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hihomeghere · 1 year ago

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Nightwing | Diego Hargreeves/reader

Word Count : 4k Summary : You try to keep Diego Hargreeves off your mind, especially after your break up. But after he breaks into your apartment begging you to patch him up. All the good and bad memories come flooding back. (this is my first time writing for Diego so please be nice) Warnings/tags : Smut, cursing, hospital setting, reader is a nurse, mentions of blood, wounds, and bullets. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters)

You rubbed your eyes, getting used to the darkness your bedroom was shrouded in. Bleary eyed you reached blindly for the vibrating phone on your nightstand, the culprit for so rudely waking you up. You groaned, slamming your phone back down as you read the contact name.

The words Do Not Answer, glowed on your Lock Screen in the dim lit room. Diego Hargreeves.

It was too fucking late for him to be calling you. There was no way you’d be playing nurse for him anymore, especially on one of your only nights off.

Instead you sat awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling while your phone finally stopped buzzing. Well at least he was smart enough not to call you back. Accepting the fact that you would not be falling back asleep you got up. Slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers you padded down the hall into your kitchen. You flipped on the overhead oven light, before grabbing your bread bag. You popped two pieces of bread in your toaster. You leaned up against your counter trying to get a certain Hargreeves off your mind. This whole situation started a little over a year ago, on one of your shifts.

You leaned against the cool brick wall of the hospital, the cold air seeping through your scrubs. You rubbed your arms, trying to warm up. You had forgotten your coat before going on your break and you knew the second you stepped back in the break room you’d get a call.

So here you were, freezing your ass off behind the back of the hospital. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, swiping through Facebook. Not that anyone was posting anything, after all it was close to 2am. You let out a deep breath, watching your hot breath drift up in front of your face. You chuckled to yourself, puffing out hot air.

“What are you 10?” A deep voice groaned from your left. You jumped, your hand covering your wildly beating heart.

“I don’t have any money,” You said quickly, raising your hands, “please I’m on my break. I don’t even have my freaking coat.” You said nervously, backing up against the wall.

“I’m not gonna rob you.” The man said as he limped out into the light. He was obviously hurt, his hand pressing against his side. Blood stained his hand, as he gave you a sideways smile.

“Damn it.” You sighed, before you rushed towards him. “You know there’s an emergency room for a reason right?” You said as you started to pull his sweater up, slowly unsticking it from his skin. He hissed, squeezing his eyes close.

“Yeah, well I’m trying to keep a low profile.” He grunted, shifting to offer you a better angle for looking at the wound in his side.

“What’s with the mask, nightwing?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked over the wound. He let out a laugh before taking a sharp inhale as your fingers grazed the bullet hole. “Well you’re in luck, it’s only a graze. Although it looks like a bullet wound, want to explain that?” You said sitting back on your heels.

“Like I said, low profile.” He smirked again, you only shook your head.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do out here under these lights.” You said pointing above you, “Lucky for you I can get you in the back, all low profile like.” You teased getting to your feet.

“My hero.” You turned toward the back door, pulling out your keycard. You swiped your keycard, the red light turning green. You pushed open the door, waving the man in.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” You said walking him down the hall, you pulled over a spare bed, patting it.

“Nice to meet you.” He groaned as he sat down on the bed. You peeled his sweater off of his side, he grabbed it holding it up for you.

“Alright you stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You said giving him a small smile before running to get your gloves, needles, surgical thread, and some antiseptic. You ran back, narrowly avoiding your coworkers.

“There you are doc,” He said leaning back, he was lucky he didn’t get a straight gut shot.

“Just a nurse.” You reminded him with a smile. You began laying out your tools, he took in a sharp breath turning his head. “Hey, are you alright?” You asked, laying your hand on his shoulder.

“Yep. Yep. Just uh-“ He shook his head, “can’t do needles.” Your furrowed your brows.

“So a bullet wound is just fine but needles are the shit that freaks you out?” You said as you began to clean the graze. He hissed again, his hard body tensing under your fingers.

“Does that ruin the whole mysterious vigilante thing?” He asked, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, you’re still very cool and mysterious.” You chuckled as you began to suture his wound. He barely moved under your hands, only wincing now and again. Once you were finished you took off your gloves, throwing them away in the trash. You patted his leg, “Alright nightwing, you’re all done. But you’ll have to come back to get your stitches taken out.” He nodded getting off of the bed.

“Thank you,” He smiled at you as you walked him to the back door.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as well, pushing open the door. He stepped into the cold air, “Come back in two weeks, alright?” You called after him.

“Whatever you say doc.” He said walking into the darkness.

After that night you would normally see Mr. Vigilante whenever he had an injury he couldn’t just put a bandaid over and call it good. He always seemed to take care of them once you had patched him up.

“I came here the other night.” He said as you tied off a new cut on his calf, “You must not have been working. Had to go crawling to my mom.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Probably gave her a heart attack.” You said, raising your eyebrows, “Is she a nurse?” You asked standing up.

“Um,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “no, but she used to patch me up when I was a kid.” He shrugged, rolling his pant legs back down.

“Oh so this Evel Knievel stuff started long ago.” You laughed putting your hands on your hips.

“You could say that.” He smirked, nodding his head. You fought with yourself for a moment, if you weren’t working you were at home. You could always give him your number. A quick text would let him know if you were working or not. But then you’d also be telling him your address if you weren’t working. Telling him your address wasn’t like giving him a key. He could just stop by your place if you weren’t working, to avoid giving his poor mother a heart attack.

“You know, you could always text me to see if I'm working or not. It would save you a trip if I wasn’t.” You said looking down at your white sneakers.

“A little forward, don’t you think?” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Alright, just make sure you don’t bleed out before you reach your mommy’s house.” You said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders as you turned away from him. He reached out, his hand wrapping around your forearm as he pulled you back to face him.

“Alright alright, you’ve twisted my arm. Give me your phone.” He said, rolling his eyes, his hand out in front of you.

“Talk about being forward.” You laughed while handing over your phone. He put his number in, while you stood in front of him. He handed it back to you, crossing his arms.

“Diego?” You asked, reading his contact name.

“Can’t have you calling me nightwing anymore.” He shrugged as he got to his feet. You walked him to the back door, as you always did. Watching as he walked away from the hospital.

“I’ll see you Diego.” You called, his name rolling off your tongue.

“See ya, doc.” He called over his shoulder before being enveloped by the darkness.

You jumped slightly as your toast popped out of the toaster. You set the bread down on your plate, slathering them with butter. You walked into your living room, plopping down on your leather couch.

There was a knock on your window, you groaned. That asshole wouldn’t come here. You stood up turning to your window, only to be face to face with Diego. His mask was gone, and his lip was bloody. He pointed down at the lock on the window, mouthing please through the glass.

You stomped over to the window, flipping the lock before you pulled up open the window.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve coming here.” You huffed, clenching your fists at your sides.

“C’mon baby.” He whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Don’t.” You hissed, shaking your head. “Just get inside before someone sees you.” You said walking back into your kitchen. He followed you like a lost puppy, hanging his head as he leaned on your kitchen counter.

You hated how well he fit in your home. Like he still belonged here, even after everything he had said.

Pushing those thoughts away you pulled your first aid kit out from under the sink. Laying out your tools on the counter next to Diego.

“What is it, other than that busted lip.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“You weren’t answering my calls” He said looking up at you through his full eyelashes.

“Why would I?” You said turning away from him. Having him in your kitchen was almost too painful, bringing back too many good memories.

Your phone buzzed next to you, you picked it up reading Diego’s text message.

You jumped up from your couch rushing to grab your medical kit. It was a normal occurrence for him to come crashing into your apartment late at night. Only for you to patch him up under your kitchen lights. You started laying your tools out on your kitchen counter. Before you rushed over to your sink, washing your hands and your upper arms.

Diego crashed through your window, landing on the rug below it. He slowly got to his feet as you rushed to meet him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your heart beating out of your chest. He raised his head, his eyebrows were knitted together as he put a hand over his chest. “Diego what is it?” Your anxiety was through the roof, he was never this quiet. Although you couldn’t see any obvious injuries.

“Doc,” He started, his warm hand enveloping your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat as his other hand tilted your chin up.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“It’s my heart, doc.” He said, a grin spreading across his face, “You gotta fix it for me.” You searched his face, your furrowed eyebrows relaxing as you snorted.

“How long have you been waiting to use that one?” You laughed, your anxiety leaving your body through your giggles.

“A while actually.” He chuckled, cupping your face. His eyes searched for any resistance to his advances. You raised your hand, softly tracing over his scar. You could now cross that off your bucket list. You breathed in each other’s essence in your small kitchen, your slippers scuffing against the linoleum floor.

“Are you gonna fix it?” He whispered, even though it was only you two.

“What?” You asked as his hands moved from your face to your hips.

“My heart?” He said a coy smile on his face. You pulled him into a kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. His lips were soft against yours, softer than you imagined and so warm. You could feel him smile into the kiss, you could almost curl your toes at the sensation. You pulled away staring into his deep brown eyes.

“How’d you rate the pain?” You asked, laying your hand over his heart.

“I think I need some more medicine, doc.” He said nosing against your cheek, laying a kiss against the corner of your lips.

“I think I can do that.” You chuckled, pulling him into another kiss. You tugged lightly on his hair, pulling a groan out of him. You slowly walked backwards, pulling him along with you. Diego followed you into your bedroom, your legs collided with your bed. You fell back, Diego caging you between his arms. You moved your hands under his sweater, feeling his lean abs under your fingers. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head discarding it behind him. You traced over his scars, studying his body without having to patch him up.

“Hey, my turn.” He smirked, pinning your wrists above your head. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts. You shivered as the cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening. He flashed you a devilish smile before taking one of your tits in his mouth. He sucked and nipped, while his other hand pinched your nipple. You bucked against his mouth, squirming under his grasp.

He pulled back, tugging your shirt over your head. You shimmied out of your cotton shorts and panties. Leaving yourself completely bare under him.

“Hello nurse.” He grinned, taking in your body. He ran his hands down your hips before swiping his finger through your folds. He slowly pushed a finger inside you, chuckling as you let out a moan. He started pumping his digits, curling them inside. You whined as he pulled them out, he moaned as he sucked them clean. He stood up, kicking off his pants and underwear before joining you on the bed.

He fisted his cock in his hand, pumping his shaft a couple times before lining the head up with your opening. He looked up at you before slowly pushing in. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his soft flesh. He didn’t seem to mind as his eyes rolled back into his head as he bottomed out. He was bigger than you imagined, his tip all but kissing your cervix.

“Move Diego please.” You whined, blinking away the tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes. He grinned before he started moving his hips. He began a slow grind into your cunt, his pubic hair rubbing against your clit. Going slow enough to get you teetering on the edge, his mouth attached to neck. “Please Diego!” You cried, wrapping your legs around his hips trying to get more friction between the two of you.

“What do you want, baby?” He chuckled darkly, you could feel it through his chest more than you could hear it.

“More, please” You whined. He suddenly snapped his hips against yours, pulling all the way out before slamming back into you. It was enough to cause your orgasm to come crashing down. You spasmed against him, your body going limp as you swore you saw white. A constant mantra of Diego’s name fell out of your mouth as he pounded into you. A bead of sweat fell from his chest down the valley of your breasts.

His thrusts started getting sloppy as he tightened his grip on your hips, pulling them against his own. He let out a groan as he came, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you as his cock twitched. He fell on top of you, breathing hard against your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in.

“How’s your heart?” You asked, he chuckled before propping himself up on his arm.

“Never better, doc.”

Since that night you were inseparable, if you weren’t at work you were with him. Whether that be at your place or his. The last eight months were the best of your life. You were utterly content with your relationship with Diego, you should have known something would go wrong.

You headed into the gym, balancing your takeout boxes as you walked down the hall to Diego’s place. It was late, and you had just gotten off a long shift. You were looking forward to eating some take out and watching shitty movies on his shitty couch. Instead, you could hear arguing coming from the other side of his door.

“Absolutely not, now you need to leave before she gets here.” Diego said from the other side of the door.

“Who is this mystery woman you’re always talking about? ‘Oh Klaus, no you can’t meet her.’ ‘She’s different than the others.’ Blah, blah, blah. Just put on your big girl panties and introduce me!” The man replied.

“No way. Now let’s go.” The door opened in front of you, you were face to face with Diego and another man. He had short curly brown hair, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he had the prettiest green eyes you had ever seen.

“Y/n.” Diego’s face fell as he laid his eyes on you. The man beside him gasped as he turned back to Diego.

“Is this her?” He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“Diego, who is this?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“I’m Klaus, his brother.” Klaus said, sticking out his hand. You took it, giving him a warm smile. You didn’t know Diego had a brother.

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you!” You said before turning to look back at Diego. “Diego didn’t tell me he had a brother.”

“More like four.” Klaus scoffed, throwing an arm around Diego’s shoulder. Four brothers? “And not counting our two sisters.” Klaus added as you turned back to him with wide eyes. Six siblings that he had just forgotten to mention? Diego shrugged Klaus's arm off of his shoulder, glaring daggers at him.

“Well Klaus was just leaving.” Diego said, clenching his jaw.

“Diego.” You scolded.

“Oh well, you know how these Hargreeves are.” Klaus smiled turning to you, the closer he got you noticed how he reeked of alcohol. Although you felt extremely sober. Hargreeves. Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves? Klaus walked back down the hall, talking to someone who wasn’t there.

“Hargreeves?” You asked, turning to look at him. He sighed looking down at the ground. “Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves?” Diego turned and walked back inside his studio. Taking two stairs at a time to put as much distance between the two of you. You were hot on his heels, you set down the take out boxes before turning to face him. He had his arms crossed over his chest, looking off to the side. “Well?” You asked impatiently.

“Well it’s not like you asked!” He said his shoulders rising.

“What, next are you gonna tell me that the Alison Hargreeves is one of your sisters?” You laughed humorlessly. He bit his lip, turning away from you. “Unbelievable.” You said, shaking your head.

“You know this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said suddenly turning on you, “Cause I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh I can handle it.” You scoffed taking a step away from him, “What I can’t handle is you keeping something like this from me. God I’m so stupid I should have put it together. All that vigilante shit.” You said rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Well now you know.” He huffed, clenching his jaw.

“That doesn’t make it any better! We’re supposed to tell each other everything.” You said throwing up your hands.

“Don’t give me that shit. You were perfectly fine being in the dark before this. You didn’t even ask for my name before you were inviting me over to your place.” He spit, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Diego, that's not fair.” You said, hating how your lower lip trembled.

“No, what's not fair is you expecting me to get down on one knee when we’ve known each other for what, a year? You want me to take you home to meet mom and pops?” A tear slipped down your cheek, you wanted to run. Backed in a corner while Diego paced. Your feet felt glued to the floor in a place you had thought of as your second home.

“Diego…” You said softly, blinking back your tears.

“You know maybe you should go.” He huffed, clenching his jaw. “I think this-“ he motioned between the two of you, “has gone on long enough anyway. It was never going to last.” He crossed his arms looking away from you. You felt your heart break in your chest. You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“If that’s what you want.” You said biting the inside of your cheek.

“It is.” He said, looking at the door and then back at you. You quickly turned, running up the stairs and out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, your sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. You pushed open the metal door, speed walking to your car. Once inside you broke down, sobs wracking your body. You allowed yourself to feel everything, waiting until the tears had subsided before you turned on your car.

You were about a block away from your apartment when the anger hit.

And the anger had stayed, it was a poor mask for your pain, you knew that. You also knew if you weren’t angry you would break. That anger fueled you, it’s not your fault that Diego was afraid of commitment. Was part of this your fault, maybe. Maybe you should have demanded more from him before getting so deep.

Now he was here, asking for your help. A stupid busted lip that he could have taken care of himself.

“I wanted to apologize.” He said, making you stop in your tracks.

“Then do it.” You said coolly, crossing your arms.

“Look, I'm sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just- Klaus freaked me out and I just didn’t want you finding out about the umbrella academy from him.” He said leaning back on your counter.

“Well then maybe you should have told me sooner.” You snapped, glaring at him. “I never pushed you for anything Diego, never. I understand that the academy is a sore subject, but that’s not my fault.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I know that-“ He said, holding up his hand. You raised your eyebrows, “You’re right. You’re always right.” He said, hanging his head. It did give you some satisfaction to see him all but begging on his knees for your forgiveness. But you needed more.

“No you’re right Diego,” his head shot up, his eyes meeting yours with a confused expression, “ I was fine with being in the dark. But I’m not fine with it anymore. I want your everything.” You said as you bit your lip, hugging your arms tight around your body.

“Shit- I want that too.” He stepped forward, his hand lightly touching your arm.

“Then stop being such a pussy.” You teased, a small smile pulling on your lips. He snickered, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, swaying slightly with you in his arms.

“Do you want to meet my mom?” He whispered, you pulled away looking at him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You’re the one who said not to be a pussy.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“If you’re ready for that, then sure. I’d love to meet your mom.” You smiled, he leaned down softly kissing you. He pulled away with a hiss as soon as your lips touched.

“Forgot about that.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s clean that lip first alright, nightwing?” You teased, lightly patting his chest.

“Whatever you say, doc.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreaves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #david castañeda #diego x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #hihomeghere

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askablindperson · 8 months ago

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In what way does alt text serve as an accessibility tool for blind people? Do you use text to speech? I'm having trouble imagining that. I suppose I'm in general not understanding how a blind person might use Tumblr, but I'm particularly interested in the function of alt text.

In short, yes. We use text to speech (among other access technology like braille displays) very frequently to navigate online spaces. Text to speech software specifically designed for blind people are called screen readers, and when use on computers, they enable us to navigate the entire interface using the keyboard instead of the mouse And hear everything on screen, as long as those things are accessible. The same applies for touchscreens on smart phones and tablets, just instead of using keyboard commands, it alters the way touch affect the screen so we hear what we touch before anything actually gets activated. That part is hard to explain via text, but you should be able to find many videos online of blind people demonstrating how they use their phones.

