you keep hold of who you are? How can you see the worst of people and still come back the next day?

So. Idk. There's so much more I could say but. Ultimately people can do whatever they want. I can only continue to engage in conversations about the subject irl and online I will just filter and move on. The most important thing is that people continue to experience it. In any case, it's still an amazing show.

#kitkat answers asks

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lovergirletters · 1 month ago

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lilian stacy’s boy(best)friend

—chapter six: two words, mcallister

People, at least, Ezra McAllister himself could guess who was to be the next president.

The debate session didn’t end well. Atlas Westwood targeted Ezra McAllister, accusing him of being feminist-baiting just so that girls chase after him. It was never true and it could never be true. And it cost reputation to be speaking like that in front of the whole school, even though a person like Atlas could easily make it all up again like nothing had happened. Whatever was on his mind.

The debate was ended by the moderator, teachers’ orders. And after, the day jumped into the voting session. All students, including the candidates themselves, opened Crawford’s website and logged in by their login info.

Everyone voted by choice out of the six.

Afterwards, there was a small parade replay by the teams as an ice breaker. Everyone had fun and laughed at the performances. At once the students forgot for a moment about the heated arguments in the debate.

The candidates sang along with the audience, even though numerous side-eyes happened between Westwood and McAllister. But the “blondie” could care less.

He chose this to be a jolly good day to remember.

——✩——

“There you are!”

Ezra’s smile lightened up at an instant, seeing Lilian waddling towards him in the hallway.

“I didn’t get to congratulate you yesterday,” she muttered softly. “Congratulations! You’re amazing! Really! You did VERY well! Love the speech!”

Ezra’s eyes crinkled. “Oh, thank you so much, Lilian,” he said, adoring the beautiful. “Terrific. I paid every detail, every second attention to your speech! It was beautiful.” “Thank you, thank you!”

Ezra sighed in content, “Like the last line?”

Lilian blinked. All of a sudden, her memory drifted to his voice delivering it. The softly spoken, yet full of confidence.

“...the sun will always shine on us.”

Lilian gave a big smile. “I do.”

“Quoted it from you. Wasn’t very creative.”

“But it really sounded like Ezra McAllister,” murmured Lilian, green eyes gazing at his. “Suits you well.”

“It’s all thanks to you!”

Ezra bit his inner cheek, thinking Lilian would bring up “Atlas topic” after, perhaps like her apologizing for his stupid, ridiculously flimsy argument the other day. He hated hearing about him from her.

The two walked through the corridors, passing by a lot of students. She didn’t talk about Atlas, thankfully.

“I really like your surname, by the way. The voting screens only showed the candidates’ family names, so I paid a lot of attention to yours,” she said. She had been talking a lot lately.

“Oh yeah?” hummed Ezra, studying how her hair bounced slightly as they strolled, now at the empty hall.

“McAllister. Sounds rich.”

Ezra chuckled, “You can have it.”

Lilian gave a pause. Ezra followed.

She glanced at him. He smiled.

“What’s wrong?” he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t want it?”

And he stopped at Lilian’s reaction.

Green eyes sparkling at him, as if hoping he wasn’t just playing around. Fingers folded.

“I do,” she breathed, with a little tremble. No echoes, for such words in the empty school hall.

The two gazed on one another before Lilian squeezed shut her eyes. Her cheeks went all red. Fists close to her chest.

Then, a hand ruffled, slight enough not to ruin her hair.

Lilian opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of his fingers on her head.

“Oh, that’s a relief hearing that,” Ezra grinned.

Another smile was etched on his face. Then, a small turn away. His brows wrinkled as he pulled his hand.

Soft inhale; he looked back at her.

“I like you, Lilian,” he smiled.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

A little pause between them.

To give Lilian time to widen her pretty green eyes.

To give time for her lips to part slightly.

To give her mouth time to form a “Yes!”

But she didn’t.

She flung herself to him instead. With him, his arms embracing her lovingly. His smile wide in delight.

Now, against his shoulder, she muffled, “YES!”

——✩——

“Well, well.”

“Look who’s here?”

“The lovebirds.”

The couple smiled. The blonde boy allowed Lilian to walk first into Mrs. Eve’s tiny class first. He followed then.

Again, to their seats.

