#i know you know this about me but it bears repeating

[arilevenatz]

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: popular guy!yeosang x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: Angst (?), fluff

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: kinda frat boy yeosang, him and his friends are handsome (yes that's a warning), reader has anxiety, she is also insecure, anxiety attacks, yeo is cheeky, like really cheeky, you might wanna flick him a bit, bestfriend! San and wooyoung, suicide mentioned, lmk if I missed any!!

AN: y'all bear with me this is my first time posting on Tumblr, I'm still figuring out stuff. I had a dream about this and I decided that I'm gonna write a yeo fic. And also please reblog and like, so I can get more motivated!!

Yeosang was a quiet and smart guy in the class. He used to talk only when spoken to. Except his little friend group, well maybe not so little. All the students seem to respect him of some sort. He and his group almost seemed, untouchable. Not like they were the popular group or something. Neither were they hostile. They were just really handsome. The whole group looked like they walked out of a movie set of a kdrama.

You were not new to this. But not particularly known as well. Honestly you didn't care. You stopped caring since high school. The only thing you knew about him was that he was a guy from a group.....and he was good at maths. You were a normal student, yes, maybe you scored the top score in Psychology in your college anyone has ever had, but that's just irrelevant right? In the end, nobody cares.

But you were wrong, he cares. So much so that he came and sat beside you in English class. Not particularly unlikely for someone to sit beside you. You usually didn't even care. But he isn't just somebody. He is the Yeosang. The same guy that all the girls swooned over just cuz he showed his birthmark. What's so impressive about birthmarks anyway? It's just a mark.

At first, you didn't care. But then it started to repeat. Everyday he would come and sit beside you (cause language classes were mandatory everyday) and heck you were not liking the attention you were getting.

"Hey, you should not get close to yeosang or anyone in their group. I heard they are gangsters" "I heard they are no good" "They are in a satanic cult where they sell their souls to the devil to live for eternity!!"

Yeah needless to say people had some crazy rumours about them. You? you didn't care. And also who the fuck would sell their soul to live forever. You'd rather do that to die painlessly, cause life. But for some reason, they seem to keep their distance from the group but admire them from afar. Almost as if they are scared of them.

Anyway people are quick to come to conclusions. But you were not like that. You were annoyed. Like why the fuck you sitting next to me dude go away. But of course you're an unproud introvert. You can't just tell him to leave that's rude. So you did the next best thing. Just sit somewhere else. If he really liked that seat, he could have his nook. You're gonna go and distance yourself. Not cause you are scared of him, but you know just to be careful. (Keep gaslighting yourself queen)

Yeosang walks into the classroom and scans the big room, his eyes narrowing as he doesn't see you in your usual seat. His headphones in he hesitantly approaches the desk where you're now sitting and pulls out the chair beside you, sitting down heavily. You mentally slap your forehead. This really is helping your reputation.

Yeosang looks at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused. He glances around the room, noticing the other students staring at you both. After a moment of silence, he turns back to you and notices your ears are red. He asks in a low tone, "What's going on? Why are you sitting somewhere else today?" Wow he's talking to me now

Yeosang gaze stills, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're avoiding me because of what people are saying about me, isn't it?" His voice is deep, but oddly quiet. It was something you've never heard before. And you couldn't pinpoint his emotions.

"Well kinda. But that doesn't mean I actually believe them. I just don't like people." You say thinking you weirded him out and hoping he'll leave you alone assuming you're an antisocial animal.

A flicker of something passes through Yeosang's eyes at your blunt response. He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "I get it. You don't trust easily. Neither do I." He pauses, considering his words carefully. Bro stop talking to me ?!

You don't react to his words and just look at the front. Your whole face feels warm. It's that feeling you get when you're embarrassed. Feeling everyone's eyes on you. You felt anxious, thinking everyone was judging you. You hate this feeling. You felt exposed to everyone. Even though they don't give two shits about you. It's that bubbling feeling inside the pit of your stomach. The heaviness in your chest. That shakiness in your hands and legs. You really felt like it would be nice if the floor split in half and eat you alive.

The class finish and you quickly pack up and leave, avoiding him again. Yeosang watches you rush out the door without a backward glance. His looks at your leaving figure with a thoughtful expression. The next day, he arrives early to claim the seat next to you again, determined to break through your walls.

As the class enters, Yeosang is already seated in your usual spot, his arms crossed and pen spinning in his hand. His presence seems to command the attention of the room, but he pays no mind to the whispers or curious glances directed at him. Instead, his focus is fixed on the doorway, waiting for your arrival. When you finally enter, he notices how you hesitate at the sight of him already occupying your seat. It was then when he looked down and started to scribble something in his notebook. You try to skip the vacant seat beside him and go further behind but he reaches out and grabs your backpack, pulling it onto the empty seat beside him. He continues to write, his pen scratching against the paper in a steady rhythm. After a moment, he glances up and meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're late".

You sit down quietly, take off your glasses and rub your face, ignoring him. Here we go again, I'm tired of this shit.. What does a girl do to have some peace? Witnessing your frustration, a slight smile appears on his lips as he reaches for your glasses. "Hey," he says in a low voice, just audible enough for you to hear. His fingers brush against yours as he takes the glasses from your hand, then deliberately places them back on your face, adjusting them slightly. "Wear them"

The teacher comes in and starts to teach. You sit there, staring blankly at the teacher writing on the board, but your mind is elsewhere. You replay the moment he adjusted your glasses, trying to read into his expression. You begin to imagine that he looked disgusted, that he must think you're hideous without your glasses on. You can't help but feel self-conscious. You catch yourself unconsciously touching your glasses, as if to double-check they're still there. You imagine him whispering to his friends about how ugly you look without them, how he's only sitting next to you as a joke. You felt yourself picking at your finger nails, your legs bouncing up and down continuously with the approaching thoughts.

During a brief moment when the teacher turns away to write on the board, Yeosang leans in closer to you. His voice is low and barely audible, "Stop picking at your nails, it's distracting" He says it bluntly, without any real malice, before returning his attention to the lecture.

"Im sorry" you apologise quietly. Wait why the fuck did I apologise, I did nothing wrong.

Over the next few days, a pattern emerges. Yeosang continues to sit next to you in class, trying to engage in conversation, but you always find a way to shut him down or quickly change the subject. He notices that you avoid him between classes, always taking a different route. You think it's working, driving him away slowly. Maybe he'll realise you really are weird and will leave you alone. But something quite opposite happens.

Yeosang starts to get frustrated with the constant rebuffs. He can't understand why you're so hostile towards him, especially since he's trying to be friendly. One day, as you're walking down the hallway, he blocks your path, forcing you to stop and look at him. "What's your problem?"