As you may be able to guess, images are not exactly going to be accessible for text to speech software. Blindness screen readers are getting better and better at incorporating OCR (optical character recognition) software to help pick up text in images, and rudimentary AI driven Image descriptions, but they are still nowhere near enough for us to get an accurate understanding of what is in an image the majority of the time without a human made description.

Now I’m not exactly a programmer so the terminology I use might get kind of wonky here, but when you use the alt text feature, the text you write as an image description effectively gets sort of embedded onto the image itself. That way, when a screen reader lands on that image, Instead of having to employ artificial intelligences to make mediocre guesses, it will read out exactly the text you wrote in the alt text section.

Not only that, but the majority of blind people are not completely blind, and usually still have at least some amount of residual vision. So there are many blind people who may not have access to a screen reader, but who may struggle to visually interpret what is in an image without being able to click the alt text button and read a description. Plus, it benefits folks with visual processing disorders as well, where their visual acuity might be fine, but their brain’s ability to interpret what they are seeing is not. Being able to click the alt text icon in the corner of an image and read a text description Can help that person better interpret what they are seeing in the image, too.

Granted, in most cases, typing out an image description in the body of the post instead of in the alt text section often works just as well, so that is also an option. But there are many other posts in my image descriptions tag that go over the pros and cons of that, so I won’t digress into it here.

Utilizing alt text or any kind of image description on all of your social media posts that contain images is single-handedly one of the simplest and most effective things you can do to directly help blind people, even if you don’t know any blind people, and even if you think no blind people would be following you. There are more of us than you might think, and we have just as many varied interests and hobbies and beliefs as everyone else, so where there are people, there will also be blind people. We don’t only hang out in spaces to talk exclusively about blindness, we also hang out in fashion Facebook groups and tech subreddits and political Twitter hashtags and gaming related discord servers and on and on and on. Even if you don’t think a blind person would follow you, You can’t know that for sure, and adding image descriptions is one of the most effective ways to accommodate us even if you don’t know we’re there.

I hope this helps give you a clearer understanding of just how important alt text and image descriptions as a whole are for blind accessibility, and how we make use of those tools when they are available.

#image descriptions #alt text #accessibility #a11y #screen readers

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phr3ia · 5 months ago

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I Got Isekai'd Into A World Where I'm Just The Side Character (Wuthering Waves x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 1 : How You Got Isekai'd]

[Trigger Warning]

You are a Professional Gamer known as the "Battle Goddess." holding the top rank in the world's most popular Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game (MMORPG) called, "The World Of Warcraft". You are always praised, admired and respected within the game for your exceptional skills and achievements. You are confident, smart, strong and beautiful in the gaming world. You're always the "Number 1" in everything, a complete opposite from the way you live your life in the real world.

You're not entirely an introvert, but you rarely engage in social outings and interactions with others. You're also an average-looking woman with no any special features or qualities that set you apart. An ordinary citizen employed as a Service Crew member at McDonald's.

In other words, you're NORMAL.

You grew up in a dysfunctional family with an alcoholic father and an older brother struggling with drug addiction. And when you reached the right age to start working, you made the decision to leave home and forge your own path independently.

After a few years of playing the game, you finally achieved the prestigious honor of being inducted into the hall of fame. Your Guildmates, who have been your faithful companions for years, expressed their desire to meet you in person to celebrate your achievement. Considering their unwavering support, you thought, "Why not?"

And this is where everything came crashing down...

The people whom you believed were loyal to you ended up ridiculing your social status. Commenting on your looks and what you do for a living, they expressed disappointment, stating that they expected more from you as the "Battle Goddess."

"What a let down." commented your Vice Leader in the game.

"It turns out I'm earning more as a Secretary than our Guild Leader here." replied the other female guild member as she casually sipped her drink.

You remained silent, gazing down at the floor, nonchalantly absorbing the impact of their insults.

You immediately realized you don't belong in the group, so you stood up and excused yourself. However, as you attempted to leave, your Vice Leader "Ryuji", grabbed your hand, pulling you back to sit with him.

They ended up forcing you to drink, intoxicating you by spiking your beer. And upon waking up the next morning, you found yourself completely naked in a hotel room, with only a vague recollection of the events that happened the previous night. Opening your social media, the first thing that caught your eye was a naked photo and a video of yourself surrounded by a group of men, which turned out to be your trusted Guild Members. In a horrifying betrayal, they violated you and treated you like a pig.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[Facebook]

Razgriz : Is that really her? She's not even pretty 😂

100Hamsters : Eww...

Carnage2001938 : You guys are really wild, making out with her!

MrSkullCrusher7 : Sluuuuuut!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stuttered, "W-Why?" You questioned yourself, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment. Life has been unjust to you from the moment your Mother passed away, and now this? The relentless torment is slowly eating away your soul. You had enough of everything. The game was your only refuge from the harsh realities of life, but now it seems there is no escape from the overwhelming challenges you face.

You weren't the kind of person to give up easily, but you felt deeply disappointed in yourself. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the screen, endlessly scrolling through people's comments. The post had already garnered half a million views.

Crying, you aggressively hurled your phone at the wall, shattering it. You were so done with all the bullshit happening in your life.

Suddenly, the door swung open revealing Ryuji, entering with a couple of beer bottles in hand.

Consumed by overwhelming emotions, you reached for a box-cutting knife from the bedside table and impulsively lunged towards him. Ryuji swiftly evaded your attack, his eyes widening in disbelief at your actions.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" he exclaimed, shouting at you. "I will make you all pay for this! I will hunt you down one by one, skin you alive, and feed your dicks to the pigs!" You let out a piercing scream of anger as you fiercely attacked him once more with the cutter. You managed to injure him this time, causing blood to splatter everywhere. However, the wound was not severe enough to be fatal.

"YOU BITCH!!" Ryuji hissed, shattering the bottle in half. He grabbed you by the hair and pressed the glass threateningly against your neck.

"You're a fucking psycho!" he spat, pressing the glass deeper into your skin until it drew blood.

You bit his arm with ferocity, causing him to release his grip on you. Then, with a swift kick to his crotch, you sent him crashing to the floor. You weren't even thinking twice about killing him right there and then. Straddling him, you locked eyes with Ryuji, a fierce glare in your gaze as you pressed the cutter against his throat.

"P-P-Please! I beg you! Don't kill me!" he pleaded, but begging won't work on you anymore. The pent-up anger and frustration within you had finally erupted. While others may not understand or appreciate the real you, one thing was certain - you're not someone to mess up with.

"Oy, Ryuji! What's all that noise?" the other Guild Members entered the room, they caught you in the act of trying to kill their friend.

They swiftly rushed towards Ryuji and restrained you, gagging you with a cloth tightly tied around your mouth.

"What are we going to do? She'll definitely go to the police if we let her go." the red-haired guy inquired. "We'll have to kill her." Ryuji responded coldly. "Are you really suggesting that?!" he questioned in disbelief. "Yes." Ryuji affirmed, fixing you with his cold, lifeless gaze.

The men started by submerging your head in the bathtub. They laughed as you struggled for breath, gasping desperately for air. Ryuji also delivered several punches, leaving bruises on your skin with each strike.

"I despise women like you. Acting so righteous, yet deep down, you're as corrupt as the rest of us." he seethed, pulling the cloth down from your mouth.

You spitted in his face without any hesitation. "Don't you dare compare me to the likes of you. If you think you can strip away my dignity because of what you've done, you're mistaken."

"Tch." he scoffed before pulling out his pocket knife and plunging it into your stomach. You were so stunned that you didn't immediately feel the pain, yet you could see the blood dripping onto the floor. Without warning, Ryuji forcefully submerged your head back into the water, drowning you completely.

"I refuse to die like this!" you exclaimed to yourself. "Please, I'll do anything to have another chance. This time, I'll live my life to the fullest! No more hiding!"... You can feel your life slowly ebbing away from you. But in your final moments, you made a wish, "I hope that in the next life, things will be better for me."

However, you didn't die and instead you got "ISEKAI'D"

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[Huanglong - Dim Forest]

"Phew! That was tough!" Chixia exclaimed with a radiant smile.

"You seem cheerful for someone who just faced a lot of struggles earlier." Rover commented, chuckling at her optimism.

"I'm glad we were able to clear the spores infecting this beautiful tree." Yangyang stated, admiring the breathtaking sight before them.

"Hey guys! Am I the only one seeing something red glowing up there?" Chixia pointed to the top of the Giant Banyan Tree. "Did we miss something?" Yangyang inquired. "Let's check it out!" Rover suggested, gliding down from the cliff.

"Awwww, but we just came down from there!" Chixia complained as she followed Rover and Yangyang towards the tree.

"What if it's a powerful Tacet Discord?" Chixia asked, firmly holding her guns. "That's unlikely, Chixia. But if it does turn out to be a powerful TD, then we'll give our all to take it down." Yangyang replied with a reassuring smile.

"A woman?" Rover rushed towards your unconscious body. "She's still alive." he confirmed, checking your pulse and breathing.

Rover's calm demeanor remained as he examined you further, seemingly left for dead at the top of the tree. There was something off, though, about you. A faint hum was subtly reverberating around you, and the color of your skin was a pale hue- almost as if you were a corpse coming back to life.

"Hmm... She's no Tacet discord, that's for sure." He murmured to himself.

Your chest barely rose and fell with each breath. Rover had a feeling that you're someone who'd been through hell and back.

"We should help her, she looks like she's been through a lot." He already made his decision.

Rover's form wavered, manifesting his Tacet mark as it glows on the back of his hand- his power of Spectro activated. A barrier of light engulfed you, the humming became stronger. His expression was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and confusion, as he didn't know what was going on.

Suddenly, your breathing picked up, the faint hum increasing in volume. The barrier pulsed with the rhythm of your heartbeat, the air around you heating up.

"Rover, what are you doing to her?" Yangyang questioned, concerned for you and Rover's well-being. "I-I don't know what's going on. There's a strange force drawing me to her." He explained, his eyes never leaving you. Rover could tell that there's something going on inside of you. It was a struggle to determine what it was. However, he sensed a strong connection with you.

"Yangyang, Chixia, please step back! I don't know what's going to happen." He warned, his voice trembled slightly. His hand quivered as the barrier's glow intensified, before exploding into a shockwave of light.

"Yangyang! Chixia!" Rover exclaimed, his gaze fixed on them.

"We're okay!" Yangyang reassured, still taken aback of what just happened. "What in the world is happening?!" Chixia asked in a panic, feeling the anxiety creeping in.

The moment the light vanished, you jolted upright, your body now radiating a healthy glow, the pale hue of your skin vanished, and your eyes fluttered open. They were mesmerizing. Your body moved with so much energy, as if you had never been in a state of unconsciousness.

Rover remained frozen, his Tacet mark still glowing, unsure of what just happened. His mind raced to comprehend the unexplainable connection he felt with you.

"Eh?" You gazed at your surroundings and realized you were in an unfamiliar place. "Am I dreaming?" you whispered to yourself, trying to recall what had happened. And then you remembered that you've been murdered. "Am I dead?!" you exclaimed, staring at the man in front of you who seemed to regard you as if you were his long-lost soulmate or something.

"Hey! I'm asking you, am I dead?" you demanded, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.

Rover's eyes widened, and he instantly pulled back from your grasp, stumbling backward into a seated position, his hair falling over his face as he looked up at you. "N-No, you're not... dead." he managed to say, his voice wavering. The intensity of your gaze and your sudden aggression had caught him off guard.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here, in such a state?" He inquired, attempting to divert the conversation.

"I don't know. Anyway, why does that even matter? How am I alive? And who are you?" you asked, pulling yourself together.

"You can call me Rover." He introduced, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Do we know each other? I feel like we've met before, but I can't remember how or when." He admitted, glancing at the others.

"I'm sorry, but I don't recall ever meeting you before." you mused, still convinced that everything was just a dream. You were amazed by how vivid and real it all felt.

Yangyang and Chixia joined the conversation, "We found you lying unconcious here. Rover did something that helped you gained back your consciousness, and we're all a bit lost on what's going on." Yangyang explained.

"Yeah, it's like you were reborn! It's pretty unbelievable." Chixia butted in.

"By the way, my name's Chixia! And this is Yangyang!" she cheerfully added, introducing themselves to you.

"Nice to meet you..." you replied, still feeling lost.

Rover's eyes scanned over you while you conversed, his intuition telling him that you were more than just a stranger. A nagging feeling persisted, trying to tug at the edges of his memory.

"What should we call you?" Chixia inquired. "Y/N." you replied simply. "Are you from around here?"

"I'm not sure." you admitted, unsure of how to respond. You weren't even certain if you were still on Earth. The three of them gazed at you with concern written all over their faces.

"We should head back to the Capital and figure this out. And besides, you look like you need a change of clothes, food, and lots of rest." Yangyang suggested. "And a good bath." Chixia chimed in. "Get yourself cleaned up, and then we can talk about it."

"Don't worry. We're not here to harm you. You're safe with us." Yangyang reassured, gently smiling at you.

You nodded in response, returning the smile.

"I'm not sure if she's telling the truth." you pondered quietly to yourself. Despite your doubts, you realized you had no other option but to go with them. "What's there to fear?" you questioned yourself once more. "After all, this is just a dream!"

"Rover, Chixia let's go." Yangyang stated, her tone soft as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders to help you stand.

Rover watched you carefully, still processing the overwhelming feelings and thoughts racing through him. "Lead the way, Yangyang." Rover agreed, rising to his feet, ready to escort you back to Jinzhou.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

End of Chapter 1 🥀...

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[Male Resonators x Fem!Reader] [Trigger Warning!!!]

You've been murdered. However, you didn't die and instead you got "ISEKAI'D".

#wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa jiyan #wuwa fanfic #wuwa romance #wuwa smut #fanfiction #wuwa calcharo #tacet discords #wuwa x reader #various x reader #wuwa violence

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alisonfelixwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Informed consent - chapter 1

Word count: 7,552

Mia Brown always thought she was a nice girl. She was polite, kept to herself yet was always keen on helping others if they gave her a little time to grow comfortable.

She grew up in a household where she never had the upper hand, where she was never considered the smart one. It was a feeling she got used to, waiting for instructions and then following them. Whenever she spoke a thought of her own, her parents were always quick in dismissing her and placing her back in line.

Mia Brown was raised to be perfect.

Psychology wouldn’t have been her own first choice for a university degree, but it’s what her parents pushed her towards. They listed all the pros of a degree in that field and she found herself nodding. Before she knew it, her signature was on the enrolment form and her education was paid for.

Five years of university for a topic she had forced herself to grow excited about. Mia always assumed she’d go for something like… biology. The human body fascinated her, more specifically the brain. She sneakily watched Grey’s Anatomy for years, finally divulging in it fully now that she lived in a dorm and was no longer at her parents’ house, and for a long time saw herself as a neurosurgeon.

It was safe to say Cristina Yang was her example for a very long time. Her bossiness, her huge brain and her overall attitude was something Mia admired, she felt. That was until she suggested the idea to her parents, who rather quickly shushed her and shot her a disappointing look. Her father claimed surgery was a field for men, not women.

Mia remembered feeling disappointed, but forced a smile and had nodded at him either way.

According to him, she should choose a job where she could do regular office hours and be home at a nice time to care for her future husband. Someone her parents had apparently even already lined up for her.

Daniel was nice enough, Mia thought. He was clever, polite and her father liked him. He was the son of a family friend and Mia saw him on certain occasions throughout the year. For the time being, both him and her were studying for their respective degrees at the colleges of their choice.

Mia didn’t particularly mind that they were on opposite sides of the country.

From a young age, she questioned her mother about the idea of love that she had seen in movies. Even though her parents never really allowed it, Mia did look at romantic films on the television and it was once more something she no longer deprived herself of now that she lived on her own.

The first time she asked her mother, was after watching Tarzan as a child. She liked how Jane fell for someone unconventional, someone who didn’t particularly fit the vibe of her own life. But she liked him for who he was and they ended up fitting their lives together.

Her mother hadn’t smiled gently at her question. She reprimanded Mia for it, for assuming that something like that could happen in real life. For her parents, love was a business deal. They had met in similar ways as Mia and Daniel had, and for them it was normal.

The first time Mia told her roommate and friend – Hazel – about it, Hazel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Her reaction actually made Mia laugh, because she felt like Hazel made a rather funny face and it caused a rather embarrassing snort to rise up Mia’s nose until she buckled over in laughter. Hazel stayed shocked for a few minutes before she questioned everything about this love-deal that Mia’s parents had made with Daniel’s parents.

She asked for a picture of Daniel, which Mia showed off of his Facebook-profile. Hazel had scrunched up her nose and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose while also using both thumbs to zoom in on the picture.

Mia had pressed her lips together, “He looks better in real life.” She defended him for some unknown reason.

The profile picture looked like him in the mediaeval centuries, posing for some kind of painter who’d make a portrait of him. It was stoic, very serious and the longer Mia stared at it, the funnier it became. Not long after, both her and Hazel were caught in a laughing fit while Hazel tried to impersonate Daniel’s picture.

It was hilarious, Mia thought. She couldn’t recollect a time she had laughed like that. So freely.

She had been shy upon meeting Hazel at first, but she had given Mia time and space to open up and feel comfortable. She was still a little reserved, as she was around basically every human being. She was extremely polite and never did colour outside of the lines. It was quite the contrast from how Hazel lived. Sometimes, Mia thought, Hazel was a bit careless. She took inspiration from it, but in her own time.

Something that sadly enough didn’t move on her own time, was her education.

How she got through high school with flying colours, turned into a huge mystery for Mia. Upon starting university with all the hope in the world of liking psychology, it was a bit of a let down and a reality check when she struggled tremendously with the course materials.