The six boys shook their heads. Nat kept giggling, thrilled. “Dear me, I shall go to course with Mimi alone, from now on.” Nat slipped her arm to Mimi’s dramatically.

“We lost another girl,” Nat whispered.

Mimi just sat still, smiling faintly at the navy haired girl.

“Another…”

Nat’s word repeated in the back of Mimi’s mind, aside from the aching pain of knowing that her crush and best friend actually started dating. Mimi did know Nat meant Christine for that “another girl”.

But… Christine had proved herself that she didn’t completely forget about Mimi.

Right?

Christine realized that something was off from Mimi, while others don’t, Mimi’s head said.

Well, Nat, even Miles did realize, though.

“Aw, such cute little things,” murmured Mrs. Eve, her eyes crinkled at Lilian and Ezra. The two sat closer than they usually were. Wholesome high school sweethearts.

“Ah, so this is why you were protecting her the other day,” giggled the tutor softly as she wiped the glass board clean. “I know you were ignoring my words on purpose, Ezra. So that I could forget about Lilian. I did, though, and I just realized it now. So, you nailed it!”

Lilian flushed, while Ezra smiled warmly at her. “At first I didn’t know what was he doing, Mrs. Eve,” murmured Lilian, “so I tried to catch his attention. Grabbed him by the arm. But he put my hand back instead. That’s when I realized.”

“Oh,” Ezra crossed his arms, “I thought you just wanted to touch me.”

Lilian gasped, eyes darting him dangerously. “EZRA!”

“So, I was like, ‘Lilian, this isn't quite the right time’.”

Lilian pushed his figure off the creaked chair, yet his body didn’t even move just a bit. She was all tomato red. And she definitely enjoyed it.

“My, my, typical first week of relationships, huh?” said Miles, half-smiling happy for them. Nat chimed in playfully, “Right? Feels like we’re in their way!”

“It’s lovely that you two got closer in a literal Chemistry study group. Really got that chemistry right.”

“You two looked cute together!”

“Lilian, don’t forget about me and Mimi, alright?”

“Hang in there, they’re about to answer like a jinx again!”

The night was a shower of support and happiness. As Ezra and Lilian walked out of the room once the course was done, the two talked lightly. Remembering how funny the keywords of periodic table was, Mrs. Eve’s version. The friends already gave them space and could be seen scattering away in a dash.

Ezra’s hand brushed slightly into hers. Her slim fingers twitched, yet quickly wrapped by his bigger ones. It felt warm.

“Let’s head home,” he smiled, as if they actually shared a house. Lilian nodded, putting on her helmet.

Click!

He didn’t let her lift fingers to hook the straps, though.

“Thanks—”

CLATTER!

A loud metallic stuff clatters startled her. Ezra then made his way through, “Wait, I’ll check.” The sound came from the restroom area. He stood in front of the women’s, just to see Mimi emerging from the door. Her body shook a little, just like a scaredy kitten.

“Mimi?”

She looked up, “O—oh!”

“Hey, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself there?” he bent down slightly, worry etched on his handsome features. Mimi’s pale cheeks blushed. Eyes sparkling at him, “N—no. I’m okay… Ezra,” she mumbled shyly.

Her heart was thumping loudly, until Lilian’s voice came in. “Mimi!” The girl in the helmet approached her, “What was that noise? Are you okay?”

Mimi smiled, nodding. “Yeah… just… I knocked off the soap holder. I startled myself after, hehe.” Both Ezra and Lilian smiled in relief. Little Mimi had always been on the top of their worry if something happened to her. That poor scared-looking girl!

“Has your father come to fetch you?” Lilian asked. “I thought you were gone along with the others!” Mimi nodded again, eagerly, “Yeah, he’s here already, Lilian.”

“Alright! Let’s head to the parking lot together,” said Ezra. Only a few meters they walked, looking like a family of three, Mimi clutched Lilian’s lower sleeve. Lilian glanced at her, “Huh?”

“Can… can I talk to you?”

Ezra who heard it said to Lilian, “I’ll wait on my bike, okay?” Lilian nodded at both of them, “Sure, what is it, Mimi?” The girl in pigtails guided her slightly back away.

“Lilian…” Mimi began in hesitation, “so… you are dating Ezra?”