"What is your problem?" You say, as he blocks your path with his body. "My problem? You're the one who's been acting like I've got a disease every time I try to talk to you." You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. "You're always shutting me down, avoiding me, and picking at those damn nails of yours. It's like you can't stand my presence."

You look down, sighing loudly and look up to him. "Then take the damn sign man, I don't wanna talk to you or engage in any activity that involves you" yeah that'll do, that gotta be the most rude thing you say to anyone, that'll definitely shoo him off. But again, the universe says fuck you and the opposite happens. Yeosang's eyes widen in surprise at your blunt words. For a moment, he stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, he bursts into laughter - a deep, genuine sound that echoes through the hallway. This fucker-

"What's so funny?" you ask, clearly embarrassed. Yeosang continues to laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looks you up and down. When he finally composes himself, he wipes tears from his eyes and says, "Damn, I like you even more now. You're fucking hilarious. Alright, fine, I'll take the sign."

He did not take the sign. Yes he did stop directly talking to me, but he won't actually leave me alone. He is still in the shadows. He stopped sitting beside me but went behind me. He stopped walking with me but started following me around.

Yeosang finds your stubborn refusal to engage endearing rather than frustrating. Instead of backing off as you hoped, he shifts tactics. He maintains a subtle presence in your peripheral vision. You catch glimpses of him behind you in class, always watching. At lunch one day, yeosang casually sits at the table next to yours with a group of his friends. He doesn't look at you directly, but you can feel his eyes flicking in your direction

Yeosang's friends chat with him, but he only half-listens, his attention constantly drifting to you. He murmurs something to them, and they glance over at you, exchanging curious looks. His friend, wooyoung asks him "yo man, how's your pursuing that girl going?" Another guy, San, says "I don't know if you can call it pursuing dawg, all he does is follow the girl around the college like a creep." Wooyoung pops a cookie in his mouth and says "Damn man, I didn't know you were like this"

"Shut up about her." His tone is casual, but there's an edge to it - protectiveness almost. He keeps his voice low enough that only they can hear, "She's... different. Fuck, I don't know why, but she's got me twisted up." Wooyoung grins mischievously, "Ah ha! You're falling for her aren't you? You're actually trying to chase a girl who isn't subtly throwing herself at you." He laughs, nudging yeosang's arm. "But that's not really gonna work is it? you need to fucking commit to it"

Yeosang's expression darkens slightly, his eyes narrowing. He takes a swig of his soda before responding, "What do you suggest then, genius? You think I should just walk up to her and...?" He leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for Wooyoung's input. "Yes, you should" San says without missing a beat. San's straightforward approach makes him smirk, but a flash of uncertainty crosses his face. "And what if she..." He pauses, running a hand through his styled hair "... what if she thinks I'm weird?" His eyes shift in your direction for a brief moment before focusing back on his friends. "Bruh, the way you've been acting all these days, she probably already thinks of you like that by now"

Yeosang scoffs, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Fuck, when you put it like that..." He leans back in his chair, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, his silver chain catching the light. "Maybe it's time to switch things up then."

The library is large and quiet, with tall bookshelves filling the room. The shelves are packed with books of all colors. Sunlight shines through colorful windows, making pretty patterns on the floor. A few students sit quietly, reading or studying. It's a peaceful place to think and learn. As you enter the library, the usual silence is interrupted only by the rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. You find a quiet corner to sit down and start reading. After a few minutes, you hear footsteps approaching. You don't pay much attention, assuming it's just another student.

You felt them sit down across from you. Your body tenses slightly as you notice the movement, causing you to glance up from your book. Through your peripheral vision, you catch sight of the person who just sat down across from you - it's him again. It's been weeks since he has been silently following you around, but now he approached you again.

His presence looms oddly, a juxtaposition in this sanctum of silence. He gazes at you, an unreadable expression on his chiseled face, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the cover of a thick tome he's brought with him. "Hey." You answered him silently "hey...." He leans forward slightly, the movement causing the leather of his jacket to creak softly. "Look... I know you probably think I'm being kinda creepy and shit..." He runs a hand through his messy dark hair, looking uncomfortable for once, unlike his usual composed demeanor.

He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I just... I wanted to talk to you, ya know? You're different from the other girls at school. You're always so... quiet, so focused on your books."

"You're so different, you're the most unique girl I've ever met. You're my type, are you gonna say this? All those lame shit people say in movies? Please stop mocking me" His expression freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your blunt response. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a low, genuine laugh. "Shit, you're right. That was cheesy as hell." He shakes his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. You were listening to him. But something inside you stirred and you felt angry. You remembered all those times those people in middle and high school bullied you. All those times you felt that every time you entered the room, everyone looked at your body and you felt insecure. All those times your family members indirectly forced you to believe that you can only be loved when you lose weight. And you snapped. "stop mocking me. I know people like you. you guys go up to girls like me and say you like them only to say 'April fools' or say 'its a dare' later. I hate guys like you"

His grin fades, his expression turning serious, but his eyes still hold a glint of mischief. "You really think that's what I'm doing?" He tilts his head to the side, studying your face intently. He maintains eye contact, his expression unreadable. He sees the suspicion in your eyes, and it only seems to fuel his mischievous glint. He leans forward, his voice lowering. "Let me ask you something..." He studies your face intently, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "First off... do I look like I have a problem finding girls to talk to?" He gestures to himself, a hint of pride in his tone. "And second..." His voice drops lower as he deliberately maintains eye contact. "Second what?" You shout.

"No shouting in the library student!" The librarian warned you. You sit back down embarrassed and all red.

He laughs a little and says "Second, would I really waste my time pretending to like someone just to play an April Fool's prank?" His words send a shiver down your spine as he pulls back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe..." He looks at you with a half-smirk, half-serious expression "You're actually quite... interesting. Not many people stand up to me like you do." His eyes crinkle again as he studies your reaction "And hey..." He reaches over and lightly taps your finger. You retreat your hand from his touch. His expression shifts to a playful pout, though his eyes still hold a glint of amusement "Wow, so I'm not even worthy of a tiny hand tap?" You shake your head as a 'No'. He leans back in his chair, studying your defensive posture with interest "You're not scared of me, are you?" He chuckles low in his throat, his gaze never leaving yours even though you fail to keep eye contact, "listen, can I not just like you? I like you. I want to be with you"

"No! people don't simply like girls like me" you felt like crying, but you can't. His expression turns mockingly serious, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, so you're saying you're not likeable? You think I can't like you because you're... what?" He crosses his arms, leaning forward again, his curiosity piqued. You were getting annoyed.

