#also sadly at the moment its difficult to go outside

[yugocar]

queer history is not american queer history. it has, of course, had plenty of influence on queer movements around the world, it does not mean that by knowing it you know the queer history of my culture and my country. i cannot explain how frustrating it is to see people who think that bombing my country was fine because we are all homophobic talk as though they have a universal understanding of being queer.

[theprinceofdarknesssquad]

Give Him Space

A Solangelo Fanfiction

Summary: Nico and Will are good friends, and both of them like each other, but haven't confessed yet. One night, Nico has a nightmare.

Will Solace has always been a light sleeper. He would be woken up by the faintest of breeze, or the softest rustle of leaves beside Cabin 11. He had grown accustomed to the occasional snores of the Apollo kids, but other than that, even the smallest of noises could wake him up.

Including footsteps.

One night, Will heard hurried footsteps from outside the Cabin, and at first, doubted that it was probably just another camper who got hungry at night. But then, he succeeded in overthinking and decided to check it out instead.

Will got out of bed and the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned towards the Dining Pavillion but found no one upon reaching there. He strained his ear to hear any sound from the kitchens, but it was silent. Will blinked confusedly, looking around. Was he hallucinating? He was sure he heard footsteps.

Then, he saw it. It was a shadow, a shadow of someone heading towards the beach. There was only one person Will knew who was brave - and crazy - enough to go towards the beach at night. And his stealth, his stance was like that of a ghost.

Nico di Angelo.

Will didn't want to admit it out loud, but he liked Nico. Romantically. But he had never even given a thought to confessing his feelings to him. For one, he wasn't sure if Nico was over Percy Jackson, and second, he didn't know if Nico was ready to accept the truth about himself.

A lot of times, Will would get angry at Percy. He knew that it was unreasonable and that Percy was a great guy. But he was also one of the main reasons why Nico's feelings were in shambles, so Will couldn't control the bout of rage that would overcome him at times whenever he saw Poseidon's son.

Will wondered if he should follow Nico. He knew that it was crazy to do so, not because staying out of bed past curfew was dangerous, but mainly because Nico would go feral if he came to know that someone was following him.

But leaving someone alone in danger and worse, in pain was not in Will's nature nor in his ideals. So, he braced himself, took a deep breath and started following the son of Hades.

Will was stealthy, but not half as much as Nico. Nico moved smoothly and swiftly, not disturbing anything around him. He was like a shadow, which could mould itself compared to its surrounding. Will tried his best to keep track of him, but it proved to be difficult.

Nico was so skilled at hiding himself from everyone. He'd find comfort in confined spaces and darkness. He had learned how to smile at the darkness, and at one point, the dark smiled back. Nico was still a mystery to most, a mystery they would rather ignore than bother.

But Will was different. He knew that, deep inside, Nico was hurting. It did not take a genius to guess that. Being Apollo's kid, Will could detect easily if there was something with someone, and the moment he had first laid eyes on Nico, he had almost doubled over after sensing the hurt in his heart.

As he followed the boy towards the beach, Will wondered why he was awake. At the next moment, he understood how stupid he had been. Nico must be having nightmares, of course. Gaea, the battle, the giants, Octavian, they all frequented Will's nightmares. It was stupid to assume that they didn't Nico's.

And Nico...Nico had gone through Tartarus. All on his own. Will could not even imagine the horrors he must have faced. Will smiled sadly, Nico was so strong, so brave, even when he denied it.

Nico sat in the sand by the beach and looked at the sea. Will stayed back in the trees, thinking about what he should do. He wanted to surge forward and sit beside him, talk to him and console him. That was his first thought. He didn't want Nico to suffer alone, he had been doing so for too long.

But then, he paused. Nico had been alone for too long, so Will didn't know if he would welcome his presence or feel threatened by it. Instead of feeling better that someone was there for him, Nico might withdraw himself inwards even more. Will didn't want to make that mistake.

Nico and Will had become good friends. Will reminisced a fond memory and smiled to himself.

"I'm telling you, Solace. I'm fine!" Nico insisted. He was starting to get angry, he kept telling Will that he was fine. But Will knew better. Nico was just back from Camp Jupiter and looked more exhausted than ever. He must have shadow-travelled, given his drooping eyes and haggard face.

"Tell me, di Angelo, when was the last time you drank water?" Will asked, ignoring Nico's glare and thrusting a bottle of water in his hands. There was no one else in the infirmary, everyone liked Nico but avoided him nonetheless.

Nico gripped the bottle tightly, "None of your business. I'm fine." "You look anything but fine." Will said dismissively, "Let me check your blood pressure-"

Nico relented after a long argument. He slumped down on the bed and kept glaring at Will. Will kept checking his vitals and tried to hide the smile on his face. Nico attempted to look scary and menacing when he was glaring, and Will was not going to tell him how cute it made him look.

He didn't want to battle Ghostboy.

After he was done, Will expected Nico to storm out and throw the bottle in the trashcan, but none of that happened. He looked at Will keenly instead. "What?" Will asked.

"Nothing." He answered after a long time, "You're not afraid of me."

"It's not the same as before anymore, Nico." Will said softly, "You are one of us."

"Everyone says that," Nico murmured, "But I know they're afraid of me."

"Well, you are the son of Hades, you're mysterious, you have an obsession with McDonald's, you can talk to ghosts, you always wear black, even in the summer heat. But you must remember, you're not a fearsome monster or something." Will said. He looked away, trying to not blush. He cursed himself for spilling how much he observed Nico.

Nico chuckled. "Funny, Solace. But I will remember to bring you a burger the next time I got to McDonald's." He stood up and walked out of the infirmary. Will stared after him. Was he developing a crush on the boy?

Will gazed at the same boy. It was from that incident that their friendship grew. And now they were at a point where everyone could tell that there was something more between them. But Will didn't want to put a burden on Nico unless he was sure he reciprocated his feelings.

Will's heart ached to go forward and sit beside Nico. Granted, he was not the most talkative, or the most polite, or the most welcoming person, but Will liked him. For what he was. A hurt, lost boy with a kind heart, who only wanted good for the world, despite what the world had put him through.

So Will paused. Nico deserved his space, Will wasn't going to go and invade that. He stepped backwards and made a decision to go back to bed. The next morning, he'd ask Nico if he had gotten any sleep. He'd magically guess that Nico had nightmares and confront him about it. He'd then try to talk to him only if the son of Hades wanted to talk.

Tomorrow, he'd do everything for Nico.

But tonight, it was only required to give him space.

NOTE - This is my first Solangelo fanfic, so hope it was good. Thanks for reading!

[alilixx]

hihi this is a weird one but do u have any ideas for a platonic house&reader fic? like reader n house having a kind of familial bond maybe

Heyy sorry for the time, school just start again sadly soo, i didn't know what type of platonic like brother/Father relationship so i made it differently!

"If only you were my dad"

Dad! Gregory House x Daughter!FemReader

Your patient is in critical condition. The diagnosis is complicated: a rare infection that's rapidly worsening, and traditional treatments don't seem to be working. The symptoms are evolving too quickly, and you're faced with a difficult choice. The standard protocol recommends aggressive antibiotic treatment, but its effectiveness is uncertain in this specific case. Meanwhile, an experimental approach, inspired by House's unconventional methods, lingers in your mind. This treatment, much riskier, could potentially save the patient, but it could also cause severe complications, even death.

Faced with this dilemma, you feel lost. You've learned to follow the rules, to respect procedures, but you've also spent enough time with House to know that rules aren't always enough. You're still hesitating, so you decide to go see him. Maybe he can offer a different perspective, though he'll probably never tell you exactly what to do.

When you enter his office, he's lying on his couch, playing with his cane. He throws a sideways glance at you, then turns his eyes back to his puzzle. He already knows why you're there.

"Let me guess," he says without even looking at you. "You're wondering if you should listen to your little medical manual or your gut—your gut being the best doctor, of course?"

You sigh. "The patient has a serious infection, but the recommended treatment only has a 30% chance of working in cases like this. I'm considering a riskier intervention, a cocktail of antivirals and immunosuppressants, but it could make things worse if his immune system can't handle the shock."

House finally looks up at you. "And you want my opinion?" He smiles, slightly mocking. "Following the rules is great for avoiding trouble. But if you want to avoid killing this guy, you already know what you need to do."

You stay silent for a moment. It's always like this with him. He'll never give you a direct answer, but he pushes you to think, to go off the beaten path. He looks at you in a way that no one else does. You know that beneath his detached demeanor, he sees you as someone special. It's almost as if, despite his sarcasm and cynicism, he plays a fatherly role, guiding you in the most critical moments.

"And what if it goes wrong?" you ask, seeking a bit of reassurance.

He sighs, sits up a bit. "It might. But the protocol is almost certain to fail in this case. Your patient has a weakened immune system already, and if you hit him with those high-dose antibiotics, you'll finish him off. Your approach, on the other hand, might work. Or it might not. But at least it's a chance."

You nod, reflecting on his words. You know he's right. As a doctor, he's always taught you that each patient is a puzzle, and sometimes you have to break pieces to see the whole picture.

"Are you ready to take risks, or do you just want to save your career?" he asks with a piercing look.

Those words hit you hard. It's not just about protocol or rules. It's about doing what’s necessary to save a life, even if it means stepping outside the lines. And House, with all his cynicism, has always encouraged you to be bold. He'll never say it outright, but you know you're more than just a colleague to him. In a way, he sees you almost like a daughter, wanting you to be capable of making tough decisions, as he does every day.

You head back to the treatment room, heart pounding but determined. You choose the risky treatment: a combination of powerful antivirals and low-dose immunosuppressants to avoid completely wiping out your patient's immune system. The first hours are critical. You monitor his vital signs closely, fearing every minute for a deterioration. But after a few tense hours, his condition starts to slowly improve. His immune system responds better than you had hoped.

Later, when everything stabilizes, you return to see House. He’s still in his office, looking as nonchalant as ever. You tell him that the treatment worked.

"I would have been surprised if it hadn’t," you say, a wry smile on your face. He raises an eyebrow, ever faithful to his sarcasm. "Congratulations, you chose not to be an idiot. Kudos."

But you know him too well now. Behind his harsh words, there’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. He’ll never tell you directly that he’s proud of you, but you can feel it. You’ve become a version of him, but with your own style, and he knows it.

"I learned from you, after all," you say.

He shakes his head, a small smile stretching his lips. "No, you learned to make tough decisions. Which, in your case, means you might almost resemble me. But not too much. One House is quite enough."

He looks at you again, this time longer, and without a word, he gives you a light pat on the shoulder. For anyone else, it would be insignificant, but coming from him, it’s almost a paternal gesture, his way of saying he's proud of you. You smile even though he’s gone. There were often moments like that; for example, once after a long day at the hospital, feeling exhausted, both mentally and physically, you ran into House in the corridors as you were leaving. He looked at you strangely, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

"You should go home," he said simply. Then, after a moment, he added, almost in a whisper, "You did a good job today."

Surprised, you realize that this kind of compliment is rare from him, but this time, he seems sincere. Without thinking, you lean in and give him a quick hug. He freezes for a moment, unaccustomed to displays of affection, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lightly pats your back, uncomfortable but not resisting.

"Okay, okay, that's enough. We’re not in a family sitcom here," he grumbles, but he gives a slight smile as you pull back.

"Shut up kiddo"

Big brother! Gregory House x Little Sis! FemReader

It’s your first night shift alone at the hospital, and the pressure is intense. You have a patient in crisis, and you’re unsure about the decision to make. House isn’t supposed to be there, but you know he often stays late, whether to work on his own cases or play games on his computer.

You head towards his office, secretly hoping he’s still there. And of course, he is, watching an episode of "General Hospital" with his headphones on.

"House, I need help," you say, a bit nervously.

He doesn’t even look up from his screen. "It’s your first night shift and you’re already ready to throw in the towel?"

"My patient has symptoms that don’t match anything I’ve learned. I’ve tried all the standard diagnoses, but nothing works."

He takes off his headphones, sighs loudly, and fixes you with his piercing gaze. "Are you a doctor or just playing doctor for Halloween? Trust yourself. You don’t need me to solve this."

You bite your lip, a bit frustrated. "I’m afraid of making a mistake."

He finally stands up and approaches you, his expression slightly more serious. "Welcome to the real world. That’s what it is. Tough choices, mistakes. And guess what? This won’t be your last mistake. But it’s by making them that you get better."

House gives a quick pat on your shoulder, a brief but meaningful gesture for him. "Go back out there. Show that patient why you’re here."

You take a deep breath, feeling both the weight of his words and a strange surge of courage. House isn’t the type to give compliments or encouragements, but somehow, this strange mix of cynicism and support has struck a chord.

"Okay," you reply in a voice more confident than you actually feel. You turn to leave his office, but one last thought crosses your mind. "And what if… what if I really make a serious mistake?"

House rolls his eyes, visible exasperation on his face. "If that happens, you’ll come back here, tell me how you completely screwed up, and we’ll fix it. Now, go."

You nod, this time more determined, and leave the room. As you head back to your patient’s room, House’s words still echo in your mind. Trust yourself. It won’t be your last mistake, but that’s how you learn.

When you enter the room, you notice the patient is becoming increasingly agitated. The heart monitor emits rapid, regular beeps. You grab the chart, quickly re-reading the medical history, searching for anything you might have missed. Nothing quite matches. It’s frustrating.

You approach the bed and observe closely. Something suddenly strikes you. A detail you had overlooked initially. The slight tremor in his fingers… not just a symptom of stress, but maybe a more subtle sign of a neurological condition. A rare disease, something you had vaguely studied in passing but had never seemed relevant… until now.

A wave of understanding washes over you. You pull out your phone, quickly jot down some notes, searching for confirmation. That’s it. Medication toxicity that the patient hadn’t mentioned. An old migraine medication, prescribed years ago, but never listed on his current list.

The appropriate treatment starts to form in your mind. You take a deep breath and call the nurse. “Prepare a flumazenil infusion.”

The nurse looks at you with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Flumazenil? But he doesn’t have any sedatives in his history.”

You nod. “No recent sedatives, no. But there’s an old treatment that could be causing these symptoms, and it should work. Do it.”

The minutes that follow are tense. The drug slowly infuses into the patient’s veins, and you watch every sign, every movement. Then, finally, you see a difference. The tremors subside, the breathing becomes more regular, and the heart rate slows to a normal level.

You lean back against the wall, a wave of relief washing over you. You did it. You took a risky decision, trusted yourself. And it worked.

Deep down, you know it won’t always be this clear, not always this “easy.” But this moment, this feeling, gives you the strength to keep going, no matter the challenges ahead.

As you leave the room, you sense a presence a few meters away. Turning around, you see House leaning against the corridor wall. He looks at you with an unreadable expression, but his eyes gleam with a mischievous sparkle.

“Not bad for a first night.” You smile, a mix of pride and relief. “Thanks, House.”

He turns away, hands in pockets. “Next time, I’ll charge you for the advice.” Then, without another word, he walks off into the dark corridors of the hospital.

You stand there for a moment, savoring the victory. Before getting back to work. Because, as House said, this is the real world.

[fangirl-saya]

The Reddit Q&A

Because I'm a normal person with normal amount of appreciation for Renfield and Hoult, I went through this thread and pulled out all the replies that had to do with Hoult. Enjoy. Reddit thread

Putting it under "Keep reading" because long post is long.

Hoult: I watched all of them but Dwight Frye is obviously such an iconic wonderful performance and one that I did try to take a lot of inspiration from.

Hoult: They’re all difficult for different reasons. I don’t have as great an answer as that… but playing Beast was quite challenging simply because of the makeup. [To Cage] Which reminds me, I really felt for you in this. You took it in stride.

Hoult: Something that I love is when you’re on a set and you open a drawer and someone has taken the time to write a letter. It may never end up on screen, but it’s so incredible that they took the extra step to make each aspect of the film feel more real and to make that moment special.

Hoult: We were all (the cast) growing up together. So, whilst we were pretending to do all those things on the show and be those characters, outside of it, we were becoming great friends and experiencing all those things in real life. We were 16 and 17, so to share that time with those people and still be friends with them now is very special. I feel lucky to be a part of it.

Hoult: Hmmm. I liked the first John Wick. Speed as well.

Cage: I’m just going to go on record now, Nick is a hell of a dancer, and he worked his ass off to do this incredible dance sequence which didn’t make it into the movie, but it was brilliant. That was a lot of work.

Hoult: That was, yeah, that was a lot of work and rehearsals. Choreography came up with this wonderful fantasy sequence of Renfield dancing with bugs, just over the moon with love. But yeah, sadly it didn’t make it into the film but maybe it will end up as a deleted scene?

Cage: No reason in terms of method, but the fangs were genuine fangs, they were ceramic and quite pointy. So I did bite my lip a few times which made me drink my own blood.

Hoult: I quite like the taste of my own blood.

Cage: There is something warm and fuzzy about it.

Hoult: We were inside a church at one point, during a hurricane. It wasn’t paranormal, but it was eerie. We had to stop filming and all gather together towards the center of this church and wait out this hurricane.

Cage: One of the recent ones, THE MENU, I just thought it was so delicious. That movie is about cooking so that is the right word. It was one of my favorite movies of the year. Darkest comedy in the most delicious way.

Hoult: Face Off, Con Air, Pig, Adaptation, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent.

Hoult: There’s a line that she added (in a scene in the apartment and I was making her cookies) and she said “I don’t want your murder cookies." That was a very funny line that she made up. That gets me every time.

Hoult: I like the idea of Frankenstein's monster, but Dracula would be up there as one of my favorites as well. 

Hoult: I mean he’s horrendous on some levels, but he’s also quite caring and nurturing on others. So it’s always a matter of perspective, isn’t it? If you saw a vignette of the nicest moments of their lives together it would seem picturesque and wonderful. And then at its worst it probably is horrific and as bad as it can get. So it’s both things at the same time.

Cage: I’m fairly certain that Dracula and Renfield had a few wonderful laughs together over the years. Big laughs? That’s probably the better word to use.

Hoult: Thank you so much. In some ways, tonally, these are similar films and I love making those horror comedy/twisted genres. If you like those, hopefully you’ll like Renfield.

Hoult: I learned today that Nick edited Shadow of The Vampire, which I didn’t know and I was surprised by it.

Cage: I don’t think anything surprises me about Nick Hoult. He’s making all the right moves and I knew he would.

Hoult: For me? Hot and sour soup.

Cage & Hoult: Both did all the time.

Hoult: Oh I wouldn’t want to say a least favorite. I like them all.

Cage: Thank you. You're great too.

Hoult: To quote a great actor, '"Thank you. You're great too" -- Cage'

...

Thanks for the questions! We gotta go see the children of the night about a bite to eat - but make sure to watch RENFIELD, only in theaters on April 14th.

[lake-archive]

A Fool For His Birthday

AO3 Link - A Shared Love Between Our Posse (Masterlist)

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Gentaro Yumeno, Ann Wolff (OC)

Pairing: Genann (Gentaro/Ann) (Developing)

Synposis: April Fool's Day but also the birthday of Gentaro Yumeno. And having both of those days overlap can be causing more trouble than expected. At least it is all in good fun~

Words: 3,659

Being greeted with this sight was something Ann had not necessarily expected. Especially not at his home, Gentaro’s home. They had somewhat announced it, not wanting to barge in from one moment to the next.

“Hey, Gentaro. Is it ok if I come to visit you after lectures today?”

“Visiting me? What gives me the honor on such a day? Wouldn’t you prefer to avoid me~?”

Given it was the first of April as well as his nature, maybe… But he just so happened to be born on that day. So they really couldn’t… “Oh c’mon! I don’t see a reason to! Can I come over or not?”

“Very well. But don’t make it too long. Ramuda and Dice pushed me into some plans for that evening.”

“I know. Ramuda is also making me attend…”

“Of course he would. What a troublesome boy.”

“It’s just how he is.” Though their first boyfriend had insisted more than usual… What was up with that? They could only wonder… 

Even the argument ‘How about you three have some ‘bro time?’ did not work. Because all Ramuda answered there was ‘Oh we’re getting plenty of bro time! Plus, it's Gentaro’s birthday! Pleeeaaase!?’. … He himself did have a fair argument though… 

“Then I assume we could head to his studio together later.”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll look forward to it then. See you later, Ann.”

So regardless of anything, Ann still had plans to see Gentaro one on one, mainly to not be hit with a wave of embarrassment when handing him their gift… Which was difficult to pick out. Then again, in the end they didn’t necessarily pick something out. 

Or… Well, they did but that was just a notebook, really, fitting in a small story within its pages. And they sadly had to admit that this was their emergency solution. All because they just couldn’t think of anything else… Outside of watermelon slices but… Firstly, it’s not summer. Secondly, that’s boring. At least the chocolate on Ramuda’s birthday required effort. And they didn’t want to slack off in Gentaro’s case either.