It was a challenge she hadn’t faced in a while. All throughout high school, Mia had kept to herself and studied hard. The results proved worthy of how much time and effort she put into her assignments and tests. In university, she struggled.

Somehow her dyslexia didn’t bother her as much in high school. Mia’s teachers were aware of it and aided her for certain parts. In university, the professors weren’t as concerned and left the students to their own, and it made Mia anxious.

While Hazel spent time with her friends – usually leaving the apartment to give Mia peace and quiet – Mia was huddled up at her desk with stacks of books and deadlines to achieve. It had surprised Mia, how hard of a time she had with the materials.

Mia did learn mechanisms, but it didn’t take away the added hardships of reading long texts or getting through thick books.

Especially when she was tired or anxious, the letters clouded together. The more frustrated Mia became, the harder it got to read the lines. It meant that she spent more time than ever between her books in order to pass her tests and get good grades.

It meant the world to her parents to uphold her pristine reputation.

Even when Hazel tried to coax her out for a night, Mia most often refused. Not only did she suffer from social anxiety, she was far too preoccupied with her school work to let loose for even one night.

“Good morning.” Mia softly spoke when she heard the closing of Hazel’s bedroom door. The next thing Mia heard was a loud yawn as Hazel dragged her feet over the hardwood floors of their shared apartment.

Mia supposed it was the scent of coffee that woke Hazel up this Monday morning. Mia knew Hazel didn’t have classes for a few hours but that she had some texts to read. One thing that Mia’s psychology degree and Hazel’s philosophy degree had in common, was that they both had to read a lot. Thick books with different materials, yet the same amount of pages littered both their desks.

Hazel was quite a bit more casual with it than Mia was, but that was alright. Hazel’s parents were nice people and upon meeting them for the first time, Mia sensed immediately where Hazel got her chaotic mind from. Mia’s parents did not assist in the furnishing-assembly party for their apartment while Hazel’s parents did. With bright smiles.

Mia made sure to thank them properly by cooking a nice meal for everyone that night. She declined the wine that Hazel offered and later on shared with her parents while Mia sipped on some water.

The same table Hazel’s father had put together, now held two coffee mugs that Mia filled with black coffee. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hazel with a wild mess of curls on top of her head, run-down mascara and her pyjama top on backwards.

The sight made Mia giggle under her breath while Hazel joined her at the table, immediately holding her head with both hands to soothe the hangover Mia was sure she had. She never assumed Sundays could be for partying, but Hazel proved her otherwise. Apparently when in university, every night was for partying. And Hazel often used that excuse to leave for the night.

She softly slid the mug of coffee with the little pink unicorns on it towards Hazel while taking a sip of her own, poured in another one of Hazel’s funky mugs that Mia preferred. Hers had little daisies on it, and she found that it brightened her day.

“You’re an angel.” Hazel’s raspy voice was a clear indication from lack of sleep and one too many cigarettes, and Mia smiled at the sentiment, “I figured you might need it to wake up a little more. I think I heard you come home at around four.”

Hazel lifted her head, panda-eyes on full display as she stared at Mia, “Shit, did I wake you? I thought I was silent.”

Mia smiled softly – trying to hide her everlasting shock whenever Hazel blurted out a curse word just like that – and shook her head, “No, you didn’t. I never sleep all that amazing when I know you’re going out.”

“Mia,” Hazel groaned with a slight eye roll, “I told you to stop worrying about me.”

Mia looked down while taking another sip of coffee, “I know, but I can’t help it. I noticed you didn’t bring your coat and it was snowing right before I went to bed.” She defended herself for worrying about her friend.

Hazel chuckled, “That’s really sweet, but it’s about a thousand degrees in every nightclub.”

“But what about when you go outside?” Mia retorted curiously. Hazel shrugged, “I waited inside for the uber to come and get me, so it’s fine.”

Mia tilted her head to the side, “Right.”

Hazel took a large sip of her coffee and Mia looked at her with endeared eyes, “Did you have fun?”

“Really fun.” Hazel yawned, “You should really join us sometimes. I think you’d like my friends.”

Mia took it upon herself to plant a little polite smile on her face, nodding at Hazel’s proposition even though the idea made her stomach twist, “Yeah, sure.”

Hazel and Mia hadn’t met yesterday. They had lived together in this apartment for almost two months, so Hazel knew perfectly well that when Mia said ‘yeah, sure’, she actually meant no but she was too polite to say so.

Hazel was too tired and hungover to start any sort of discussion about it, and she also didn’t want to make Mia feel uncomfortable. Mia liked their dynamic so far. She had been nervous to live with anyone who wasn’t her parents and her older brother, who had gone off to university a few years prior and who she hardly kept in touch with. Hazel coaxed and urged her, but never pushed. She understood Mia, she felt. And it was something Mia was grateful for. Their dynamic of being roommates turned into a dynamic of being friends over the two months of living together.

“So what’s your day like? Are you home tonight?” Hazel questioned.

Mia sipped down more coffee while taking it upon herself to start packing her lunch. She shrugged her shoulders, “I have class in about thirty minutes. And then it’s just all through to the afternoon and then from three, I do some therapy.”

“Right. Lots of clients today?” Hazel asked and Mia puckered her lips, “I don’t know, honestly. I’m sure professor Dillon will tell me when I get to class.” She popped a piece of toast in her mouth while spreading some hummus on the rest of the bread she packed for lunch.

Due to her struggling with her school assignments, her primary professor – professor Dillon – had offered her some work for extra credit. Her assignments and tests hadn’t been all that amazing, and in order to save herself, Mia was allowed to practise. She had never really learned many social skills, but found that giving therapy was something up her alley.

Maybe her parents were right after all when picking this degree for her.

Mia found that listening to other people and exploring their minds was something she needed to be good at if she wanted to be a therapist. Due to Mia’s struggling grades, she was offered the opportunity to receive extra credit, along with a few other students. Mia stayed behind twice a week to give individual therapy to fellow other students.

Some came to them voluntarily to just clear their minds and vent a little. Others had to come to therapy mandated from the school. Either they did something wrong at school – like they skipped too many classes or defiled the school property – and were given the choice to either pay a fine to the school or follow some therapy sessions with the psychology-students.

Mia had questioned the ethics of it, along with Hazel. Of course Mia and her fellow students made referrals to actual therapists if they felt like the problems were too severe, but they had learned that the students that came in for therapy sometimes just wanted a chat. It was free, it was accessible and it was private.

And then there were those who had to follow it for mandatory reasons. It was a bit sneaky on the school’s end, but if students chose therapy rather than paying for defiled property or receiving detention, parents weren’t notified. It was a great way for the psychology students to get some practice in.

It took Mia a little while to get on board with this plan, but the few students she had seen so far, had put her at ease and with each passing therapy session that she hosted, she felt like she got better at it.

One girl came to her because she had a minor drug problem but it was only an issue when she didn’t reach class on time in the mornings. Another came to her because they drunkenly broke into the school at night and broke a window.

It was another thing Mia tried to let go of, the anxiety of trying to predict who she was going to have in front of her and what story they’d tell her. She had learned that it was something she couldn’t control and strangely, that put her at ease. She couldn’t prepare for some of the things she heard.

Obviously, she was a first year student who had hardly learned any actual theory about psychology, but her school believed in a practical approach and Mia decided to use it to her benefit and gain extra credit from it since studying wasn’t going to be her forte in university.

She finished packing her lunch while Hazel told some stories about her night out. Apparently, she had gone to a bar – which Mia wasn’t surprised by. Hazel told stories with her hands, Mia noticed. She liked listening to her. Her eyes enjoyed following the movements of her fingers, bringing strength to her words as she enthusiastically spoke about events that were completely foreign to Mia.

Drinking shots. Dancing on tables. Kissing strangers. Mia listened with perked ears and wide eyes of a world that was unfamiliar to her. It was a world she was curious for, but also scared of. For now, Mia felt alright just following along from the sidelines.

“I took extra bread out of the freezer so you can have lunch. And I cut up extra cucumbers too.” Mia spoke while closing her breadbox to put in her bag. Hazel’s eyes could’ve turned into hearts at Mia’s words and she smiled at her, “I have the best roommate ever.”

Mia blushed and giggled, floundering at the compliment which still felt uncommon to her to receive in the first place. She didn’t think she had ever been the best at anything, so she liked Hazel saying it like that even if it was a figure of speech. Mia was sure there were better roommates out there than her, but she didn’t get in that headspace because it was one she struggled to get out of.

With her brown hair in her signature braid behind her back, Mia worked her way on exiting the apartment. She wore black jeans, wool socks, boots and a few layers up top to keep warm. November had just begun and it was very cold in the UK to say the least. It’s why she had felt worried about Hazel going out in what Mia was sure was just another short dress, without a coat.

With the first flakes of snow she saw drizzling from the sky from her opened curtain in the street lights, she felt a pang of worry shooting through her. Mia had learned that she enjoyed sleeping with her curtains open for the sheer fact that she could look outside. She enjoyed the business of their apartment, the sounds coming from the street, the distant chattering.

And at night, it was lovely silent. Mia loved the silence.

She bundled up tightly and bid goodbye to Hazel before braving the cold and making her way to campus on foot. It was about a ten minute walk and only recently had she dared to start listening to music on her walks. Mia wasn’t superstitious or paranoid, but her parents had always warned her. Not about anything in specific, they just warned her. So she was careful and hesitant about everything, also the few same streets she always took to campus to get to her classes.

As expected, she got in early. Her first class today was child development. It wasn’t something Mia found herself very fascinated by. She wasn’t fascinated by most of her subjects and she had yet to find her passion in this field. Neuropsychology was the nail in her coffin, if she was honest. After class one she knew she’d struggle with that one.

Mia pulled out her laptop and took a seat by the window, giving her a view of the snowed-in campus. She found herself smiling at the comfortable view, feeling quite right at home on this campus.

Moving away from home could’ve gone two ways. Part of Mia was very excited to do so, because her parents started to feel suffocating and she was keen on trying to figure out what life had to offer. She was ready to move on her own, spread her wings and figure it out. On the other hand, Mia realised she had always been very protected.

Her parents were set on her watching the news every night and she was confronted with the worldly horrors on a daily basis. It took her parents convincing to let her move to a big city as they called it.

Mia wondered why they never gave her brother that hard of a time when he moved away.

Class moved by quickly as Mia paid attention and took notes, knowing she was messing up lots of the words she typed. It was another thing she lost time with, going over her notes and fixing them every night before she could actually study them. If she focussed on that in class, Mia knew she’d be lost after only a few minutes as the teacher moved too quickly.

When the weather was still nice, Mia often chose to have lunch outside by herself. She’d sit at the campus grounds with a book or use the time to already go over her notes or study some more. But with the snow falling, she felt nerves seeping into her bones at the thought of having to eat at the cafeteria.

She spotted some of the people who had a few classes with her and they shot one another polite smiles. Mia was too shy to ask them if she could sit with them, so she chose a table in the back where a lot of people unfortunately dumped their trash after finishing their lunch.

Mia chose a spot at the far end of the table and used the back of her breadbox to push some of the empty wrappings to the side and give herself a little room to eat. She was grateful that during the course of her meal, no one threw anything on the table and they let her eat in peace.

After her afternoon class, she made her way over to professor Dillon’s office on the fourth floor of the North building. She had just snacked on some grapes and a cup of hot tea from the vending machine, her fingers coming down on professor Dillon’s office door which was slightly ajar.

He beckoned her in with a comforting grin, surrounded by stacks of papers on his desk.

His messiness resembled Hazel’s, Mia observed.

“You only have one therapy talk today, Mia.” Professor Dillon handed her a small file and Mia took it without second thought, “Okay. Room two?”

He breathed out a small chuckle, “You don’t have to ask anymore, you can take room two.”

Mia smiled wider and nodded gratefully, “Thank you, professor.” Ever since beginning this volunteering work, Mia had preferred to give therapy sessions in room two. They could choose from five rooms since there were usually five students volunteering, Mia being one of them. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about room two that she liked, but apparently professor Dillon didn’t need much confirming and just handed it to her.

With the file under her arm, Mia made her way to room two, opening it up comfortably only to be startled with a yelp when she realised she wasn’t alone.

A boy was in the room. Well, a man really.

His eyes flicked up at the sudden action of the door opening, his eyes landing on Mia from his seated position on the couch. He wore a dark blue beanie and an equally dark oversized jumper that covered part of his hands too. They were clasped together as his elbows leaned on his knees and he comfortably sat on the couch.

Mia caught her breath and tried to hide the pinking of her cheeks, forcing him a small smile even if the stranger nearly gave her a heart attack.

“Hi. You must be…” She casted her eyes down to the file that the professor handed her, squinting her eyes to read the name properly, “… Sinclair, Harry?”

He softly cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

Mia nodded and closed the door behind her, balancing her bag, the file and her cup of tea which she chose to set down first of all before making even more of a fool of herself. She shrugged off her coat and made the room a little comfortable, shooting Harry a small smile, “Sorry, I just got here.”

He didn’t answer her as she went around the room, turning on certain lights and also turning on the heating to get the space a little warmer.

She had to admit she was a little startled to find the stranger here already. She liked getting in a little early to get the space ready and read through the file, to get a sense of at least the name of the person coming in for a chat.

Harry stared at his feet as Mia moved through the space until eventually settling down into the couch opposite him, a small coffee table between them. Mia clamped both hands around her hot cup of coffee and left a bit of a silence, taking him in.

She noticed the little glob of snot in the corner of his left eye, the writing marks on his hands, the few chunky rings adorning his fingers and the way they tightly grasped one another, joining in his lap when he leaned back against the back of the couch.

“Aren’t you supposed to like… talk or something?” His voice broke the silence.

Mia snapped out of her admiring-state and flicked her eyes up, a flush rising up her chest that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her tea and burning her entire throat simultaneously – yet another thing she tried to play off.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She changed the subject.

“No.”

More silence. She liked doing it like this at first, because it gave room for the other person to say whatever they were feeling like.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at me? I don’t think this is how therapy works.” Harry spoke again, a boring tone to his voice as his fingertips started playing with the armrest of the couch where there was a small rip in the sowing. His fingers picked on the stuffing in it as he had a more relaxed position.

Mia pressed her lips together, trying to think of some conversation techniques she had read through before starting any therapy sessions with anyone, “It’s not. I just like to leave room for some silence, is that okay?” She could tell her voice didn’t sound all that steady. Mia really struggled with these therapy sessions but knew she had to practise if she ever wanted to do this for a living. Her social anxiety just got in the way most often and she needed some time to get into it.

“Not when it’s awkward.” He mumbled, his eyes then going to the clock on the opposite wall, exhaling another bored sigh. Mia tilted her head to the side, “You don’t want to be here.”

Harry clacked his tongue and didn’t look at her, “Nice observation.”

Another small blush from sheer embarrassment and Mia blinked a few times before finally reaching for the folder on her lap. Mia softly cleared her throat and opened it up, “So… Harry. What do you study?”

“Philosophy.”

Her ears perked and she fought the small smile on her lips, the immediate thought of Hazel popping into her brain. Mia was sure her loving roommate would have no issue striking up a conversation with this quick-witted young man in front of her.

“That’s interesting.” She commented, earning her nothing more than a lazy shrug from Harry’s shoulders who seemed more occupied with destroying the stuffing of the couch than to speak to her. Mia nibbled her lip, unsure of where to go from here.

So she decided to ramble her memorised lines that she had to repeat all the time.

“So – “ She drew a breath, “you are in for eight sessions with me. The sessions are twice a week at first but about halfway we move onto once a week, so it’ll be a month and a half unless either of us falls sick or has to cancel due to class or an assignment.”

He didn’t react or respond so Mia felt like it was appropriate to continue, “We obviously don’t know one another, and I want you to know that nothing you say here will leave this room. I’m not here to judge. This is a… safe space.” She cringed while speaking the words but professor Dillon had urged her to speak them.

Harry exhaled a soft huff but still didn’t look at her.

“Oh, and I just need you to sign this. It’s an informed consent. You know, just that you agree with this and that I’m allowed to write some stuff down. It won’t go in an official file or anything, it just means I can keep some notes so I don’t forget everything by the time you come in next.” She spoke softly, pulling something out of her bag. Mia straightened out the sheet a little before leaning over the coffee table and placing it down with a pen on top.

Harry stared at it with little interest for a bit until he leaned forward too, took the small pen in his huge hand and lazily scribbled his signature without even taking a look at the words on it. He leaned back on the couch with a sigh so deep it seemed like putting his signature down was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“So, I think we should start fresh.” Mia forced him a smile after she put the consent form away ,and got up, extending her hand, “I’m Mia.”

Harry arched up an eyebrow, unimpressed as she stood in front of him. His eyes dragged up her form once and Mia could feel herself shrinking while trying to keep her extended hand steady. He eventually shook it with little enthusiasm, “Harry.” He sighed.

Mia couldn’t help but smile brightly when he seemed to cooperate finally, but Harry’s eyes were cast down rather quickly. The cool metal of his rings contrasted with his warm skin when they shook hands, but he dropped his hand with little enthusiasm the second it was polite to do so.

“Okay.” She kept smiling while sitting back down on her couch, feeling as if they could move on from this awkward first greeting and finally get somewhere. She tucked a short loose strand of brown hair behind her ear that had come loose from the braid in the course of the day and nibbled her lip, staring down at the file on her lap.

"Are you comfortable here? Not too cold? I turned the heating on a little but let’s be honest, the weather has been less than a treat lately. I for sure didn’t expect to wake up to snow this morning. Although it was a nice surprise because it’s so pretty, it’s not that fun if you need to get places.” Mia started her small-talk, which was her usual way to get her clients to feel comfortable and open up.

Harry exhaled a bored breath and just nodded, more to himself than to her. Mia pressed her lips together when she realised this wasn’t really Harry’s cup of tea, her just chattering. Maybe he didn’t need it.