"You know what I am"

"No I don't"

"Fuck. Fine! Im fat and ugly"

His face freezes and for a moment, he looks genuinely shocked. But then, he lets out a harsh laugh. "Fat and ugly? He shakes his head, his gaze raking over your form appraisingly. "You really think that's what I see when I look at you?"

"You don't need to look at me like that, I am like that so fuck off I don't need you laughing at my face."

You stand up harshly, take your bag and walk outside the library. He follows you and grabs your upper arm, not harshly but firmly enough to hold your attention. "Listen carefully..." His voice softens, losing its usual mocking tone. "I'm not some creep who goes around lying to get in girls' pants." You open your mouth to say something but he quickly shuts you off. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's honest, even if it hurts. I see someone who's strong, even when they feel weak. And I see someone who's fucking beautiful, inside and out."

"Everyone says that but that's actually never true!"

"Then tell me, what do you see when you look in the mirror? Because whoever made you believe these lies about yourself? That person's fucking blind."

"Im not about to start talking to you as if you're my therapist. You let me go"

He loosens the grip but still holds onto your hand. "Alright, But just so we're clear? You're not fat, and you're definitely not ugly. You can tell me why you feel that way"

You wriggle your hand out of his hold and finally look at him. You've had enough.

"Fine, you wanna know? I am chubby, and I'm ok with that, I have no problem being chubby. it's just tiring for me because ppl always make it seem like I'm some disgusting things that doesn't deserve humanity" you take a breath and star again, "And you cannot say anything to me because you wanted this, you wanted me to say all these"

You look down, feeling defeated. It's so weird to word these things to someone, considering you had no one growing up. No siblings, no bestfriends, no close cousins. Even your parents never listened or talked to you about how you felt. You were truly tired. You felt two hands hold your shoulder. You look up, and it's Yeosang.

"People are fucking idiots. And the fact that you're okay with being yourself makes you hotter than anyone who tries to fit into some bullshit beauty standard." His jaw clenches at your words, a hint of something flashing in his eyes. He looked angry.

"Those assholes can keep their narrow-minded opinions. Because someone who stands up for themselves like you just did? Someone who owns their worth instead of begging for validation"

His gaze intensifies, filled with a newfound respect and... something deeper. "That's the kind of person who deserves to be cherished. And anyone who can't see that? They're the ones who are fucking ugly, inside and out."

He sees the unspoken acknowledgment in your eyes, the silent absorption of his words. It's the first time he's seen you listen so intently, without pushing him away or rolling your eyes. He swallows hard, realizing the power of his words on you.

His monologue ended. And it was everything you wanted to hear all these days. The words you wanted your parents to say to you, the words you needed. He said everything. It was the first time in a while you felt like you can actually believe someone. But you were not like this. Circumstances made you so that you push away everyone. And that has become your nature. If I can push them away before they can, I won't be hurt.

"I appreciate your words towards me, but I don't know anything about your confession. I-I don't think so I can accept it"

He nods slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I get it. It's a lot to take in, especially coming from a person like me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what - how about I show you my worth?"

You look up at him, bewildered. What does he want. Is he crazy? Has he lost his marbles? Is he that bored? All these questions flood your mind but only one thing slips out of your mouth, "huh?" His smile grows wider, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "You know, prove to you that I'm not just some dumb guy who talks big." He pauses, studying your face. "I'll do something for you. Something that shows you I'm more than just words. I'll court you"

You were speechless. "I-I don't need-"

He puts a finger on your lips to shut you up. "Let me finish," He says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm not doing this to pressure you or anything stupid like that. I just want a chance to show you who I really am, beyond the tough act."

Looking at your eyes, he realised how hurt you were. He exhales slowly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely lets anyone see. "I know I'm not the prince charming type. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you deserve someone who fights for you, who understands the real world and all its fucked up beauty."

The next day, as you walk into college, you catch him standing beside the gate. Wearing his signature black attire with silver accessories. As you walked towards the gate, he saw you and he got off the wall and walked towards you. He stops in front of you, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at you with a small smile. "Morning," He says, his voice casual but with an underlying warmth. "I was waiting for you."

"Good morning" you look around and see people look at you for a moment and then look away. It made your face feel hot from embarrassment.

He holds your cheeks and moves your face towards him "don't look at them. ignore them" You both start walking towards the class. As they walk side by side, Yeosang couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You know, I never thought I'd be one for this whole 'gentleman' thing. But here I am, walking you to class like some corny love story."

You were quick with your answer, "You wanted this. I'm positive by the end of this week, you won't want to be with me"

His smile fades a bit at your words, a hint of seriousness entering his eyes. "And why's that?" He asks, his voice low and even. "You think you're that hard to handle?" He smirks, but there's an underlying challenge in his gaze. You wait for him, to say further, but he waits for your answer. You look to the side, taking in a breath and say "Yes."

He stops walking abruptly, turning to face you directly. His expression is intense, a blend of amusement and determination. "Well, guess what? I've dealt with thorns, I've tangled with barbs, I've faced off against the sharpest minds and the coldest hearts."

You stare at him for a while and then "damn you really did become philosophical"

He barks out a short, surprised laugh, shaking his head as he starts walking again, this time more aggressively. "Philosophical? Nah, just stating facts." He glances at you sideways, a mischievous glint in his eye. You shake your head and follow him to the class.

Over the next few days, Yeosang continues to act like your doting boyfriend, much to the confusion and entertainment of your classmates. He walks you to class, sits with you at lunch, and even "accidentally" brushes your hands during lessons.

After school one day, he suddenly grabs your hand and starts dragging you towards the nearby ice cream shop. When you resist, he stops and turns to face you with a stubborn expression. "Come on, I'm buying you ice cream. Don't make a scene."

"I don't want ice cream"

He ignores your protests, opening the door to the ice cream shop and practically pushing you inside. "you're getting it anyway, pick a flavour"

Eventually you were forced to have a large ice cream cone with chocolate and Butter scotch, your two favourite flavours.

You both start walking towards your house "I don't like when people spend money on me" He shrugs it off, "Too bad, I spent the money anyway." He says nonchalantly, walking beside you with his hands shoved in his pockets. As you get closer to your house, he pauses and looks at you sideways, "You going to invite me in now?"

He wants to come inside my house now?

"in my house? My mom's in the house"

He looks at the door for a bit, then "how about I talk to my future mom in law beforehand and ask for her daughter's hand in marriage now." and walk right in as you had unlocked the door. You run to stop him but the damage was already done.

Yeosang finds himself standing in a neat, tidy living room. A woman with short, dark hair and piercing eyes is sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looks up as he enters and her gaze locks onto him. For a moment, Yeosang is taken aback by the intensity of her stare.

You trail behind, shocked by the ongoing staring contest between them.