So they recalled one of the things he seemed to really enjoy and concluded that it might be a fun idea to write a short story, dedicated to his eyes only. Not just that but… Perhaps try themself on a doodle here and there. But that was also the thing, it was impossible to hand it over when Ramuda and Dice were around. Especially if the two saw the poor attempts of their illustrations. They already wanted to sink into the ground knowing that Gentaro would see them while reading the story sometime… Ah, the entire thought was embarrassing! Not just that but he was going to see their handwriting as well! Maybe they had gotten a little too ahead with this. Besides, what if he doesn’t like it!? That was perhaps their biggest fear at the end of the day, one which would make their stomach turn.

And that was why they had been pacing back and forth in front of his apartment door, unsure if they should even enter. Maybe they should just drop the notebook and run. Run as fast as possible and say that they only had enough time to drop their gift. But no, that’d be inappropriate! They should give him their gift to him in person. Yeah, in person! Besides, they had already agreed to pay him a visit so it would be impossible to back out now!

Alright, deep breath… And just get this over with! Yeah, just get it over with! It’ll be fine. It’ll be just fine…

So, a quick knock. “Hello! Gentaro!”  They began, knocking once more. “It’s me, Ann! I’m here!”

“Oh!? Wait wait wait Ann!?” They heard him say surprisingly… Panicked? That was a first and unusual. “Ah, what terrible timing!”

Terrible timing? “Is something wrong? Do you need help with something?”

“Ahaha… W… Well… You could say that but—”

“Then go on, open the door. I’ll help out however I can!”

“It’s not exactly that but…”

“You don’t want me to come in?”

“It’s not…” A quick break, a short moment of silence before he continued after a short sigh. “Listen, you may come in. But promise me one thing.”

Promise something? What is he scheming now? That’s what they were wondering. “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out when you enter…”

“Don’t freak out? Why?”

“You’ll see! Just promise me that first!”

“Ok fine fine! I promise!”

“Thank you. Now, you may open the door. It is open.”

What had Gentaro been up to today, on his birthday nonetheless? But honestly, they should not even be surprised. It was April Fool’s as well, it may as well be a holiday for him or something like that. So they opened the door cautiously. 

A quick gaze up, as if checking for anything up there. They wanted to believe that he would not step that low but you could never be sure with him, so they rather double checked. But nothing. A few glances to the side… Nothing seemed to be amiss. Alright, the coast was clear.

So they entered, one step inside, just in case, slow and steady. Was something on the ground they didn’t see? They didn’t know yet but were cautious nonetheless… But nothing. It was safe to walk on it. 

So they soon were standing in the hall, looking around for a moment though a little puzzled. “Gentaro? Where are you?” Maybe he was stuck somewhere?

“Ahaha… W… Well… You might want to go into the living room to find out.” Ann heard him chuckle, though sounding very nervous, more than usual. Something was off here… Very… 

“Why?”

“It’s best to see it instead of me explaining it all to you.”

They only shrugged at this point yet knew that discussing it was futile. So they may as well. Just what was going on here? They couldn’t really tell…

And yet, they would figure it out soon enough. Because they were heading straight to the first room on the left lacking a door, taking a glance into the living room. They saw nothing off at first. Everything seemed in place, literally. Nothing off here, at all. None. Na—

That was until they took a look at the couch seeing… A tiny rabbit on the sofa!? Light brown fur and green eyes, sitting there, sniffing around. They were staring a little in disbelief, almost dropping the notebook yet managed to catch it at the very last second. What… Was a rabbit doing here!? Why!? How!? 

“Uhm… Did someone gift you a pet?” They asked, looking back into the hall, hoping that he was in another room. Someone gifted him a pet, right? That had to be it. It just had to! And yet—

“Firstly, it’s rude to not look at someone while they’re talking to you!” They heard his voice say very sternly, making them turn back. Wait, the voice was coming from the living room after all!? Where— “Secondly, I’m not a pet. It’s me, Gentaro. And someone apparently thought that it was funny to turn me into a fluffy creature!”

Hold on, what!? “W… Wait… You are saying…” Ann stuttered as they took a few steps closer, to the sofa. Carefully to not scare the little bunny on it. And once they were close enough they kneeled down, to come face to face with said bunny, staring at it and only seeing how it was moving its head around while moving its nose. Actually… From up close, it was an adorable little fella. If Gentaro would stay like that then maybe— Ah no! What were they even thinking!?  “You’re messing with me, right?”

“Me!? Do I sound like I’m lying!?” Was the only thing they heard as a response, as if he was offended.

“I mean, you love to lie…”

“Hah, alright. That is a fair argument. However, I’m not joking in this instance. Sure, this body is warm and I do not feel uncomfortable but I cannot stay like this.”

He… Was serious? He was being serious… No, this was almost like some fairytale. No way. “Mhm… Right…”

“I mean it! I cannot work as a bunny, can I?”

“Well, you could work at a petting zoo. The kids would love you~” They decided to tease, even if just for this moment. They may as well. 

“Ann, don’t even joke about things like that…” He said however, sounding surprisingly deadpan. “I would just bite every kid in sight trying to touch me.”

“Oh come on, don’t make them cry. Not even Ole does that.” Yeah, instead he recently liked to sleep at the end of their bed and bite into their toes when he saw the feet peeking out… Ole is an old man but still a cat, and that was a rather painful reminder. Anyways… 

“I’m stating facts…”

“Besides, you could have an easier life. Think of all—”

“Stop joking around and help me turn back!” He interrupted, sounding desperate, perhaps a little embarrassed. That was a first. 

And yet, she chuckled. It was a sight they would never get to hear again after all. “Alright alright. Let’s find a way to turn you back into the same old guy.”

They were about to get up, wanting to discuss this and yet– “Actually, I might have a plan.”

They got curious, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“You are accustomed to fairytales, aren’t you?”

Fairytales? What was this going to turn into? “Yeah, my parents read me some all the time.”

“Does that include The Frog Prince?”

“That’s basically a classic where I’m from. What’s up with—”

“Try kissing me.” Gentaro interrupted, sounding blunt, cold and saying this with no hesitation. This made Ann nearly trip over, shocked with wide eyes.

“Wait… What? Hold on!” She nearly shouted yet kept calm the moment they still noticed the tiny bunny. Right, they couldn’t startle him now… 

“Is that not how the princess breaks the frog’s spell?”

“Wha– No! Well… Ok yes but in the original not. She threw him against the wall.”

“Huh… That will hurt but… Alright, go on. I’m ready.”

“ Are you crazy!? I’m not throwing a bunny against the wall!”

“Not even if—”

“Not even then!” This sounded insane. They’re not going to do that! What was going on in his mind, agreeing to this so easily!? Seriously… 

“Fine! I’ll try a—” And yet, they had risen their voice all of a sudden, noticing the moment they saw the bunny hop down, away from the sofa. Instead of waiting they had reacted right away, dashing right after it for a few seconds after having placed the notebook onto the table. “Wha— Stay here! This isn’t funny!”

“Ah, apologies! But you were loud, my ears!”

“I’m sorry but what you suggested was crazy! Now get ba—” Though before they could say anything further, or rather wanted to finish their words, they noticed something when running right past the sofa. Something stuck out there… Something black. It was as if these were parts of some clothing, a fabric they were all too familiar with. They only stared at it for a short moment before their expression turned from worried to blank… Literally. Of course… Yeah, that checks out.

So they took a few steps closer, right behind the sofa themself and spotting someone all too well, having his back pressed against the sofa and sitting there, not looking up. At least not yet. And when he was about to speak again they interrupted him fairly quickly with their own words, anything but impressed.

“You really think this is funny, don’t you?”

Though instead of a quick gasp they only heard a chuckle. “Looks like I’ve finally been caught.” He commented before turning towards them, looking up to face them with his usual smirk, shrugging. “Though I’m surprised that you didn’t try to check sooner Ann~”

“Ah— That—”

“Did you really believe my little lie here~?”

“N… No! I… Er… Just wanted to play along!” 

“Of course, play along.”

“It’s true! Nothing more!”

“Right, right. I believe you.” And yet, it sounded as if he didn’t.

“Ugh… Sh… Shut it!” This was embarrassing in the end…

A few minutes forward, the bunny had been placed somewhere where it could be getting some rest after all this running, away from the two who were about to converse. When Ann had asked Gentaro where he got it from he said that he took it in for a few days. Someone had asked him to take care of it and would pick it up later. He owed that person a favor so he could hardly decline. Plus, the little fella was adorable, no denying. And that is also why he had been home for now, awaiting the person to arrive and pick their little friend up. 

“You could have warned me beforehand…” They sighed, both having decided to sit down on the sofa, right next to each other. Ann had decided to lean a little backwards, arms crossed. This was just… A lot. That guy…

“Haha, forgive me. But I couldn’t resist. Today is April Fool’s Day after all.” He reminded them with his usual smile, much to their own dismay. “And you fell for it.”

“I said tha–” They were about to protest again, yet that proved useless. They knew. “Nevermind.”

“Now, may I ask what even brings you here? I did not expect you to announce your visit so suddenly.”

Right, their visit… As to why they were here. They had almost forgotten to be honest. And once they remembered they were about to grow red from all said embarrassment. Because once reality kicks in that this will be in Gentaro’s hands right this second… They became a little hesitant again. And yet, they couldn’t just back out now. 

Though they did not say a thing, not at first at least. They were looking around, stuttering for a moment before eyeing the notebook on the table for a few seconds. They were looking back at Gentaro for a moment, seeing him waiting ever so patiently for their answer. Then again, he might have a clue now… There was no use hiding it from him, was there? Yeah, no use at all.

“I… Well… You know what day it is, right?” They began slowly, their voice shivering a little. “And I don’t mean April Fool’s…”

“Oh yes, of course I know. You are speaking of my birthday, aren’t you?”

They nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh, have you decided to grant me a wish in private?”

“Wha— Wait, that—”

“Then we should certainly talk about that kiss from earlier.” He said with no shame, teasing. And yet… It sounded so serious. Wait no, that was just his way of playing games in the end, wasn’t it!? He even leaned a little forward, to make matters worse.

It led to them trying to back away yet knowing they would just fall over if they did, being cornered. So they weren’t even trying. Besides, he was only close enough yet had not touched their lips with his own. It should be fine… He’s just messing with them a little. “It’s not like that! I mean it is related to your birthday but—”

“Oya? Are you denying me a wish on my very own birthday? You’re a cruel one~” He sounded hurt, the fake kind.

“Tha— I just… Guh… I wanted to give you something!” They said when suddenly grabbing the notebook, pulling it in front of their face. They just couldn’t look at his face, not like this. This was getting more and more embarrassing by the second. In fact, they had to make sure now that he was not seeing their face whatsoever. Really,  this guy… Things have changed between the two but also not really, haven’t they?

“Ah, a gift. That is what you meant.” They heard him say, hearing the sofa making some noise, him most likely backing away, somewhat. 

They lowered the notebook a little as a result, sighing before handing it over to him, no questions asked. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure what so I thought of… Well… Writing something. Hand written that is.”

“Hand written? For… Me?” He asked as they felt him taking the notebook, then hearing it open. No, they saw it actually, him skimming through the pages. Witnessing it first hand made them feel even more embarrassed than before now, to the point their thoughts were racing… Goddamnit. 

“Yeah, for you. I… Hope it will be al—”

“Oya? And you can draw too.” He interrupted, sounding fascinated. Ah— He’s seeing the drawings, isn’t he!?

“I just… Thought maybe… Ok listen I’m not that good at it but I was thinking of… Giving it a personal touch! Go on ahead and laugh or something! I—”

“Oh no, it’s not bad at all. I was just surprised that you can even visualize what you’re thinking.” He interrupted, chuckling, then closing the notebook finally, placing it back onto the table. “Allow me to read it in peace later. Unless—”

“Please, take your time reading it!” They didn’t need to hear him reading their writing out loud. That was the last thing they needed to hear! 

“Still, going through so much effort… It is not a giant special occasion.” 

“A… Are you kidding? Of course it is. Besides… It’s only fair, isn’t it? Putting effort into a gift I mean…”

“If you say so. But really, you didn’t have to do that.” He assured them, or tried to.

“It’s fine, really. No trouble at all. I did it because I wanted to!” They insisted. 

“Alright, I will not argue. I thank you all the same.” 

And then a moment of silence between the two again… Ah, this was really something else… The two of them, alone right now. And there was still a bit of time left before they would head to the studio Ramuda owned. Not like they could go anyway thanks to the rabbit anyway bu—

“Although, back to the kiss…” Ann suddenly heard Gentaro bring up, facing them directly yet again. Hearing him say that made them squeal in place for a short moment, staring at him intensely. 

“P… Please don’t joke like that!” They tried to reason with him, only to see him leaning forward yet again. 

“Joke? Who said I was joking?” He countered, all too serious sounding. That had them look at him with wide eyes, feeling just how they warmed up by then. Wait a second— 

“Hah!? It has to be! Not funny!” 

“But what if I’m not?” And he only got closer.

“That…”

“Say, would you not grant me that one wish?” He asked, his voice in a sudden whisper. He… Was he serious? Was he? Wasn’t he? What was he getting at!?

Though… The argument… It was tempting. And he had been asking earlier. It’s just a kiss right? Ah wait, should they even consider? But he was close and— Ah, why were they even thinking about it? The two had kissed before. One time in the bookstore, the other time at the train station. It should be fine… Right? Was it? They would lie if they said that the urge had not overcome them… And they could use his reasoning as an excuse… Maybe? 

Oh they should just admit that they wanted to kiss him… 

So they suddenly did. Just when they saw him, his mouth opening, about to say something to them they suddenly leaned a little forward, right in to press their lips against his own. 

It was short, though more than a mere peck. His lips were soft, the taste exactly what they remember. It was hard to pull back honestly, hence why they may as well be almost glued onto his lips. But they pulled back shortly after, not wanting to make this too long. And needless to say… His reaction had been unexpected.

He was staring at them, as if in disbelief, and they could see him all red. It was a first, not something they had seen before. Ever. And moments later he even put his hand over his mouth before making one of his fingers trace over his own lips. He didn’t say anything, only staring at them for a moment before suddenly leaning away from them and turning his face into the opposite direction, as if trying to hide his face.

And it left them… Confused. “Gentaro? Is something wrong?” They asked him, a little worried. This reaction was unusual, even for him. Just what was he—

“N… No. No no no! Nothing is wrong!” He responded, as if trying to keep his cool, though failing miserably. Why was he getting so worked up all of a sudden?

“You sure? That—”

“Just… Uhm… I… Being so bold.”

“Bold? What do you mean?”

“Ah— It’s… Nothing! Just thinking aloud!”

The first time they had seen him like this. “W… Wasn’t that your birthday wish?”

No response, only silence on his end. Though he turned back soon enough, eyeing them with… Still an intense redness? Yeah, he was red beyond belief here, redder than red even. 

“I… I know what I said but it was a—” He wanted to say yet he didn’t finish it. In the end he just didn’t finish it. No, he kept silent for a moment before they spotted him with a different face altogether. A smile? Was that what they saw?

“No, nevermind. I won’t complain. I think I got pretty lucky.” 

“Lucky?”

“Please, do not question it.” He said, turning back with his face in their full view once more. A smile so gentle yet genuine, one of the most genuine they had seen of him. Perhaps he was just really happy at the moment. They could only guess and yet… Even if only for this very moment… 

“Thank you for granting my birthday wish.”

[elizabethrobertajones]

if you happened to want to take the WoL think-thonkers as questions.... 12. Which canon moments shaped your Warrior of Light and impacted them the most?

I know there's a ton of Big Events but I think it's when I was also getting to grips with the story and realising exactly what was being told, so the moment of me sort of getting to grips on a meta level feels like the right moment to put in realisation for Frog understanding what it was she was even doing as an adventurer.

So for me that would be the original non-shortened Buscarron quests, especially with the Ala Mhigans. For Frog, coming to this side of Eorzea for the first time, from remote Gyr Abania (she's not Ala Mhigan, she's obscure mountain folk with little contact with the outside world) she gets to see all the way the city folk behave, and especially Ywain and all the Lancers' Guild stuff; she was learning archery as well so seeing all the best sides of Gridania, but then she is sent out to meet Buscarron, and here's this really nice guy who defuses situations with the Duskwight and lets them drink at his establishment as equals and even though he's connected to the Lancers' Guild he's made his own way (he has his druthers, literally), and it's kinder and a gentle retirement that's making the forest better. Like, if he had been running the guild, the Foulques thing might not have happened but the point is he's literally able to be this by being on the fringes instead of embedded in the city with all those attitudes pressing in on every angle.

And then she has to help the Ala Mhigan refugees out there and they're sick and struggling and everyone refuses to help them from the Gridanian-based authority, but then when she goes to Buscarron, he not only wants to help, but gives her real medicine and genuinely cares. These guys are sort of her people, if not her countrymen and they're obviously not able to all stand up to be useful adventurers like her, some of them are sick or lost everything and are trying to scrape by. (Also that guy who I posted about before in Ul'dah who takes the experimental medicine for free and then later refuses to join the Crystal Braves because he sees trouble.)

The way all the people in Little Ala Mhigo spoke as well, about the way they'd been treated, and refused help they were suspicious of - literally the 3rd quest about giving medicine to these people that's of origins they don't trust or doesn't work or whatever - and the whole thing just underlines how miserably they're treated, by the Flaming Fist as well, who are present at the camp and helping stand guard but also the neglect and abuse is high and people are really vulnerable.

I think for Frog, not being from Ala Mhigo, she hadn't fully understood the situation, like, they'd followed the turns of its upheaval from afar and spoke sadly of the city and just didn't go there, they'd trade along difficult mountain routes rather than engage the Imperials, and that was that. And she gets out into the world, goes to the far ends, and finds people with similar accents and faces to the people she knows and grew up with, and they're being treated like this. And the situation just really hits of how much damage the Garleans could do to a country and a people.

So like, she does what she can, but it's the first time she really understands why Wilred would want to summon Rhalgr and why they could get to that situation, and how easy it had been for Lahabrea to spin them up into attempting a summoning, because every single step of how that could happen had been lain bare the entire time and no one even cared to or could do anything to help before it came to blows and a bunch of kids getting tempered and killed.

I don't think she ever set out thinking she had to liberate Ala Mhigo or anything, but seeing all this made her realise how much the world needed to change and put a real fire into her to first of all drive the Garleans out of Eorzea, and then made her truly invested to go back to Gyr Abania and try and help, but also just to always always go help everyone who needed it, even the most meagre fetch quest, because she could and if she had that power in her, she had to set the world to rights.

Basically, how she put on the hat of the Warrior of Light before she'd even taken on Titan because she just could not let things lie. Everything else is an escalation from that realisation and not being able to stop moving until post-SB when she starts to focus more on the personal and work out who on earth she's made herself into.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Why don't you interact with us anymore? 😔

Hi, Nonnie! 💙

First off - I am sorry to have lowered my interactions. This hasn't been a conscious choice of mine persé, as it happened gradually, but I am still sorry for it nevertheless.

I am going to be honest with you, I am not doing well at the moment. Both mentally and physically, I am not doing okay, which takes a lot of my energy and sadly leaves less energy to interact with you all outside of my writing.

That said, I am trying to interact with everyone whenever possible! I try to interact with the people tagging me in posts, people who reblog my stories and who send me asks, but there's so much going on in my daily life that I am finding it hard to find the balance between it all.

I genuinely try my hardest to give a steady stream of content for you all, which is starting to take its toll on me more and more each day, but I am happy to see all the love and interactions on my posts, which keeps me going. However, there is only so much I can handle, and I have reached that point a little.

I am working through my backlog of requests (there are still over 30 left that I am working on), together with original stories that I am still working on. I am writing for multiple future challenges on top of that, so most of the time in my day is going to that, on top of the life I have outside of Tumblr that I also need to maintain, of course.

Again, I am sorry for lowering my interactions, as I am trying on working on them, but it's getting increasingly difficult as I want to try and provide you all with as much love and content as I can. I'm still trying to find the right balance here, and I am going to work on that.

For now, I hope you understand where I'm coming from, and thank you for your question! 💙

[azeez-unv]

FOUR PERSONAL PRINCIPLES OF IMPROVING AS A TEACHER தமிழில்

Maintaining habits that actively focus on your professional improvement can help you be a more confident and impactful teacher.

Certainly, experience helps. Ask any veteran teacher, and most can describe pedagogical skills that sharpen with each year in the classroom. Experience by itself, however, is not enough. Sadly, some teachers lose their edge over time. So how do teachers not only stay sharp but hone their abilities for greater impact?

Don’t wait for your next formal professional development. What can you do on a daily basis? For inspiration, you can reflect on your previous accomplishments, those activities outside the field of education. What hobbies and talents have you pursued to the point of special pride or recognition? How did you reach that level of excellence?