“Have you ever gone to therapy before?”

“No.”

She nodded, opening up her notebook and scribbling something down, “And – uh, philosophy, hm? What year are you in?”

He put his chin on his hand while resting his elbow on the armrest, staring at her with an unimpressed look yet it still made Mia squirm inside. His eyes were quite intense and a very beautiful shade of green. She didn’t think she had ever come across someone with such striking eyes, or who’s eyes just stood out to her like that.

Mia found herself hoping he’d start talking soon so she could take the time to really look at him. She could listen to his deep, slow voice without paying much attention and let her eyes curiously trail over him for a moment. Right now, Mia felt like she couldn’t because he was watching her like a hawk and she felt a little shy under his gaze.

“Mostly in my second.” He shortly answered and Mia nodded, writing again to keep herself occupied, “Mostly?”

He shrugged, “Fucked up a little last year, have to retake a few subjects.” He answered and Mia found herself tensing up at the curse word he let slip just as casually as Hazel did.

“So you’re nineteen?” Mia had stopped writing and now simply drew shapes of eyes in the by-line of her notebook, subconsciously trying to mimic him. Harry exhaled again, “No, twenty.”

Mia curiously lifted her head, unable to keep the small frown from etching into her forehead. She parted her lips to ask the obvious follow-up question but Harry beat her to it with a small roll of those green eyes, as if he was already sick of hearing that same question, “I doubled a year in high school.”

“Oh.” She nodded, dropping her eyes again as Harry did the same. The room fell silent once more and Mia realised only six minutes had passed since she walked in. She mindlessly clicked her pen a few times until hearing a clearing of Harry’s throat. Mia’s eyes flicked to his, her cheeks pinking up a little as he shot her a slight glare. She put her pen down, “Sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything but looked very much done with being in this room. His knee bobbed a little, sneaker-clad feet constantly shifting positions as he sat restless.

Mia usually refrained from looking into the file too much. She found she rather heard from the people themselves what they were here for, telling their story. Most of them didn’t mind telling her as she apparently was someone to be trusted rather easily. She had never come across a student as hard to crack as the boy in front of her.

But now, in this silence, she noticed her fingers inching towards the folder and she eventually took it in her lap again and opened it up. She saw his global information, such as his name and his date of birth.

An Aquarius.

Mia’s eyes darted over the paper and she nodded to herself, until she tensed up and her eyes widened upon seeing what he was in for. She couldn’t stop herself when her mouth gaped and she gasped, before lifting her head with struck eyes.

Harry didn’t even notice, too occupied with the stuffing of the couch again as he lazed in the chair until the hour passed by.

“You…” Mia croaked out, still dumbstruck with the newly found information. Her eyes dropped to the paper again as if to read it once more to check if she was actually correct and that her eyes weren’t deceiving her, “You really did this?”

“So far for not judging.” Harry huffed and Mia swallowed, “No – but… seriously?”

Harry didn’t say anything but didn’t look amused with her reaction. Mia drew a breath, “You had… intercourse with someone in the library and broke a bookcase?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled.

Mia read over the words one more time until she glanced at him, “Why?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to her, “Why? What do you mean, why? Because I fucking felt like it, of course. I was horny and it was empty. Is it my fault those fucking book cases are ancient as fuck and can’t take some weight on them?!” He bit.

Mia felt a bit taken aback by the sudden volume of his voice, staring as his fingers now angrily picked at the rip in the armrest while grumbling something under his breath. After another moment of silence in which Mia felt like she simply had no idea how to even respond to that, Harry sighed out, “It’s not that weird, people do it all the time. As if you’ve never felt the urge and just did it wherever?” He continued.

Mia straightened up and pressed her lips together, feeling herself turn pink again. It was a common thing whenever a client turned a question around on her. She didn’t like answering questions during these sessions, she liked asking them. It was basically the only thing Mia felt like she enjoyed about being a therapist. Her entire life, she had never really been listened to, and she didn’t feel a particular need to talk now either. But she enjoyed listening.

She enjoyed finding out how people’s minds worked, how their brains were wired, and how they processed.

She avoided Harry’s question specifically, because the fact that she was a virgin did not need to be discussed here, nor did she want him to find out. She just cast her eyes down, reading over the words just one more time to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

But no. Harry did have intercourse in the school library during a quiet moment of the day, but in the act he and the person he was doing it with, knocked over a smaller bookcase that did have some value to it. The school board was furious and wanted him to pay for the book case that he broke.

Harry apparently opted for therapy instead.

It seemed to be a decision he now regretted as he hung in the couch with his breaths even and his face looking like he had just received the world’s most awful news. It was quite clear to Mia that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Mia felt like she had to gather herself and keep the conversation going, “S-So does your girlfriend have to get therapy too?”

“Girlfriend?” Harry chuckled at that, but in quite a menacing way as he shook his head, “She’s not my girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes, “She fucking bolted the moment that book case fell and she was out before the guard caught me. ‘M not gonna rat her out, I’m not a complete dick.”

Mia was absolutely baffled by the way he spoke so casually with so many bad words in his regular vocabulary. She shifted a little and nodded, as if the idea of casual sex wasn’t completely foreign to her. She resorted to writing down a bit more while racking her brain for the next question or something that could steer this conversation back to where she wanted it to go.

“How old are you anyway?” Harry broke the silence this time. Mia lifted her head with raised brows, immediately a tad bit intimidated by the attention being on her again. She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, “I’m eighteen.”

“Holy fuck.” Harry sighed desperately while dropping his head back into the couch, showing off his throat and all the veins running there – which Mia tried very hard to keep her eyes away from. “What the fuck am I doing here.” Harry whined more so to himself than to her.

Mia tried not to feel too hurt by his statement. She was aware that not all people truly enjoyed therapy or that they were made for it. But she had also learned that after a few minutes or at most after one session, she had swayed them and they actually looked forward to coming back.

Never had someone expressed such displeasure in spending one hour in a room with her. It made an uncomfortable tingly sensation run through her skin and her throat dried out just a little bit as she forced a small smile his way when he lifted his head again.

“S-So – uh, why don’t you just tell me the story of what happened?” Mia tried to shift it back to Harry, to have him speak a little more instead of just answering with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or a shrug of his shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes again, and Mia frowned to herself. Did he really think she couldn’t see it when he did that? Did he not realise how rude it was to just roll your eyes at someone like that?

“Look – Mia, was it, right?” He started in a breath and Mia softly nodded, “Yes.”

Harry cleared his throat, “You seem like a nice girl, but frankly – you look like you belong in church. I never meant for my fucking sex life to be a topic of discussion with a fellow student who’s younger than me. As if you’re supposed to give me advice or some shit?” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated. He chewed his lip, ready to spew more venom at Mia who shrunk just a little on the couch. She hoped professor Dillon was following along and was ready to intervene instead of letting her suffer like this.

“I can’t pay for that bookcase, it’s like four grand – so yes, I chose this therapy thing instead. Not all of us have the privilege of just doing some volunteer work without getting paid for it. Some of us actually do need money.” He bit.

Mia straightened up, a tight lump in her throat that she hadn’t expected just settled there. Rock hard, not wanting to move no matter how hard she tried or swallowed. She looked down to her lap, eyes blurring ever so slightly as she tried to breathe properly and remember her anxiety exercises.

Now would be a really good time for professor Dillon to come save her.

---------

Professor Dillon didn’t come save her.

It was about forty minutes later and Mia had arrived home in the warmth of the apartment she shared with Hazel. She kicked the remainder of the snow off of her boots and then neatly put them next to the door to dry before padding her way into the space. Some lights were on and the door to Hazel’s room was on a small crack.

After nervously playing with the end of her braid for a bit, Mia thought she’d go in. She had contemplated it the entire way over, if she should bother Hazel with this.

Mia knew there was patient confidentiality, but she also knew the entire campus usually knew whenever someone had done something that earned them school mandated therapy. Mia was probably the only one who hadn’t heard about Harry’s library-escapades before today, because she didn’t speak to a lot of people and zoned out most of the time during the breaks.

Her knuckles gently came down on Hazel’s door and she could hear some music coming from inside.

“Come in!” Hazel called out and Mia nudged the door open, seeing Hazel up in her floral pink bedsheets and her laptop on her lap, a bag of chips next to her. She immediately frowned upon taking one look at Mia, “What happened?” She questioned urgently.

Mia’s shoulders deflated a bit and she let out a rugged sigh, that lump back in her throat, “I don’t – nothing.” She settled on, a sigh leaving her as she remembered how her and Harry had just been left in silence until he mumbled something under his breath and bolted out of the door.

She didn’t sign off on his session, so it didn’t even technically count as one. Afterwards, she had gotten scolded for it by professor Dillon. He hadn’t followed the session along so he had no idea what had been said, all he knew was that Harry left after about fifteen minutes instead of an hour, and that he had looked even angrier when leaving then when entering.

Mia stood small in front of professor Dillon, her arms protectively crossed in front of herself – even if it was a stance that her parents disapproved of because it was impolite – while he reprimanded her. It was quite familiar to Mia, she felt like she had been reprimanded her entire life.

Her parents had never been too liberal with their compliments, which is why praise from anyone – including Hazel – made her beam so much.

“Hey, Mia, come on.” Hazel frowned in worry and Mia shrugged, “Just – uh, a bad therapy session. Well, m-my first bad therapy session. I was just starting to think that I might be good at it but this… this guy showed up a-and I just didn’t get anywhere and I completely choked up.” Mia started rambling, her voice jumping a little as her words followed one another quickly. She looked anywhere but at Hazel as she was one big ball of worry now.

Her grades weren’t the best and that volunteer therapy thing she did was really just to get her a little extra credit. If she failed that too, Mia was sure she’d have to redo her year and the look on her parents face if she had to give them that news, was something she’d rather avoid.

Hazel shot her sympathetic eyes, “Babe, hey… Not all people open up as easily, you know that. And also, you’ve just started this thing! It doesn’t mean you’re a shit therapist or that you’ve chosen the wrong degree, you just need more experience. I’m sure it won’t be your last client behaving like that… some people are just not meant for therapy.”

“I know.” Mia murmured, keeping her eyes low until she sighed again, shifting from one foot to the other, “Can I just… climb in bed for a minute? And cry a little bit? I won’t make much noise.”

Hazel exhaled and nodded quicker than Mia had assumed. Her hand worked on opening up her blankets and Mia exhaled in relief when she slowly padded over, carefully climbing into Hazel’s pink bed. She snuggled a little into the free pillow, avoiding Hazel’s look on her as the first tears came running down.

She couldn’t believe she still had seven sessions left with Harry. Well – eight. Maybe he had changed his mind after all, rather digging into his savings to pay for the expensive book case he broke than spend more time with Mia.

A gentle stroke of Hazel’s fingers through her hair was what made Mia cry a little harder. The disappointment in herself was one thing, but the disappointment that her parents would feel when they found out about this – was another.

She had to turn this around, she couldn’t just fail this subject too. Mia couldn’t fail.

She just couldn’t.

#writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #one direction #alisonfelix #1dff #harrystyles #hsau #harrystylesfanfiction #harryau #hs #harrystylesbook #smutwarning #smuttystory #harrystylesff #wattpad

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powdermelonkeg · 1 year ago

Text

Something websites (*cough* Tumblr *cough*) need to learn is that what retains an audience isn't an abundance of new bells and whistles to play with, it's a coherent experience overall.

When someone joins a website, you don't need to grab their attention and hold it. They're already testing the waters. They've agreed to sign up. You've won on that front, and they're there for something specific you already have that they're hoping works well.

What drives them away is frustration.

Frustration, frustration, frustration.

Learning curves are going to be a part of any new website experience; they're something the user comes to terms with, in their own time. But broken or bad features are going to make them jump sites.

On top of that, constantly adding new features makes them feel like all the hard work they've put in to learning what you have isn't worth it; your website looks unstable and your staff looks incompetent, because it gives the impression that you don't know what you're doing.

You are floundering. It makes your new users nervous. It makes your old users hesitate to bring anyone else on board. And why should they? Why should they put effort into it if you're going to throw that effort away next Tuesday? Why get used to a UI that you're not going to bother to keep? Why customize anything if you're going to whittle that customization away?

Between that and the broken, unattended features of this site—the tag organization failing, the inability to look up posts word-for-word, the video player either refusing to play or yanking you to the top of the dashboard, images taking forever to load, advertisements blaring at full volume when you scroll past, you have your problem.

You have the reason why your numbers are failing.

It's not that you're not interesting enough.

It's not that you're too difficult to understand.

It's that you aren't improving what you have, yet you keep adding more half-broken things and unwanted copycat features to the pile.

It's that you're losing your identity in pursuit of a hypothetical perfect customer.

It's that you are actively telling your user base that you prefer those hypothetical customers over them. And your user base, your real people who make you happen, are smart enough to know where your priorities lie.

The bulk of this post talks about Tumblr, but other sites have gone the same way. Twitter is dead and its corpse is decaying in the street. Reddit has sabotaged any trust its users had in its management. If you'd like a really old example—I used to use Fanfiction Net. It's not the most intuitive website in the world, but it was the first one I called home.

I used it to host my works. The adware now on it makes it a hassle to navigate. The bots make comment sections and private messages a dread rather than a joy. So I moved on.

I also used to use it to collaborate on stories with my now-roommate. The message limit was 300 a day. When you're writing dialogue between characters, that's nothing.

So I moved on. We started messaging on Facebook. It was better, it didn't have a limit. But then I learned Discord existed, and I could edit messages, make dedicated channels, etc. So I moved on from Facebook to Discord. And Discord had a steep learning curve, especially if you're trying to make your own server rather than contribute to one. But, most importantly, the payoff was worth it.

If Discord changed its layout every other month while I was learning it, and broke how its reactions worked, and kept shifting what it meant to create a channel? If it opted me into servers I didn't sign up for, in hopes of engagement? If its text never formatted correctly, or its search function only went back a day or two?

I would have gone right back to Facebook. Even if it's a more basic experience, basic is always preferable to unstable.

Figure out what you want, websites.

Slow growth, or a gamble?

You're paying for your magic slot machine in users.

#negative salt #long post #this has been on my mind a lot lately

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bottlesofrouge · 7 months ago

Text

on one condition.

harry styles x original character

part six.

word count: 10.3K

warnings: homophobia!

7 AUGUST 2018

harry isn’t sure if it’s the overwhelmingly pungent smell of burnt coffee or the fact that he was about to see oliver for the first time in a little over three years that had him feeling like he could throw up at any given second. his cheeks felt clammy to the touch, and he even had to put a jacket on in the august heat because he visibly sweat through his t-shirt within the first five minutes of sitting at the small booth. (the queasiness was definitely oliver related, but the sour smell flowing throughout the small cafe didn’t help.)

to be honest, harry wasn’t really expecting oliver to reply to his message. firstly, because it was sent via facebook messenger and no one under forty uses that (the only exception being to score a killer deal found on marketplace), and secondly, because the message came from harry. when the message sat on delivered for thirty six hours, he felt relieved. it meant he wasn’t going to have to face his wrong doings, and it also meant that he didn’t have to do something he wasn’t sure he was ready to do to begin with.

besides that one moment in the early days of jane’s birthday vacation, harry hadn’t thought about oliver once. instead, his thoughts were filled to the brim with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, sugary sweet lips and warm, freshly tanned skin. he couldn’t help it. lynn was just so… perfect. harry simply couldn’t get enough of her. all the shy smiles sent his way and soft kisses pressed into his skin had him thinking maybe he didn’t miss oliver after all, and the ache in his chest was nothing but a bit of guilt because he didn’t anymore.

harry would never know because the small, heavy feeling was replaced with what was like the weight of a lynn-sized brick as soon as he heard her say that she was still hung up on silas. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect it. the look on her face right after everything happened just said it all. the way her smile fell from her lips mid-giggle when she looked at him… it was like she realized just exactly who he was once the post-orgasm fog had faded.

the memory of it makes his chest ache. harry didn’t mean to let it go that far. he would’ve been fine with a few short kisses and an early night, but as soon as she started grinding against him, the ache to please her grew into a pit so big, it should’ve swallowed him whole from the inside out. she could’ve given him her mouth and her throat just like she had offered and nothing would’ve been as satisfying as the feeling of her clenching around his fingers. the heavy whimpers that graced his ears and the hot exhales from her staggered breaths that fanned over the skin of his neck. the way she fell into him and basked in the warmth of his soft praises. she was so perfect, and he was nothing but an idiot to think he deserved her like that. to see her in such beauty. lynn was gorgeous and kind and smart and funny and… and he was just harry.

so, after a heavy cry in the shower and a fake confession, harry texted oliver that night, and thirty seven hours later, he responded. the other boy didn’t say much, only a time and an address. harry was nearly certain that he wasn’t going to show, but when the little bell above the door rings at exactly 10am, he’s proven wrong.

“hi,” harry rushes out as soon as oliver is at his table. “thank you for coming. i got you a lavender latte.”

“i don’t drink milk,” is the first thing oliver says. no hello. no how’ve you been?, and deep down, harry knew he didn’t deserve the fake pleasantries.

“you never have. it’s oat,” and then he’s pushing his untouched latte towards the other boy. “if you don’t like that anymore, mine’s almond. take it. take both, really. i can get you something else, too, if you’d-”

“harry,” oliver’s voice is sharp. a warning almost. “what are you doing here?”

"i wanted to apologize for what i did when we were in high school."

"that's it? that could've been done over text.”

"you deserve so much more than a text message, oliver," and it was true, he did. even if harry would rather be doing anything else, he owed the boy this much.

oliver doesn’t say anything, but he’s staring at harry with a coldness in his eyes that has him on the brink of tears. maybe this is how oliver felt every time he had to pass harry in the hallways. the thought makes a lump form in his throat.