He clears his throat professionally, straightening his posture "Good evening ma'am. I'm Kang Yeosang, your daughter's classmate. I was hoping we could have a word." He maintains a polite, respectful tone despite his usual confident demeanor, feeling the weight of this mother's presence.

The woman closes her book and places it on the coffee table. She stands up slowly, her eyes never leaving Yeosang's face. "You're yeosang" she states, her voice cold and calculated. "Sit down," she instructs, gesturing to the chair across from her. He moves to sit down carefully, maintaining eye contact with her while keeping his body language respectful. His usual charm falters slightly in the face of her stern presence. "I promise, I have the best intentions with your daughter."

Your mom raises an eyebrow skeptically as she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "that's for me to decide"

Shit yeosang thinks.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back slightly and offering what he hopes is a disarming smile. "Of course, ma'am. I wouldn't dream of imposing or presuming anything." He glances around the room, noting that there are no family pictures nor unnecessary decor. Noticing the notably stern air and lack of familial photographs surrounding him, yeosang's confidence dips even further. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly wishing he had practiced this conversation in more depth. "I, uh... I truly care about her, ma'am."

"I understand that but what is it that you want?" Your mother asks him softly but with an underlying aggression.

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I mean, ma'am, that I have developed strong feelings for your daughter. I respect and admire her greatly, and I would like the opportunity to pursue a relationship with her, with your blessing and guidance."

Honestly, if you had popcorn, you'd be very entertained. Kinda well if you exclude the part that you might get your ass whooped after he leaves creating a big mess. But you hold your breath.

Your mother's expression remains unreadable, her eyes scrutinizing Yeosang intently. "You're asking for my permission to date my daughter?" She asks flatly, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

he nods "yes ma'am"

She steeples her fingers, tapping her index fingers thoughtfully against her lips. "I see." She sits back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, yeosang, how can I let my daughter be with you, if I don't know anything about your future, family. I don't want her to have a miserable life and for that you need to have a job"

"yes ma'am. That's why I have everything sorted out. Im good ataths and have dreams of persuing higher Education in it. if not I have intrest in becoming a professor. and if that fails as well, I have my father's company. but ofcourse, that is the last option"

Damn that was kinda hot. Wait, brain, wtf?

Your mother nods slowly, seeming to consider his words carefully. "A good education and a solid career path. Those are important things for a man to have." She pauses, her gaze drifting to the door for a moment before snapping back at him. "But tell me, yeosang"

"Are you prepared to handle the pressure and responsibilities that come with being in a relationship with my daughter? she has been severely depressed and suicidal for the past 8 years after her dad lost everything and committed suicide" Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

You felt betrayed, by your own mother. You were shocked, hurt and mostly, sad that she exposed this. You were always reserved about your feelings, shutting them off from everybody. But hearing this made you felt exposed, naked almost

Yeosang's expression softens as he realizes the gravity of your situation. He leans forward earnestly, his eyes filled with sincerity and determination. "Ma'am, I understand completely. I know I'm asking for a big responsibility. But please believe me when I say that I'm ready to stand by your daughter through thick and thin. I have experience dealing with mental health issues, as my own aunt struggled with depression for years. I know it's not an easy path, but I'm committed to supporting and loving her unconditionally."

Your mother studies him intently, her hard exterior cracking slightly to reveal a glimmer of hope and relief in her eyes. "You're a good man, Yeosang. Most boys your age would run away screaming at the thought of dealing with something like this"

He shrugs and says something that made your eyes tear,

"I love her ma'am"

Your mother's expression softens further, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "I can see that you truly care for my daughter. That's the most important thing to me." She pauses, her mind made up. "You have my blessing to date my daughter, Yeosang."

AN: whooo I got this done guys clap in the comments. I hope y'all enjoyed this and if you did, please reblog so I can reach even more people. I love yalllll

[hazzashouse]

I love your writing! Can you do one about y/n in labor and H cooing/comforting her? Thank you!!

The First Day of Forever (Harry Styles)

A/N: okay so it’s my first time writing sth like this so please bear with me 😅

Triggers: mentions of pain, labour

Summary: As Y/N endures the stress and pain of labor, Harry remains by her side, comforting her with unwavering love and support, despite his own heart aching to see her in pain.

Pairing: Harry Styles!dad x y/n pregnant wife

The room was filled with soft murmurs and the occasional rush of footsteps, but Harry couldn’t hear any of it. His entire world was focused on you. You were gripping his hand tightly, your head resting against his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling as another wave of pain coursed through you.

Harry’s heart shattered at the sound of your distress. He crouched down beside you, his free hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. “Yes, you can, love,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pride and worry. “You’re the strongest person I know. I promise, you’re doing so well.”

The words seemed to steady you for a moment, but another contraction made you squeeze his hand tighter, and a sob escaped your lips. Seeing you in pain like this made Harry feel utterly helpless, a feeling he wasn’t used to. If he could, he would have taken every bit of it away in an instant.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he urged gently, his voice full of love. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and he smiled softly, despite the lump in his throat. “You’re not alone. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Remember what we talked about? How we’ve waited for this moment? It’s our little girl, love. She’s almost here.”

A tear slipped from your eye, but you nodded, clinging to his words as tightly as you clung to his hand.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hand. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “But you’re doing this for her, for us. She’s going to be perfect, just like her mum.”

The memory of when you’d first told him you were pregnant flashed through his mind. He’d come home late from a tour meeting, exhausted but eager to see you, and you’d greeted him with a nervous smile and a tiny pair of baby shoes in your hands. It had taken a moment for him to process, but when he did, he’d dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms as tears streamed down his face.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you’d told him through your tears. And now, as he sat here with you, helping you through one of the hardest moments of your life, he realized you were right. But only because you were the best partner he could have ever hoped for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N,” he repeated now, his voice firm but loving. “She’s going to be so lucky to have you as her mum. Just a little longer, and we’ll be holding her, yeah? You and me, together.”

Another sob escaped your lips, but this time it wasn’t just from pain. There was something else there—determination. You nodded again, leaning into him, drawing strength from his words and his presence.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I love you more,” Harry replied without hesitation, his lips brushing your temple. “And I love her already, too. She’s got the most incredible mum in the world.”

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but Harry never let go of your hand, never wavered in his support. When your cries turned into gasps of relief, the first tiny, indignant cry of your baby girl filled the room.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it almost knocked him over.

“She’s here,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. “Our little girl, love. She’s here.”

When they placed her in your arms, you let out a choked sob, every bit of pain and stress melting away as you gazed at the tiny, perfect life you and Harry had created together. Harry leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he stared at your daughter in awe.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with exhaustion and pure joy. “We did it,” you murmured.