Consider the following four practical steps for success. Reflect on how these elements might appear in your personal endeavors and how you can apply them to your professional teaching.

1-PURPOSEFUL PRACTICING

My college choir director used to say, “Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes permanent.” In other words, whatever you do time and time again will eventually become your habits—good or bad. Like any performer in the arts or sports, teachers must be purposeful in how they practice. This begins with proactive organization that sets measurable goals. Effective teachers already do this with every lesson plan, clarifying objectives for students and themselves.

Purposeful practice also includes mastery of fundamental actions, requiring repetition and refinement. Musicians rehearse a difficult song by slowing down the tempo and taking it one measure at a time. Athletes run drills, conditioning their minds and bodies until techniques become second nature. Teachers develop skills that endure with equal attention and effort. In his video about effective teaching practices, Harry Wong discusses classroom procedures, starting the school year with intentional exercises. Such routines equip both students and teachers for meaningful learning.

Other strategies for self-improvement may seem minor but can make a big difference. To practice better questioning, I’ve printed signs with open-ended prompts (“In what ways...?” “How might...?” “For what reasons...?”) and posted them around my classroom. Another approach is listing question stems on an index card, keeping it nearby for when discussion dwindles. After years of practice, I find that good questions arise more easily, and I rely on these tools less often. But they are always available if needed.

2-RECOGNIZING MILESTONES

Success rarely occurs overnight. Even so, it’s vital to recognize smaller victories along the way. Think back to your personal achievements and how you might make them a focal point. Maybe it is an award you keep on display in your classroom. Decorations could be from your educational career (e.g., diplomas, certificates, credentials), a particular hobby or passion (trophies, medals, photographs, products, etc.), or overlapping endeavors. Or perhaps you can recollect a particular experience and its lasting power. This could be a breakthrough practice or a poignant exchange. Such encounters aren’t found in record books, but you’ll never forget them.

Teachers accumulate all kinds of mementos—tangible and intangible—throughout their careers. Celebrations provide a pat on the back and a push to keep going in the right direction.

Not all milestones are honors or highlights. Often, a pivotal moment begins as an obstacle. Many of our most revered athletes, performers, and visionaries are those who persisted through mistakes, injuries, or even tragedies. For these inspirational heroes, failure is not the opposite of victory, but rather a vital ingredient.

Remember your own struggles in various endeavors. Recall what it took to overcome these setbacks, then apply similar tactics to your teaching challenges.

3-MONITORING PROGRESS

Beyond milestone events, teachers get better through continuous review and reflection. Obviously, assessment scores and other achievement markers offer data for analysis. From year to year, though, students can change, along with one’s criteria for “success.” How else might teachers monitor their progress?

A common strategy in both athletics and the fine arts is “film study.” Coaches, conductors, and choreographers regularly record practices and performances. When I directed school plays, the most frequent direction I gave student actors was “Bigger! Make gestures larger and longer. Speak lines more loudly. Be bold.” For every production, the turning point was when we recorded a run-through and watched it. Once my students saw and heard themselves, it finally clicked. They experienced an audience’s perspective and realized the impact of their actions.

Teachers who want to improve will do the same. When was the last time you recorded yourself in the classroom? Use your phone to capture a few moments for self-evaluation. Study your teaching from your students’ perspectives. If video is too conspicuous, collect your conversations with a voice-recording app. All it takes is a few minutes of footage. At the end of the day, play back the recording as you tidy up your classroom or during your commute home. No one else needs to watch or listen—unless you want to partner with a colleague and help each other.

4-FIND A MENTOR—AND BE ONE TO OTHERS

Everyone needs assistance along the way. No doubt, you remember those teachers, coaches, or other mentors who steered and supported your various ventures. Who’s helping you become a better educator?

Seek out mentors who can serve as a confidant, resource, and sounding board. They don’t have to teach your same grade level or subject; they may not even be in the same building; but they bring wisdom, encouragement, and examples of fruitful pedagogy.

You, too, should serve as a mentor to fellow teachers. Think about your hobbies or past triumphs and when you shared your expertise with others. Did you notice how you learned more as you taught someone else? Researchers call this the “protégé effect,” which is even more powerful through sustained, direct interactions.

I believe that mentoring others also reminds you why you began in the first place. As you guide a relative novice, you revisit your past and reflect on your own growth. Helping the next generation nurtures personal rejuvenation. Of course, this isn’t the only benefit of teaching. But it’s one of the best. And like all the actions above, it’s how the best teachers get better.

ஒரு ஆசிரியராக மேம்படுவதற்கான நான்கு தனிப்பட்ட கோட்பாடுகள்

உங்கள் தொழில்முறை மேம்பாட்டில் தீவிரமாக கவனம் செலுத்தும் பழக்கவழக்கங்களை பராமரிப்பது, நீங்கள் அதிக நம்பிக்கையுடனும், தாக்கத்தையுடனும் ஆசிரியராக இருக்க உதவும்.

நிச்சயமாக, அனுபவம் உதவும். எந்தவொரு மூத்த ஆசிரியரிடமும் கேளுங்கள், மேலும் வகுப்பறையில் ஒவ்வொரு ஆண்டும் கூர்மைப்படுத்தும் கற்பித்தல் திறன்களை விவரிக்கலாம். இருப்பினும், அனுபவம் மட்டும் போதாது. துரதிர்ஷ்டவசமாக, சில ஆசிரியர்கள் காலப்போக்கில் தங்கள் விளிம்பை இழக்கிறார்கள். எனவே ஆசிரியர்கள் எவ்வாறு கூர்மையாக இருப்பது மட்டுமல்லாமல், அதிக தாக்கத்திற்கு தங்கள் திறன்களை மேம்படுத்துவது எப்படி?

உங்களின் அடுத்த முறையான தொழில் வளர்ச்சிக்காக காத்திருக்க வேண்டாம். நீங்கள் தினசரி என்ன செய்ய முடியும்? உத்வேகத்திற்காக, உங்கள் முந்தைய சாதனைகள், கல்வித் துறைக்கு வெளியே அந்த செயல்பாடுகளை நீங்கள் பிரதிபலிக்கலாம். சிறப்பு பெருமை அல்லது அங்கீகாரம் பெறும் அளவிற்கு நீங்கள் என்ன பொழுதுபோக்குகள் மற்றும் திறமைகளை பின்பற்றினீர்கள்? நீங்கள் எப்படி அந்த சிறந்த நிலையை அடைந்தீர்கள்?

வெற்றிக்கான பின்வரும் நான்கு நடைமுறைப் படிகளைக் கவனியுங்கள். உங்கள் தனிப்பட்ட முயற்சிகளில் இந்தக் கூறுகள் எப்படித் தோன்றலாம் மற்றும் அவற்றை உங்கள் தொழில்முறை கற்பித்தலில் எவ்வாறு பயன்படுத்தலாம் என்பதைப் பற்றி சிந்தியுங்கள்.

1-நோக்கப் பயிற்சி

எனது கல்லூரி பாடகர் குழுவின் இயக்குனர் கூறுவார், “பயிற்சி சரியானதாக இருக்காது. பயிற்சி நிரந்தரமாக்குகிறது." வேறு வார்த்தைகளில் கூறுவதானால், நீங்கள் மீண்டும் மீண்டும் எதைச் செய்தாலும் அது உங்கள் பழக்கமாக மாறும் - நல்லது அல்லது கெட்டது. கலை அல்லது விளையாட்டில் எந்த ஒரு நடிகரைப் போலவே, ஆசிரியர்களும் தாங்கள் பயிற்சி செய்யும் விதத்தில் நோக்கத்துடன் இருக்க வேண்டும். இது அளவிடக்கூடிய இலக்குகளை அமைக்கும் செயலூக்கமான அமைப்பில் தொடங்குகிறது. திறமையான ஆசிரியர்கள் ஏற்கனவே ஒவ்வொரு பாடத்திட்டத்திலும் இதைச் செய்கிறார்கள், மாணவர்களுக்கும் தங்களுக்கும் நோக்கங்களை தெளிவுபடுத்துகிறார்கள்.

நோக்கம் கொண்ட நடைமுறையில் அடிப்படை செயல்களின் தேர்ச்சியும் அடங்கும், மீண்டும் மீண்டும் மற்றும் சுத்திகரிப்பு தேவைப்படுகிறது. இசைக்கலைஞர்கள் டெம்போவைக் குறைத்து, ஒரு நேரத்தில் ஒரு அளவு எடுத்துக்கொண்டு கடினமான பாடலை ஒத்திகை பார்க்கிறார்கள். விளையாட்டு வீரர்கள் பயிற்சிகளை நடத்துகிறார்கள், நுட்பங்கள் இரண்டாவது இயல்பு ஆகும் வரை தங்கள் மனதையும் உடலையும் சீரமைக்கிறார்கள். ஆசிரியர்கள் சமமான கவனத்துடனும் முயற்சியுடனும் தாங்கும் திறன்களை வளர்த்துக் கொள்கிறார்கள். பயனுள்ள கற்பித்தல் நடைமுறைகள் பற்றிய அவரது வீடியோவில், ஹாரி வோங் வகுப்பறை நடைமுறைகளைப் பற்றி விவாதிக்கிறார், பள்ளி ஆண்டை வேண்டுமென்றே பயிற்சிகளுடன் தொடங்குகிறார். இத்தகைய நடைமுறைகள் மாணவர்கள் மற்றும் ஆசிரியர்களை அர்த்தமுள்ள கற்றலுக்கு சித்தப்படுத்துகின்றன.

சுய முன்னேற்றத்திற்கான பிற உத்திகள் சிறியதாகத் தோன்றலாம் ஆனால் பெரிய மாற்றத்தை ஏற்படுத்தலாம். சிறப்பாகக் கேள்வி கேட்பதற்கு, திறந்தநிலை அறிவுறுத்தல்களுடன் கூடிய அடையாளங்களை அச்சிட்டு ("எந்த வழிகளில்...?" "எப்படி...?" "என்ன காரணங்களுக்காக...?") அச்சிட்டு அவற்றை எனது வகுப்பறையில் பதித்துள்ளேன். மற்றொரு அணுகுமுறை ஒரு குறியீட்டு அட்டையில் கேள்வித் தண்டுகளைப் பட்டியலிடுவது, விவாதம் குறையும் போது அதை அருகில் வைத்திருப்பது. பல வருட பயிற்சிக்குப் பிறகு, நல்ல கேள்விகள் மிக எளிதாக எழுவதை நான் காண்கிறேன், மேலும் இந்தக் கருவிகளை நான் குறைவாகவே நம்பியிருக்கிறேன். ஆனால் தேவைப்பட்டால் அவை எப்போதும் கிடைக்கும்.

2-அங்கீகரிப்பு மைல்கற்கள்

வெற்றி அரிதாக ஒரே இரவில் நிகழ்கிறது. இருப்பினும், வழியில் சிறிய வெற்றிகளை அங்கீகரிப்பது இன்றியமையாதது. உங்கள் தனிப்பட்ட சாதனைகள் மற்றும் அவற்றை எவ்வாறு மையப் புள்ளியாக மாற்றலாம் என்பதை மீண்டும் சிந்தியுங்கள். ஒருவேளை இது உங்கள் வகுப்பறையில் காட்சிக்கு வைக்கப்படும் ஒரு விருதாக இருக்கலாம். அலங்காரங்கள் உங்கள் கல்வி வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து (எ.கா., டிப்ளோமாக்கள், சான்றிதழ்கள், நற்சான்றிதழ்கள்), ஒரு குறிப்பிட்ட பொழுதுபோக்கு அல்லது ஆர்வம் (கோப்பைகள், பதக்கங்கள், புகைப்படங்கள், தயாரிப்புகள் போன்றவை) அல்லது ஒன்றுடன் ஒன்று முயற்சிகளாக இருக்கலாம். அல்லது ஒரு குறிப்பிட்ட அனுபவத்தையும் அதன் நீடித்த சக்தியையும் நீங்கள் நினைவுகூரலாம். இது ஒரு திருப்புமுனை நடைமுறையாக இருக்கலாம் அல்லது ஒரு கடுமையான பரிமாற்றமாக இருக்கலாம். இத்தகைய சந்திப்புகள் பதிவு புத்தகங்களில் காணப்படவில்லை, ஆனால் நீங்கள் அவற்றை ஒருபோதும் மறக்க மாட்டீர்கள்.

ஆசிரியர்கள் தங்கள் வாழ்க்கை முழுவதும் அனைத்து வகையான நினைவுச்சின்னங்களையும்-உறுதியான மற்றும் அருவமானவை-திரட்டுகிறார்கள். கொண்டாட்டங்கள் முதுகில் ஒரு தட்டு மற்றும் சரியான திசையில் தொடர்ந்து செல்ல ஒரு உந்துதலை வழங்கும்.

எல்லா மைல்கற்களும் கௌரவங்கள் அல்லது சிறப்பம்சங்கள் அல்ல. பெரும்பாலும், ஒரு முக்கிய தருணம் ஒரு தடையாக தொடங்குகிறது. எங்களின் மிகவும் மதிக்கப்படும் விளையாட்டு வீரர்கள், கலைஞர்கள் மற்றும் தொலைநோக்கு பார்வையாளர்கள் பலர் தவறுகள், காயங்கள் அல்லது சோகங்களின் மூலம் நிலைத்திருப்பவர்கள். இந்த உத்வேகம் தரும் ஹீரோக்களுக்கு, தோல்வி என்பது வெற்றிக்கு எதிரானது அல்ல, மாறாக ஒரு முக்கிய மூலப்பொருள்.

பல்வேறு முயற்சிகளில் உங்கள் சொந்த போராட்டங்களை நினைவில் கொள்ளுங்கள். இந்தப் பின்னடைவுகளைச் சமாளிக்க என்ன தேவைப்பட்டது என்பதை நினைவுகூர்ந்து, உங்கள் கற்பித்தல் சவால்களுக்கு இதே போன்ற யுக்திகளைப் பயன்படுத்துங்கள்.

3-கண்காணிப்பு முன்னேற்றம்

மைல்கல் நிகழ்வுகளுக்கு அப்பால், ஆசிரியர்கள் தொடர்ச்சியான மதிப்பாய்வு மற்றும் பிரதிபலிப்பு மூலம் சிறந்து விளங்குகிறார்கள். வெளிப்படையாக, மதிப்பீட்டு மதிப்பெண்கள் மற்றும் பிற சாதனை குறிப்பான்கள் பகுப்பாய்வுக்கான தரவை வழங்குகின்றன. இருப்பினும், ஆண்டுதோறும், மாணவர்கள் "வெற்றிக்கான" அளவுகோல்களுடன் மாறலாம். ஆசிரியர்கள் தங்கள் முன்னேற்றத்தை வேறு எப்படி கண்காணிக்க முடியும்?

தடகளம் மற்றும் நுண்கலை இரண்டிலும் ஒரு பொதுவான உத்தி "திரைப்பட ஆய்வு" ஆகும். பயிற்சியாளர்கள், நடத்துனர்கள் மற்றும் நடன இயக்குனர்கள் நடைமுறைகளையும் நிகழ்ச்சிகளையும் தவறாமல் பதிவு செய்கிறார்கள். நான் பள்ளி நாடகங்களை இயக்கியபோது, ​​மாணவர் நடிகர்களுக்கு அடிக்கடி இயக்கிய இயக்கம் “பெரியது! சைகைகளை பெரிதாகவும் நீளமாகவும் செய்யுங்கள். வரிகளை அதிக சத்தமாக பேசுங்கள். துணிந்து இரு." ஒவ்வொரு தயாரிப்புக்கும், நாங்கள் ஒரு ரன்-த்ரூவைப் பதிவுசெய்து அதைப் பார்த்ததுதான் திருப்புமுனை. ஒருமுறை என் மாணவர்கள் தங்களைப் பார்த்ததும் கேட்டதும், அது இறுதியாக கிளிக் செய்தது. அவர்கள் பார்வையாளர்களின் பார்வையை அனுபவித்தனர் மற்றும் அவர்களின் செயல்களின் தாக்கத்தை உணர்ந்தனர்.

மேம்படுத்த விரும்பும் ஆசிரியர்களும் அவ்வாறே செய்வார்கள். கடைசியாக வகுப்பறையில் உங்களைப் பதிவுசெய்தது எப்போது? சுய மதிப்பீட்டிற்காக சில தருணங்களைப் பிடிக்க உங்கள் மொபைலைப் பயன்படுத்தவும். உங்கள் மாணவர்களின் கண்ணோட்டத்தில் உங்கள் கற்பித்தலைப் படிக்கவும். வீடியோ மிகவும் தெளிவாக இருந்தால், குரல் பதிவு ஆப் மூலம் உங்கள் உரையாடல்களைச் சேகரிக்கவும். சில நிமிட காட்சிகள் மட்டுமே தேவை. நாள் முடிவில், உங்கள் வகுப்பறையை ஒழுங்கமைக்கும்போது அல்லது வீட்டிற்குப் பயணம் செய்யும் போது ரெக்கார்டிங்கை மீண்டும் இயக்கவும். நீங்கள் ஒரு சக ஊழியருடன் கூட்டு சேர்ந்து ஒருவருக்கொருவர் உதவி செய்ய விரும்பினால் தவிர, வேறு யாரும் பார்க்கவோ கேட்கவோ தேவையில்லை.

4-ஒரு வழிகாட்டியைக் கண்டுபிடியுங்கள் மற்றும் மற்றவர்களுக்கு வழிகாட்டும் ஒருவராக இருங்கள்

வழியில் அனைவருக்கும் உதவி தேவை. உங்கள் பல்வேறு முயற்சிகளை வழிநடத்தி ஆதரித்த ஆசிரியர்கள், பயிற்சியாளர்கள் அல்லது பிற வழிகாட்டிகளை நீங்கள் நினைவில் வைத்திருக்கிறீர்கள் என்பதில் சந்தேகமில்லை. சிறந்த கல்வியாளராக மாற உங்களுக்கு உதவுவது யார்?

நம்பிக்கைக்குரியவராகவும், வளமாகவும், ஒலிக்கும் குழுவாகவும் பணியாற்றக்கூடிய வழிகாட்டிகளைத் தேடுங்கள். அவர்கள் உங்கள் அதே தர நிலை அல்லது பாடத்தை கற்பிக்க வேண்டியதில்லை; அவர்கள் ஒரே கட்டிடத்தில் கூட இல்லாமல் இருக்கலாம்; ஆனால் அவை ஞானம், ஊக்கம் மற்றும் பலனளிக்கும் கல்வியின் உதாரணங்களைக் கொண்டு வருகின்றன.

நீங்களும், சக ஆசிரியர்களுக்கு வழிகாட்டியாக பணியாற்ற வேண்டும். உங்கள் பொழுதுபோக்குகள் அல்லது கடந்தகால வெற்றிகள் மற்றும் உங்கள் நிபுணத்துவத்தை மற்றவர்களுடன் பகிர்ந்து கொண்டதைப் பற்றி சிந்தியுங்கள். வேறொருவருக்குக் கற்பித்ததைப் போல நீங்கள் எவ்வாறு அதிகம் கற்றுக்கொண்டீர்கள் என்பதை கவனித்தீர்களா? ஆராய்ச்சியாளர்கள் இதை "பாதுகாவலர் விளைவு" என்று அழைக்கிறார்கள், இது நீடித்த, நேரடி தொடர்புகளின் மூலம் இன்னும் சக்தி வாய்ந்தது.

மற்றவர்களுக்கு வழிகாட்டுவது, நீங்கள் ஏன் முதலில் ஆரம்பித்தீர்கள் என்பதையும் நினைவூட்டுகிறது என்று நான் நம்புகிறேன். நீங்கள் ஒரு புதிய உறவினரை வழிநடத்தும்போது, ​​உங்கள் கடந்த காலத்தை மறுபரிசீலனை செய்து உங்கள் சொந்த வளர்ச்சியைப் பிரதிபலிக்கிறீர்கள். அடுத்த தலைமுறைக்கு உதவுவது தனிப்பட்ட புத்துணர்ச்சியை வளர்க்கிறது. நிச்சயமாக, இது கற்பித்தலின் ஒரே நன்மை அல்ல. ஆனால் இது சிறந்த ஒன்றாகும். மேலும் மேலே உள்ள அனைத்து செயல்களையும் போலவே, சிறந்த ஆசிரியர்கள் எவ்வாறு சிறந்து விளங்குகிறார்கள்.

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

Women Talking officially opens in theaters in four days.

And I want everyone to go see it.

This is an exceptional film.

And if we don’t go see movies like this in theaters, less and less of them will be made...or just dumped on Netflix.

This deserves to be seen in a theater.

I was lucky to see it tonight, because my Alamo Drafthouse must’ve received their copy early.  It had its limited release before Christmas, and only made about $40,000 due to Covid and the winter storms.  