"i'm not here to clear my conscience or get on my hands and knees and beg you to take me back because what i did was horrible, but-"

"did you ever love me or was it just some kind of fucked up joke? something to laugh at in the locker room, i’m sure."

"i loved you so much, oliver. so so so much." if it were any other situation the thickness of his voice might’ve had him cringing in embarrassment. he knew that the way he treated the other was criminal, but harry never thought oliver would assume that every single part of their shared relationship was nothing but a joke for his teammates. "my dad was horrible and i know that your parents would've done anything for me, but-"

"but i wasn't worth it?"

"you were, but i was a stupid kid who wanted his dad’s approval,” harry admits. “i was so angry because why did i have to be born into that kind of family? it was unfair and i was jealous of you and your relationship with your parents and i just... i took it out on you. i'm sorry, oliver."

"okay," oliver dramatically fake yawns like he just finished watching the most boring performance ever put on. "anything else? no begging for my forgiveness? maybe you want to call me a f-”

“no!” harry’s hands slam down on the table, stopping the boy from finishing his sentence.

oliver only smiles. “not even for old times’ sake, ma jolie?”

harry’s stomach twists at the old nickname. tears he’s been trying so hard to keep in finally spilling over. oliver started using the phrase when they were in their shared French I class. it was before they even started dating, but the two had started spending more alone time together. oliver would wake him up with the words tickling his skin, and harry let it go on for over a month before he finally caved and asked their teacher what it meant.

my pretty.

"i already figured that we would end the way we did when your dad saw us," oliver sighs. "i just hoped you were better than that."

"god, i was so horrible, ollie. i just…,” harry’s voice falls. his fingers are gripping the edge of the table so hard, his knuckles turning white. “you know i was religious. i couldn't understand why the god i worshiped made me into something that he hated,” big, thick tears are falling from his eyes, and his nose is so snotty, he can feel it running down to his lip. the sight must’ve been crazy to the other patrons in the shop, but harry didn’t care. he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant there was a chance he could prove himself to the boy. harry really did love him.

“i would come home from school and pray on my hands and knees begging him to fix me. i wanted to be worthy of my family's love so badly. if i had met you ten years from then, knowing what i do now, you would've been more than enough. i'm sorry i didn't realize that. i wish i was better to you, oliver. but nothing i do or say now will ever make what i did go away and i'm sorry.”

"i know,” the tone of his voice matches the way his features soften. the cold stare long gone. “i forgive you.”

"you don't-"

"i'll never know what it's like to grow up like that. my roommate is going through the same thing, and i should've never expected you to face that at 17. you were just a kid."

harry doesn't know why he feels the urge to cry again, but his eyes are watering and his throat is burning. he's blinking so fast, but the tears are still pooling, and as soon as oliver sees he's moving from his side of the booth and sliding in next to harry.

he can feel the boy’s lips against his hair and the side of his head, and harry doesn't really know who initiates it, but there’s soft kisses on his lips, and it feels so nostalgic. almost like coming home.

harry presses his face into the boy's neck when they pull apart. his eyes are closed, and he is just so focused on taking oliver in. he smells different. kind of. the cheap body sprays he had purchased as a teenager were no longer there, but harry could still pick out the gain original scent stuck to his shirt.

"i'm so sorry," his words are muffled by the boy’s skin, but the way ollie runs his thumb between his shoulder blades lets him know they’re heard. god, even his touch felt the same.

"i'm glad you texted," oliver says after a moment. “and i’m sorry for being a prick earlier.”

"don’t be," harry pulls away to offer him a smile. “i deserved it.”

"i still think about you, harry,” his knuckles reach to wipe the remnants of tears stuck under harry’s eyes. "i know how everything ended, but like i said, we were kids, and you loved me in a way i don't think i'll ever experience again."

"oliver..."

"im not saying anything will come out of it, but maybe you'd like to get to know each other again?"

"yeah," harry only smiles, trying his best not to explode. "i would like that very much, oliver."

✮✮✮

lynn swallows hard at the sight of the woman sitting in front of her. she looks nearly the same as the last time she saw her years ago, the only difference being the huge, shiny rock on her ring finger and her rather large baby bump. seeing her like this feels weird, lynn thinks.

of course, she’s happy for the woman, but lynn can’t help but feel a little bit of burning jealousy make its way up from her stomach all the way to her throat. she didn’t want to be married, and she definitely didn’t want to be pregnant, but seeing her like this… it reminded lynn of how the world continues to turn for everyone else while she still feels glued to the same spot. it was like she was in a game of monopoly, only the child who once claimed her as their piece became uninterested halfway through, and now she was forced to watch everyone pass GO a hundred times over while she sat in the tattered, old box, collecting dust.

“lynn,” dr. agard is the first to speak. “it’s nice to see you. it’s been a while.”

“three years, i think,” her voice feels so small as she leans into the plush pillows on the couch. “and evelyn’s okay now. if you want to go back to using that.”

she watches as her doctor writes a quick note, “i see. any reason for the change?”

lynn shakes her head, “not particularly. i just heard it again for the first time recently, and i don’t know. it didn’t make me cry until i threw up.”

“that’s good,” the woman smiles at her warmly, and it’s too much. lynn has to look away.

when she looks at dr. agard, she sees herself. the both of them share the same shade of blonde hair and blue eyes. the only difference being the fact that the doctor either wore hers straight or pulled away from her face in a way that never had a hair out of place. if she were to take her contacts out, lynn thinks that it would be just like looking in a mirror.

she wonders if this is what her life could have been like if anything were to have turned out just a little bit differently. maybe if peter didn’t have an affair with her au pair, she would’ve known what it was like to have two loving parents. perhaps then she wouldn’t have practically cheated on luke with her stupid neighbor. she’d have a college degree and a ring on her finger and a successful job and maybe a kid or two or three or—

when she blinks, dr. agard is looking at her expectantly.

“i’m sorry,” lynn says. “what did you say?”

“i asked why you decided to come back.”

"i, um," she clears her throat. "well, i met someone."

"that's exciting," the woman smiles at her as her pen glides across the paper. "how long have you two been together?"

"we're not," lynn feels herself slipping away again. her fingers pick the loose thread hanging from the bottom seam on her shirt, and she moves all of her attention down there. she couldn’t look dr. agard in the eye and tell her what she’s done. "we just... i don't know. i like being around him."

"why's that?"

"he's easy to talk to, and i feel like myself when we're together," her teeth chew at the inside of her cheek. "the version of myself that i was before everything."

"lynn," her notepad comes down and she's looking at her with worried eyes. "we've talked about this. you can't put your healing in the hands of other people."

"i know, i know. it's not like that," but wasn't it? she couldn’t sleep through the night unless harry was pressed against her. she’s been home for a week, and she hasn’t been able to close her eyes without a heavy dose of melatonin (nearly twenty milligrams if anyone cares.) "i want to do all the work because if there's ever a time that he feels the same, i want to give him the best version of myself. i don’t ever want him to feel like i rely on him."

"what do you think is going to happen if that time never comes?"

lynn would spend night after night with her face pressed into the pillow he had used a singular time until his scent went away. she’d probably wear her pretty blue dress like it was a second skin while she laid in bed trying to remember every curve of his body and every line in his skin.

she’d get on her knees, and pray to a god that she doesn’t even believe in. she’d ask him to fix it. to make harry change his mind about her. and when that wouldn’t happen, she’d probably lay on the floor with nothing but her fresh tears warming her body. she’d stay like that for hours. days maybe. and then she’d finally get up, wipe her face, and move on.

“i actually came today to see if you could maybe give me a referral for the place you sent me to last time,” lynn admits. “you know, the wellness center in connecticut.”

“i’d prefer to talk to you a bit first,” she says. “i could give you one maybe in a few sessions, but right now-”

“please,” lynn begs. “please. i feel just like i did last time.”

“how did you feel last time?”

“crazy,” it’s meant to come out as a joke, but her the tone of her voice has a bit of a serious edge to it. “i feel normal, i guess, but at the same time it’s like i’m not in control. i don’t know if it’s because i haven’t been sleeping or if it’s because of him, but i feel… not right.”

“how long have you had trouble sleeping?”

“thirteen. maybe fourteen.”

“two weeks isn’t that-”

“months,” lynn clarifies. “over a year.”

"oh, god. evelyn,” dr. agard can’t even hide the shock in her voice. her mouth is open, and the pen she’s holding makes a thump when it falls against the notebook. “why didn’t you come sooner?”

"because i felt like i could handle it," lynn smiles sheepishly. “and i didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until i met him. please, dr. agard. i wouldn’t be asking if i didn’t feel like i needed it. it helped so much last time.”

"at least you're aware," she says. "i’ll give it to you on one condition. i want you back here weekly."

“deal,” and lynn can’t help the grin that takes over face when dr. agard hands her the signed referral form.

19 AUGUST 2018

lynn parks her car a long four block walk away from the bakery. she usually starts her sunday shifts in the morning, sometimes even as early as seven. there was always an abundance of parking spaces and she loved beating the summer time farmer’s market crowd.

however, this morning was spent in dr. agard’s manhattan office. after lynn insisted on moving her weekly sessions down there in fear of anyone seeing her, the woman asked to see her for an emergency appointment. apparently, she wanted to figure out just what lynn meant by that.

so, she didn’t want harry to see her walking into the building in the middle of their little downtown area. sue her. lynn didn’t really want anyone to see her if she were being honest. there was a little embarrassment that came with the fact that she had to go away again, and she preferred to keep it to herself. and silas. obviously. she told him everything.

the weeklong stay at connecticut’s finest wellness center was exactly what lynn needed. when she was there, her one on one therapist (her name was penny and she was lynn’s favorite) taught her some helpful techniques when it came to dealing with her crippling insomnia. none of which involved a boy with soft, brown curls and warm lips being in her bed.

penny also reassured lynn that her borderline infatuation with harry was normal. he was the first new person she felt safe around in a while, and she had to learn to separate that from her actual feelings towards him. she had also said that lynn was projecting an idea of the man she wanted him to be onto him. sure, he was kind and sweet, but that was only when he wanted to be. who’s to say that things wouldn’t go right back to how they started between them as soon as they spent some time together outside of sunny florida?

so, she didn’t love him like she had told penny on her first day there, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a crush on him. of course she did. he’s harry.

lynn stops at her favorite coffee shop that sat a block away from her bakery. when she was understaffed and worked the night shift alone, she would trade the baristas freshly baked cupcakes for large soy milk lattes. honestly, she wasn’t really sure if the coffee was even that good. the staff was lovely and that’s all that mattered.

“lynn,” the teenage girl behind the counter named nora greets her with a smile. “i was starting to think you moved away. soy latte?”

“always, and i was just out of town for a bit,” lynn laughs, digging through her purse for her wallet. “come by after your shift and i’ll send you home with all of my fails.”

nora cheers, tapping away on the computer screen. “just two dollars today. gave you my discount.”

“i’ve got it,” lynn turns around to see harry standing behind her. he’s got two bags of coffee beans in his hand and he steps forward to set them on the counter. “these, too. thank you, nora.”

“harry,” lynn can’t stop the smile from growing on her lips. “hi.”

“hi, honey,” he gives her the close-lipped, soft smile that she absolutely adores. the one where the left side of his mouth curves just a little higher than his right. lynn leans into the warmth crawling up her neck and spreading to her cheeks, just happy that someone has this effect on her again. (she learned to appreciate the little things in connecticut, too.)

“you two know each other?” nora’s voice is quieter, and lynn thinks it’s faintly laced with shock, too.

“s’my girlfriend, nora,” harry mumbles as the machine beeps, signaling for him to take out his card. when he looks up, nora’s looking back at him with her jaw nearly on the ground. “y’alright, sweetheart? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“yeah, um,” lynn laughs at how flustered she gets. “when we’re bored, some of us like to ship our regulars, and-”

“ship?” harry interrupts.

“like pairing people together,” lynn lets herself rest against his shoulder. she missed him, and harry obviously wanted nora to think they were together. “romantically.”

“right. i knew that.”

“a lot of us on the morning shift thought that you two would be cute together,” nora’s face turns red at her own confession. “the girls are going to die when i tell them.”

“we are cute together, aren’t we?” his lips are lost in her hair, and lynn tries her best to remember that he’s only doing it because he has to. because they’re in this stupid, fake relationship. (penny, dr. agard, and her group therapist had all called it a bad idea.) but really, they didn’t have to pretend right now. not in front of nora. maybe harry was doing it because he simply wanted to.

the two leave the coffee shop once lynn gets her latte, and also after they stage a photo for nora to send to the work group chat. apparently, they had a monetary bet on the whole thing, and what kind of people would harry and lynn be if they didn’t help their favorite barista make an extra bit of cash. so, they shared a kiss right outside of the cafe’s big windows, and harry stuck his head back in to make sure the girl got the perfect shot.

the weather feels absolutely perfect as they walk through the nearly-over farmers market. it’s on the way to the bakery, and lynn always finds herself wandering around whenever she has a good enough excuse. sometimes, when some of the staff asks for extra hours, she lets them set up a tent full of freshly baked loaves of bread. it meant that all she had to do was wake up early and bake them, and then she was free of her work duties and could visit nearly every vendor. so, once the ingredients were paid for, lynn split the rest of the profits amongst whoever worked. it was only fair.

harry stops to purchase a bouquet of over-priced sunflowers and lynn stupidly lets herself picture them sitting on her kitchen counter in a vase. she’d put them in the crystal one she inherited from her grandmother. usually, she reserved it for flowers that silas sends her from her favorite florist, but an exception could be made for harry.

"i’m happy i ran into you," he admits when they’re just outside of the bakery. "i miss you."

she looks up at him, "yeah?"

"yeah," he confirms. "i know that trip was a lot. figured you needed your space for a little while, but i wanted to see you."

"are you free for a little bit?"

“of course,” his fingers are pinching at the sleeve of her shirt. “i’m always free for you.”

she smiles up at him, unlocking the door to get into the bakery. "come on, then."

it was rare that lynn ever let anyone sit in on her sunday shifts. she loves working alone and the peace that comes with having nothing but her poorly crafted spotify playlists to keep her company. it brings her back to when she’d spend summertime weekends listening to music and baking for her sisters, reminding her of how she even fell in love with baking in the first place.

she leaves harry in her office while she changes into her baking clothes that were kept in a desk drawer. she's got pictures of amelia and jane and silas taped to her computer, and when she stood up with the folded clothes in her hands, she was reminded that she even added a photo of harry. it was one she took on the trip, and she hoped that he didn’t find it weird. they were friends after all.

“i never got to ask,” lynn’s tying the apron around her waist while harry brings out a chair from the office to join her per her own request. “how did things with oliver go?”

she selfishly hopes he comes back with a frown on his face. he’ll say it was awful. the other boy hates him. nothing good was ever going to come out of it. harry would tell her that the coffee beans he bought were just an excuse to see her, and the flowers were meant to grace her counter top. he’d kiss her like he always does, and then maybe he’d even take her out to dinner.

i mean, he had to, right? why else would he be kissing her head and calling her honey in front of nora? would he miss her and want to see her if he had oliver to keep him company?

harry rounds the corner with a grin on his face, and it wasn’t anything like his normal one. it wasn’t even like the ones that lynn had compared to luke’s sunshine smiles. he’s showing all of his perfect teeth, his dimples practically giant craters on his cheeks. harry just radiates this glow, and it’s like lynn can see the happiness seeping from his pores. he practically embodied sunshine.

“we’re seeing each other again,” lynn has to turn around to face her supply shelf when she hears the words leave his mouth. “dating each other, and seeing where things go. you know.”

“that’s so exciting, harry,” she tries her best to sound happy before she lets herself face him again.

“thanks,” he says, his sunshine smile still on his lips. “i think it’s going to be good this time.”

maybe lynn needs to schedule another emergency session with dr. agard. immediately.

harry sits in her chair, silently watching with one of his legs folded underneath him until his phone rings. the sound makes lynn jump, chocolate batter tipping over on to the counter. he apologizes through a laugh, eyes never really leaving her as he fishes through his bag for his phone.

the mess reminds lynn of when the two of them made cupcakes with the leftover ingredients from jane’s birthday cake while silas opted for a shower. she had gotten chocolate icing on her face, and harry so graciously pointed it out before kissing it off. neither of them said anything, but when lynn purposefully smeared the icing across her lips, he kissed that off, too.

lynn recounted that night hundreds of times in the wellness center and on dr. agard’s sofa. it wasn’t the first time they had kissed when they were alone, and it wasn’t the last, but it was the first time that harry kissed her like he meant it. it wasn’t just soft presses of his lips against hers. he licked and sucked, and her favorite part was when he would pull away and she could feel his opened mouth pressed against hers. there’d be a sharp inhale and then he’d kiss her again. it was like he was trying to stop himself, too weak to ever actually do so.

she wonders if the chocolate mess reminds him of that night, too.

“i’m sorry, mom,” harry has his phone pressed against his cheek. “i know…i know. i just lost track of time. i’ll be there soon.”

it’s quiet for a second, and then his soft murmurs are replaced by the sound of john’s voice blaring through the speaker. harry’s eyes widen, and every time he opens his mouth to respond, john talks right over him. lynn can’t make out much, but she can tell he’s angry, pissed, really, over gemma’s birthday cake. the coffee beans and sunflowers make sense now.

"you alright?" lynn asks when pulls the phone away from his face.

"yeah," he clears his throat. "just... fucking up like always." his words are mumbled, and he doesn’t meet her eyes. she hates that he feels this way around her. "i'm sorry, ev. i should really go before they kill me."

"do you think there's room for one more?" she's standing behind a chocolate cake that she had pulled from the display case the second she heard john’s complaining. a white happy birthday gemma written on across the top.

"evy..." his voice falls when he sees it, and lynn’s stomach flips at the nickname. she wishes he’d say it again. "you don't have to-"

"we can say i insisted on making it. opened the bakery and everything just for the cake. i'll apologize for taking so long. it'll be fine."