Lilian blinked and chuckled a little, “Oh! I thought you wanted to talk about something else!” She gave a nod cheerfully, “Yes, we’re lovers, now. Gosh… I couldn’t believe I just said that word!”

Mimi gazed at her contented eyes. “Since when?” She couldn’t clearly see Lilian’s flushed face in the helmet, but there was. “A day after the election,” she replied.

Mimi nodded slowly. So it happened yesterday. Mimi hadn’t gone to school since that day because one of her pet bunnies fell ill. Mimi hadn’t had the time to check on their group chat with Lilian and Nat either.

She just found out when she arrived at Mrs. Eve’s course, when Nat ran towards her, screaming, “You wouldn’t believe what I heard this morning—LILIAN GOT A BOYFRIEND! And IT’S EZRA! O.M.G a real bound to falling in love! Can you believe it?!”

“Is he going to take you home?”

Lilian beamed again.

“Yes! He was excited to.”

“No longer with Atlas?”

Lilian laughed, “Oh, he’s been busy out there with basketball. Skips Mr. Adam’s course lately.”

Mimi nodded slowly. Lilian arched her brow, “What is it, Mimi?” Mimi blinked, shaking her head immediately, “Nothing.”

She was afraid Lilian could sense her unease, so she took her back to the parking lot. Lilian smiled warmly, thinking Mimi was simply worrying about her. Little did she know her best friend’s secret feelings towards her boyfriend.

“You seemed happier,” muttered Mimi, once they were close to Mimi’s father’s car. “You talked more than you usually do.” Lilian smiled again, “Hahaha, I think so too…”

“I think he changed something in me,” she added, her voice small. But Mimi heard it clear.

Lilian’s hand waved in the air, “See you! How’s your bunny, by the way? Will you come to school tomorrow?” “Yeah, I’ll come tomorrow. He’s okay now,” replied Mimi. She waved back before climbing into the backseat, “See you, Lilian!”

Lilian sighed, sitting behind Ezra, in an upper level.

“She looked sad,” Lilian murmured, “I wonder what’s bothering her mind.” Ezra divided his glances to the road and his shoulder, “Maybe she’s still worried about the rabbit.”

“Bunny.”

“They’re the same.”

“It’s not, genius,” Lilian murmured to herself, slamming her head against the pillows. She wiggled under the covers. Showered, dressed comfy.

She hung her phone in the air, the screen gleamed her freshened face.

Today 11.07 PM my McAllister ♥︎: [inserted an image] my McAllister ♥︎: rabbit! Today 11.27 PM You: okay you got it right this time You: heyy dont play with your phone on the traffic light

She grinned at the picture he sent; a rabbit mascot of a hit new cafe, with a wooden board, clearly written “Rabbit’s Haven” waving a paw at Ezra. Lilian tidied her slingback as she waited for the response.

Today 11.07 PM You: [inserted an image] You: rabbit! Today 11.27 PM lily: okay you got it right this time lily: heyy dont play with your phone on the traffic light Today 11.35 PM You: but he’s waving at me Today 11.36 PM You: he told me that i should take you to eat their ice cream waffle next weekend Today 11.39 PM lily: why next weekend? You: he told me that ill be busy this week You: is that okay? lily: why not?? lily: [inserted a sticker] You: [inserted a sticker] lily: HAAHHSHA that’s mr. john You: HAHAHHAHAHA You: [inserted a sticker] lily: [inserted a sticker] lily: that was smooth You: of course

On the other side of the phone, Ezra pumped a fist, “Yes!” He was very proud of himself; talk about how he invited her for a date! But he must went through a whole half and a week for it, still.

The next day came. Mimi went to school in her usual knitted lilac cardigan, pigtails wiggling. “Long time no see, Mimi!” “Morning, Myers!” “Hey, here she is!”

Mimi beamed at the warm welcome kids of Class 5 gave her. However, her eyes were stuck on Christine, sitting alone, busied by her script papers. She wanted badly to talk to her about Lilian and Ezra.

“Let’s check our Math answers,” said Nat, already opening Lilian’s and Mimi’s practice books. Mimi nodded absently.

She wasn’t ready to see a blonde boy casually peeking into their classroom, blocking people wanting to enter.

“Oh my God,” Nat dropped the books at once, grinning, “Lilian! Look who’s that?” The other kids in class began teasing her as well. “Ooh, Lilian…” poked a girl.