So, please...go...spend your money to show studios and producers that we still want movies that aren’t just part of the MCU or some big action blockbuster.  We also want thoughtful, performance-driven, emotional character studies (written and directed by a woman and starring a nearly all-female cast) with unbelievable scripts.  

Sadly, this isn’t getting a ton of big award buzz...it’s sort of lower on the “best of” lists...it will get a few nominations, but probably isn’t likely to win, at this moment...but Sarah Polley will win Best Adapted Screenplay.  It was one of the best scripts I’d heard in a long time.  It felt like a play...and I was sitting in the audience jealous that I wasn’t the one speaking these words and acting these scenes.  And every member of this cast gave a stellar performance...it’s difficult to pick a standout, because they are all so great.  But for my money, Claire Foy’s performance as the justifiably angry Salome was absolutely incredible.

*And it’s pretty clear from the trailer that this discusses some pretty difficult subjects...I still think it needs to be seen, but just an FYI*

Also, outside of the trailer, try to go in as blind as possible.  Don’t look up the book (unless you’ve already read it of course) or the true story it’s based on.  Part of what really kept me engrossed was not knowing what they were going to choose.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

#1

“Twenty-four,” the supervillain said, standing above them in triumph. “The average human body has twenty-four ribs. And I can break every single one of yours right now.”

They put more pressure on the hero’s ribcage as their boot forced its way into the flesh, slowly and painful. The hero tried to struggle free, but the wounds in their side made it difficult to move.

And, of course, the supervillain about to break their first rib wasn’t convenient either. Desperately, they gasped for air which made the supervillain only put more pressure on their side. The hero heard the crack before the pain came. It was as if their side was exploding, the pain expanded seemingly in their whole body, the adrenaline was slowly knocking off, leaving them sobbing and panting. More than a quiet, desperate cry that sounded closer to a groan couldn’t come out of them.

At least none of their friends would get hurt, luckily, they were safe. It was the only bit of comfort that kept them going. They were nothing more than a distraction.

“Sadly, I have to put more work into it when I go up your ribs. The upper ones are tempted to…resist more.” The hero didn’t know if it was pure imagination, but they thought they felt how the internal bleeding spread through their body.

The supervillain’s boot was still where the crack had taken place. Where they felt the pain too much, different from a stab wound, though. Knowing the difference didn’t help them.

“But you already know that, don’t you?” The foot went a little up. The hero could see the blood that was running over their enemy’s lips, coming directly from their nostrils. It was a small victory, still, the hero wasn’t the only one bleeding.

The second crack was even more cruel since they put their whole body weight onto the hero. For a small moment, they stood completely on them with one foot. The hero’s scream was this time for real, echoing from the abandoned warehouse’s walls.

Outside, there were only the busy streets and the sound of nightclubs’ basses. It was a perfect location for a murder, even though it was in the middle of the city, no one would look here. Most importantly, no one would hear anything.

A cruel smile crossed the supervillain’s face, the hero saw a bloodthirsty shine in their eyes. Scared wasn’t what the hero felt like, terrified was rather the right term. They didn’t want to die, not alone with every rib broken and left to bleed out.

The pain was somehow like an ex best friend to them, they welcomed it reluctantly as the supervillain let them turn a little on the ground. They coughed up blood, letting a little blood pool form next to them. They felt how their eyes teared up. Pain wasn’t a new concept to them, but their own death was. They didn’t know if they had been lucky before. Luckier, definitely. But this new villain…it was like hitting a brick wall and their powers were shut down because of this stupid poisonous dart from earlier.

“Please,” they whimpered.

“Aw, pleading, already?” The supervillain asked as they kicked the hero on their back. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Their breaths came out shakily, every single one hurt. As the supervillain pushed their boot once again in their flesh, they heard the fizzle in the air for the first time. The second time was different because every little stone and dust particle floated in the air for a second.

Everything seemed to have an electrostatic discharge. But as soon as it appeared, it also vanished again. The next thing the hero saw through their blurry vision was the new figure in the otherwise empty warehouse.

They recognised them, it was their very own nemesis. The teleporter. The supervillain was just one of many enemies they had to fight, but their nemesis was a decade worthy occupation. Like a constant thorn in their side, thriving from every revealed weakness. They were the last person the hero wanted to see here.

“Sorry pal,” the supervillain above the hero said to the other villain. “But that one’s mine.”

The teleporter stepped closer to them as the person above took the boot from the hero. They took the opportunity and rolled away, a huge mistake, since they rolled over their broken ribs. Waves of pain fulfilled their body.

The supervillain however turned around quickly as they saw how the hero attempted to struggle to their feet, but failed miserably. The teleporter froze. The gasps escaping the hero’s mouth were like the ones of a wounded animal.

“Don’t,” the villain said as the supervillain wanted to walk into the hero’s direction and presumably, struck them down anew. It sounded more like a warning than a command. Shocked and maybe also surprised, the supervillain didn’t lunge forward.

The hero on the other hand continued to stand. Meanwhile, tears were running down their face but they didn’t feel anything at this point. Even the pain felt numb. The longing for survival was apparently stronger.

The villain stepped forward, making the hero take a step backward. The supervillain held the teleporter back this time.

“I’ve told you that one is mine, kid. You make a name for yourself but I am not scared of you. You’re just someone in a costume with some neat powers. Like their powers,” – they pointed at the hero– “will yours fail.” The hero saw from behind their mask how their nemesis turned to the supervillain and stepped closer.

“Are you threatening me?” they asked, their voice as cool as ice. Somehow it was comforting. At least, they were someone familiar even though they were their all time problem.

“I am saying that’s mine,” – the other pointed again at the hero – “and you’re nothing more than someone behind a mask.”

“It is a threat, then. Do you deny it?” The supervillain’s expression changed from annoyance to anger.

“If you want a threat, here it is: mind your own business or you can join them on the ground.” The hero’s hands were shaking. They didn’t know where this was going to go but they pushed themselves to a fighting stance.

They wouldn’t give up. Their hands formed fists, protective hanging over their burning chest. The supervillain turned their gaze from the teleporter to the hero once again, a dark smile crossing their face.

They pushed their nemesis out of their side but before they could even take a step into the hero’s direction, the villain lunged for the other’s shoulder and both of them teleported away.

The hero let out a relieved sigh as they fell to their knees and held onto their stomach. Everything hurt so much.

There had to be a way out of this warehouse, somehow they had to get in contact with the others. As they tried to stand up again, they fell and fell over again.

Mere seconds later, the teleporter appeared again. It made them flinch hard, leading to another cough full of blood. They didn’t want to die, not now, not in front of their nemesis. The hero flinched even more as they crouched beside them.

“Why…?” Their nemesis didn’t finish the question. Their hands glided carefully over the hero’s suit, down to their stomach where the broken ribs were.

“I’ll get you to a hospital,” they said.

“No!” the hero exclaimed. “You know I don’t do hospitals.”

It was painful to speak.

“It was worth a shot,” the villain mumbled. “But I won’t drop you off at the usual place. You wouldn’t make it in time.”

“What?” They asked. How could they possibly know that?

“You live two blocks away from where I usually drop you off.”

“When you’re saying this, it sounds like we do this often,” the hero said between gasps.

“We’re going to my place, then.” There was no room for protest anymore. The hero was sure they were going to black out soon.

“Wait…what did you do with the supervillain?”

“I was thinking about Mount Everest but reconsidered. Empire State Building.” A small grin formed on the villain’s face, it was so strange to see someone smile who could cause mayhem on a daily basis.

“It’s in the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point,” they said and took their hand. They teleported before the hero could thank them.

[hersweetrevenge]

My 40 min walk to work is all main roads and roadkill is... sadly, common. Every time I see Something I Don't Want To, I immediately cover that side of my face so I can't See It and I take some practiced deep breaths (though, if I look Too Closely, I WILL CRY and it can take the rest of the commute and then some of the first hour of my shift to stop crying. The sadness stays all day) and I imagine Lester's arm winding around my shoulders.

"Shush, darlin', pretend it ain't what it looks like. Don't'cha look now. Gonna get'cha away from it. Don't look, sweetpea."

😭😭😭😭

eri 💗 oh no, my love, that's so sad !! i'm no stranger either to seeing roadkill, sadly, and it never seems to get much easier 💔 but you do what you have to o to cope, and remember that there is absolutely nothing wrong about getting emotional about it, it is something you care about and that touches you deeply and there's no shame in that 💗

you are so, so right about lester though. he is a total angel when it comes to comforting you, and he's very in tune with sadness and upset.

the thing about lester is that although he works with roadkill all day, every day, i hesitate to use the word "desensitised" about him. i don't think he is desensitised. i know he says that he doesn't notice the smell, that he just got used to it, but i still think he has some sort of connect with the animals he collects. lester is very "circle of life" about the whole thing, the roadkill is returning back to the ground where it feeds new life, even if that return might have been a bit sooner than expected.

lester knows, better than most, that nature is cruel. that life and death go hand in hand.

even so, he is very, very understanding of how much it hurts you to see anything even close to animal suffering, never mind roadkill. he'd always walk closest to the curb so you're less likely to see (and because he's a gent) and would insist he take you somewhere (even if its a detour from your destination) to let you take a breather and calm down.

i feel like lester would also try and help you outside of the moment by doing things that help you process the feelings and sadness these things bring you. he doesn't want to change you, not at all, but he does want to help you in anyway he can. he'll make sure you know he does his best to help the natural process by taking any roadkill to the pit to be able to breakown and feed the earth, and that when possible the animals body (and life) won't be wasted.

plus, besides his deep love for you, and his need to protect and care for you as best he can, lester has a lot of experience with this type of reaction.

the twins are a lot like you. maybe a few less tears, but all the same they really, really hate seeing roadkill. it unsettles them, makes them sad in a way that they don't really want to acknowledge.

killing people is whatever at this point for them, but seeing a hurt (or even worse, deceased) animal hits too hard. animals are defenceless, innocent creatures (very unlike humans). they think it's unfair that animals might suffer.

lester even has to skin and prepare any roadkill he brings home for the twins because they can't do it, can't even look at it. he might tease them for being squeamish (even though he knows that isn't quite what it is for them) but he doesn't mean it, he understands it is difficult for some people.

[bakugosbratx]

omg could you do a dark villain Shoto x fem reader smut?

NSFW 18+ The Pawn— AU Villian! Shoto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ content. Unprotected sexual intercourse, alternate universe, toxic relationship, stolkholm syndrome, fluff, angst, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping, murder of family, punishment, bdsm, power play, yandere tendencies, etc.

Words: 2,410

Check out my other works here

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I am so sorry it took me forever to do it. But I hope it meets what you’re looking for. This is my first time writing for Shoto so I apologize in advance.

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @quietlegends @idfkwtfgof

“Any last words?” Shoto questions with a demeaning scowl of disgust, his index finger becoming restless on the pistol’s trigger. The barrel of the gun is resting on the man’s temple while he pleads for mercy.

“I’ll have your money by next week, I swear!” The man cried.

“You said that last time. To be quite frank, I’m not really fond of your lying, Y/L/N.” Shoto admits, cocking the gun so it can fire. The terrified man’s eyes grew wide as tears stream down his face.

“Shoto,” his breath hitches, “p-please. I have a family to take care of. A wife and two children. Please.”

Horrific muffled screams filled the kitchen where your family reside as the gunshot went off. Blood leaked from your father’s bullet wound onto the floor beneath him. You all were forced to watch, tied up and helpless. Shoto even had his crew gag you so your words would not disturb his business meeting. He hates interruptions.

“Disgusting.” Shoto complains, referencing to some of the blood covering his face. Igniting his left side, he sets your father’s corpse on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled your snot filled nostrils as more whimpers escaped your cloth covered lips. This caught Shoto’s attention.

“You,” he calls out as he makes his way towards your tied up body. He picks you up with ease, throwing you over his muscular shoulder. “Are coming with me.”

Your muffled remarks were no use as well as your kicks. You are terrified and not sure why Shoto, Japan’s notorious killer, is doing in your household right now, but you know it’s not good.

“Sir,” one of the men stopped you two as Shoto is making his way towards the exit. He pauses his motion, waiting for the man’s question. “What do you want us to do with the other two? Heroes will be here any moment.”

Shoto pondered the man’s words for a moment. You are silently pleading that he will just let them go, but that was not even a thought in his mind. “Leave them be.”

“But sir—“

“The house will be burnt to ash in any given moment,” he activates his left side for emphasis, “if you want to stay alive, I suggest you gather up the others and get a move on.”

The man nodded and Shoto begins walking out of the house. You struggle in his grasp, but Shoto remains undisturbed by your antics. Throwing you into the back of a van, he slams the double doors. Now all you are left with is your thoughts.

This doesn’t seem real. It truly can’t be. Your family is being massacred and there is not a thing you can do about it. You can even hear their muzzled screams as your house goes up in flames. Still, you are useless as the van starts and drives far away from the crime scene.

Shoto Todoroki is Japan’s worse nightmare. Numerous accounts of murder, abuse of power, kidnapping, anything terrible had Shoto’s name on it. No one knows much about the villain’s personal life except for his heroic father with a bad temper. Some say it is his fault for the way his son turned out and Shoto would agree, but Shoto’s crimes will not be taken from him. No, they are all his doing and he is proud of it.

“Y/N,” Shoto called, making you snap out of your thoughts. You turn to meet the man that now claims you as his. “Are you alright, love? You hardly touched your food.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” You mumbled, giving a soft smile. Bringing the ramen noodle soup to your lips, you forced yourself to eat the food. Your stomach is in shambles as the thoughts from that night came back. There are still many unanswered questions and unknown puzzle pieces, but that is a life you need to forget about. You are Shoto’s now. You have no choice but to be his.

Shoto studied your features. If there is one thing Shoto is not is dumb. He is observant. Just one wrong look and you are in deep trouble. Considering you have been living with Shoto for over a year now, you have grown accustomed to his ways. You have learned to appease him in anyway to make you happy. Especially if it is going to keep you alive.

“You know I don’t appreciate when you lie to me.” Shoto nonchalantly reminds you, noticing how quickly you swallow when the words flow out off his tongue.

“I-I’m not lying, Shoto. Honestly.” You stammered, hoping he would not notice the fear trickling in your eyes. He did, though. Shoto noticed everything about you. One of the many things you despised about him.

The rest of super was ate in silence. As you have learned, this is never a good sign. When Shoto is quiet, he’s plotting. Usually, it’s your punishment. You can see it in his eyes and the subtle touches he does to you. All to make you feel uneasy. Just like he can read you, you are learning to read him just the same.

Once dinner was over, he gathered the dirty dinning wear and washed them. You remained in your chair until you are granted permission to stand up. Your heart is racing with anticipation. What is Shoto plotting? Especially for something as simple as lying.

“Y/N,” Shoto paused to make sure your attention was his. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing straight along with your body stiffening. You hear him walking towards you, his one cold hand and other warm one rest on your shoulders. “Go upstairs to our shared bedroom.”

“Y-Yes, Shoto.” You mumbled, scurrying up the steps like the good behave girl he taught you to be. If only your filthy little mouth could stop lying.

Shoto is quick to follow after your trembling body. His presence is swallowing you whole as he march up the stairs behind you. Your clammy palm turns the golden doorknob into the master bedroom. You immediately turn around, groping your butt in fear for what may happen to it.

Shoto shuts the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms folded. His face held its usual unamused look as he glares at you.

“I’m giving you one last chance to be honest with me, Y/N.”

“I-I have been honest a-all along, Shoto.” You argued. Shoto’s glare intensified.

“You were thinking about your family again, weren’t you?”

“What? No, I-“

“You’re just like your father.” Shoto scornfully chuckled, strolling towards you. His right hand folded around your neck, giving it a nice squeeze as he whispered in your ear, “and you know how much I truly despise your father.”

His hot breath seemed to linger on the shell of your ear. Your eyes harden as they meet his. His icy hand seemed to make this choking experience even worse. You would get frostbite if it gets any colder, but something in you snapped. You have not fought back in months. You became the submissive girl Shoto desperately wanted you to be yet you are still in the same position as many times before.

“You’re one to talk.” You choked out. The hold on your neck became stronger, circulation being lost to your organs. You are pushed onto the bed, Shoto’s muscular form on top of you.

“Don’t you ever compare me to that monster again, understand me?” Shoto growls as he watch you struggle beneath him. You started to turn pale as your body loses its natural color from lack of air flow. His hatred from his father and yours is taking over as you slowly start to become unconscious. He finally lets go.

You cough, grasping for air. It felt like there was not enough in there to supply your deprived body. Especially with Shoto’s suffocating presence on top of you.

“You have some real nerve talking to me like that, Y/N. When will you learn that your family is the true bad guys in the situation, not me. They screwed me over and I came for what they owed me. You’re just a pawn.”

“You’re lying..” You mumbled out in disbelief. Shoto’s devious grin just grew wider at the tears in your eyes.

“I’m not like your father.” Shoto spats, venom dripping from every wretched word. Your heart is aching and this only fuels the fire.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, warm tears streaming down your face. Shoto only chuckled at your mere offense.

“I plan on it.”

Your look of disgust was ignored as Shoto’s lips trailed from your neck to your lips. You forced yourself to kiss back. You always do. You two had sex plenty of times and sadly, you enjoyed it, but when it’s used for punishment or after he has tears down any sheer ounce of self esteem you possessed it is quite difficult to get in the mood.

“Why do you keep me here?” You finally breathe out as your lips disconnect. Shoto furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Because your family is dead.”

“I know that!” You exclaimed. Shoto is very intelligent, but someone who is also literal. He does not always catch onto what you’re actually trying to ask. “I mean, if I’m just some pawn, why keep me here? Why not let me have the same fate as my family?”

Shoto stayed silent. He pondered how he should answer this. He just started touching you outside of the bedroom a couple months ago. It even took him a long time to have sexual intercourse with you. He knows he could have killed you off. He is sure of it. You have been a pain in his ass since he collected you for payment yet you’re still here.

“I don’t know.” Shoto answered, truthfully.

You sigh. You are not sure what answer you were expecting, but knowing where this is leading does not make you feel any better about yourself. You just feel more used.

Silence over fell you two. Shoto is in deep thought as so are you. You are worried that your days are numbered now, but Shoto was not even thinking about that. He is more thinking of himself and how he can’t murder you. He actually likes having you around. He may never say it and his facial features will never show it, but with you by his side, his frozen heart starts to thaw. Just by your simple glimpses and touches.

Part of him hated you for that.

“Shoto,” you whisper, catching his attention. You made yourself look away. You have so many conflicting thoughts. Shoto is all you have now and in all honesty, you have grown not to hate the guy. You love the soft touches and the way he keeps you warm at night. He is so observant of the slightest of things. That’s more than your family has ever given you.

Your right hand cupped his cheek. He seemed slightly tense by the action, but he instantly fell into your touch. Your thumb grazed his cheek.

“I-I,” you meet his gaze, “I enjoy your company.” You admit. Shoto kept silent, but your words meant something to him. You both are not good with this kind of stuff. You were never taught it. This is the closest thing you two will ever get to ‘I love you.’

Your lips connected once again. During the process, each one of your articles of clothing was discarded to the ground below. Shoto kissed down your exposed breast, stomach, and finally stopped at your pussy. He swiped his tongue between your folds sending chills down your spine along with needy moans escaping your parted lips.

“Shoto, please.“ You whined, wanting him to make you soaked already, but you are on Shoto’s terms. He gets to decide everything.

Luckily, he did not make you wait long as tongue swirled on your sensitive clit. Your legs rested on his shoulders as he devoured you. Small groans is all Shoto could do as his tongue explored every inch of your pussy. Not a spot was missed nor would he allow there to be. Your clit was being the most spoiled. Your entrance was then meet shortly after. You did your best to conceal your sweet melodies of pleasure, but Shoto is not allowing you to do so.

“You have a voice for a reason. Use it.” He orders in a low growl amongst your cunt.

“Shoto,” you sob, “I’m about to cum. Please.”

You arched your back as your cunt was about to release. Shoto sped up the pace, helping you meet your climax even sooner. On que, you sing sweet little melodies of moans as you release into the man’s mouth. Every drop was swallowed by him.

Shoto stood up, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. “Keep your eyes on me at all times. Understood?”

You nod, eagerly. “Yes, Shoto.”

Shoto aligned his erection with your weeping entrance. Shortly after, your walls are hugging his length as it dives deeper and deeper into you. Each thrust loosened you even more and he kept a steady pace. You gripped the expensive European satin bedsheets as you babbled incoherent words and phrases. You kept your eyes locked on Shoto the whole time just like he ordered.

“Shoto.” You finally moan aloud as his dick is inside of you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He groans. Your crying cunt was dripping with your slick onto the fabric of the bed and on Shoto’s cock.