"you're not taking the fall. you know how my dad can be.”

she shrugs, "i don't mind. i owe it to you, really. after you had to spend every day at my side. i know how much of a chore that was."

she laughs lightly, teeth finding the inside of her cheek. lynn nervously nibbles, knowing she’s just set herself to be incredibly disappointed. she gets sick at the thought of harry dreading spending time with her. he probably woke up every day on that trip just itching to push her away from him. maybe there was a timer set on his phone, counting down the seconds until he could go home and be far away from her and with oliver instead. dropping her off probably felt like such a relief. like he could finally breathe—

"that trip didn't feel like that to me, blondie. not at all.”

"no?" she looks up at him as his words interrupt her thoughts.

"no," his smile's light, and he reaches to give her upper arm a squeeze. "let me help you clean up."

"you sure? i don’t know if we have time."

“always have time for you, remember?” she wonders if he means it. if he’ll always have time for her even when the other boy is sitting at home, waiting for him.

they take lynn’s car to harry’s parents’ house. harry offers to drop off some danishes and tarts to nora and pick up her car from the lot while she changes into her clothes from earlier, and she lets him. she lets him draw on the pastry box, too. lynn expects something corny, like a thanks a latte written in the center. instead there’s a heart, followed by a rather large l.a.+ h.s.

her heart beats just a little faster when she sees it.

the car ride is quiet. harry’s got his phone plugged in, shuffling through a few hozier songs that play softly through her car speakers. he hums along quietly, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, and he sounds almost as pretty as he looks.

it reminds her of the last time they saw each other. he had driven her home from the airport, and lynn spent the entire ride looking for the right moment to tell him just what the night prior meant to her. it never came, and she hadn’t seen him since.

she lets herself think about how different things would be right now if she had. maybe harry would be reaching over the center console for her hand, peppering kisses to her burning cheeks at stop lights, singing along obnoxiously to the songs that played just to annoy her.

and even if that weren’t true, what would have happened if she had kissed him when he called her that stupid nickname instead of running away? would he have let her touch him? she knows she would’ve given him her throat, just like she had offered. lynn would’ve given him all of her. whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, he would’ve had it.

harry slamming on the brakes is what gets lynn out of her head, and she realizes that this is just what penny meant. her feelings for him grew and grew because of scenarios she made up in her mind, and honestly, she’d never know what harry really thought about that night because he was seeing oliver now. she’d be the worst person in the world if she were to ruin that.

“sorry, evelyn,” harry murmurs, and lynn realizes that he’s got his arm stretched across her chest, pressing her back in to her seat. “wasn’t paying attention. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not any worse than my driving on the way to the airport in miami,” lynn says. “you’re fine.”

harry laughs at the mention of the most stressful drive of her entire life, and then it’s quiet and hozier’s voice can be heard again.

gemma greets lynn with a hug and a kiss on each of her cheeks. she’s grinning, and thanking her over and over again for the cake. lynn’s baking was her favorite, and she admits that she often finds herself inside of the bakery on her lunch breaks.

“tell the cashier your name next time,” lynn says. “whatever you want from now on is on me.”

gemma waves her off with a laugh, and it reminds her of harry, “i could never. i already feel bad when nora slips me an extra shot here and there.”

nora. gemma knows nora and that’s why harry was so okay with doting on her in front of the barista. it wasn’t because he wanted to. he had to.

“really, i insist,” lynn feels harry moving behind her. his arm rests on her waist and he presses his lips to the crown of her head. “i owe it to you for showing up empty handed.”

“if anyone owes anyone anything, i should be giving something to you. it’s been forever since i’ve seen harry at one of these things, and i’m certain i owe all credit to you.”

oliver. she owes it all to oliver. it’s been over two weeks since she’s last seen him, and she wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“heeeeey,” harry whines, and his face doesn’t match his voice. instead, he’s got a big grin on it as he leans forward to hug his sister. one arm wraps around her neck and the other stays exactly where it was on lynn’s back. “happy birthday, gem. missed you.”

“i’m glad you’re here, harry,” she turns her attention back to lynn. “and you, too, lynn. thank you for the cake.”

harry guides lynn to the living room, leaving her to relax on the couch next to drew while he got them drinks. gemma’s husband is nice. he offers lynn comforting smiles and listens attentively when he asks her about herself. she’s a bit surprised when he adds in a few questions about harry, but she answers them to the best of her ability, getting the sense that harry doesn’t check in with them as much as he should.

of course, she tells him that harry’s doing well. lynn chats about their beach vacation and even mentions how thoughtful he was when it came to the dress and dinner reservations. she says he’s attentive and kind, and she loves the way he treats her sisters. when drew asks how his classes are going, lynn’s vague with her answer, only saying that he’s doing well. she’s not entirely sure if he (or gemma) knew about harry’s recent drop out, and she definitely wasn’t going to be the one to let that out.

“i’m glad he has you,” he says it with sad eyes, making lynn furrow her brows. “he hasn’t come around much recently. i think the last time i saw him at one of gemma’s birthday celebrations, he was only seventeen.”

lynn doesn’t have time to respond because harry’s joining them again, this time with a hard seltzer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other which he keeps for himself. drew switches his attention to harry, and it’s so obvious that the older man cares for him. he asks him questions with actual depth. there was none of that “so…how’ve you been?” bullshit that seemed to be the only thing to fall from the rest of the family’s lips. drew was actually interested in what harry had to say, and even if he wasn’t, he did a damn good job at acting like it.

if he didn’t show he cared enough through his words, his actions did. at least lynn thought so. when his grandmother walked in, her eyes fell on harry and almost immediately, a sour expression took over her face.

“what’s he doing here?” her voice feels venomous, and lynn can feel the way harry tenses next to her when it falls on his ears. obviously, drew heard it, too. instead of giving the old woman any attention, he simply angled his body to block her out of harry’s sight and continued the conversation like nothing had happened.

lynn wishes marianne’s mom didn’t have such an effect on him. she can see it in the way his knee bounces. there’s little beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck, and lynn bets she could hear the pounding of his heart if she were to press her ear against his chest. she felt so fucking bad for him.

so, she offers him whatever she can without drawing his attention away from the conversation with his brother-in-law. it starts with a squeeze of his hand before she takes it into her own. she lets her thumb brush against his knuckles, noticing the absence of the rings he usually wears.

when drew gets up to help set the table, harry slides his hand to lynn’s knee. a smile forms on his lips, and he squeezes once. nothing’s said, but lynn understands it. at least she thinks she does. she kisses his cheek, and harry catches her chin before she can pull away, bringing her lips to his. their kiss isn’t anything more than a peck, but lynn can’t ignore the way the want for him begins stirring up in her belly.

“you alright?” her words are quiet, just meant for him.

“yeah,” her murmurs. “i’m glad you’re here.”

“me, too,” the shy smile forms on his face again and she soaks it up. lynn tries her best to capture this moment, hoping it’s a part of her seven minute long memory reel when she dies. even if it was just a show for his family. “c’mon. let’s go help drew.”

the dinner isn’t entirely unbearable. lynn sits between harry and his mother, and gemma and drew sit across from them. his grandmother is placed next to gemma and across from marianne, and john takes the head of the table. different conversations float throughout the group, mostly centered around gemma, and lynn’s thankful for it because every time harry’s name is mentioned, the older woman either scoffs or mutters something under her breath.

harry doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it at first. he chats with drew and once they run out of things to say, he turns to lynn, wanting to be caught up on all things jane and amelia. he lets out a dramatic gasp with his hand to his chest when lynn reveals that amelia is still texting the boy from the beach, and it makes her laugh.

it feels like they’re in their own little world at the table as they share hushed whispers and quiet giggles with each other. it reminds her of when they went to the restaurant in florida. their conversation holds nothing of substance, and it feels like she’s actually getting to know him without some kind of depressing cloud looming over them.

when a childhood story is shared by gemma, she learns his favorite color is yellow, he loves sunflowers (not as much as his sister does), and the two would often spend long games of hide and seek amongst the fields near his grandmother’s house. the story turns into one about the summers they spent there, and his sister recalls harry spending night after night on the floor of her bedroom after they watched monsters inc with tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.

the corners of his mouth are turned downward, and lynn hates that what’s supposed to be happy childhood memory makes him sad. she lets her chin rest on his shoulder, facing away from the rest of the group, “it sounds like your grandma loved you so much then. i’m sure she’ll come around.”

“i hope so,” he murmurs, and it makes lynn want to cry.

“how about cake?” marianne asks, standing up from the table.

“ooh please,” gemma says, and then turns her attention to her grandmother. “you’re going to love it, gram. lynn makes the best cakes.”

“that’s what you do?” the old woman asks. “work in a bakery?”

john laughs under his breath, and before lynn can even say something, she hears harry’s voice from behind her, “she owns the bakery.”

his grandmother only hums, and by the look on gemma’s face, lynn thinks that this is the first time he’s spoken to her in a while. her heart thumps at the assumption.

“i’ll take you one weekend,” gemma says to her grandma. “there’s a market, too. it’ll be so much fun.”

“i usually keep it closed on sunday’s,” lynn interrupts, fingers pinching at harry's cheek which earns a laugh from him. “made a special exception today with harry’s help.”

as if on cue, drew walks out with the cake, a brightly lit ‘25’ candle in the center. mari’s singing happy birthday, and the rest of the group joins in. lynn watches with envy as drew slides the cake in front of his wife and then leans forward to wrap his arms around her neck. the action makes gemma grin, and once she blows out her candles, lynn catches the “i’ve already got my wish” that she whispers to him along with a squeeze of his hand.

ugh. when will someone love her like that?

“cake looks delicious, ev,” harry gains her attention with his whisper. “thank you again.”

“y’don’t have to thank me.”

he pats her knee under the table, leaving his hand to rest there while marianne starts to cut the cake and pass around the slices. gemma gets the first, and then drew, and then she holds out a plate to her mother, who rudely puts her hand out and pushes it away.

“not if harry helped with it,” and lynn expects for someone to jump to his defense. to say something. anything. but seconds pass, and no one does.

her shock is probably evident in the way her jaw falls to the floor. even drew, who was just whining about missing harry at family functions, has his attention turned toward his hands in his lap. gemma’s pushes the dessert around on the plate, and marianne is looking sympathetically…at her mother.

“oh, come on, son. lighten up,” john breaks the silence first. “you can’t expect everyone to be so accepting of your lifestyle.”

lifestyle? harry’s touch falls from her leg, and when she looks over at him, her chest fucking aches. she can see the tears glassing over his eyes, rapid, heavy blinking keeping them from spilling over. teeth scrape over his bottom lip, and he keeps his eyes glued to the empty space in front of him.

she wants to pull him into her and tickle him with kisses until he’s a breathless, giggling mess, pushing her away just for a little gasp of air. if it were just them, lynn would let him rest his head in her lap and trace words onto his skin until he fell asleep. he’d leave the next morning with the sentence faintly bruised into his skin. i love you in hues of browns and blues.

of course, she only means it platonically right now, but maybe someday the words would hold more. she selfishly wishes that she’ll be the one to make him forget about every nasty thing his stupid family has ever said about him. that ten years from now, all he’ll know is her and her love, and even if that never happens, lynn hopes that she can prove to him that he’s more than what they make him out to be. that he deserves everything good.

or maybe he’ll find that again with oliver. it didn’t matter. as long as he got it.

“i think i saw some ice cream in the freezer,” gemma says, and then she pushes herself from the table. “i’ll go check, gram.”

“let me help you,” mari offers. she gives harry’s shoulder a squeeze when she walks past him, and lynn can see the way he curls into himself at the contact. god, she wanted to grab the woman’s hand and squeeze it until all of the bones in her fingers shattered.

minutes pass, and when lynn catches a tear finally slip down harry’s cheek, she can’t stop herself from excusing herself to see if the other women needed help.

"it makes me sick to see the way you guys let her treat him," lynn’s not even entirely in the kitchen when the words fall from her mouth.

"she's from a different time, lynn,” marianne defends herself, and the tone of her voice makes lynn’s skin itch. she sounds so nonchalant. how can you watch your son be visibly devastated by his grandmother’s words and not say anything?

"who gives a fuck?” she can’t help herself. “he's your son."

"and she's my mother. i could never choose between the two of them."

"except you do, and you never choose him."

"i wouldn't expect you to understand. she's-" gemma starts.

lynn scoffs, not being able to listen to the two of them a second longer, "the only thing i need to understand is the fact that he loves you guys with every fiber in his being, and you both decide to sit back and watch silently as she demeans him. you should be ashamed," she turns her attention to gemma, pointing her finger at the girl as she speaks. "especially you. harry speaks so highly of you in everything he has to say and to sit here and see the way you just turn your head at the things she has to say… i would never, ever let my grandmother talk to my little sisters like that. especially if they came here for me and no one else."

she can taste the saltiness on her lips from the tears she didn’t even realize were falling. lynn’s not sure if its the hurt from hearing these two talk about harry like that or if it’s because her chest is heaving so hard, but she aches. maybe it’s because she knows how badly it hurts, but lynn lets out a sob that she muffles with the back of her hand. she doesn’t mean to, really. harry just deserved so much better.

"can we leave?" his quiet voice behind her makes her jump.

"harry-" it’s marianne.

“yeah, of course,” she moves to him, not letting his mother finish her sentence. “let’s go.”

harry’s already carrying both of their bags in his hand so they leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and lynn couldn’t be more thankful. by the quietness filling the house, she guesses that they all heard her little outburst. maybe she should be more embarrassed by her behavior, but honestly, she doesn’t really care.

unless harry was upset with her, and by the silence he was offering her…

"i’m sorry," she says once they’re outside. “i overstepped, and-

harry pulls her into him, the rest of her sentence dissolving into a gasp. his arms are around her waist pulling her against him so tightly, she can barely breathe. lynn feels his tears wetting the skin of her neck and the small shakes of his body with every exhale.

“thank you,” his words are pressed into her skin. “no one’s ever…thank you.”

“nothing you have to thank me for,” lynn lets her hands slide up his back until they can wrap around his neck. she’d let him hold her against him for as long as he wanted. maybe if things were real between them, she’d kiss him, too. “do you want me to take you to oliver’s?”

harry pulls away, searching her face as if her question had some kind of hidden meaning. one of her hands move to cup his cheek, thumb stretching to wipe away all of the sticky tears. his glassy eyes are just boring into hers, and lynn wishes she could take all of his pain away.

"i feel like i haven't seen you in forever, evy. could we go to yours?"

and how can she say no when he uses that name. “i have to finish up some stuff at the bakery. we can get chinese on the way if you want.”

“yeah,” harry breathes. “i would.”

so, lynn calls in their usual order at their favorite place when they’re finally in her car. it’s a good thirty minutes out of the way, but she doesn’t really care. there’s a wine store right next to it, and she thinks if she chooses the right parking spot, she could run into both of the stores without harry seeing.

she drives with one hand on the wheel and the other hand intertwined with harry’s. her thumb runs across his knuckles while he sits in the passenger seat with his head pressed against the glass. he keeps his eyes closed, but the way he tightly grasps her hand anytime she starts to let go lets her know that he’s still awake.

the wine shop is still open when they pull into the parking lot of the little strip mall, so she runs in there first. it doesn’t take long to find the white wine section. lynn could never say no to a chilled glass of pinot grigio, and she knew that harry would happily share the bottle with her without a complaint, but throughout their week in florida, she noticed that he tended to reach for the bottle labeled citruskissed if they had it in their fridge or if they made a stop at the grocery store. so, she gets a bottle of each before making her way to the chinese restaurant.

while lynn waits for the cashier to grab their order from the kitchen, she can’t help but wonder if harry considers this place their favorite place, too. maybe he told oliver about it, saying ‘lynn and i love this place.’ just like she did with silas. or maybe it was just his, and he mentioned his favorite restaurant to oliver.

whatever. it was a minuscule detail, and it didn’t really matter, but the thought of them sharing something in his mind makes her face warm a little.

she slides the bags in her backseat before getting back in the car. harry was sitting up right, fingers picking at the skin on the side of his thumb like he was nervous. his eyes were teary again and his bottom lip was red and shiny with spit, probably from gnawing on it.

“i don’t want you to think i didn’t want you there,” harry says before she could even get her seatbelt on.

“i didn’t think—”

“you did,” he interrupts. “i saw it on your face when my sister said whatever she did about you convincing me to go.”

“i didn’t convince you to go, harry. you were already going, and i practically invited myself—”

“no. no, ev,” he’s shaking his head. “you did. when i saw you with your parents, and how you didn’t let your relationship with them affect your relationship with your sisters. i thought that maybe i could do that, too, and i wanted you there, but…”

“you don’t have to explain anything to me, har,” lynn takes his hands in her own. “i get it.”

“we weren’t talking,” his brows are drawn together, and he keeps his eyes focused on the center console. “i didn’t know how to ask you. i’m just…so embarrassed of the way i let them treat me. i don’t want you to think—”

“i think you deserve better. that’s what i think,” she says. “and we’re friends, harry. i’ll always show up for you, even if we haven’t spoken in a bit.”

“you don’t have to babysit me, you know. you still have work to do tonight, and i don’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with me just because i’m sad.”

“i don’t feel like i’m babysitting you at all,” her voice is full of sincerity. “i missed you, and i want to spend time with you.”

“i’m no fun to be around right now.”

“i’m sure i wasn’t much fun to be around in florida,” lynn replies.

“that’s different. i didn’t mind—”

“it’s the exact same thing. i don’t mind at all right now,” her finger points to the back seat. “we have dinner, and i got us our favorite wines. if this is because i asked if you wanted me to take you to oliver’s, i just thought that you’d want to be around him instead.”

“i don’t,” his voice is quiet, almost like if he said the words any louder he’d be betraying the boy. “you’re the only person i want to be around right now.”