Harry kissed you softly, his hand coming up to gently touch the little bundle in your arms. “No, you did it,” he said, his voice filled with reverence. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I’ll never forget this moment. Ever.”

And as he held his family close, Harry knew that this—this love, this little girl, this life you had built together—was the greatest thing he’d ever be a part of.

[punkrockmlchael]

Just Thinkin’ About You

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader, some Gareth Emerson x GN!Reader Comfort

This fic is for: the twelve days of promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ; the prompt is a bonus prompt “I'll be so blue, just thinking about you...” this idea came to me and I’m just, I’m sorry..

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Eddie's death, Gareth comforting the Reader, Sadness I am sorry, Drinking, gn!reader (some mentions of jewelry but I think that’s all that could be considered ‘gender specific’), no use of pronouns

Synopsis: Christmas used to be your favorite holiday. But now it will never be the same without Eddie by your side.

Word Count: 2.9k

-

December 24, 1983

“Eddie,” you smiled, shaking your head as you followed him through the hall of his trailer to his bedroom. “I thought we agreed on no Christmas presents,” you added, smiling at your boyfriend of two months.

“You might have agreed to no Christmas presents, but that doesn’t mean that I did,” Eddie smiled, walking into his bedroom. You followed after him, rolling your eyes playfully as you sat on his bed.

“You can’t give me a present if I didn’t get you one,” you argued. He grabbed a box from his desk and turned around, smiling at you.

“I can and I will, you don’t need to give me anything, baby,” he said, placing the poorly wrapped box on your lap. Spots of cardboard were poking out underneath the blue colored wrapping paper that was covered in white snowflakes.

“Eddie, I just... it doesn’t feel right taking a gift from you and not giving you one back,” you sighed, looking at the box before you looked up and met his eyes.

“Baby, please,” he begged, sitting down next to you on his bed. “Just open it, I don’t need anything for Christmas; I have you. And, having you here with me tonight is enough of a gift for me.”

You sighed, knowing that you were fighting a losing battle. You slowly began to tear off the wrapping paper, looking down at the box on your lap. You opened the cardboard box and looked inside, smiling to yourself.

You picked up the white teddy bear that wore a small Hellfire shirt on and held it in your hands, looking at it. You turned it over in your hands a couple times before you looked up at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. "What's this?" You asked, smiling at him.

"A teddy bear, look! It looks just like me!" He smiled back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Now you can always cuddle with me, even if I'm not there with you at night!" You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly.

"Thanks, Eddie," you giggled, pulling the teddy bear close to your chest. “This teddy bear might be better at cuddling than you are,” you teased, receiving a pout back from him.

“Want to test that theory?” He asked, pulling you closer to his body.

-

December 24, 1984

“What do you mean there’s two parts to this present?” You asked, looking at Eddie with a raised eyebrow as he placed a gift on your lap.

“I mean, there’s two parts to this present,” Eddie repeated, looking at you with a nod. “Open that, and then I’ll show you the second part.”

You looked down at the box on your lap, running your fingers over the wrapping paper. Blue with snowflakes; the same wrapping paper Eddie had used last year for your teddy bear.

You tore the paper off of the box, lifting the lid gently and you looked in it. On top of some red tissue paper sat a picture frame… a picture frame with a piece of notebook paper in it framed neatly.

“You’re the sun to my moon.

The light of my life.

When you walk in the room, all eyes are always on you.

You can turn any darkness into light.

Because, baby, you’re the sun to my moon.”

Eddie’s sloppy handwriting looked absolutely gorgeous as it sat perched in the black picture frame perfectly. It was as if it was meant to be there on display. You ran your fingers over the glass gently, looking up at Eddie with a confused look.

“What’s this?” You asked, watching him move around his room towards his guitars.

“A song,” he simply replied, grabbing his acoustic guitar. He turned back towards you and pulled up his chair, sitting in it. “A song that I wrote for you, baby,” he added, getting the guitar to sit on his lap comfortably.

“You… you wrote me a song?” You asked, looking back at the picture frame that was sitting in your lap.

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie nodded, smiling softly at your reaction. “And, part two is me playing it for you,” he added, strumming his guitar strings to ensure that they were in tune.

“No,” you said softly, looking at him as you shook your head. “You’re not going to play it for me..”

“Yes, I am,” he replied, nodding again as he began to strum at the strings more rapidly, ignoring your words as he began singing to you softly.

You sat there in awe, watching your boyfriend sing the song he had written for you with so much passion. Your eyes watered slightly, watching him do something he loved… for someone he loved.

“You’re the sun to my moon, the light of my life. When you walk in a room, all eyes are always on you; you can turn any darkness into light. Because, baby, you’re the sun to my moon.” Eddie sang, looking at you as he continued to strum away on his guitar.

You couldn’t control the tears that were falling, smiling as you watched Eddie play and sing. When he was done you stood up, setting the picture frame on the bed as you walked towards him. You leaned in and kissed his lips gently, smiling into the kiss.

“I love you, Eddie,” you said as you parted from the kiss. He smiled up at you.

“I love you too, baby. You’re the sun to my moon; I’ll love you forever and always. You bring so much light into my life... I don't know where I would be without you."

-

December 24, 1985

"Eddie, where are we going?" You asked as he pulled you towards the back door of Gareth's house.

"Outside," Eddie replied, smiling as he tugged you out the door into the snow covered backyard.

"But, honey, it's absolutely freezing outside..." you whined, shivering instantly as the cold air hit your body.

“Relax,” he said, smiling as he pulled you closer to him on the back porch of Gareth’s house. “I just, I wanted to give you your gift but I didn’t want to do it in front of everyone,” he added, motioning towards the house where your friends were all inside drinking eggnog and exchanging gifts along with laughs.

“Why not?” You asked, looking up at him as you wrapped your arms around his torso. You clung to him gently, feeling the heat radiating off of his body in the cold of the night.

“Because, this one is special and I didn’t want any of the boys to laugh,” he admitted, looking down at you. He moved his left hand to the pocket of his leather jacket before he pulled out a small box.

He handed you the small box and you smiled when you saw the wrapping paper. Blue with white snowflakes. You took the small box in your hands gently, unwrapping it carefully.

“Blue with snowflakes, huh?” You asked, looking at the same wrapping paper Eddie had used the two years before. Twice in a row is a coincidence, but three times? That seems like it was on purpose, as if Eddie had a method to his madness.

“Yeah, it was one of my favorites when I first bought it and now I think I need to wrap every single Christmas present I give you in this paper for the rest of my life,” he smiled, nodding towards the box in your hands. “Open it.”

You opened the box itself, revealing a silver sun pendant hanging on a beautiful silver chain.