“Yes.” You manage to blurt out as you gasp for more. His cock felt amazing no matter how much you wanted to hate him for it. This is one of the ways he shows affection. You learned to accept that.

Shoto’s hands find their way to your bouncing titties. The difference between temperatures sent your body into overdrive. He loved seeing the lewd faces you make as he used his power to pleasure you. Shoto’s dick did not stop thrusting into you through this process either though it is twitching.

Pre-cum leaks into your cunt. Shoto removes his hands from your breast as he picks up the pace. His knees start to buckle beneath him as cum flows from his cock. Every drop is milked from him until he pulls outs.

This is his way of saying ‘I love you.’

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[fairyoftbz]

impossible love | j. changmin

🍞 pairing: tailor son!Changmin x baker!fem! reader 🍞 word count: 3.9k 🍞 genre: angst, fluff, sort of crush-to-lovers, Middle Ages!au 🍞 tw: swear words, jealousy 🍞 synopsis: your relationship with your sister has never been good, and you completely lose it when you see her flirt with your crush. 🍞 a/n: everytime I write for Changmin i have to tag you @sainthwngs 🤍🤍🤍 i hope you will enjoy this "small" work of him!! 🍞 requested: nope!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Y/N, darling! Make some more bread after serving the Gatsby family, please!” your mother exclaimed from outside the shop as you actively kneaded the dough at the back, wiping your hands on your off-white apron before offering a smile to your customers.

The stretch on your face immediately disappeared as a sight on the other side of the street caught your attention. Sweat rose to your face, and shivers erupted in your body, resulting in you almost dropping the two loaves of bread you had subconsciously grabbed for the middle-class family. They didn’t even spare you a glance as you messily placed their order in the jute bag the servant was holding out to you, hands shaky as thoughts clouded your brain.

The woman threw a few crowns on the wooden counter with disdain before walking away, the servant hastily grabbing the bag and the son’s hand as the family walked out. You leaned your elbows on the counter and rested your hands against your forehead, biting your lower lip to prevent your tears from spilling out as your heart started hurting.

The tailor’s son Changmin was leaning against the shop doorway, a playful smirk painted on his face as he talked to your sister. While the man was completely oblivious of your feelings, your sister took the advantage of it. Much to your dismay, she knew that you liked him.

You didn’t want her to know at first, but you were a little too obvious of your attraction for the man when you stammered as you talked to him. He was really handsome, all the women wanted to marry their daughters to him, but he wasn’t interested at all. Changmin was nice to you, cracking a few polite jokes when he came to the bakery to buy some bread for his mother, making you feel like you could potentially have your chances with him. But you were wrong, oh so wrong. So naive and innocent to think that your sister wouldn’t seize the opportunity to plant you a knife in the back at this marvellous occasion.

You were trembling in rage as they were clearly flirting, and there was nothing more infuriating at the moment. You scoffed when she had the audacity to quickly turned around to check if you were in the shop, purposefully leaning closer to him with the same seducing smile she offered to every single of her conquests.

The relationship between you and your sister had always been difficult, her constantly accusing you to be your parents’ favourite child since you were born, and the time didn’t help at all. Many fights broke between you two for various reasons, but the most recurrent ones were about money. You were the most hard-working child, spending days and nights at the bakery to help your parents and make everything ready for each following day. Your sister, on the other hand, was busy roaming the streets, flirting and spending all the money you and your parents had given up hours of sleep to earn it in alcohol or street bets. You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw money in the clutch bag your grandmother sewed for your 18th birthday a few years ago, one of the many items your sister had the bad habit of stealing.

Anger boiled through your veins, letting the tears spill out of your eyes in rage. Stomping your ankle boots on the floor, you almost tripped on the pans of your dress as you went in the back office, slamming your fists on the table before crouching down while letting all the sorrow in your body come out in choked sobs. The smell of freshly baked bread gave you a small wave of warmth and comfort as you desperately tried to get this image of Changmin and your sister swooning over him out of your head, but it was to no avail.

And again, she had won. She was prettier, more confident than you, and there was nothing you could do against it. No matter how hard you fought, she’d always have the upper hand and take the slightest opportunity to ruin and humiliate you.

You don’t know how you found it, but you managed to gather some strength and get back to work as if nothing had happened. You were a bundle of nerves, kneading the dough angrily, imagining that it was your sister’s face instead of a pile of flour mixed with milk and eggs. Since you were the only bakery in town, you didn’t necessarily need to be nice, but you didn’t want any rumours to start about you. Some people got twisted brains and were ready to say some blatant lies to hear gossip and witness street drama.

Once you closed the bakery from inside, you walked upstairs and locked yourself in your bedroom without sparing your parents a glance. They asked you if you wanted to eat, but you just paid no attention to them, slamming the heavy wooden door behind you as an answer.

Without freshening up or eating, you drew the curtains and went to bed, head facing the wall. A few choked sobs escaped your pursed lips as you tried to control your emotions, but it was to no avail. You cried a major part of the night, your body fuelling with rage again when you heard your sister walking through the main door, shutting it like it was the middle of the afternoon, visibly drunk and in desperate need of attention. You almost went crazy when she stopped at your door and snickered, loving the way you had reacted to her provocations the same afternoon.

Chest heaving up and down heavily, you clutched your teeth to control your anger, not wanting to give her the satisfaction to get what she wanted. You heard your father scolding her for coming home so late and being so loud, and she immediately changed her tone, apologising to your dad profusely before going into your room. Your dad tried opening your door, but it was locked, whispering a few sweet words in case you weren’t asleep.

When you woke up a few hours later, the sun still hadn’t risen, but it was time for you to go to work. You felt sick to the stomach and dizzy, your lack of sleep and your self-inflicted fast from yesterday were not helping you to feel any better.

“Y/N, dear, come and eat something,” your father said as you got out of your bedroom, ready to start your day. His face saddened when he saw your tired state, resting a kind-hearted hand on your shoulder. You offered him a brief smile before shaking your head.

“I’ll eat some bread downstairs, don’t worry about me,” you mumbled, eyes flickering as you just wanted to go back to bed.

“Promise?” he said, raising his forefinger towards you. You nodded and offered him a tired smile before exiting your home.

Since you promised your father, you half-heartedly munched on some bread, watching the closed tailor shop in disgust. Your brain made you imagining again Changmin and your sister flirting together, your teeth angrily ripping apart a piece of bread from the small loaf.

“Woah, easy there Y/N, who came in your dreams and turned you into a beast? What’s gotten you so angry?” a deep voice got you out of your trans, mouth filled with bread as you noticed Eric, your childhood friend but also the farmer, holding a wooden crate filled with all the ingredients you needed to make bread.

“Sorry Eric, it’s just my sister again. Thank you for all of this,” you said as you walked around the counter and guided him in your workplace, putting everything in its place. “Your relationship between you two will never get better, will it?” Eric sighed while helping you in your task, only to see you half-shrug as an answer. “As long as she won’t behave, no, nothing will change. But it’s better like that, it’d be weird to have her being nice to me,” you said, and Eric shook his head. “I saw murder in your eyes when I arrived, I highly doubt it’s better like that,” he smirked, and you sullenly chuckled through your nose, walking with him outside the bakery, where his horses and his dog were waiting for him.

Eric’s hand landed on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing the edge of your jaw. His friendly gesture helped your muscles to relax, offering a small smile as a thank you, paying his products by sliding a few crowns in his pouch.

“Hey! That’s way too much, you’re not buying me a donkey! No please Y/N, take it back,” he said as he gave you back half of the coins you gave him, but you shook your head. “Take it as my way to thank you for being there for me since day one,” you sadly said, wrapping your hand around his to close his palm and pushed it back towards his pouch. “I don’t need your money to prove that you are my friend, I love you for what you are,” you rolled your eyes at his words and petted his dog’s head, who happily yapped at the display of affection.

You waved at him with a tired smile as he rode his horse further into the village, going back into the bakery once he was out of sight. This little encounter with your childhood best friend helped to clear your mind, reducing your anger close to zero. Of course, it was still there, but you will manage to tame it down for a moment.

However, this peaceful moment got interrupted when the bakery door creaked open, head peeking from your workplace, hands kneading the dough. Your heart skipped a bit out of anger as you rubbed your hands together to get rid of the flour before going behind the counter.

“If you’re looking for my sister, she’s still sleeping,” you spat as you stared at Changmin, who was surprised by your aggressiveness. “Well good morning to you too, Y/N,” he said, and you huffed, your hands gripping the edge of the wooden counter. “Well hello Changmin, welcome to the bakery. What can I serve you today?” you imitated the fake nice, high-pitched tone and body movements of your sister, your face falling back to neutral a few seconds later.

The tailor’s son was completely taken aback by your actions, not expecting this type of behaviour from you, who had always been sweet and helpful to him and his family. You placed the loaf of bread he usually asks for on the counter between the two of you, Changmin not moving an inch, still gazing at you with questioning eyes. His gaze fixated on you, and he was surprised when you didn’t blush and look away like you used to, your orbs boring into his with boredom.

“Anything else?” you dryly asked, and Changmin shook his head, extending a few crowns towards you. When you were to grab it, his other hand seized your wrist, your eyes widening. “What’s gotten you today? You didn’t look this mad when the farmer came here before me,” he said, and you raised your eyebrows. “Now you’re spying on me? Is everything alright in your head?” you frowned and freed your wrist from his grip, taking the crowns before turning your back to him. “It was hard for anyone to miss your little flirty moment in the street,” he bitterly snickered, and you scoffed loudly, feeling the anger boil back into your veins. All the hard work Eric had put into calming you just flew out the window in a millisecond.

You turned around to face the tailor’s son, your head shaking side to side at the boldness of his remarks. Changmin looked kind of angry, but it was nothing compared to your fury when you slammed your palms against the counter.

“The fucking cheek of it! You dare to accuse me of flirting in the street with my childhood best friend, when you and my sister were the ones making a spectacle of yourselves just yesterday, swooning and courting her like Romeo and Juliet!” you spat at him, feeling the tears rise in your throat. You swallowed them, as well as your pride, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you hurt by his words. Moreover, you never knew when your sister could appear, and you were not giving her the opportunity to humiliate you again in front of him.

“What on Earth are you talking about? I am not courting your sister!” he retorted, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t try to act all innocent, it’s not gonna work with me, I saw yours and my sister’s little game. Don’t take me for a fool Changmin,” you said through gritted teeth and went back to your workplace, kneading the dough as a way to reduce your anger.

Once the front door closed, you fell onto your knees, tears flooding your cheeks. You felt so remorseful for talking to him that way, you were never this impolite and aggressive, but your anger spoke before your reason and values. But at least something was clear, your chances with him were reduced to zero. With the way you behaved this morning, there was no way for you to win against your sister. It’s not as if you had the slightest chance, but it’s always good to keep dreaming.

Later in the day, your mother asked you to go and get her and your dad’s shoes repaired to the cobbler down the main street. You sent a death glare to your sister as you noticed her smoking tobacco in front of the tavern with the innkeeper, who was around the same age as your dad, sometimes extremely inappropriate and shameful for your family reputation. She discreetly raised her middle finger to you, and you ignored her, her fake laugh sending chills of anger down your spine as you walked past her.

Despite being the richest man in town, the cobbler had always been humble and sweet with you. Maybe the fact that he was Eric’s uncle helped, but you always appreciated going there. The dim atmosphere and the smell of the different types of leather always made you think of the bakery, feeling like you shared something for your respective jobs with the old man. He loved making and repairing shoes as much as you loved making bread, so you understood the other when you enthusiastically talked about your passions.

“How’s your sister doing? I heard she got a job at the flower shop,” the cobbler chuckled at your flabbergasted state as he finished his sentence, readjusting himself in his seat. “My sister is jobless, flirting with every man she encounters and spending all the family savings in street bets and alcohol, I highly doubt she hit upon a job by Mr. Kim,” you said as he handed you your mother’s pair of shoes, thanking him with a nod. “This is what she told me last week when she came. She had this wonderful pair of black heels that got stuck in the pavement,” you nodded, clicking your tongue as you found out that she stole something from you, again.

“Hey, hey,” the cobbler shook your shoulder across the counter, trying to prevent you from crying as he noticed the tears of exhaustion filling your eyes. You nodded your head as if to convince him and yourself that you won’t break, smiling through your glossy eyes. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll deliver your bread tomorrow as usual,” you mumbled and he offered you a reassuring smile, almost seeing some similar features with your best friend, knowing that you could always go back to the Sohn family if you weren’t doing well. “Take care, Y/N, take care,” he said as you walked through the door, waving at him before wiping your eyes and walk back to your home.

For once, your sister was at the bakery, swooning excitedly over a flower bouquet resting on the counter in a clay vase. Your eyes widened at the sight of the bouquet, your sister swatting your hand away as you were about to touch a yellow rose.

“Stop it! You’re gonna ruin it with your ugly fingers. Plus they’re not for you, so you’re not allowed to touch them,” she spat, and you walked past her, purposefully bumping your shoulder against hers, making her whine like a child and take a few steps back to take in the shock. Your mother was cooking lunch in the kitchen on the higher floor, and she asked you who was making this much noise downstairs.

“Your daughter, Mother,” you dryly said, clearing your throat before continuing. “She apparently received a bouquet from a special someone, and she feels the need to let the entire neighbourhood know about it, just like when she has a man over. Here are your and Father’s shoes,” you said as you placed them down next to yours, your mother thanking you as she reflected on your words.

“Sometimes I wish she was more like you,” she said as she stirred the liquid in the cauldron, her words making you bitterly chuckle. “I don’t think that will ever happen, Mother, she despises me too much to even consider me as a family member. Anyway, I’m going back to work,” you stated and walked back to the entrance, hearing your mother disagree. “Y/N, dear, what do you mean? Y/N!” She yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears, closing the door behind you before going back down in the bakery.

Your sister and the bouquet had vanished, much to your delight. You breathed in deeply as you started working hard again, focusing on your tasks to forget everything that happened today that scarred your heart. The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye, but it seemed like your faith had prepared still more trouble to come.

Just as you were about to finish your last loaf of bread of the day the front door opened again, this time you didn’t even bother to look.

“I’ll be there in two minutes!” you yelled from the furnaces as you pulled out freshly baked loaves with your big, wooden spatula, letting them rest on the side. You quickly checked if they were baked all around and nodded, inwardly praising yourself for your nice job.

Once you arrived behind the counter, you huffed heavily as you noticed who is standing in front of you.

“You know that the door to our home is on the left side of the house, you can go and knock there if you wanna see my sister,” you stated, lazily showing him the wall. “Stop thinking I’m here to see your sister,” Changmin said, looking annoyed at your words, “I’m here for you.”

You snorted and immediately apologised, letting out a true laugh as you thought he was joking. The tailor’s son frowned at your reaction, making him look ridiculous. His tongue poked his inner cheek and waited for you to calm down, his serious expression making you frown.

“Why did you want to see me, then? You had to come back to humiliate me again since doing it this morning was not enough?” you said, a sarcastic smile on your face. “I don’t know who planted this idea in your head, but I am not in love with your sister. She does not interest me. At all!” he exclaimed, and you had to laugh again. “Of course, you want me to believe that. That’s why you delivered flowers here this morning, right?” you said, and Changmin’s face decomposed in front of your eyes, his shock state making you raise your brows.

“No. No, she bloody didn’t,” he said and swiftly turned around to look outside, a hand pressed on his mouth. He quickly turned back to you and leant over the counter, resting his palms on it. “It was a bouquet of white tulips and yellow roses, right?” “Yes, in a white clay vase,” you confirmed, “those are not her favourite flowers by the way. She prefers purple hydrangea,” you added.

“Is nothing ticking inside your brain right now? Your mind is so clouded by hatred towards your sister that you don’t understand where I wanna get at?” he said, his face nearing yours closer and closer at each word. “Mh, who do you think those flowers were for? Why would I be gifting your mother some, my mother did that for her birthday a few weeks ago. Then if it’s not for your mother nor your sister, who’s left?” You thought in silence for a second before opening your eyes wide.

“They were for me?” you whispered, suddenly feeling all the pressure and anger reducing in your body as you pointed at yourself. Changmin was so close that his breath fanned against your face as he sighed deeply, his eyes searching for yours as you took in this confession. “Of course they were for you, Y/N. Sunwoo’s father told me that yellow roses were gifted as a form of apology. I was asking for forgiveness with those. But of course, I now understand your reactions if you believed they were for her,” he said, and you glanced at him.

“I don’t know what you imagined or saw yesterday, but I was only polite with your sister. I don’t want to be one of her conquests or just a one-night stand, this doesn’t interest me at all. I wanna mean something for someone. All the times that I came here, your sister was working, except for this morning. I was happy that you were the one behind the counter, I wanted to have a nice chat with you, but everything became so confusing to me when you were this dry and rude to me. But now I understand, I understand everything,” he quietly explained, and you felt like an utter idiot, looking at his large hands resting on the wooden counter.

“I should be the one apologising. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, but I was just… close to exploding,” you said, head hanging low as you realised you behaved like a temperamental child.

“Y/N, I’m responsible too. I shouldn’t have assumed you and your childhood best friend were a thing. I guess I was... jealous and upset that you gave another man attention and probably scared to see you slip through my fingers,” you looked up at him, and he smiled, your heart skipping a beat as you feel like breathing again.

He was interested in you. Not in your sister, in you.

And that simple thought just stretched a smile on your face, your breath mixing with Changmin’s as you were staring in each other’s eyes, so close to the other. A delicious shiver ran down your spine as your nose bumped into his, smiling as he rubbed them together. You closed your eyes, still smiling, millions of butterflies erupting in your stomach as you felt his lips locking with yours in a sweet kiss. It felt even more magical than you had always imagined in your dreams, and a groan got stuck at the back of your throat when he cupped your cheeks with his slender hands to deepen the kiss over the counter.

And for once, you were the one winning. Your sister had better watch out, because you were already excited to rub your relationship with Changmin in her face, a feeling of sweet revenge creeping up in your stomach as you kept kissing your crush.

[lfzyxf]

Past lover

Summary: Not only had you ‘died’, but you also had to spend the rest of your life together with a bunch of Loki’s. It had been a long time since you had seen Loki, yet you would choose not seeing him over seeing him be happy with Sylvie.

Word count:1176

Loki x reader (angst?)

Masterlist

I have been struggling with writers block, I apologise.

You could not remember how long you had been in the ‘void’, time passed different here, you had no way to measure it. Your days were spent together with different Loki’s; so far, they were the only living beings you had found.

Often you dreamed about the days before you stranded here, before the tva. Evenings spent with your Loki; days filled with activities such as training with the avengers.

You had met the love of your life a few years ago, after the failed invasion of the chitauri, Loki had been forced to stay with the avengers as his punishment. Being the only avenger who had not previously met him, you did not hold any judgement over him.

The two of you quickly became friends, reading together in the library, or spending time in your rooms as he tells you stories about his life on Asgard.

After a while your friendship began to evolve in something more, you had not talked to him about it, too scared of being rejected. One beautiful evening, you and Loki were sat in his room, his eyes reflected the moonlight as he stared outside.

He often told you stories about the moon and the stars, his imagination running wild.

It was on this night he had told you about his feelings, it was difficult, for the both of you. As he tried to find the right words you silently cut him off with a soft kiss.

This was the beginning of your hard but wonderful romance, which lasted until the moment you were taken by the tva.

You were supposed to go on a mission that day, as result of you deciding to stay behind, the timeline was changed; and the tva had to repair it.

Just moments later you had disappeared of the surface of earth, or wherever the tva lies.

Confusion filled your mind as you had not died, a rough voice caught your attention, a man with horns was telling you to get up. Later you had learned that they were all different versions of Loki, all of them had caused a nexus event which led to them stranding here.

Hours, days, weeks, months passed; time lost making you guess. The five of you had stayed together, all of you telling stories of your previous lives, the lot of them surprised when you had told them about your relationship with your Loki.

Time passed when the Loki’s went outside, you had offered to stay behind and watch your base, making sure no intruders would come in.

To say you were surprised when your Loki walked in was an understatement, the both of you merely stared at each other.

“y/n?” a soft gasp left your mouth at the sound of his voice; you had almost forgotten what he sounded like. “What- what are you doing here? When were you caught?”

You took a few steps closer to him before answering, “The day I stayed home from the mission with Natasha, when we went out to buy some more books…”

Your hands made their way to his face, caressing his cheeks and going through his hair, you could not believe he was here, your lover finally returned to you.

“How long have you been here?” his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at you in confusion. “I am not sure, there is no way to track time, I assume it has been a while.” You sigh sadly as you think about the long nights you laid awake.

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After a while of catching up and the Loki’s talking about the reasons they got here, we went out to find a way out. The lot of you followed Loki blindly, some with doubts, you, without.

You did not pay much attention to their conversations, still working on the fact that your lover is here, right alongside you.