“okay,” lynn says. “i want to be around you, too. y’dont have to push me away.”

“okay,” harry squeezes her hands once before letting go. he turns to put his seatbelt back on, and then, “is it citruskissed?”

lynn grins, “of fucking course it’s citruskissed. think better of me.”

the drive back to her bakery wasn’t as long as she remembers it to be, but maybe that was only because she spent the entirety of it trying to walk harry through using the ebay app.

at a rather long red light, she convinced him to list some of his paintings for an outrageous price. it was a trend she had seen online. artists would list their work, and sometimes people would bid nearly five digits for them. lynn had mentioned that financial freedom from his parents might help (at least it did for her), and he was downloading the app seconds later.

the two eat their chinese food right out of the containers with plastic cups full to the brim with their wine at one of the tiny tables in the bakery’s dining area. the overhead lights are kept off, and they use the warm glow from stray lamps lynn had thrifted over the years instead.

she’s spent many long nights just like this one in her bakery. the lights were always dimmed as she ate the chinese delivery in her office. music usually quietly played from the speakers, and there was a sense of calmness that floated around the small building. lynn always loved the time she spent working late alone, but right now, she thinks she loves sharing it with harry even more.

he’s comfortable around her again, and not a second goes by that’s not taken up by one of their voices as they talk around bites of lo mein and fried rice. he tells her about his teenage years, and just how into theater he was. lynn can’t help the giggle that slips out when she pictures harry in costume on stage.

she tries to talk him into joining the community theater, and of course, he makes a joke of it. she doesn’t want to press, but lynn thinks if he ever did decide to join, she’d be front and center at every one of his plays with a bouquet of sunflowers tucked gently underneath her seat.

“did you ever try to rekindle things with silas?”

“what?” lynn’s fork holding a bite of lo mein stops mid air.

“sorry, it’s none of my business.”

there’s a bubble of laughter rising in her chest, and she does her best to keep it down, “you do know silas is gay, right?”

harry chokes on his sip of wine, “what?”

his eyes are wide and lynn can’t stop the laughter from spilling out. it’s such a genuine laugh that she can feel deep in her stomach. tears pool at the corner of her eyes, and when she looks over, harry is laughing softly, too.

“i can’t believe you thought that…” her fingertips press into the ache in her side that seemed to grow with each laugh. “i can’t even finish. that’s absurd, harry.”

“you two just seemed so-”

“don’t,” she holds her hand up, one last giggle leaving her lips. “you’ve said enough.”

lynn finishes pouring the forgotten chocolate batter into cupcake tins while harry cleans up their dinner mess. it’s late by now. the sun’s set, and she expects him to say he has to go after he’s finished tossing everything in the trash. he doesn’t though. instead, he brings out her office chair and watches again.

neither one of them speaks, and lynn can’t help but wonder what harry’s thinking about. every time she looks over, his face softens and a smile forms on his lips when their eyes meet. the sight of him makes her want to lay on her bed, kicking her feet like a schoolgirl as she draws little e.a. + h.s.’s inside of hearts in her notebook.

lynn’s icing the cupcakes when she lets him plug his phone into the bakery’s sound system. harry chooses hozier again, but this time lynn knows the words of work song as soon as it starts playing through the speakers.

i'm so full of love i could barely eat.

she remembers when the song was first released. she’d lay in her bed in her parents’ house listening to it with her headphones on max volume, wishing that this was the song she could relate to instead of cherry wine.

“god, harry,” lynn can’t help herself once he returns back to the kitchen. “you must be so in love with him. i’ve never heard someone listen to this much mushy music.”

harry smiles, but it’s sad. (probably from earlier.) “yeah, something like that.”

it’s nearing midnight when she puts the last of the cupcakes in the display case. harry’s moved to the table they were sitting at earlier, his face buried in his arms. lynn thinks he might only be resting, but the soft snores that sometimes bounce off of the walls of the bakery tell her otherwise.

she does her best to close everything up quietly, not wanting to wake him, and then goes to finish up the dishes. lynn’s not really sure why he decided to nap at the table instead of going home to sleep in his comfortable bed, but she isn’t complaining. she would never give up a second of time spent with harry. even if it was spent watching him nap.

thinking about the fact that there will be a day when he would rather be around oliver when he’s sad makes her stomach twist. lynn knows it would probably be best to distance herself. nothing good would come out of letting herself fall in love with him. he even said it himself when they first started this whole fake relationship. he’d do it as long as she didn’t fall in love with him, and something tells her that he’s not very keen on changing his mind.

lynn puts their half empty bottles of wine into a bag, and boxes up the chocolate cupcake she had made especially for harry to take back to his. it was a mini version of the cake she had given to gemma, only a little better. it had raspberry filling and thick cream cheese frosting, and she hoped he’d like it.

her fingers brush against his arm and move to scratch at his back, quiet murmurs of his name leaving her lips. harry offers her a sleepy smile when he lifts his head, and before thinking, lynn offers him a spot in her bed in return. she’s embarrassed for even offering, but harry accepts before she finishes her sentence.

harry takes the bags and boxes from her as she turns off the last remaining lamp and joins him outside. her keys echo in the darkness as she tries to lock the door, and after a few minutes, harry offers his phone flashlight, illuminating the lock.

they share the cupcake as soon as they get into the car. harry uses the nearby streetlight to carefully shove spoonfuls of the raspberry filling and chocolate cake into lynn’s mouth. he keeps the frosting all for himself, quiet hums of appreciation falling from his mouth with every bite.

“still having trouble sleeping?” his words are slurred in the passenger seat of her car not even five minutes into the drive.

“not as much,” she admits. “i, um, went to a psychiatrist and got some sleeping meds.”

“yeah?” he hums. “and they work?”

“usually. not always.”

“i’m sorry,” he leans his head back against the headrest, eyes closing again. harry’s hand reaches for her's and he presses his sugary lips against the back of it like it was a normal thing for him to be doing. “y’always deserve the best sleep. i wish we could trade places… my hardworking girl.”

my girl? lynn’s thanking god that his eyes are closed because the blush from his words practically takes over her whole body. every inch of her skin is on fire, and when she catches herself in the rear view mirror, her reflection matches that of a red light.

when lynn finally gains enough courage to look over at him, he’s fast asleep again.

✰✰✰

a/n: yay she's here!!! only two more parts waaa hopefully i'll have the next one out soon

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cakelitter · 3 months ago

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My Leon Head Cannons!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

content: These head cannons are sfw and are just random shit tbh

a/n: Helloooo!!!these are just some silly thoughts my brain comes up with cause this man shamelessly lives in my head rent free. This is the first time I've written something like this so I tried my best. Again please don't take these too seriously they are simply for fun.

Words: 387

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

1.Absolutely Zero Cooking Skills

I actually giggle whenever I read fanfics where this man cooks for you cause there is no way that's happening. He most probably hasn't had a home cooked meal in YEARS, and mostly relies on salads and quick meals like eggs and sandwiches. Not to mention he is always on missions and couldn't be bothered to cook for himself when he does have the time for that.

2.Not Book Smart

High school Leon was definitely crying over math homework and going through the seven stages of grief over it. He probably was a good student just struggled the most with maths or physics, he is in no way shape or form stupid, just not the best with numbers...

3.Chronically Offline

Mostly uses his phone for texting and calling, but somehow was peer pressured into getting a Facebook account where him and Chris send the unfunniest memes to each other from time to time. However he is a horrible texter, comes off as dry even though it's unintended. 100% uses the dad's thumbs up emoji and you'll have to explain to him what "idk" and "wyd" stand for. Don't even bother explaining words like "gyatt" and "rizz" mean cause he will be using them unironically and his jokes are painful enough.

4.Financially Responsible

He's really not much of a spender, he probably had a rough upbringing and knows the value of money. He often still finds himself gravitating towards the cheapest option even though now he has the money for it. The only things that he's willing to spend his money on are his leather jackets, he could be wearing jeans from goodwill and a shirt that is old enough to vote but will not cheapen out on his jackets. Can definitely see him being a watch guy, where he treats himself to a watch every now and then to cheer himself up.

5. Hates Hospitals

He could be bleeding out with 3 broken ribs, 6 stab wounds and a missing eye ball and you would have to physically drag him to the hospital AND he'd be grumpy and won't talk to you for the rest of the day, cause he clearly had it under control. He mostly hate the feeling of being poked with a needle, ironic considering he gets shot for a living.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

#leon #leon kennedy #resident evil #headcanon #cakelitter

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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Am I the asshole for getting a restraining order against my anti-vax sister and her family?

I know that sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (27 M) and my wife (28 F) recently had our first child together six months ago and my parents and sister have started coming over to see our baby girl.

I didn't let them see the baby when she was born because unfortunately my wife and I were in a bad car accident. (Drunk driver ran us off the road and the car rolled down a small cliffside until it flipped over and crashed) we're both ok but my wife is now wheelchair bound and our daughter had to be delivered and put in an incubator for the rest of pregnancy because my wife was only 26 weeks pregnant at the time.

It was a miracle that our baby even survived.

But because my daughter was born so early she has a lot of health problems, including an incredibly weak immune system.

This is where the Am I The Asshole part comes in.

Obviously because of the horrible circumstances my family, particularly my sister, have been very patient on not being able to see the baby until everything settles down.

Well things have settled enough that we felt comfortable enough letting my parents come over to visit and meet their new granddaughter.

And that would've been fine if my sister (30 F) hadn't come too.

My sister is an anti-vaxxer. A hardcore anti-vaxxer.

Like full on believing in essential oils and healing crystals and literally ANYTHING other than traditional medicine. And considering the fact that she spent the entirety of my wife's pregnancy sending her guides for "vaccine detoxes", what essential oils to use and constantly pressuring her not to get our daughter vaccinated...yeah.

(Luckily my wife is way too smart to actually believe that bullshit and kept leaving my sister on read whenever she would start)

So my sister came over and brought her three children with her. None of her children are vaccinated.

She wanted to let her unvaccinated spawns near my heavily immunocompromised infant daughter.

Two of the three spawns were both sick with colds.

I cannot believe she would be that stupid.

So I yelled at her, telling her to take her children and leave because they sure as hell arent coming NEAR my daughter. She yelled at me saying that she wanted to see her niece and her essential oil covered gremlins would help give my daughter "natural immunity" and other anti vax crap. I argued back that if my daughter catches whatever PREVENTABLE diseases the kids are carrying she could very likely DIE.

And it turned into a whole big fight in the driveway. I ended up punching my brother in law (sister's equally anti-vax husband) in the face when he tried to push past me and let the children into my house. (He also punched me twice after that)

It was an entire mess.

Eventually my parents dragged my sister and her husband away and made them leave with their kids.

Once that whole ordeal ended I gave the entire driveway a deep clean and threw out the clothes I was wearing that day. (Call me paranoid but I do not want ANY risk of my baby girl getting sick and very possibly DYING because of my sister and her family)

My wife and I have my sister and her husband blocked on everything and I'm working on getting a restraining order against those people because there is no way in hell you could convince my sister to just vaccinate her children. So I do not want her, her husband or her children anywhere near my family ever again.

So Am I the asshole? My sister certainly thinks I am (my mother told me. she's been yapping away to her facebook group friends about how unfair and horrible I'm being when she did nothing wrong)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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theantarwitch · 4 months ago

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About medicine in witchcraft: Health spells, Professional Healers and Unprofessional scammers (And two healing spells from me)

Lately I have been seeing a dangerous amount of medical dangerous videos in our usual witchy spaces (specially in Instagram, since I refuse to use TikTok) and that bring me here in one of my long rants who nobody really cares. But, as a healer with lot of medical background, I have to.

First, for the love of your deity, don’t take these damn vids seriously. I’m not a doctor but I know enough that a huge ton of what they put there is medical misinformation dressed as mystical powers.

I’m not asking you to become a doctor, but at least remember: Physical symptoms are NEVER caused by one single illness, and you HAVE to rule out all the possible physical illness before even consider it a symptom of your superpowers.

Yes, some minor things like a random ear ringing or a random tingle on your hand doesn’t need you to run to ER, but at least THINK about mundane causes to it.

Your ear ring? Are you using headphones a lot? Loud music? You shower and water entered on your ear? You are taking meds? Stress? Your neck is stiff and affecting your inner ear? You are neurodivergent?

Your hand tingle? Is the same hand in what you use your phone 20 hours at day? You sleep over that arm? Your shoulder is stiff? You use a mousse a lot? You practice a sport and the nerves are tired? Did you drink coffee or Red Bulls?

And I’m not even mention REAL illnesses, this is just a bunch of mundane causes! So how you dare to believe in more deeper topics of spiritual stuffs, if you have zero critical thinking in something so mundane and basic as your own body? How you plan to be an efficient witch if you don’t even doubt about these things? How you even dare to talk about your deity if you believe anything as a sign?

An advanced witch bases their path in three big needs:

Need of study (Books or google, spend months or YEARS reading and learning)

Need of critical thinking (Think, think and ask, be curious and compare data, question it)

Need of wise skepticism (Don’t fall into the “The government want me to believe this but I’m smarter” or “Vaccines do harm, people don’t need calcium, there is brick’s dust on ketchup” kind of mindset (Yes, these are things I heard). That’s not skepticism, that’s being a Facebook Boomer Mom. Skepticism is question everything and to always be suspicious, but is neither “don’t believe in anything because I’m so smart that I can see the lies”.

And healers, my beloved healers. As one, I have to say it on the most real way: LEARN SOME MEDICINE. Specially before to do public claiming that can really hurt others.

Why learn medicine? Because as happened once… A lovely lady did a spell to lose weight. She got gastroenteritis and spent a week on the bathroom. She lost weight? Yes. In a dangerous unhealthy way? Yes. She recovers her weight back after go to the doc? Absolutely.

The body is a fine machine, a ton of process, hormones, parts, that you will always ignore and omit.

Another big mistake: “Spell to Boost my Metabolism”. Do you even know what a metabolism is? What it does? Do you even know that it has three main functions of metabolism? (Conversion of the energy to run cellular processes; conversion to building block of proteins, lipids, nucleic acids, and some carbohydrates; and the elimination of metabolic wastes). When you “boost your metabolism”, what you are aiming to do? You even know what your body need of these three…

“Spell to boost my Immune System”… Again, what part? Do you even know that your immune system is “slow” or it is just working against an illness as it should? (Reaction is not the same than an immunodeficiency) Are you aware that your body can be doing great and you will be pushing to get an overactive immune system? (And getting Asthma, Eczema, Hay fever, Food allergy and any other kind of allergy, Lupus, Type 1 Diabetes, Inflammatory bowel disease, Celiac, etc.).

Please, if you use “detox spell” in any way, just stop. Period.

If you are not willing to spend a couple of weeks at least in the damn Wikipedia, or you are in a rush, at least aim big and general, do a classic “Health/Healing spell”, that is focused on that, bring health where is needed. “My body gets healthier. My body gets health where is needed” It can’t go wrong, since you purposely don’t specify where or which part, you just do a “Somewhere I need it, and since I can’t know it, the Cosmos may know it and aid me”. If you need spells to focus a healing in a body part, maybe you need a doc, not a spell…. (Get a doc. If is so simple to not need a doc, then your body will do it without need a spell anyway)

You can also do the same with Physical Strength Spells (again aiming to boost what you don’t know what it needs to be boosted and avoiding to boost something that it DOESN’T NEED IT).

And if you are a Healer who really want to have a 90% of effectiveness on focalized and specialized healing spells, then time to study. You will need to know about hormones, chemicals, physical process, all the systems, nerves, bones, nutrition, meds… And pretty much being able to discuss with you client (to put in a way) about literally all their medical history.

And a gently offer to anyone who actually read all this shit, I give a couple of “simple” ideas for you all:

Regeneration Spell: Just a Healing spell, aimed to “attack” where is needed, but it focusses in a cellular level. General Healing spells usually are so general that include things like disposal of waste, mineral absorption, water absorption, digestion, hair growing, skin growing, muscle develop, and pretty much EVERYTHING that’s happening on your body right now, even including the gut bacteria. A Regeneration Spell will focus in each single cell of your body, from skin to bone, to neurons, to T Cells from your immune system. All. Something that your body do (except with the neurons) but that get slower with the age. This spell focus on restores damaged or missing cells to full function (you can help it to happen better with a good balanced diet, some basic exercise, proper sleep, and trying to reduce stress)

Big warning. BE SPECIFIC “My cells will get regenerated where my body need it to be healthy and in full function” or something like that. Why SO specific if the healing spells are general? Because Cancer.

Yes. Cancer. A cancerous tumor is failed cell of your own body. Our beloved bodies kill around six infected or cancer cells each DAY. Eventually (if you live enough or if your immune system gets weak) one of them will grow your body be on troubles. If you do a regeneration spell without that proper aim, you will also help to any cancer cell to regenerate, hence you can cause you a HUGE DEAL in a future. Will not happen 100% of the cases, many of these tumors can be not cancerous (benign) yet give you problems.

How do the spell? Just as any healing spell. Do your way.

Homeostasis Spell: What’s is homeostasis? Is the condition of optimal functioning for the organism, a state of steady internal physical and chemical conditions maintained by living systems. Is a stable self-regulated process of equilibrium between interdependent elements. In simple words, is the perfect state of full pure health of your body. Is a healing spell without the “but”.

What it affects? ALL in the most basic small internal way. Body temperature, fluid balance, the pH of extracellular fluid, the concentrations of ions, blood sugar, oxygen, hormones, etc. If the body do it properly, then is balanced, in an optimal functioning, hence healing itself without big issues.

This spell helps specially (or BOOST) the body on regulate itself despite the many changes in the environment, diet, or level of activity. In this case, you don’t need to be specific, since homeostasis seek for health naturally. Do your regular healing spell but like “My body reach homeostasis”.