“You got me a necklace?” You asked, smiling at the necklace. You moved it around slowly, watching it shimmer and shine in the moonlight.

“Yeah, remember the song I wrote you last year?” He asked, you nodded, looking up at him.

“Yes, of course, the lyrics you hand wrote are framed by my bed.” You replied, softly.

“Right,” he nodded, blushing softly. He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky before he looked back at you. “Well, I wrote how you’re the sun to my moon… so, it just… seemed fitting to get you a necklace with a sun,” he added, smiling nervously.

You looked up at Eddie and smiled more, literally, you were smiling so hard it felt like your face hurt. Or, maybe it was because it was so cold you couldn’t feel it anymore. Either way, you smiled at your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Eddie,” you said, sighing into his neck. “I love it,” you added, looking up at him. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your head softly.

“You sure about that, baby?” He asked, looking at you.

“Absolutely,” you responded, quickly. You leaned in and left a soft kiss on his lips. “I love it and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie smiled, kissing you again.

“Come back inside, you two; it’s freezing out there!” You heard Gareth yell from inside the house through the door. “And, gross. Get a room,” he teased, winking at you both.

You looked back at Gareth and shook your head, looking back up at Eddie. You leaned in and kissed his lips one more time before you pulled him back inside into the warm house.

-

December 24, 1986

You sat on the couch at Gareth's house, sipping on your spiked eggnog. The rest of the Hellfire club moved around the living room, laughing at the small television as A Christmas Story played in the background.

You held the mug of spiked eggnog in your left hand, periodically sipping it as your eyes moved around the room to your friends. They all looked so cheerful, so happy, as they exchanged gifts and laughs with each other.

It was almost as if none of them were affected by the fact that the room had one less person in it. One less Hellfire member, one less friend, one less person that you loved...

A sigh escaped your lips as your right hand moved up to your neck, playing with the small silver sun pendant that sat perfectly on the silver chain.

The sun necklace Eddie had given you as a gift last Christmas; the third Christmas you had spent together in a relationship. You ran your fingers over the sun pendant again and again, your eyes moving down to the mug of eggnog in your hands.

You didn't even like eggnog, truly. You just wanted something, anything, to drink pain away; something to try to fill the hole in your heart that had been there since March of 1986.

Normally, this is when Eddie would look up at you from the floor in front of the television. He'd lay on his back and look up at you, classic grin on his lips as he wiggled his eyebrows, looking at the mug in your hand. "What're you drinking, sweetcheeks?" He'd ask, watching as a blush would appear on your cheeks, giggling at the nickname he used for you.

But not this year.

Instead, Dustin and Mike were sprawled out on the floor where Eddie usually sat playing a game of Battleships. The two bickered back and forth, accusing the other of cheating whenever they landed on a spot that held a ship.

You took a big gulp of your eggnog, finishing it all in one go before you stood up from your spot on the couch and made your way to the kitchen.

Gareth stood in the kitchen, laughing and talking with Jeff. When they heard footsteps, they looked up and smiled at you. “Hey,” Gareth said softly, your name rolling off his lips in the same breath. “How’re you… holding up?” He added, wanting to show his care for you as a friend but also not wanting to overstep your emotions and boundaries.

“Hm?” You hummed, looking up at him as you grabbed some more eggnog. “Oh, I’m doing fine, thanks,” you nodded, lying through your teeth as you sipped more of the eggnog. You reached for the bottle of rum that sat on the counter and poured it into your mug, adding a bit more holiday spirit.

Taking another sip, you made a face before your eyes met Gareth and Jeff again, a slightly concerned look on their faces. Jeff and Gareth exchanged looks before Jeff grabbed his drink and nodded, “sorry, I’ve got next game at Battleships,” he mumbled before turning on his heels and walking back towards the living room.

Gareth watched as Jeff walked away before he looked up at you. He grabbed his cup of eggnog, looking around the kitchen before his eyes made their way back to you; you stood there in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared into the mug, watching the bubbles move around the rim of the mug as you swirled it gently. Your other hand found its way to your necklace, playing with the sun pendant again.

This really has become a bad habit for you. Shutting yourself out and being alone with your thoughts about Eddie. It’s not that your friends didn’t help you, in fact, it was quite the opposite. They did everything in their power to help you through your emotions and thoughts.

Staying with you constantly, always trying to keep you engaged in any activity, always asking you to tag along with them even if it was just a quick trip to the record store. You loved your friends, you really did; and you know that you would be lost without them.

But, as much as you loved them they just… weren’t Eddie.

And, no one really talks about how it feels to lose the person you truly loved more than anything in the world. Nothing can prepare you for that heartbreak; and it is something you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

Gareth said your name softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him and hummed, your fingers still working on your necklace.

“I have something for you,” Gareth added softly, walking towards the stairs. “Follow me.”

You looked at him a bit confused but followed him nonetheless. As you ascended the stairs to his bedroom, you looked at the pictures that hung on the wall. A nervous habit of yours was always to look at your surroundings, studying every detail of everything around you.

You stepped into Gareth’s room, watching as he walked towards his closet. He opened the door and dug around for a bit, grabbing a small box that was wrapped in light blue wrapping paper with snowflakes on it… the same wrapping paper that Eddie had always used for your Christmas presents. He turned around and walked towards you, handing you the box.

You took it in your hand, examining it as you set your mug down on his dresser. You turned the box over in your hands multiple times, looking at the gift tag on the top.

It was addressed to you, from the Hellfire Boys.

You looked back up at Gareth and raised an eyebrow slightly, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said softly, trying to hand the box back to him.

“I know that,” Gareth replied, nodding back at you. “But, collectively, we wanted to. It’s from Grant, Jeff and I. We know how much you miss Eddie; hell, we all miss him. But, while we lost our friend, you lost your boyfriend.” He added, pushing the box back into your hands. “Please, just, open it,” he said softly.

You sniffled a little, already feeling the tears form in your eyes as you looked back down at the wrapped box. You lifted the paper up gently, careful not to tear it as you unwrapped the small box. You opened it carefully, a pair of silver sun earrings looking back at you.

You couldn’t help it at this point, tears were actively streaming down your face as you looked from the earrings to Gareth and back to the earrings. Not only had the boys picked out jewelry for you, but they picked out earrings that matched the necklace Eddie had given you a year before perfectly.

“What,” you started, wiping your eyes as you closed the box, looking at Gareth. “Why?” You asked softly, stepping towards him. You hated crying in front of him, and anyone for that matter, but you couldn’t help it at this point. “You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly, looking up at him through tears.