Your thought process was halted as the men spotted a car, usually it meant trouble, but when Loki started running towards it, you all simply followed.

The smile on your face quickly left as you stared at the two in front of you, Loki was talking to a woman, seemingly the Lady Loki he had previously mentioned.

You recognized the way he stared at her, the look in his eyes as he asked her if she was alright. It was the same way he looked at you those sleepless nights spent together.

Loki turned to you all, introducing us as his friends, well… other Loki’s. You coughed as he ignored my presence, acting as if you were simply not there.

“Ah… this is y/n...” Her eyes focused on your figure, opening her mouth until Mobius interrupted him, “Aren’t they the person you told me about?”

Loki gulped, unsure of how to continue, “It’s nice to meet you, heard a lot of good things about you; he kept saying how he needed to get back to you-” Loki coughed as Mobius kept rambling, glancing at both you and the woman standing in front of you.

“This is Sylvie, a female Loki.” You nodded your head at her, she seemed like someone you would get along with, except for the fact that she seemed to be intimate with Loki.

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The plan was made, Sylvie would enchant the monster, Mobius would head back to the tva, and the other Loki’s would stay.

Loki quickly voiced his need to stay with Sylvie, stating that if she goes, he goes. You felt your heart get heavy at his words, the need to say something growing each moment.

You kept silent, turning away, and walking with your friends, back to the life you had been following for a while.

Your eyes started watering, quickly rubbing your eyes so the rest would not spot your sadness.

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

A few moments later you looked over your shoulder to see both Loki and Sylvie struggling, you stared at the ground, unsure of what to do.

You thought back to the life you had with Loki, wondering if he even wanted you still around. Your love for him had never faded, it seemed as if it had al been in your head; all those moments dreams of a time that never was.

Yet even with your newfound hatred for the god, you could not help but help him, conjuring up the magic Wanda had thought you to use, you created a distraction. The stories you were told about Asgard helping you with an illusion, on a scale you had never used your magic before.

The storm quickly made its way to you, legs trembling as you did your best to hold the illusion for as long as possible. A short scream left your mouth as you fell on your knees, your gaze had not left its view of Loki, even when tears blurred your vision.

Eventually, as your magic faded you let go, your illusion fading. The storm came for you, its mouth wide open ready to feast on you; your last vision was the clouds turning green, giving your last moment to Loki.

[yandere-sins]

Hey~ been awhile but I jump back on every once in awhile to read up on your stuff ❤️ Was wondering if requests were open if I can have Daddyheroyandere!Deku scenario? His daughter and wife has finally managed to run away and is hiding out in alleys in the city but sadly gets caught by Husband and daddy lol I read the other one you had and LOVED it Scary smiles are my weakness

Hi! ♥ Hope you’ve been well, thanks for checking in on the blog :3 And thanks for requesting! Enjoy ^-^

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There had been better times in the past.

The times where Midoriya had leaned onto his wife's legs, seated by her feet as she held their newborn baby, lulling it to sleep. The peaceful, serene times of family joy he went through with the two of them. He remembered every night he got up instead of his wife to calm their little daughter, the nights she crawled into their bed as a toddler because of a nightmare. The "Welcome back!" and "Bye Daddy!" when she started to speak, and the cuddles on the couch with his wife while they watched her unwrap presents on Christmas. 

Midoriya had always kept those times in his mind as a reason to go on. As a reason to fight and protect what was his, and as a reason to act like he did, even if not everyone agreed it was the correct way. Sure, it had its ups and downs, but he prevailed through the difficult times and was rewarded with better ones. The world was bad, but he wasn't as bad as everything else was.

But even when all he ever did was give, give, give, the two most precious people in his world ended up corrupted after all. Midoriya blamed himself for not being more careful. It was his fault to a degree. He should have been more cautious and tried harder to save the two. His wife, his darling wife, always had trouble relying on him. She was a driving force in this matter, he was sure. But still! After years of being together, she should have known better than to run away, right? Especially taking their daughter with her down this grim path!

They were meant to be together! All of them were meant to be with each other! So why did they leave him behind? After everything he's done for them all their lives, why was it Midoriya they chose to abandon and suffer by himself? How was this fair?

There was noticeable panic in his voice as he called out their names times and times again. People rushed to his aid when they noticed a hero in trouble, but he waved them off with a fake smile, saying everything was under control, even though it clearly wasn't. At least, not his control. 

Did the two even consider into what kind of light it would put him, a hero, that his wife and daughter ran away from him without any reason to? Did they stop even for a minute to think about what kind of impact they could have on his public image and their livelihood? It was also their mouths he was feeding, so why would they do something so rash?

The outside was cold, wet from the rain, and dark from the night falling over their heads. Midoriya searched the closest proximity of their home, but neither park nor neighbors could return to him what was his. Where could they have gone? he kept asking himself, body shaking with anxiety. What if they encountered a villain? An obstacle they couldn't handle themselves? What if they were crying and begging to be saved by their husband and father at that very moment? The thought alone made him want to rip out his throbbing heart, completely clouding his mind with worry. 

Midoriya did the next best thing he could think of, approaching the still bustling city. If he couldn't find them here, he might have to call friends for help, unable to think of any other way. This ordeal began to drag out far too long, and with every second, he lost more and more of his sanity as he had to worry, fret, and despair about everything that went through his mind.

It was harder now to navigate, trying not to bump into someone on the pavement. He couldn't raise suspicion. No one could recognize him, so he pulled the hood of his jacket a bit deeper into his face. But no matter where he went, he kept losing focus, too desperate to find them. Here, in the middle of the city... it was loud, and yet, Midoriya couldn't hear anything. The noise formed into a mass and then faded out completely. 

He came to a halt, feeling the heaviness of his legs, the worry slowing him down. Why did he deserve this? What did he ever do? 

Slow, nagging thoughts reappeared in his mind. They teased him, harassed him even with their presence. Memories, long repressed and buried beneath the wonderful ones of his family, came back to him. Memories of violence and shouting, the constant fights with his wife, and the nights of terror they lived through. Chains, ropes, knives. Attacking, subduing, yelling. The constant fear lingering in their home before their daughter was born. 

So maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe, this was his punishment now.

Midoriya looked up at the sky, wondering if some entity was punishing him. "What a joke," he chuckled. He was a hero. He fought all kinds of monsters on a daily. He was more of a god than anyone, and his purpose was to love and protect -especially his family - from evil. Getting blinded by the lights of the city, Midoriya closed his eyes, turning towards the alleyway to his right before he could open them again, the darkness there soothing to his nerves.

There, cowering, shivering, with their hands clasped over each other's mouth, they sat. His eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and his lips parted, but no word escaped him. He found them; he really found them! 

"Got you," he hummed, a big smile forming on his lips, his grin wide enough to show teeth. "Let's go home, shall we?"

The forms of his partner and child began to shake more and more from fear as he approached, Midoriya kneeling down before them, his arms wide open to pull them into a hug. They were so cold, but they felt so good as they leaned in; no matter that, they couldn't stop flinching and shuddering as he hugged them tighter and tighter. They were so cold and afraid, and he was the only one to comfort them. "I know this was rough, but I am here now," he cooed to them as the first sobs broke from his wife's lips. "I will make everything right, so..."

Letting go of his wife, Midoriya pulled his daughter up into his arms, carrying her like she was only a toddler instead of a teenager. He held out one hand to his wife for her to hold on to, pulling her along after the two women shared a brief glance, and she hesitantly reached for the still merciful hand he offered. Just like a mother couldn't abandon her child, Midoriya couldn't abandon the both of them, even if now that he found them, he felt the seething rage burn on in his stomach. There was so much to shout at them for, to discipline and remind them.

But not tonight. Not when they needed Midoriya once more to bring them home and take care of them. "Let's go and make new memories to forget about this pitiful attempt, okay?"

It wasn't like he had broken a human before, one even enough to bear him a child.

He could do it again if he had to, just so he could keep this perfect little family of his.

[imaginethatneathuh]

Death: Mr World - American Gods

Mr World x gn!reader, ex and abusive relationship

You ran from Mr World and he wants you back.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop. Some parts were edited by her, too.

Requested by Anon - Hi! I just found the Tarot Card thing and I was wondering if you could do Death for Mr. World ...

TW/CW: Car accident, abuse, domestic abuse, fear, PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, dehydration, hunger.

Word count: 12.5+ K

This was very triggering, that's why it took so long for me.

•

Hands stuffed in pockets, you walked down the concrete sidewalk. Pulled up, the hood of your dark hoodie obscured you from view. It was only a small comfort knowing that it was more difficult for something like a camera to pick up on your face.

A street light flickered above you as you passed by.

Remembering the effects the New Gods could have on technology, you turned around, looking for one of those weird “boxes'' they used. But the street lights all stayed on and none of the boxes materialized.

Stopping for a few moments more, you looked around just in case someone was there and you just couldn’t see them. You mentally cursed the loud chirping of the crickets. Even if someone was there --- you weren’t sure if there was or wasn’t --- you wouldn’t be able to hear them over them.

Finally, with one last look, you turned back to your back and continued down it.

As you approached the small apartment complex, you searched for lights in the windows. Occasionally, a neighbour or two would stay up until the wee hours of the morn. Tonight though, everyone seemed to have gone to bed except for you.

Carefully, you climbed the stairs to your flat. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the cold breeze passed by.

As you got to your floor, you looked down and around. It wasn’t a quick one look-see and done kinda deal. You analyzed everything, half expecting someone to jump out or come around the corner. Everything from the flicker of the old wall lamp, to the shaking trees, and the swarming insects around light was scrutinized.

Despite the months of being away from him, he was always in the back of your mind. You knew, despite being miles away from where he had you last, he could find you and bring you back under his thumb. He was more powerful than you ever imagined. He had eyes and ears everywhere. Here, even with no security cameras and out in the middle of nowhere, you knew he could still get to you. The trees may be plentiful and the people few and far between, but he still had power

No one jumped out, so you went to the door with your heart pounding in your chest.

Still scanning the hall, you patted yourself down in search of your keys. You couldn’t tear your eyes away just in case someone unwelcomed showed up.

You fumbled for your keys, too fearful of the unknown to search for them properly. The thought of someone or something popping out of nowhere took all your attention, the fear forcing you to scan the hall again and again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw something in the shadows.

Whipping your head around to get a better look, your eyes widened as if they were trying to soak in as much of the area as possible. The possibility of your ex or his lackeys being right around the corner froze you in place. One of your hands gripped your keys while the other stayed tensed on the doorknob of your flat.

Quietly, you breathed and tried to calm yourself, but kept your eyes wide open. As you concentrate on your breathing, knuckles paling, your shaky, uneven breaths become even again.

It was just your imagination, your mind playing tricks on you. That was all. No one was there. No one at all. You were safe. He couldn’t get you here.

Eyes still glued to the shadows, you yank open the door and rush inside, slamming the door shut. Once inside, You pressed your body against the door, just in case someone tried to push it open, and deadbolted it as fast as you could manage without looking at the locks. The shadows did not move as you stared at them through the peephole on the door.

Stepping away, you take a few gasping breaths, shoulders and jaw tensed. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Every time you left the flat there was a risk that your ex would find you. Any reasonable, sensible person who knew your ex would tell you leaving your flat was a stupid idea, that there was too much of a risk in leaving. But, you couldn’t stay inside all the time just because he terrified you. You had to live your life, not live in fear. There had been far too much of that.

You looked around the small flat and moved toward the windows, unlocking and relocking the windows.

Placing a hand over your heart, you breathed deeply in and out. You’d found it to be the best way to calm yourself over the past few months. Now, within the safety of your home, you could relax.

Turning, you found your way to the sofa and fell upon it.

The flat’s door stood opposite of you and you stared at it, expecting someone to start banging or barging in at any moment.

A backpack filled with your things lay next to the sofa. Not much was in it. Just some clothes, toothbrush and paste, and other such necessities. No unnecessary items.

The fridge sat mostly empty and the bedroom lay unbothered as if no one had entered it since the last tenant, and even the bathroom had little in it, just a bar of soap that hadn’t fully dried yet and its bag. The flat had barely been lived in. Hopefully, you’d soon have the courage to change that.

After many hours of paranoia, you fell into a restless, fitful, nightmare-fueled slumber. Even as you dreamt, he did not let you be.

•

A loud knocking woke you from a nightmare you couldn’t remember after you got up from the sofa.

At that moment, as you walked over to the door still dressed from the day before, things almost felt normal. It was as if the last 6 years hadn’t happened and you weren’t terrified and paranoid he’d find you.

Every last shred of that feeling dissipated after you looked into the peephole.

There, on the other side, stood two men in black and white suits. Both had an earpiece and sunglasses. They looked straight out of the Men in Black movie you remember watching when you were younger.

Your mother loved that movie. As did you.

Sadly, they were not the Men in Black from the movie. They were a different sort. The men who worked for your ex, Mr World.

Stepping away, you blinked as your heartbeat and fear steadily rose. Your breathing became shaky.

He’d found you.

“Mx L/N, we know you are in there,” one of the men said. “We just want to talk. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Instead of responding, you ran to your sofa and threw the backpack on.

Outside, the two men had a conversation.

Your flat was on the first floor. It would be a quick two-story drop.

Scrambling to the window opposite the kitchenette, you opened it as quietly as you could.

The men knocked again. “Mx L/N, please open the door.”

Remembering the bar of soap in the bathroom, you stepped inside and grabbed it. You slipped the bar into the bag and stuffed it into your pocket.

It seemed completely asinine to grab it, but you didn’t want to leave anything behind. Especially not a brand new bar of soap.

You lifted yourself up the window so you could get out feet first. Going headfirst at any height could lead to serious injury, or, ya know, death.

“Mx L/N?”

You looked back at the door breathing heavily before looking back at the window.

For a moment, you thought about just giving in to him. Letting him keep you locked away and make you live in fear of him for the rest of your life. It would be so much easier. That or just killing yourself.

But you couldn’t do that, not when you had come so far. Not when you had almost enough to get out of the country and never see him again. Not when you could be free of him and the U.S. as a whole.

You didn’t know what had so attracted him to you, but you wished that whatever it was would stop existing.

“Mx L/N, please open up!” The man sounded more urgent now like he knew what you were doing.

Gripping under the window, you pushed yourself out. Instead of letting go immediately, you hung on. You dropped a little so you could get a better grip on the bottom of the windowsill. Swinging side-to-side, you set your sights on a nearby balcony.

Even though the sound of your heartbeat flooded your ears and the fearful doubts filled your mind, you could still hear the shaky, unsure breaths you were breathing. You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, closing your eyes, before swinging to the neighbour’s balcony and letting go.

The balcony was situated over another tenant’s old sofa. They’d put it out a few days ago and had yet to throw it away.

You landed with a forceful thud onto the sofa, even moving it a bit. It didn’t do much but it was better than concrete.

You pushed yourself up and turned, only to find a man in black with his gun out. Looking the other way, his partner came around the corner, his gun also raised.

“Mx L/N, we were given instructions not to hurt you, but we will if we have to,” one of them said.

You looked between them, warily.

They seemed to be twins. Everything down to the last detail was identical. Must have joined together and gotten paired up. Who better to trust in the field than your brother?

There was nothing but woods behind you. If you made a break for it, the best they could do was shoot an arm or leg, maybe a shoulder if they were brave. It’d slow you down and you’d need medical attention, but you’d live if you didn’t bleed out first.

One of the twins put his gun away and slowly approached you. “Please, we just want to talk.”

It was obvious he was trying to get you to trust him, but you wouldn’t fall for that again.

You took off running.

The other twin aimed but his brother chastised him.

•

After running through the woods for a while, you climbed up a tree, out of sight. If the men tried to follow, they, hopefully, wouldn’t look up.

As you fell into the almost bowl-like middle of an old oak, you breathed heavily and tried to relax.

You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone for a while. But it had been months. Months. Why was he still chasing? Was it because you knew what he was? Who he was? He had told you many secrets that he probably wouldn’t want anyone else to find out, usually when he wasn’t who he told all the others he was and was, instead, himself. But, you didn’t want anything to do with him or his world. You wanted a new start, a new life.

You waited in the tree for hours, thinking about him and the new life you’d start somewhere else in the world. Maybe Canada, Scotland, or New Zealand. Someplace like that. Somewhere that wasn’t the U.S.

Slowly, you fell asleep.

•

When you awoke, it was late. The full moon was at its peak and the stars were out bright in the navy sky. They all had much to show the world. But, more importantly, it was light enough for you to leave.

You couldn’t go back to your flat. It was too dangerous. You’d have to just pick a direction and keep moving. Hopefully, you’d find someplace then.

•

You had to admit, this was the first time you’d ever come out to these woods since you’d started renting here. It was definitely pretty.

The brown leaves littered the forest floor, but not in an ugly way. It was rather beautiful. The leaves almost looked like rich, dark soil in the night’s late hour. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew they were leaves by their crunch, you would have thought the forest floor had no grass. The leaves reminded you of a time long past, a time of innocence you no longer possessed.

With a smile, you jumped on a group of leaves making them crunch slightly. It was rather satisfying. Sadly, you knew you had to keep going and playing with the leaves just wasn't an option, so you trekked on.

Despite knowing you had to hurry to find safety, you still allowed yourself to enjoy the moonlight as it gave the forest an almost otherworldly, effervescent glow. Funnily enough, it felt more familiar than the word of concrete and metal you came from. It felt safe and comforting.

Twigs snapped beneath you every once in a while as you walked. You gripped your backpack’s straps tightly, occasionally looking behind you.

A part of you wished for this to be over, to be safe and sound elsewhere. Not awake in the middle of the night, walking through the woods on an empty stomach.

While looking behind you, you took a misstep and fell.

You groaned. Leaves stuck to your now dirt-covered hands and you pushed yourself up.

As you looked up, someone came into view.

A new stint of fear shot through you as you scrambled backwards.

“You do not need to fear me,” the person said. “I mean you no harm.”

As the moonlight cast down upon her, you studied the young maiden. What seemed to be a golden wreath of sorts sat upon her head, like a crown.

“I heard your prayer for safety, young one. I only wish to guide you to it,” she said, nearing closer.

Despite her soft words, you doubted her. You knew what she was and, in your experience, their kind never gave anything without wanting something in return.

She knelt in front of you. “My name is Soteria. Will you let me help you?” Soteria stood and offered you a hand.

Unlike other gods you’d met, she seemed kind. She didn’t have the same feel as the others. No malice or anger or lies.

Even though your paranoia screamed no, you couldn’t help but take it.

She lifted you up and gently touched your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. It was rather uncomfortable really. Her hand fell.

“Travel straight that way,” she said, pointing to her right. Her gaze followed her arm. “And you will find safety.”

You nodded, gratefully.

“Young one,” she said, turning back to you. “No harm shall fall on you if you keep this with you.” The goddess took your hands into hers and placed something in them. “You will survive and you will persevere.”

“How do you know?” You asked.

“Believe it and it will be so, my child,” she said, cupping your cheeks with a smile.

•

You pushed yourself off the forest floor and shakily rose to your feet.

“Must have really hit my head,” you mumbled to yourself.

You hadn’t realized you were tightly gripping something cold and sharp in your hand until it began to cut into your skin.

Taking a look at the foreign but familiar object, your sight is met with a metal circle hung from a chain, the face of Medusa filling the frame. Moonlight glinted off the metal, shading her horrific, severed head. Running your thumb over the pendant, you noticed her snake-like head raised from the circle. You could even feel the raised blood falling from her stump and the fangs of Medusa and her snakes. Said snakes had minute scales engraved into them. The gorgon's mouth hung wide open like a snake’s with flesh between the top and bottom at the corners of the mouth. She hissed, baring her fangs, at an unknown attacker along with her forward-facing serpents. Her slit-pupilled eyes spoke of the fear and anger she held before Perseus cut her head from her body. On either side of the pendant, golden laurel sprigs created a sort of half-wreath. You ran your thumb over the gold as well. The detail of the leaves was incredible. Tiny, minuscule veins wound through them. Small gems you didn’t know the names of decorated the sprigs, clustered together to resemble flower buds. It was a beautiful, albeit peculiar, necklace.

Upon remembering what Soteria said, you put the necklace on and gripped the pendant tight. It was strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, turned to where the goddess had pointed and marched on with a strange, newfound confidence and determination. Knowing that a goddess was behind you and the Roman Medusa hung around your neck renewed you.

He wouldn’t get you. You wouldn’t let him.

•

You didn’t know how long you walked, but the moon had set and dawn had broken.

Birds, the noisy things, squawked and sung and annoyed the ever-living daylights out of your tired self.

Still, it was a better sound to be around than the New Gods and the shite they were always talking about.

The Technical Boy in particular. Him and his talk of being better than the Old Gods. But, he seemed to be the best of the bunch. Sadly, that’s not saying much.