So. Rant and all made, I think is time for me to shut up. See you around, and check if you need drink water, sleep, rest, stretch, food, meds or hygiene!

#witchcraft #witch #pagan #paganism #witchy #green witch #witches #advance witch #advanced witchcraft #healer #healing #heath spells #spells #medicine #witchblr

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thesoftboiledegg · 4 months ago

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The REAL Ricks 2.0

🧠 Greetings, fellow geniuses (or "geniui.") I've noticed that the fandom has been getting too diverse lately. To correct this, I'm putting together an exclusive Facebook group for the REAL Ricks who are the real-life Rick Sanchezes. We'll discuss math, philosophy, science, physics and simulation theory. Our group will probably come up with scientific answers to all of life's problems--but, of course, normies will be too feeble-minded to understand.

Before you join, you'll have to answer these questions to prove that you're a Real Rick who matches his intellect:

When did you realize that you're in love with your best male friend?

Why are neurotypicals so annoying? Name three reasons.

How much do you tip your therapist?

List five reasons why punching Nazis is fun.

What was your "whole deal" with that male dragon?

Name a time when you were aggressively protective over your son-in-law.

Explain why you dislike capitalism.

When did everyone realize that your "nihilist lone wolf" act is bullshit?

When did YOU accept that your act was bullshit?

How many times a day do you fantasize about buff guys beating you up?

Best of luck to you, Ricks. 👩‍🔬👨‍🔬 And if you're not smart enough to make the cut, well...I'm sure there's a group for "Jerries" where you can talk about Legos and pudding. That should be more your speed.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #the real ricks #meme

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katapotato55 · 1 year ago

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my theory as to why doomers exist (and how to break that mentality to be a better writer)

yesterday my sibling texted me "hey can you list me what major historical events you experienced in life for an assignment? " of course I listed the big ones like COVID and other depressing shit I went through in my life but most of the ones i listed were not super depressing. here are some of them: -the rise of steve jobs and the popularity of modern OS -the rise of smartphones -new technology completely changing the world that I thought I would never see in my lifetime, like VR and self driving cars. -massive cultural impacts such as spongebob being created affecting pop culture -the start of facebook and modern social media -pluto being declared not a planet yknow stuff on the top of my head that I thought would be interesting to write about.

then my sibling came home to tell me that most of what I sent was not helpful at all and that they meant "world events" And i asked "how the hell is the invention of the smart phone and the beginning of modern social media not considered "world events" by these standards" they said "idk just not that"

I think what they meant to say was "my teacher only wants the really depressing miserable shit the media thinks is headline worthy"

You know, I think this is why my generation is full of so many doomers. God forbid we have a positive outlook on this world and try and look at the bright side of things. god forbid we try to be optimistic for both the future and our current lives. we seem to have this thin veil of maturity that depressing=mature somehow. That the only way to make anything of nuance is to basically spam "look how shit everything is! look how enlightened I am" like you are Steve cutts.

well you know what ?

I hate art like the stuff steve cutts makes, and I hate this redundant "look how shit the world is" mentality

I plan on making an analysis post later on about Mr. Cutts, but for now let's stay on point this mentality is redundant and helps no one. yes. we do need to be aware of the bad parts of life. But being a pathetic miserable sod and ignoring the upsides is just as immature and childish as an aggressive optimist thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows. you know why I like undertale so much ? Undertale knows when to be optimistic and has a mature take on a happy ending. Undertale ALLOWS itself to be happy. enough with the rick and morty level of writing where everything sucks and "fuck you in particular for being hopeful" only edgy 14 year olds think being depressing is the same as being mature. Maturity is understanding that there is nuance to everything and understanding that things are what they are. Do you want to be a good writer ? stop overly relying on being a sad doomer. Even the darkest writers in history like Edgar Allen Poe knew how to lighten the fuck up, because you need to understand the positives in life to effectively create dark writing.

thank you for reading this ironically negative rant, I plan to expand more on the subject later on.

EDIT

ngl i was honestly scared this post would open me up to harassment. I was genuinely terrified of attracting the psycho political crowd that treats politics like religious doctrine. first of all, shout out to this person:

I feel like this would be the perfect opportunity to talk about my struggle with depression as an artist and the stereotype behind it. the stereotype is that only the best artists are emotionally tortured people constantly struggling in agony and putting that into their art. now as someone who has been battling depression for 10 years let me tell you: that mentality is a load of horse shit. the greatest artists in history such as Van Gogh were not great artists because they were depressed they were great artists because they had a combination of passion and unique life experience. It just so happens that depression is a unique life experience to go through. being depressed does not make you deep, it just makes you feel empty and possibly sad depending on what flavor of depression you have. all the great stories about depression are not great because its about depression, but because its about the writers personal experiences and the love and hard work that went into making it. if Van gogh got treatment for his mental health issues, he would have still created art. Yes he created art as his job, but he also did it because he loved it and put his personal feelings and passion into his work. the biggest reason why I detest Steve Cutts is because there is no passion nor personal experience in his work. yes he is talented but most of his animations are just regurgitating all the bad things he could think of and nothing personal is going into it. (again I plan on making an analysis post about steve cutts sooner or later) What makes the art of Van Gogh deep and Steve Cutts as deep as a dry puddle is the fact that you can tell who put their own soul and personality into their work. heed my warning new artists and writers depression =/= deep all depression does is cripple you. Seek out life experience to be the best artist you can be.

#writing advice #writing #creative writing #writing help #writing tips #writer #writer on tumblr #writer problems #writer tips #writing community

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distantlaughter · 1 year ago

Text

Formula BMW engineer in interview: What makes Nico Rosberg tick

By Christian Nimmervoll, originally written 27 June 2015 for motorsport-total.com (x)

Between VIVA and Keke: Peter Sieber worked with Nico Rosberg when he wasn't yet a Formula 1 star and remembers the 2002 season in Formula BMW.

Many people have the wrong impression of Nico Rosberg. He comes across as effeminate, pseudo-intellectual, aloof. But envy is something you have to fight for - and level only looks like arrogance from below (to quote some Facebook wisdom). In fact, the Wiesbaden native, who grew up as the son of Finnish Formula 1 champion Keke Rosberg and a German mother, is a well-bred, smart young man who speaks five languages, happens to be an excellent racer, and earns millions doing it.

What's still missing is the world championship title. With his victory at the Austrian Grand Prix last weekend, Rosberg proved that he shouldn't be written off even when his back is supposedly against the wall - there's life in the old dog yet. And in doing so, he gave himself an early birthday present: Today, June 27, the Mercedes driver turns 30 - and is presumably in the prime of his Formula 1 career.

Reason enough for us to talk to a man who not only knows the superstar Nico Rosberg, but also worked with the up-and-coming driver Nico Rosberg when he first came to Formula BMW from karting - and won it outright, as the very first champion of the then new series in 2002. Peter Sieber was hired as race engineer for the world champion's son - and taught him the basics of racing.

Getting to know about Arno Zensen

Question: "Mr. Sieber, how did you meet Keke and Nico Rosberg?"

Peter Sieber: "That went through Arno Zensen, now head of the Rosberg team in the DTM. Arno used to work for Walter Lechner, and we've known each other ever since. Franz Tost was also involved at the time, who is now the boss of Toro Rosso. At the time, they had a South African race engineer at Team Rosberg in Formula BMW who had to go back home. So they asked me if I would like to be Nico's race engineer."

Question: "Can you still remember the very first time you met Nico?"

Sieber: "I had seen him at tests before, when we hadn't worked together yet. My first impression was of a very likeable and well-mannered young guy. In all my years in motorsport, I've noticed one thing: Drivers who have what it takes, who have the potential to make it to the top, don't say anything loud, don't argue, but are professional even at a young age. That was the case with Nico from the very first moment."

"I was a bit scared with him: father Keke Rosberg, Formula 1 world champion, enough money. There are always these father-son stories when the father wants the career more than the son. But that wasn't the case. In terms of people skills, I learned a lot from Keke, namely from the way he dealt with his own son. Nico was always very interested, especially in technology. That's where he always wanted to know what was going on, everywhere."

Question: "They say that Nico was an intelligent student who, if racing hadn't worked out, would have studied aerodynamics or mechanical engineering. When they worked with him, he was still at school."

Sieber: "That's true. The others always said: 'Sure, that's Rosberg's boy, he can test the most and has the best material'. But in truth that wasn't quite the case, because dear Nico had just graduated from high school. So he skipped some tests, which I then had to drive with Kimmo Liimatainen, now team manager at the Rosberg team in the DTM. Because Nico didn't have time."

"Nico didn't have it easy. When he was good, everyone said, 'Sure, I can do it with these prerequisites. And when he wasn't good, they said: 'He's just Rosberg's son, he doesn't have his dad's talent. But Nico didn't want anything as a gift, he wanted to fight for everything. He worked his ass off to achieve that. I was captivated by him right from the start. I always tried to create the best conditions for him."

Spoiled millionaire's son my ass

Question: "Lewis Hamilton said in the 2014 World Championship battle that Nico has always been a spoiled millionaire's boy, while he himself had to work hard for everything. If I'm interpreting you correctly, you don't agree with that at all?"

Sieber: "No. Keke and Nico's mother, Sina, have a very special attitude; they're not aloof people. When we had stopped working together, and Nico later won his first Formula 3 race, Sina still came up to me afterwards and gave me a hug."

"I say to her, 'Sina, I had nothing to do with that, it was Erich.' Erich Baumgärtner, a friend of mine who was Nico's race engineer in Formula 3. But Sina to me: 'No, Peter, I mean it, because you did the dirty work.' That was a statement for me! The first year is always the most difficult - that's when you have to teach a driver style, technique, work ethic. It wasn't easy, but with Nico it was really fun."

Question: "What does learning style and technique mean? You're hardly going to have ridden in front of Nico like an instructor…"

Sieber: "A young driver makes his first statements at the beginning, and as a race engineer I have to filter out the most important ones right away. Many say eight to ten problems at once, from which I then filter out the main problem. Because when the main problem is solved, the smaller problems usually dissolve as well. Then I see on the data: 'You need to brake earlier, but come out of the curve with more momentum.' Those are the first fundamentals you work on with a young driver."

"A young driver can only tell you about the car if you explain to him beforehand what's important. Nico soaked it all up like a sponge, he fought every second. From home he had the opportunity to race, car, engine, team - others may not be able to afford that. But his driving skills and assertiveness, he fought hard for all of that. Whether it was dry or wet, he was always really good."

Like Father, Like Son

Question: "Nico's former kart team boss Dino Chiesa once said that Nico didn't get a PlayStation game from Keke that he really wanted, and that he also got relatively little pocket money. Which suggests that he felt relatively little of his family's wealth at the time, and was also just a young racer like any other."

Sieber: "I've known Keke for a long time. I can still remember that back then, as a junior driver, he always came to the race track with a trailer and bus. Keke learned to work his way up from the bottom. And he passed that on to Nico for his development."

"I remember the Formula BMW race at the Sachsenring. Officially, testing was banned, but others tested anyway. Our weekend went really poorly. The engineer was not good, the car was not good, the driver was not good. It was a pitch-black weekend, with spins and everything."

"Then Keke arrives, with a cigar in his mouth - and grins at me, who has such a blood pressure you can see my carotid artery: 'Peter, it's going to be all right.' And I: 'Were you in the wrong movie? What I saw was a disaster.' And Keke: 'What I saw is going to be fine.' Because you two are determined to make it together, and it's going to bear fruit.' At first I couldn't do anything with that, but then we improved from race to race."

"At the beginning, it was difficult to work together because I hadn't done all the official tests and first had to get to know the car and Nico. But then we worked our way up and became champions in the end. That season we had a test day at the Nürburgring before the race. I changed the gear ratio then, which is normally done by the mechanic. But there was no time for that because of the rain. And I mistakenly swapped fifth and sixth gear. In other words, where fifth gear should have been, sixth was - and vice versa."

"Nico drove out, came back to the pits very slowly and said with a smile on his face - with a smile, not kind of angry like others would be: 'Master, how do you actually count? One, two, three, four, five, six.' And I said to him: 'But you're doing your school-leaving exams right now, you'll manage that!' So he had to change gears stupidly, skip a gear with the clutch in the sequential gearbox, but he didn't care. The next morning I found a note on the transmission: 'Love from Nico, please put the gears in the right order!' That was Nico. That's the kind of person you live motorsport for."

Criticism always constructive

Question: "Were there also situations in which Nico could get loud?"

Sieber: "No, and that was the nice thing about working with him. If something wasn't okay, it was discussed, but not loudly or in an argument, but positively. He asked questions, contributed good ideas, and the collaboration got better and better. He worked hard for his success."

Question: "Nico already had the sponsor VIVA in 2002, in Formula BMW - and therefore had a lot of media presence earlier than other drivers. Was that an advantage or a disadvantage?"

Sieber: "People were already very attentive: son of Keke Rosberg, VIVA, very well-known among the youth. The hype was sometimes too much."

Question: "Girls, too?"

Sieber: "The girls raved about him anyway. But he didn't care. Nico did his stuff."

Question: "You can't tell me that Nico didn't have a girl at the start now and then…"

Sieber: "No, not at all, really! He wasn't the typical girl hero. Sometimes they are, and then they usually forget that racing should be the most important thing. That wasn't the case with Nico. He was focused and really never had a girl with him. It wasn't until the end of 2002 that I remember there being one - and I think that was his current wife Vivian."

Question: "In 2003, Nico met Lewis Hamilton again in Formula 3. Was it already foreseeable for you back then that this duel would continue into Formula 1?"

Sieber: "In Formula 3, Nico had a different race engineer, but that was a good acquaintance of mine, so I always knew what was going on with him. When we met at the race track, we always chatted. By the way, the contact hasn't completely broken off to this day."

"And yes, for me it was already foreseeable that this could go into Formula 1, because Nico simply has a very special way. He didn't have it as easy as Hamilton claims, as a spoiled boy who gets everything dumped in his lap. Our last race in Formula BMW in 2002 was at Hockenheim. Nico won, both races, in the rain and in the dry. Afterwards, there was the award ceremony for ADAC and BMW. Keke didn't go at all, but his mom, a few mechanics and I did."

Tears at Formula BMW victory ceremony 2002

"Nico had a knitted cap on, I remember it like yesterday. Then they called him up and said they had another 'little' present for him. I wonder what that will be? A Formula 1 test drive at Williams! That's when he really broke down, sat down, put his hands in front of his eyes and cried. He was so happy at that moment because he was so disciplined, he did without so much. That's very difficult for a young lad."

"And: He himself had done it - not because he was Keke Rosberg's son, but because he was the first Formula BMW champion. That's when I realized what racing meant to him. I still remember that day today as if it were yesterday - it has stuck in my heart. He said: 'It was always my dream to drive Formula 1 one day. That's what I've worked for.' That was an honest moment. As honest as Nico is."

Question: "Do you think it sometimes hurt Nico to be reduced to Keke Rosberg's son? Did that get to him?"

Sieber: "I think it was close to him. As I said before, if he was good, then it was the good material, but if not, then he's just Rosberg's son, but not as good as Keke. But Keke always stood behind him and told him: 'Nico, you have the greatest job in the world, you are a racing driver. People are all coming here to see your race. Enjoy it and have fun.'"

"And so he took all the pressure off the kid. That was awesome. That was Keke. People were brutal to Nico sometimes. When all he ever wanted was for them to just respect that he was doing his job, that he was doing everything he could to get into Formula One, and that he had talent. The Rosberg name was very positive for Nico, but on the other hand it didn't make it easy for him either.

Question: "It doesn't sound like Keke interfered much with Nico.

Sieber: "No. He left us alone. If he saw something that the competition was doing, for example, he told me, but without interfering. He would say, 'You can worry about that.' That was it, but then he was gone again."

Always looked up to father Keke

Question: "Nico's former karting team boss Dino Chiesa says that it was always important for Nico to once be as good as or better than Keke. Is that true in your opinion?"

Sieber: "He always looked up to his father, because Keke achieved a lot and was a driving force for Nico. But Nico was self-motivated enough to go this way and achieve something himself. He was looking in the right direction, he fought for it. Nico was an intelligent young man for his age. Of course, he sometimes took his cue from his father."

Question: "Were there ever moments when Nico cried to you about Keke?"

Sieber: "No, never. I admire the way Keke handled his boy. Keke always managed to motivate us all. In a positive sense, he was a gangster! It's okay to write that, I mean it in a positive way. Once he came to see me at the Nürburgring, Formula 1 weekend, and Nico had finished third in Formula BMW on Saturday. The conditions were difficult, race started in the rain, then it dried up."

"Keke comes up to me afterwards and is really happy about third place, but in the same breath says, 'We're not good enough, the others are better!' Inside I was boiling. That's when he lit a spark in me, so that even in the hotel I was still thinking about the car. And then we won on Sunday. Grins Keke: 'Oh, did it work?' Motivating his people, Keke always understood that."

Question: "Mr. Sieber, is there anything else you would like to add?"

Sieber: "Yes, two things. First, my son has a problem with his spine. I told Nico about it once in passing, and he said to me, 'Hey, my physio Daniel, he also had a back operation. I'll put you in touch with him, I'm sure he can recommend a good specialist. And that's what he did. He wouldn't have to do something like that - others don't."

"And another story: For the 2002 championship title, he got the Formula 1 test that Keke and Nico wanted to take me to. Unfortunately, my son was ill and I had to stay at home with a heavy heart. So they sent me a video after the test and talked to me live on the phone during the test. And Nico gave me his helmet, with which he became Formula BMW champion and tested Formula 1 for the first time, as a small consolation. That's just the way Nico is.

Question: "Will you wish him a happy 30th birthday?"

Sieber: "Yes, for sure. I'll think of something! We still see each other from time to time. Last year, for example, he invited me to the German Grand Prix."

#nico rosberg #nicology #i cant believe i never posted this

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