“Yeah, we know,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around you gently as you continued to cry softly. “But, we wanted to. You deserve the best in the world, and I’m so sorry that you’ve lost so much. We know how much you love that necklace because Eddie gave it to you, and so, we figured we’d get you something to match it so you always have an excuse to wear the necklace.” He added, rubbing his hands up and down your back gently as you buried your face into his chest softly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, sniffling as you looked up at him. “You guys have been some of my best friends because of Eddie and… I don’t know where I would be without you,” you admitted softly.

“Hey, don’t mention it,” Gareth said softly, pulling you a little closer to his chest. “Once a Hellfire member, always a Hellfire member,” he mumbled against your hair.

[yanderenightmare]

Do you normally get any 'ew, you're disgusting' shit in your inbox? I just now posted my first incest fic and got one like 'i hope you don't have any siblings lalala'. Prior to that, I was like "how do these authors go untouched by antis?" but then I realised that it was a tad bit naive of me lol. I was going to respond with a taunt but decided to just delete it because it wasn't worth the effort.

Are they frequent and are they easy to ignore?

Good question! I was actually going to make a post on this, as others have asked me the same thing, so here we go!

♡ Personal experience!

I get my fair share of hate from time to time—more often when I publish things that are more taboo than other excepted things—for example, like you say, incest, as well as bestiality, wide age gap, born-sexy-yesterday readers, etc.

It's an odd thing, as haters will often accept the fact that I write rape for titillation but will take issue with these other tropes. But anyway, we can talk about the nonsensical opinions of haters all day, but it wouldn't really do us any good.

So, here's my advice.

♡ First off, accept that haters are gonna hate!

Some people won't like what you write. And that's fine. The problem is that they feel the need to tell you that—at which point, you'll just have to console yourself by telling yourself that no decent person would be rude to a total stranger whom they don't know the first thing about and, therefore, whatever they have to say warrants neither second thought nor reply.

With that being said, however...

♡ You gotta do what feels right!

Engage or don't engage, do what you need to feel at peace. Sure, you can be the so-called bigger man and ignore all the meanies, but you absolutely don't have to!

Of course, we can be cool as cucumbers and say, "Not worth the effort," but who are we kidding? This is Tumblr, and you're allowed to rant when you want in whatever manner you want!

So, if you feel you gotta bite back to maintain your sanity, then that's what you should!

However, I do believe there's a way to go about it!

♡ Never go to bed angry!

This is my personal advice, but if you ever choose to acknowledge hate or critique, do so with tact and with based and factual arguments instead of slinging heated insults in return.

This way, you walk away from the fight feeling good about what you've said and not worse off than before. In other words, don't stoop down to their level.

I actually feel in many ways that answering hate can be rather therapeutic this way, as you've succesfully turned something negative into soemthing positive!

♡ The difference between hate and critique!

Actually doesn't matter. You're not really obligated to answer either if you don't want to.

But for the sake of differentiating the two: "Ew, you're disgusting" is hateful slander, but "Incest is wrong, and you're actively condoning it by writing what you write" is a genuine critique.

And it bears repeating, you don't have to address either because you don't owe anyone anything.

People are entiteld to their opnions just as much as you're free to disagree, and ignore if you want!

But something I've found is that explaining it to those who don't understand why we write such things, and furthermore why people want to read it without being interested in such things in real life, is actually quite a rewarding thing to do!

And by that, I mean it might make your critics and haters understand and rethink their comments, but it can also help your existing fans deal with their own similar self-loathing, and lastly, it's even great for your own mental health for when you yourself doubt your own mental standing!

Personally, in regard to the example I used above, when I get hit with the "you're condoning this and that" I just play the argument that those who play violent videogames aren't condoning the killing carried out by their avatar. Naturally, when roleplaying a fictional version of ourselves, we're not actually playing as ourselves.

Some people have a very hard time understanding this for some reason.

But anyway, moving on.

♡ Final advice!

Ignore and delete any and all the dumb, off-handed comments you feel like. If and when you want, return their rudeness with a cheeky smile and a slap on their ass. Be as cordial as you can be but as sassy as you feel you must—like an aged Queen who drinks her fair share of likewise wine.

But whatever you do, don't ever make things personal!

Though that's also my personal advice. I think, by making personal attacks, you're not being factual anymore, and you'll only feel worse for it. And by personal attacks, I mean calling people ignorant, dumb, awful, etc. You can, of course, say that their chosen words were in ill taste, but going after them themselves won't make you feel better. So, I'd suggest avoiding it.

Anyway, hope this helps!

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

toxic till the end

synopsis: what happens when things can’t work anymore?

genre: angst, no comfort

characters: alhaitham x gn! reader

warnings: suggests a toxic relationship, alhaitham might be ooc

a/n: my favourite animal is me during a breakup fr || likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

how long had it been since you last felt at peace with your lover? how long had it been since you hadn’t had to walk on eggshells around him? how long had it been since you went to bed happy?

answer: too long ago to remember.

sure, alhaitham had been nothing but the sweetest with you, so patient when you were in one of your moods, so understanding when you were occasionally too busy with work to see him. he’d been vulnerable with you, and let you do the same with him in turn, under multiple starry nights. he’d even shown you his softest side– kaveh often joked that he should hold you hostage next time he forgot the house keys and needed alhaitham to open the door for him. but perhaps you should’ve been just a little more observant.

why did alhaitham, of all people, always end up in a foul mood when he saw you laughing with your other male friends? because he was jealous. why did he get jealous even though he knew they were just your friends? … i don’t know. it didn’t matter, then, because you found it kinda endearing how he was obsessed with you and you could tirelessly assure him that he was the only one for you.

and then it got worse.

“why won’t you let me hang out with my friends?”

“because there’ll be guys.” your lover replied, not missing a beat, and not looking up from that stupid book he’d been reading for days on end.

“what’s that got to do with–” you felt your blood pressure rise. “are you implying you can’t trust me with other guys?”

out of everything you’d said that afternoon, that was the one that got him to put his book aside.

“what? no, that’s not what i–”

“then what do you mean?” you raised your voice, “because ever since the start of this relationship, all you say every time i so much as mention one single guy friend is how you get jealous and how much you don’t like when i talk about them! you ever hear me do that when you talk about your friends?”

“woah, babe, will you relax for a second? can’t we talk this out?”

you stopped dead. “relax?” you repeated in disbelief. upon seeing his face — completely serious — you sighed and reached for the door. “...i can’t do this right now. i need space.”

“wait– where’re you going?”

“out.” you didn’t see, didn’t hear him reach for you, mouthing the words “don’t leave.”

you had never been more grateful to have candace as a friend, for she had welcomed you into aaru village with open arms and told you to stay for as many nights as you needed to.

why did you always give in to alhaitham’s needs, even if it burnt you out? because i loved him. why hadn’t he done the same, and instead constantly rejected you when you voiced your needs, saying he’d already been trying his best? … i don’t know. yet he’d turned around and made you feel like the asshole for asking him to meet your needs.