Media was a snake who told you the prettiest lies and World, despite saying he cared for you (never love, only care), preferred a pretty lie over the ugly truth, telling you whatever would keep you the happiest and controlled by him. It took you a long time to admit he was manipulative, but once you settled that with yourself (not an easy task) it was slightly easier to see his lies and manipulative tendencies.

The Technical Boy didn’t give two shites about you, and, thus, didn’t care to lie. He always told you exactly what was going on. He was also, usually, really fucking blunt. The dude had no filter.

Eventually, your tired legs and sore muscles screamed at you to take a break. The dryness in your mouth and rumble in your stomach asked the same of you.

But you couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Your mind told you to keep going, that relief was just around the corner. And, you believed it. Besides, if you passed out now, who’s to say the fumes wouldn’t run out while you were resting? Or worse yet, someone aligned with World would find you.

A car rushed by, a flurry of leaves trailing behind it.

You clambered up the ditch, mud and leaves furthering to dirty your clothes.

Not to say they were clean before your escape. Too much could happen in the time it took to clean a load of laundry.

You walked along the road. Cars passed you occasionally, but it was far too early and the road was probably a ways away from the complex. That complex was also pretty far from any city.

•

Exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, you prayed you’d be able to stop soon even just for a minute or so.

As you walked, the faint outline of a building stood up ahead.

You sighed in relief.

Maybe there will be people there. Ones not attached to him.

All you could do was hope for that and maybe some water, that’d be nice, too.

•

As you got closer, you realized it was a motel. A Motel America with its neon blue and red. It, faintly, reminded you of the U.S. flag. That was probably the point of it.

You stumbled to where an attendant sat behind a desk. They didn’t notice you.

“Hello,” you said, voice raspy. “How- How much is a room?”

They looked up and their jaw dropped. “Are you okay?”

‘Must be worse off than I thought,’ you thought.

The floor under you swayed and you struggled to keep your footing.

“Mx? Are you okay?” the attendant asked again. “Do you need an ambulance?”

You shook your head. “No. Just- just a room. Please. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

They nodded and grabbed a key, handing it to you.

You fumbled for your bag and tried to pay, but the attendant shook their head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

You mumbled thanks and stumbled away, rubbing your necklace.

“Call if you need anything,” they shouted after you.

A bout of relief spread through you and you thanked the attendant in your head. You also thanked Soteria. She was probably the reason you’d even got here.

•

The smooth, clean blankets covered you, wrapping you in their warmth. It didn’t matter that you were still wearing dirty, grimy clothes and hadn’t taken a shower in over three days. For once, you felt clean, and most importantly, safe.

Your muscles ached as much as your stomach growled. The emptiness of your stomach reminded you of your current lack of adequate resources. Sure, you had some cash stuffed away in your backpack, but not enough to last long.

Someone gently shook you awake.

With a groan, you buried your face in a pillow.

The person shook you again.

You turned to them, only to find the attendant from last night.

“Morning,” they said. “My shift’s been over for a while, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position with more effort than you should need. “I’m fine.”

Your growling stomach betrayed you.

The attendant looked down to your stomach then back to you. “Sure about that?” They asked, eyebrows raised. “I got an extra sandwich in my bag. Want it?”

You nodded but refused to meet their gaze.

It wasn’t that you wanted to take advantage of their generosity, but you were starving.

The attendant slowly backed away like you were a wounded animal. They pulled something out of a bag and tossed it to you. “I’m Sammy, by the way.” Sammy pointed to the bathroom. “There are cups in there if you need them.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I won’t stay much longer. I have to keep moving.”

Sammy nodded.

You got the feeling they understood your position. Maybe that’s why Soteria had directed you here.

•

Night had fallen and the waning moon filled the sky with her beauty as her beautiful wives twinkled with her, though they did not shine with her same might.

You stepped outside your room onto the concrete walk, fiddling with the gift from Soteria.

Though you may not have been able to wash your clothes, a nice shower, some food, water, and rest did you wonders.

Sammy peeked out of their place and waved.

You waved back before setting out on the road.

There was a long journey ahead of you.

•

A fluttering of butterfly-like creatures caught your attention. Turning to the sound, a box sat with the creatures hovering above it. They disappeared when you saw the box.

You had been looking out for one of those.

World and the others had a particular fondness for them.

Your breathing quickened and you slowly stepped away before you started running down the road, your backpack bouncing up and down as you went. Though your muscles still ached, you pushed through the pain.

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t be trapped with them again, with him again. You had to keep running. You had to get away.

In a foolish move, you looked behind you only to see it gone.

When you looked back, headlights blinded you, stopping you in your tracks. You covered your face, wincing from the bright light. Stepping back, you realized it was Technical Boy’s limo. As you, again, stepped back, you knocked into something. Slowly, you turned around and looked into the faceless thing the New Gods called one of The Children. It grabbed you by your arms, holding you still.

Instinctively, your hand went to the necklace as you panted, staring at the Child. It had barely been a day and you already clung to it like a koala on a tree.

A flood of light and smoke came from the limo, bringing your attention back to it.

The door opened and someone, no, two someones stepped out.

A scowling Technical Boy and a pleasantly, fakely smiling Media stood up and faced you.

“Y/N, darling,” Media said, flourishing her arms out. “It is so good to see you again.” She wagged a finger at you. “You’ve been very naughty. Running away like that and all.” The goddess smiled at you. “Mr World has been very distraught over your absence. Oh, how he loves you so. The two of you are like Cesar and Cleopatra.”

Technical Boy snorted. “You mean World’s a creep and helped create a false narrative surrounding--”

Before he could complete his sentence, Media slapped him upside the head.

“Hush,” she hissed.

The boyish god winced and rubbed his head.

Media approached you, still all fake smiles and pleasantries. “Darling, Mr World really does miss you terribly. I’ve never seen him quite so distraught! Please, come home. We, well, Mr World, can take good care of you. You can be happy again. Just come home.”

“He wants me back?” You asked.

Media readily nodded.

“Then he should come get me himself.”

A smirk crept on Technical Boy’s face but he pushed it away. “Look, I admire your determination and tenacity, I do, really, but come on. He’s making life a living Hell for us. Just come back. I’m sure he’ll do better by you or whatever,” he said.

Your gaze shifted to him, eyes shining. “You know nothing of a living Hell,” you said, your voice breaking. Tears threatened your eyelids at knifepoint.

“Not helping,” Media sang with a strained smile at Technical Boy.

He looked down and rolled his eyes.

“Look, darling, I know Mr World can be difficult--”

You cut her off. “Difficult? Difficult!? You think he’s difficult?” You asked. “No, he’s fucking insane and manipulative. I want nothing to do with him or any of you. Just leave me alone.” Your tears cut through and spilt down your face.

Media opened her mouth to say something but closed it, not knowing what to do.

Technical Boy made a dismissive wave at the Child and it stepped away, letting you go. He carefully stepped toward you.

“I don’t like you,” he said. “I don’t know why World does. I don’t get what he finds so fucking interesting about a pathetic, squishy, easily killed human. But I know he wants you back and has spent every second he can trying to find you.” The god stopped in front of you. “He’s obsessed and, yeah, he’s manipulative and probably insane. That’s World for ya.” Technical Boy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just come back, maybe punch him in the face, demand some shit or whatever. I don’t care. But World is fucking riding us like you used to ride him. He is up our fucking asses all day and it’s driving me insane. Please, for the love of fucking God, just come back before I lose my shit.”

You wiped away the tears and looked the arrogant son of a bitch in the eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Technical Boy.”

His hand fell from your shoulder. He turned back and shrugged. “I tried.”

It was obvious, even to the most socially inept, that he didn’t really care about you.

In the distance, a man struggled to maintain a straight line as he drove. Liquor bottles clink against each other in the backseat, and the passenger seat and floor.

Media stepped forward. “I understand your uneasiness, Y/N, but things can be different.”

The car got closer, swerving around. No one seemed to notice.

“No, they can’t,” you said. “He will never change.”

Technical Boy, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up. He spotted the car and straightened. “Um, guys…”

“Not now,” she said, raising her pointer finger behind her at him.

Technical Boy slipped his phone away. “But--”

“I said, not now!” The goddess turned around to glare at him.

“Yeah, but there’s a fucking car!” Technical Boy said, pointing at the oncoming car.

You swivelled around, taking a look around the Child. Headlights filled your gaze, and, for a moment, you understood what it felt like to be a deer trying to get across a road. By the time you recognized what was happening, it was too late; you couldn’t get away.

The last things you felt was the Child’s body slamming into yours and the distinct feeling of dread.

You were going to die.

There was also a sense of relief, knowing that you would die free and not chained to him.

•

The sound of beeping woke you. The feeling of another warm body against yours was unsettling when you did wake. As you opened your eyes, your blood ran cold.

World was holding you, partially on the bed with one of his legs hanging off.

“Hello, my dear,” he purred. “It’s good to see you awake.”

You pushed him away and tried to sit up.

“Oh, no, no, no, we will be having none of that now, my dear. You are far too injured.” The well-dressed god pulled you back toward him, but you did not relax.

Slowly, he pushed you back into a lying position and kissed your forehead like a child. He even dared to pull blankets over you. World sat onto the bed and faced you, gently reaching out and stroking your cheek.

Some part of you wanted to react, to vomit or push him away, but you couldn’t. Every fibre of your being told you not to do anything to make him mad. After 6 years of that keeping you alive, the idea had become ingrained.

“I almost lost you, my dear,” World said, quietly. “The thought of never seeing you again was unbearable. I’m so glad to have you back, safe and sound beside me.”

Though he seemed to actually mean it, with shimmering eyes and kind movements, you couldn’t trust him now any more than you could any other time. It was all a facade, a carefully crafted one at that. He had manipulated you before and would do it again. This time, though, you wouldn’t let him, no matter what he did. This snake would no longer charm you.

Despite it being a majorly bad idea, you had to ask the question that had been running through your head since you’d run the first time.

“Why?” You asked, quiet as a mouse. “Why do you want me so badly? I don’t understand it.”

His hand traced a path to yours. “My dearest, you know better than to ask something like that. A partner like you best kept with their mouth shut and a pretty smile on it.” With his free hand, he tilted your chin upward, possessively smiling down at your frowning face with malice.

“That’s not an answer,” you said.

World’s smile became strained as he tried to hold back the urge to smack you. You could tell by his eyes that’s what he wanted. There was dark anger behind them. Instead, he chuckled lightly before roughly grabbing your jaw and bringing you in close. “It’s the only one you’re getting, my dear.” He leant in close, any semblance of a smile falling away, and looked into your eyes. “If you ever,” he said, trembling with rage. “And I mean ever, leave like that again, I will not be so kind as I am now. Do you understand me?”

Against his hand, you tried to nod, any form of confidence fading from you. In his hands, or hand more like, you were like a tiny, weak child all over again.

He roughly shoved your face into the pillow and it stayed there as you were too afraid to look back at him. You bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut, trying not to whimper or cry.

World stood. “Technical Boy,” he said.

The tech god slowly walked in, keeping his eyes on the ground. Even he was somewhat afraid of World. Technical Boy stood near the door, not daring to walk in any further without permission.

“Wassup?” He said, popping the p.

World glared at him, disapproving of his casualness, from the opposite side of your bed.

Your head still firmly placed on the pillow, you opened your eyes to look at Technical Boy.

He had a rather odd style choice that you’d become fond of over the years. Today was no different.

Today, he seemed to have a hard-on for neon. Neon yellow and orange shoes with shiny spikes around the soles. A multi-neon-coloured jacket that looked like someone took a paintbrush and just started painting diagonal lines in a thousand different neon colours. His pants were awful, too. Every type of neon colouring on it, just like his jacket. Neon pink suspenders hung from his trousers and a neon blue t-shirt with a giant, pixilated, neon green thing on it. It was one of those spaceships from Galaga Shooter from back in the 80s or whenever. You couldn't remember what they were called exactly. Maybe it was just spaceships from Galaga Shooter.

His hair was, much like his clothing, a weird story. Along the pulled-back sides were two metal pieces on both sides, going from the front all the way back. Maybe they connected around the back of his head. The top had pieces wrapped into little bowls all the way down the middle. On his shoulder was a braid pulled out from the back. More neon stripes decorated his hair, from bowls to braid.

World looked to you. “Technical Boy will be looking after you until you’re all better and you can come home properly.” There was plasticity to his voice that you’d only become recently aware of before you’d run from him. World walked around your hospice bed and stopped next to Technical Boy on his way out. He turned slightly, the tech god mirroring his action, and whispered something you couldn’t hear before leaving.

As World left, you watched the tensed Technical Boy with curiosity. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he mumbled. The god looked around and found a chair.

As he pulled the chair to sit next to the door, you struggled to sit up.

“Don’t even think about trying to run,” he said. “I ain’t like the Spooks or the Children. I’m not stupid nor easy to manipulate or overpower. You running will only hurt yourself and piss World off.” He sat down and leant back into it, staring at the ceiling. “Why the fuck is he so fucking interested in you, anyway? You’re not that special. Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive in a simple, human-ey way, but you’re not, well, you’re not geometrically perfect, or close to it, like, say, Jensen Ackles.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said, finally in a sitting position. “I know there’s no point now.” You wryly chuckled, tears slipping from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy watched you, uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not others’. “You good?”

You wipe away your tears before looking over at him. Deftly, you flip him off. There was nothing Technical Boy could do to you that would hurt more than knowing you were, once again, trapped under Mr World’s thumb.

The god rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well play some games.

You look around the room, crossing your arms and rubbing them. It was a plain, white, rectangular room with your bed, a chair, and a nightstand. Otherwise, it was barren. The most interesting and colourful thing here was Technical Boy’s awful outfit, which looked, strangely, stylish on him, and the blankets on your bed. Their colours were stark in contrast to your hospital gown with the polka dots and barren room. The top blanket looked like a hand-stitched quilt with an array of warm colours and black decorated with images of cats and witches and other things like that. The others were larger child-like blankets with Bob the Builder, Care Bears, and other things like that on them. You ran a hand over the top one, enjoying the stitching and cloth running under your fingertips.

“World had those brought for you,” Technical Boy said, not looking up from his phone.

Your blood ran cold and your hand froze where it was. Slowly, your hands receded and you pushed the blankets away. Knowing that, even now, World was, in a way, touching you freaked you out. You needed to get away from it. You needed to get away from him. Barely registering what you were doing, you kicked the blankets over the edge bed and pushed yourself away from them and into the pillow behind you.

The quilt and childish blankets cascaded to the floor, unceremoniously falling into a heap.

The tech god looked up from his phone and stared at you as you curled up and hugged your knees, staring wide-eyed at the blankets. He continued to watch as you began scratching at yourself, trying to get the feeling of World off you. Technical Boy didn’t intervene until he noticed you bleeding.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, the god got up and walked over to you. He sat on your bed and grabbed your hands.

Out of pure instinct, you thrashed in his grip as he tried to calm you down. You could hear someone calling for you but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was here and he was going to hurt you.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy yelled over your panic. “Stop it. You're hurting yourself.” You continued fighting against him, kicking and thrashing. “Fuck’s sake, I need someone in here!”

Nurses came in and held you down before one stuck a needle into your arm and you passed out.

•

A year and a half ago

You lay in bed, texting a friend, one of the few World let you have. Smiling at your phone, you pulled a blanket over you, a quilt with sock monkeys on it.

World entered and took off his blazer, setting it on a fluffy chair. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. “Hello, my dear,” he purred, watching you.

You looked up and smiled. “Hi, bossman.”

He smiled, leant over you, and kissed your forehead. “Have you been good today?” He asked.

You shrugged and took one of his hands into your free one. “I did what you asked if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been out all day.”

“Good, my dear. Good,” he said before sitting on the bed and caressing your cheek. “I don’t want anyone else taking you away from me.”

“I wouldn’t want them to, love.” You smiled, gazing into his eyes.

As World started to say something, your friend texted you back a meme. Because of the addictive nature of technology, your head snapped to your screen. You laughed.

World’s eyes hardened. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just a friend.” You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side. You could worry about responding later.

“Just a friend, huh?” He asked. “A friend that makes you laugh?”

His sudden change in attitude threw you off and you sat up more. “Well, it was less my friend and more a meme he sent me.”

“He?” World growled.

He seemed to grow bigger, or maybe you were just pushing yourself into the bed more.

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. “I thought you said he was okay to talk to.”

World gripped your wrists, kneeling on the bed, and pushed you down. “I told you not to leave the house.” He jerked you off the bed and began to drag you out of the room in your underwear.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I was just talking to him,” you pleaded as you tried to stand. His grip tightened and began to hurt. “World, love, please, stop. You’re hurting me.”

Just as you had managed to get in a crouching position to stand, World yanks you down. You land with a thud on the cold, wooden floor.

“Hurting you? Never, my dear. No, I’m just punishing you for disobeying me.” He stood over you, his fists clenched.

“I- I didn’t. I didn’t go outside.”

That only seemed to piss him off more.

“I said not to leave the house. That means technologically as well. You disobeyed me, my dear. I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve given me no choice.”

•

Present Day

You woke up in a fetal position in bed. Clenching your fists, you willed yourself to forget about the nightmare. Shakily, you pushed yourself up, blankets falling off you. A part of you expected, when you looked at them, you’d find the ones World had gotten for you. Instead, you were greeted by a different set, the top one with a close-up of a bunch of wolves perched atop a cliff with a forest in the background on it.

“I had one of the Children get some other blankets from a nearby store,” Technical Boy said, glued to his phone. “I didn’t tell it any specific type of blankets to get, so it just grabbed some. Hope you like wolves.”

Assured in the knowledge World hadn’t had a hand in getting these, you laid back down, pulling the blankets over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing heavily, and curled back into a fetal position.

•

Weeks passed and you slowly healed. The Child that you had been in front of when the car struck had partially protected you, so you were better off than if it’d rammed into without any sort of cushioning. Still, rehab was fucking painful.

Technical Boy mostly said nothing, preferring his tech to others, particularly you. When he did speak, it was sarcastic and filled with a feeling of superiority. It tended to get on your nerves. But it was better than the alternative. Occasionally, he’d get a text and he’d be out the door faster than the Flash going at light speed. It was rare but still, you dreaded those texts because he’d always leave one of the creepy Children behind, or several depending on how he was feeling.

You’d talk to Technical Boy, of course. Well, not specifically to him, but you’d talk aloud to kill time. It was mostly rambling about one thing or another. Sometimes you’d talk about your parents and family, other times you’d talk about random things you’d learnt over the years. On very rare occasions, maybe once or twice, you’d talk about World and what it was like with him. It was nice, just talking without anyone listening but someone still being physically there. You knew he didn’t care and he probably wasn’t listening, but that didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Sometimes, he’d stop scrolling or playing a game for so long you thought he was listening. Thankfully, he was just reading something when that happened. Talking “to” Technical Boy was like talking to a brick wall in the best way possible.

Now, you laid in bed, throwing things at the ceiling, head relaxed against the headboard. You closed your eyes, groaning.

Out of pure boredom and nostalgia, you remembered a school play you’d been forced to do; The Wizard of Oz. You had played the Wicked Witch of the West for the second half of the play. Despite the rather enjoyable performance, you did hate the green face paint you’d had to wear. It didn’t feel good against your skin. As you remembered the play, you began to think about the song Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead that your Mum had always teased you with. That and the whole “I’m melting scene”. The song rang through your head as you tried to remember all the words, but the same lines repeated over and over again.

“Ding-dong! The witch is dead. Which old witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding-dong! The Wicked Witch is dead,” you sang, very much off-key but with a childish enjoyment.

Technical Boy joined in with his eyes still glued to his phone. “Wake up, ya sleepy-head. Rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

“Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead!” You both sang out, Technical Boy was much quieter than you.

Your head fell forward and you giggled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. Technical Boy, unused to the sound, looked up at you, the edges of his mouth twitching up. But, when you looked at him, he looked away, his lips straining into a white line as he tried to cover up the smile. You curiously watched him for a while like you were waiting for him to do something. Upon deciding he was too boring to do anything of note, you started humming Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead to yourself. The song had ingrained itself into your brain.

Technical Boy typed something into his phone before speaking. “I can play it out loud if you want.” He showed you his phone’s screen.

You couldn’t tell what was on it as it was too far away, but you assumed it was Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead. “Sure. If you want.”

He pressed play and turned up the volume, but the noise was minuscule. Technical Boy gave it a confused look, frowning, and mouthed a “what the fuck”. For a few minutes, you watched him fuck around with his phone, trying to solve the problem.

Eventually, he turned to you. “Sorry. Volume isn’t working as it should. Must be some sort of hardware issue. I’ll take a closer look later.”

You considered, for a moment, that maybe Technical Boy wasn’t as good with his tech as he liked to boast. Then you remembered that TECHnical Boy was a TECH god and this is probably happening because he wants it to, on some level. You internally laugh at the thought.