Laughter filled the classroom, with the girl smiling with her lower teeth, blushing heavily. She ran up to him, “What are you doing here?” “Visiting Lilian next door,” he grinned, as the two’s classes were adjacent. Class 5 and Class 6.

Ezra held back a chuckle as he pulled Lilian’s sleeve. Slowly, his fingers brushed to her palm before intertwining it. “We still have much time before bell.” Lilian bit her inner lip, “Alright, take me.”

Mimi eyed the scene with an aching heart, seeing how Liliand and Ezra ran out of the classroom’s sight in triumph. Just at the moment, Christine startled her. She was looking directly at Mimi. Mimi swallowed as Christine broke her neck softly, gesturing to meet her outside.

Mimi didn’t catch anything Nat talked to her afterwards. She was too busy watching Christine got up at her seat and left the class. “Wait—Nat. I’ll… I’ll go to the bathroom for a minute,” she said. “Oh, sure!” The girl in pigtails hurried, leaving Nat alone just with the three practice books.

“Huh… when did she stop referring herself as ‘Mimi’?”

“He confessed to her two days ago.”

Christine examined her painted pink nails, leaning against a post near their classroom.

“He confessed to her?” asked Mimi, sorrow etched all over her face. Christine nodded without a word. “Oh… uh…”

“If… if this is the case… I think… I think I should…”

“Get him back,” continued Christine so casually, pressing a finger to Mimi’s parted lips. But she rebelled at once. “What?! No—” she exclaimed, pushing Christine away a little.

“I’m not supposed to do such horrid thing, Chrissy!”

Mimi could read the visible astonishment in Christine’s eyes. “Gee,” she muttered, checking on her from head to toe, “calm down! I tell you, it’s a normal thing in a high school girl's life, you know?”

Mimi swallowed once more, couldn’t really quite catch that “normal thing in a high school girl's life”. “I thought you already understood it when we spoke that time,” said Christian, brows wrinkled. “I… I know… I know…” whined Mimi all jittery.

“But… it’s different now, Chrissy. They’re official now!”

“Officially what?” asked Christine, brow arched.

Playing the fool.

“They’re officially… lovers, now, Chrissy. It’s now a different story. At that time, they were just… friends. Just like me. But now it’s all—” Christine landed another finger, gently yet forcing Mimi to shut her mouth.

“You are too naive.”

For Christine, their friendship break up had nothing to do with her. She had done everything right. All she, an idealist, wanted was their group project to be done flawlessly, perfect, for their own good scores.

Yet people didn’t really seem to have the same view as her. She could vividly remember how Nat refused to redo their paper due to it being mistakenly detected as AI-generated. And how she shrugged off her carelessness; forgetting to paraphrase her part. Consequently, they had to redo the presentation as well. This frustrated Christine to death.

“You know, we’ll just remove and modify those parts that got flagged!” wheedled Nat as Christine paced in circles like a caged animal. “There’s no need to redo them all.”

“No,” refuted Christine. “If we do that, then the writing style will be different. It would be obvious that we changed it mid progress.”

“But… don’t you think nobody will notice it, Chrissy…?”

Mimi chimed in rather carefully, while exchanging looks with Nat. “Well,” sighed Christine. “You two must be thinking I’m a fool for making a fuss over such unnecessary things.”

“No, Chrissy… that’s not what I—”

“Because I DO notice it.”

Both Mimi and Nat went silent.

“And WHERE is Lilian? Don’t she know this is due in two days?” she shrieked. There was a pause before Nat, eyes darkening, answered for Lilian, “She was away for the Journalism Club.”

“Oh, that nerd. The club, of course!”

“She DID tell you, though,” warned Nat. “That she’ll be busy with it today unplanned. She didn’t mean to leave.” Christine stopped, then her teal eyes darted at Nat. Irritated.

“You really don’t have to sound that way,” she said. “She told ME? As if this is MY project, not ours.”

“It kinda is,” sneered Nat.

“Are you serious?” Christine’s jaw clenched. “You dare to speak that way knowing half of these job-to-dos was due to your laziness?”

“The heck?” Nat’s voice rose. “There’s a major difference between forgetting something and being lazy. If you’re really a genius, then there’s no way you just take them the same!”