‘Maybe he really hates that song,’ you thought.

“It’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to hear if you get closer,” you said with a small smile.

You could have sworn he was blushing at that moment. That was definitely peculiar. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

Technical Boy scratched the back of his neck, looking away from you. “Yeah, sure. That- that could work.” He got up, shuffling his sneakers along the tile.

As he neared your bed, he rewound the video and started playing it. Instead of sitting on the bed, he awkwardly stood there, holding his phone closer to you.

You laughed lightly before patting the bed. “You can sit down, you know that right? I’m not as easily broken as you might think.”

“I don’t think you’re easily broken at all,” he mumbled as he sat down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Technical Boy drug the timer back to the zero second mark, replaying the video.

You shuffled around, listening to the song, before getting closer. Your chest pressed against Technical Boy’s back as you rested your chin on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he was very warm.

You’d expected him to be like his domain, cold and calculating, but, you supposed, he’d always been very angry and loud, just like the other part of his domain. You smiled softly, recognizing the duality to him. The angry, emotional, loud human-dominated Internet and the cold, logical, data-processing technology-dominated, well, tech. Then, you remembered how phones and computers were. It had been so long since you’d had one, it was like a far off memory. But, all technology tended to warm up as they were used and cooled when they weren’t.

You nuzzled into his strangely soft sweater, your cheek pressing lightly against Technical Boy's neck. Blood rushed up to his neck as his heart beat heavily, you could hear it more than you could hear the music. It was very calming. Though the rapidness of the beat was slightly concerning. Usually, humans have really fast heartbeats wasn’t a good sign, but he wasn’t human so maybe it worked differently.

Technical Boy glanced down at you, trying not to disturb you. A soft smile spread across his face. A blush did the same thing over his cheeks and his ears tinted pink as your hands found their way to his side.

You sighed, content, as you relaxed.

You hadn’t meant to get so physical with Technical Boy, but it felt nice to feel someone else’s warmth for once. To even be near someone again without fear of getting hurt was a huge relief. Though you knew if World ever found out, he’d kill you both or worse.

At the thought of the cruel god, you reached for where your necklace used to be. Instead, you grasped at nothing. The reminder that World had taken your necklace made you feel empty and cold even with the heater named Technical Boy letting you hold onto him. Your eyebrows knitted together as sadness filled your heart, weighing it down. Still holding nothing, you pressed your face into the tech god’s shoulder.

Technical Boy gently reached for the hand still on his side. He grasped it and pulled it around his stomach, gently rubbing your knuckles. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, just as surprised by his own concern and gentleness as you were.

If it had been anyone else, he would have pushed them away, but this was you and, after all the weeks you’d spent rambling, he felt like he knew you better than World did.

To be fair, most people probably knew you better than World did.

Still, Technical Boy had started to understand why World wanted you so badly. You were so human and so sweet, laughing at your own jokes and, in a way, treating him like a pet like always humans tend to do with technology. The way you so easily spoke to him about whatever was on your mind and the way you smiled even when you weren’t doing anything, was so human and he found that, despite how he had always viewed humans, he liked that about you. He wouldn’t say he felt anything stronger, but he did like it. Maybe more than he should.

You tiredly looked up at him, lips grazing his sweater (Technical Boy found himself wishing he wasn’t wearing one) and gave him a strained smile.

“I’m alright, I suppose,” you said. “I’m just wishing I still had my necklace. It helps calm me down.”

Technical Boy nodded, his phone turning off.

You didn’t know if he did that or it did it by itself.

“What’s it look like?”

His gaze seems to drop to your lips before darting back to your eyes, but you can’t be sure of yourself.

You shrugged. “Head of Medusa and gold sprigs of laurel shooting out from the pendant.”

Technical Boy nodded, mentally putting a yellow sticky note on a rough image of the necklace he had in his head with “find” written in red on it. “Sounds cool,” he said, meaning it but sounding rather casual about it. He mentally facepalmed.

You nodded, still touching the place the pendant once hung in front of.

Technical Boy noticed your despondency and put the yellow sticky note and the necklace under important.

You trailed your free hand down Technical Boy’s back, nails sending tingles all over his body.

This was something you both needed, but both rarely got.

Physical touch is the hardest thing you’ve ever come by, especially after meeting World.

As for Technical Boy, he was a lonely god surrounded by cold fellow New Gods and unfulfilling worship. Though he was necessary for the U.S. to function, the people’s belief in him wasn’t really belief IN him. It was a belief that technology is going to solve everyone’s problems. They do not view him as a deity and they do not know he even exists. It’s a sad thing for a god to be worshipped but not known truly within their worshippers. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other gods like Media and World didn’t really like him and they did nothing to hide it.

He glanced at you again. You caught it and smiled softly, wrapping your other arm around him, enjoying the warmth of him and the feeling of another being. The god leant into you, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. His hands found yours and he absentmindedly rubbed them.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy snorted. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s just-- You’re Technical Boy. You don’t like humans, so you probably aren’t the biggest fan of this.” You shifted slightly but still held him close.

He turned to look at you. “If I wasn’t okay with this I would make it known. I tend to do that.” A slight, itty bitty smile surfaced. “I can show you if you want? Trust me, I can be really loud and annoying.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth as you laughed.

Technical Boy’s smile widened and there was a strange light to his eyes as he watched you.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ya know, I’m really touch-starved, so, trust me, I’m enjoying this,” he said.

Silently, you reached for one of his hands and held it in your own. “So am I, to be honest. World was never really one for touching. I was often pretty lonely…” You trailed off, eyes wandering. “It’s not much like that now, though. Even with him looming over me, at least you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said. Part of him wanted to kiss your cheek, but his far more logical side decided that would be a dumb idea. Instead, he squeezed your hand and smiled. “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

All you could do was smile.

•

The Child sat there in Technical Boy’s chair like an action figure not in use.

Laying on your stomach at the end of your bed, your head sat on your crossed arms as you watched the empty, motionless creation.

Technical Boy had gotten one of those texts and had to leave. One of the Children had taken his place.

Ever since that conversation a few weeks or so ago and all the touching that happened, the tech god had opened up a little more, willingly joking with you and talking. You’d finally gotten to know more about the god. Turns out he was moderately decent sometimes.

You continued staring at the Child, your head falling to lay down. Blowing out a breath of air, you flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

World, thankfully, had been too busy to stop by in ages.

Sometimes, you’d learnt, you were fine with his name and existence being mentioned. Other times, you weren’t. Sometimes, you were scared, but his presence didn’t make you freak out. Other times, it did. The whole thing was pretty inconsistent.

You’d missed Technical Boy. His presence had a calming effect on you to a degree you didn’t understand. Still, when he laughed, you smiled with pride. When he smiled at you, your heart clenched in your chest. And, of course, when you caught him stealing a glance at you, you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening made you jump and you quickly turned to see who it was.

Silently, you hoped it was Technical Boy and feared it was World.

A familiar face walked in with something in his hands.

“Tech!” You smiled and sat up.

He grinned at you before slipping whatever was in his hands behind his back and walking in. Realizing the Child was still there, he gave it a look and it got up. It left and shut the door behind it.

“I got something for you,” Technical Boy said, turning his attention back to you. “I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Head tilting with curiosity, you look at him. “What is it?”

He chuckled and sat down on your bed. “You’ll have to open it and see,” he said, pulling a small box from behind his back. He handed it to you.

Gently, you took the box and opened it. Inside sat a shell-shaped compact mirror. Though definitely disappointed, you were more confused than anything. You took it out and examined it.

“Why did you give me a mirror?” You asked.

Technical Boy’s grin grew. “Cause, without it, you wouldn’t be able to see what I’m about to give you.” He slipped behind you on the bed and opened the mirror over your shoulders, placing it in your hand. “Now, close your eyes and don’t open them till I say,” he whispered into your ear.

You leant back into him, enjoying the closeness. Though you were reluctant and a little confused, you closed your eyes anyway, deciding to trust Technical Boy.

You listened as shuffled around. A sudden and strange, though familiar, feeling of something settling around your neck made you tense, but that tension faded quickly.

“Okay,” he said. “Open ‘em.” Technical Boy’s head settled on your shoulder and he wrapped his arms around your waist, watching you in anticipation.

Just as you began to open your eyes, he stopped you. “Wait, hold up.” You felt one of his hands cup yours as he adjusted the mirror. “Okay, now.”

You opened them, greeted by a view of your necklace shining in the bright, artificial lighting. Your jaw drops as you stare at the terrifying face of Medusa. A warmth finds its way into your heart as your open mouth turns into a grin. Gently, filled with disbelief, you reach up and touch the pendant. Realizing it was truly there and not an illusion or something, a weight lifted off you, knowing you hadn’t lost it. You sighed in relief and clutched the pendant, closing your eyes.

Out of excitement, you turn around and wrap your arms around Technical Boy, hugging him tightly.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. He knew you’d be happy but he hadn’t anticipated this. Remembering all the fanfics, posts, shows, and movies put on the internet, he realized hugging back would be a smart option. That would definitely help with keeping his blush hidden. He hugged you back, nuzzling into your neck.

As you pulled away slightly, you looked at him, still smiling.

He shyly smiled back.

You knew he blushed rather easily, but the sight of his face so flushed and ears so pink was a little shocking. It was still cute, though.

You fell back into him and rested your head on his chest.

Technical Boy squeezed you tight, resting his head against yours. He closed his eyes, finding himself able to relax with you.

A few seconds of silence passed before you decided, on a random whim, to kiss Technical Boy’s cheek.

He froze.

If he was pink before, he was Hot Tamale Red now.

You giggled lightly before beaming up at him.

Honestly, you couldn’t say why you did it. All you knew was that it felt right.

The door to your room slammed open and World appeared. Both you and Technical Boy snapped your heads to look at him, eyes wide.

You scrambled away from Technical Boy and off the bed, eyes going wide at the sight of your terrifying ex.

"And what exactly is going on here?" World asked. He stepped into the room and glared at you

The tech god got off the bed and put himself between the two of you, pulling World's attention away from you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt, especially because of him. He didn't care if he got hurt. Technical Boy was a god; he could handle it. You were human and World had already done enough.

"Nothing much," he said. "Just talking."

World got closer.

Your heart pounded against your chest. The familiar fear of his presence shaking you to your core.

The way he approached reminded you so much of how he used to right before he laid into you, all height and glaring. He was going to hurt you again. Or Technical Boy.

Gods, Technical Boy. You didn't want him hurt. He'd been so kind to you over the last few weeks and had really come out of his metallic and rude shell. The thought of him regressing and being cold to you again sickened you.

"It seems as though I've caught my beloved and you doing much more than “talking”," World hissed.

Out of pure fear, you hide more behind Technical Boy, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Y/N hugged me," the god said, maintaining eye contact with World. "That's it. They were thanking me."

World took off his fedora, his long coat hanging off his shoulder. "For what?" His head jerked unnaturally.

"For being here when you weren't and for getting them their necklace back," Technical Boy said.

You hadn't noticed how tense he was until World was nearly on top of the two of you. He was just as scared as you were. Technical Boy breathed heavily through his nose but refused to flinch.

World pointed at your necklace and growled, "You shouldn't have that."

Your hand shot to your necklace, clutching the pendant in shaking fingers.

"And who are you to dictate that?" Technical Boy asked.

World, angered by Technical Boy's insubordination, walked to him and looked him in the eye. "You will leave if you know what's good for you, Boy," he said unwaveringly. "And, if you know what's good for them." World turned away, his fingers trailing across the end of your bed. "Unless, of course, you want them to receive the worst possible treatment for their injuries."

Technical Boy's eyes went wide and his jaw tensed. He looked to you.

You didn't want him to go. You didn't want to be left alone with World. You didn't want to left alone at all. Despite that, you also didn't want to end up in a dark room to die and you didn't want Technical Boy to feel guilty if that happened.

Turning to the tech god, you nodded toward the door, mouthing the word "go".

He hesitantly tried to say something, eyes glistening with sorrow and guilt, but didn't, defeated.

As he left, his heart heavy, you gave him a pained smile and wave. Once he walked through the doorway, your smile fell and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You already knew what World was going to do.

He turned to you, scowling.

•

Outside the room, Technical Boy stood, already hating himself for leaving you to deal with him alone. The number of times World had hurt him because he wasn’t perfect or didn’t do what World wanted exactly as he wanted it done and had the shite beaten out of him for it was astronomical. He’d always wished Media had done something about it when it happened, but she never did. Now, he had done the same thing to you.

He heard you yelp and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. Your cries echoed in his ears as World beat you. Though the door was shut, it did nothing to mask what he was doing to you. Technical Boy could faintly hear him saying this to you. He couldn't fully make them out, but he knew, in his heart, they were as vicious and violent as he was.

It took all of the tech god's self-control not to rush back in and protect you. He'd shield you with his own body if he had to.

Sadly, the god knew you'd only be worse off if he did. So, he sucked it up and walked away, fists clenched.

He had to figure out a way to get you out of here before World made sure you'd never go anywhere again.

•

You laid in bed, curled up with the blankets Technical Boy had gotten for you. The cloth felt soft and strange against your skin like you weren’t used to the feeling of safety and warmth around you. Even though you’d been using them for months at this point, the blankets still felt foreign. They were better than any World could force on you, at least. And, they reminded you of Technical Boy.

Since the day you told him to go, you hadn’t heard a peep. It was like he vanished from your like.

Honestly, you were worried about him and thought about him a lot. You had no idea if he was alright or not. Unfortunately, you'd experienced just how cruel World could be when he was angry; your face and body were plenty of evidence of that. Though Technical Boy was a god and World couldn't kill him, you feared for Technical Boy's safety. Over the years you'd been with World, he showed an apathy toward Technical Boy, if not hatred for him. He'd been violent with the tech god before. You knew he would be like that again on a whim. That's all it ever took; a whim.

The door to your room opened.

Tensing, you pulled your blankets closer. You shook slightly, closing your eyes and letting out a fearful breath. A free hand laid where the pendant of your necklace should be.

You'd been expecting him to come back to teach you another lesson. World had come every day since he's taken Technical Boy off "Y/N duty".

Slowly, you steadied your breathing and opened your eyes. A part of you hoped he'd find no joy in it today, that he'd grow tired of you and toss you aside. Even if you ended up dying, it'd be better than living in fear of World for the rest of your life.

"Y/N," a familiar and gentle voice said.

You wiped the blanket off and turned to look at the speaker; Technical Boy stood there with bruises on his face. They didn't take away from how happy you were to see him.

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile, but his eyes screamed of pain. "Hey."

Of course, World had hurt him. You knew he would. It was World. But, that feeling in your chest, the feeling of your heart squeezing, the feeling you'd felt when World showed up randomly early on, the feeling of relief and love filled you as you looked at the tech god.

Without hesitation, you pushed away from the blankets and scrambled off the bed, not even thinking about them falling to the floor. You didn't give Technical Boy a second to breathe as you pulled him into a tight hug. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you screwed your eyes shut and breathed him in.

After the initial shock, Technical Boy slowly hugged back. He tested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. "Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks. His soft eyes searched yours.

You chuckled, tears of joy pooling at the corners of your eye. “I’m-- I’m better now,” you said with a smile.

Technical Boy relaxed a little, but still, his eyes stayed trained on your face. His fingers ghosted over your bruises and split lip.

It made you wince.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did he do this to you?”

You looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. "He cause those?" You asked, turning back and gesturing to Technical Boy's face.

For a beat, there was silence. Without having to say a word, both of you knew what happened.

You pulled him into another hug and he quickly reciprocated.

"I can't stay long. World doesn't even know I'm here right now. I hope he doesn't, anyway." Technical Boy pulled away and smiled at you. "I'm going to get you out of here, and soon. I promise." His eyes drifted to your chest, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion before turning into anger. "And I'm going to get your necklace back from World."

You looked down, putting a hand over where your necklace should be. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a necklace.”

It wasn’t, in fact, just a necklace. It was a gift from someone who actually, selflessly cared. Though you hadn’t talked to Soteria since you’d gotten the necklace, you knew she had been watching and trying to keep you safe. You knew it in your heart of hearts, in your essence, in your very soul itself. Maybe it was a want to have someone on your side or blind stupidity, but you had an unending faith that she was with you, that she was protecting you and guiding you even now. It was that faith you clung to when World would come in. It was that faith that kept you sane. Even before Technical Boy had been sent away, it was that faith that helped you get through even the worst days where your mind would plague you will horrible memories of World and your life with him.

Technical Boy shook his head. “It’s not just a necklace. It’s your necklace. It belongs with you, not him.”

You smiled softly at him, relishing in his gentle touch.

“I’m going to get it back for you and I’m going to get you out of here, so be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, okay?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

You nodded before hugging him again.

Real, genuine, caring contact with another being, no matter how artificial, is the only thing you wanted at the moment. Everything else be damned.

•

The door to your room opened in the night. No light shone in as all was quiet. It was past midnight. Of course, all was quiet. It’d be weird if it was loud and noisy.

Laying in bed, you slept as soundly as you could with the constant threat of World looming over you and plaguing your scarred mind.

Technical Boy looked back into the dark, empty hall before slipping into your room.

His own fear and doubt squirming through his mind and infecting him. Around every corner, his heart had beaten loudly in his chest as he could never be sure someone was just around the corner. Though the god knew how to manipulate technology, even recreate and control it to a certain extent, he was still afraid that World would pop up while Technical Boy had blinded himself by taking the cameras offline. It felt wrong to not be able to see everything through the cameras. It was too late to take it back though.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy said as he gently shut the door. When you didn’t respond he got close to your bed and nudged you. “Come on, wake up. We need to go.”

You groaned quietly and tried to pull the covers over your head but Technical Boy stopped you. He pulled them off the bed and stared at you.

You whined, trying to curl up, but the god wasn’t having any of that.

“Y/N, get the fuck up or I swear to God I will throw you over my fucking shoulder,” he said putting his hands on his hips.

You groaned again and flopped to your back. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he said. “Now let’s go.” The tech god pointed at the door.

You sat up, back stiff, and stretched. “Outside?”

He nodded. “I said I’d get you out of here, didn’t I?” Technical Boy smiled before offering you his hand.

The two of you shared a smile. Just as you reached out to take his hand, you remembered World and froze.

“What about--”

“Don’t worry about him,” Technical Boy said. “I’ve got a plan. Right now, we need to go.” He grabbed you and pulled you from the bed.

•

Outside the compound World had been keeping you in, you stared at the night sky. The beautiful blues and blacks melting together, and the points of white stars twinkling high above. You never thought something could be so beautiful. The stars danced in your eyes.

Technical Boy, holding the door to his limo open, stared at you like you stared at the sky.

Feeling his eyes on you, you looked to him and gave him a soft smile.

If it wasn’t so dark, you could have been sure of whether or not he was blushing. Instead, the darkness hid his embarrassment for him as he turned away from you.

“Get in,” he said, gesturing to the limo.

You nodded and walked over. Before you slipped inside the bright automobile, you gently kissed Technical Boy’s cheek.

He stood there for a moment, stunned as the tips of his ears turned pink. Swallowing hard, he gets into the limo, sitting next to you.

•

Standing in the busy airport, you looked around, clutching the carryon bag Technical Boy had packed for you.

Patiently, you waited for the tech god to appear. He had to get some things in order before your departure.

When he did appear, he seemed nervous, scanning the crowd with fearful eyes. He stopped in front of you, still scanning.

You understood his fear. It was a similar kind to what you had felt when you’d run from World.

Gently, you touched his arm, tearing his attention from the crowd. You gave him a gentle smile.

The god softened and weakly smiled back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Technical Boy shrugged, looking down. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me.”

•

On the plane, a child kicked your seat from behind and the man at the end of the row was talking loudly on the phone. You felt bad for the grey-clad man sitting between the two of you. He was getting it far worse than you.

Looking away from the commotion, you watched the people outside the plane scramble around and grasped the necklace’s pendant.

You were so close to freedom. Close enough to taste it. Or maybe that was just the aeroplane smell.

Despite still being in the U.S., you smiled. Even if the plane crashed, you wouldn’t be stuck with World. Even if the plane gets redirected somewhere or there’s a storm and the plane has to make a landing, you could still stay away from World long enough to get another ticket out of here. It would be a terrifying ordeal, but you could do it. Even if, worst comes to worst, World finds out and finds you again, you knew you could find a way out of his grasps again.

And if none of that comes to pass, you leave the U.S. for good, and never see anyone here again, you knew you could be happy. Maybe find someone to settle down with or get an animal or something. Maybe find a good job that you can mostly enjoy that isn’t totally soul-crushing. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you can get a few hobbies that bring you joy like nothing ever could.

If you’re lucky that is, but you’ve never really been that lucky. Who knows? Maybe that will change.