“It kinda is seeing you,” sneered back Christine, reusing Nat’s words. “Lazy, careless. So Natalie Seavers.”

Nat felt her heart boil in rage.

“Mimi, help me with the references. We’re starting over,” said Christine, fingers hovering across her pink cased phone.

“We’re not starting over.”

Christine paused at Nat’s response. Mimi pressed flat her lips, eyes squeezing. The tension was too much to bear.

“I’m telling Mimi, not you, fortunately, lazy head.”

“I said we are NOT starting over,” said Nat, voice hardened. “If you’re so fond of your impossible perfectionism then why don’t you redo your dear work all by yourself?”

Christine blinked in disbelief. She gritted her teeth, “You horrible thief.”

“You think I’m an idiot? It means you’ll steal the project which was written by ME after kicking ME out! Which means you’re LAZY! LAZY!”

“You did NOT write it, Christine. It’s US. US! If you really can’t put your ego aside in this then you’re that IDIOT you already are!”

“I DON’T WANT YOU IN MY GROUP, NAT!”

Painful silence pierced the classroom. Mimi shivered in fear. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Slow and shaky, Nat pointed at the door. Her yellow irises never left the teal.

“Then you leave,” Nat’s voice was hard and trembling.

Christine stared at her in disdain. She took a breath, shuddered. Her fingers slipped her pink hair clips out from her golden bangs.

PANG!

“I never liked you anyways.”

Ever since that day, Christine, without her hair clip, held her hatred deep down in her. Perfectionist. The word hit like a double-edged sword to her heart. It hurt and lifted her ego at the same time.

So she wanted to prove Nat her worth. She, already chosen to play as the female protagonist in the upcoming play, busied herself at once in her Theatre Club, rehearsing.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her efforts weren’t enough to bury her anger and envy seeing the three together. But fancy her could keep granting anything she wanted by herself. Because she still had Mimi. That day, Mimi, so different than ever, ranted at her best friend after what it felt like years.

Little, scaredy Mimi falling in love with Lilian’s crush was a gate of opportunity for the dear Chrissy’s wicked plan.

Using Mimi to crush the remaining friendship sounded right. It was the punishment for not including Christine in it. For kicking her out. Exiling her. Someone as great as her.

Then Christine would simply just break the girl code; steal a boyfriend.

Lilian’s.

Except Mimi would play the role and Christine gracefully sat behind the script and watch her own play unfold.

“Where are you taking me?”

A laugh came between Lilian’s breaths. She and Ezra ran straight to the canteen, with the two’s hands intertwined. Ezra laughed as well.

Without letting go of her, he bought a less-fancy version of the dessert he had promised her. Lilian gasped in excitement.

“I hope this is okay in the morning,” he said, handing Lilian a honey-glazed waffle in a paper bag. “I thought it would be too long waiting for our waffle date next weekend,” he smiled almost apologetically.

“Oh… Ezra,” she peeped, smiling with her full teeth. “Thank you! Oh, let’s eat this together!”

“I’m full just by looking at you,” he smirked.

Lilian flushed in a second.

“FLIRT!”

Class 6’s first subject was swapped with the fourth, which was Mr. Jones’, History. And again, Ezra got caught slacking, smiling at his own hand. “Louder, McAllister!” He had to read a whole paragraph in the book as a punishment.

McAllister.

Ezra had never seen it as appealing until Lilian said that she liked how it sounded.

“McAllister, I heard your speech the other day.”

Ezra turned to Mr. Jones at the end of the lesson. “You are actually great, champ. Good luck with that election.” Ezra smiled warmly, “Oh, thank you, Mr. Jones!”

“Hopefully once you become the president, you’ll stop grinning all by yourself like a mad man in my class!”

——✩——

“Hey, the result’s out!”

“Have you seen it?” “Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it.” “No, really. I think it’s fair enough.” “Hard to believe.” “Wow!” “Yes, I knew it!” “I can’t see!” “That’s my vote!”

Ezra stared at the bulletin board among the sea of humans. He stared long. Sometimes having people catch a glimpse at him. Exchanging glances from the paper pinned on the bulletin board, probably hung by SRA.

Ezra McAllister.

Vice President.

Above him, Atlas Westwood.

President.

——✩——

★ read the previous chapter here!

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