“sometimes, i feel like you don’t even care about me. do you really love me?”

“...what?”

he sighs. “it feels like i’ve given up so much for you, but you never did for me.”

“?????”

“you… don’t agree?” he looked at your dumbfounded face, at your mouth opening and closing as you looked for words to defend yourself without making the conversation yet another argument.

“i…” you inhaled deeply. “what made you think that?” you attempted a small smile to show you were calm — so he wouldn’t tell you to relax and be patient with him, like he had countless times before — but it felt so wrong.

i gave up my dream to move to fontaine for you, you want to scream. all because you’d rather stay in sumeru but couldn’t bear the thought of being far away from me.

alhaitham had always been excellent at chess. maybe a bit too good, now that you thought about it. maybe that’s why his proficiency at the game translated into his actions around you.

“i’ve been thinking about it, and i think i want a break.”

“you want a breakup?”

“no. just– just a break from this.” you gestured lamely, “from this relationship. it’s stressing me out.”

he stared, incredulous. “how am i stressing you out?”

“not you, i–”

“tell me what’s wrong, babe.” he interrupted, reaching out to clasp your hands with his. “i’ll do better, we can work on it together, right?”

“but you always say that.”

“i mean it every time, i really do.” he sounded so desperate, so pleading, till part of you wanted to just take back everything you’d just said.

you inhaled. “i just think the break would be good for us, you know? like, i’ve been stressed out because you’ve been upset i haven’t been fulfilling your needs and i think i could use the break to work on myself so you don’t feel neglected, y’know?”

“no.” he stared at you like you just told him cyno was in love with kaveh. “you know you’re going to make things worse if we go on break.”

“oh.”

later that night, as you tiptoed out of the house with your bags, you couldn’t help but wonder if alhaitham was the only one who brought the relationship you had to its bitter end.

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[riiverdancer]

toji x fem!orthodox!reader, THE LONG AWAITED SEQUEL!

to whoever is reading this as of now: please do not sexualize my work as it was not written for that purpose and i worked quite hard on this piece alone. i would find that course of action extremely disrespectful on your part. also, if themes of religion make you feel uncomfortable, DO NOT READ THIS.

to anyone interested, you can find this work on my ao3 @/riiverdancer under the title "moths in my abdomen" !

synopsis: toji doesn't know how neither how to pray, nor how to sleep, so it gets awkward.

contents: events set in 2008, toji being timid around reader, toji is not familiar with his surroundings, post gege clarity, bare with me everyone.

Toji was used to keeping watch during the night while his companions slept in the tent and curses and curse users were always lurking around their campsite. In those moments, he would risk his arm going limp just by gripping onto his heavenly inverted spear in case an enemy was close by. He did not play games. Toji however, was not used to having to keep watch over nothing in the middle of the night. He was becoming less cautious and more fearful of the dark, almost like a child. His heavy heart pounded in his chest moderately faster the more he refused the offer of a good night's sleep, he was getting dizzy from staring at the hallway light that peered through the bedroom door in a single vertical line. He was going mad and he knew it. He saw that light as a string of hope saving him from his suppressed childish fears, which he blamed on his son for always asking to come over to his and his late wife's bed to sleep with them while his fear faded. Now another woman lies in his bed. A beautiful soul that is in so many ways more than Toji's. The love she had left to give poured onto him like lava and hardening so imperfectly, his heart could only beat in slow intervals, just not to crack the obsidian forming around it. But within those borders, his heart was begging for guidance of any kind. A thump at a time made the gold lightweight crucifix bounce on and off of his chest. It was the peak of his anxiety, he was beginning to choke.

This was the very same sensation he felt when he went to church, the guilt he had was seeping through the tip of his tongue, mumbling away his remorse, behind him, he knew he could feel the Devil himself creeping up behind him and in a moment of weakness, he wept. A whisper scream, if you will.

"I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it." He was genuinely spilling tears, pulling his hair by the handful, too stressed to even think about going back to bed.

This woke up his partner, who rolled from her side and groaned rubbing her eyes: "Jiji...mmh. What's wrong?"

"Ugh, forget it. I feel like a piece of shit already." Toji scoffed.

"No, don't say that." She lightly placed a hand on his chest, still sleepy. "Hold my hand."

His large hand wrapped around hers, covering it entirely and he sighed, still tired of the mental baggage.

He did the cross with his right hand and moved her curls covering the side of her face to kiss her warm cheek, a stray strand of hair getting caught in his lips. He smiled and looked at her as her head was stuffed knee deep in the pillows.

"Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me, a sinner." She muffled, her head on the pillows, somehow urging Toji gently to repeat her words, soon becoming a coeval prayer of three times, that made Toji drop the weights he already beared.

"I'm gonna marry you someday." His heart throbbed in place as he looked at pale moon pouring over his skin. "By God, I'm gonna marry you someday." He covered himself in their shared duvet, almost instantly going to sleep after he closed his eyes.

[taldigi]

I'm always a big proponent for localizing when necessary so I'm interested to hear your takes. For example, I'd much rather remove things like "senpai" or honorifics. If necessary, fully localize to the setting all the way down to the location (ex: Because Ace Attorney is a game that so heavily focuses on modern day Japan's legal system, there's the chance that could put off American players from buying the game for fear of being lost due to the differences in the systems, even though the game itself has no such issue. So localize to LA to break through that initial barrier and get the player to pick up the game). If not, keep the location (MOST stories don't need their location changed) and explain that which needs explaining, but fully translate all dialogue and speech patterns (I actually approve of P4s decision to use frequent bear puns in place of -kuma).

You don't need Japanese honorifics, English has its own honorific system. It's why children are expected to call all adults Mr/Mrs/Ms/Miss [last name], except when they're family. It's why, if your boss lets you call them by their first name, they're considered more relaxed ("Please, call me [first name]. Mr. [Last name] was my father's name!") but if your university professor does so it's considered a sign of respect. And it's why it's noticeably, but not unprofessional, if someone goes by last name only without an honorific. If you're localizing a game, I believe you should use that language's honorific system. No -sans, -kuns, or -chans.

Same with things like "senpai." You don't need it. Find a way around it. I honestly don't think the solution to Teddie is to add more untranslated words. The problem with Teddie isn't what he's saying. It's dropped context. It's not clear enough that Teddie doesn't really get what he's saying. It reads more as if he doesn't get why what he's saying is wrong. But those are two different things. Knowing what you're saying but not knowing why it's wrong is a different problem than not knowing what you're saying at all and just repeating things you've heard. There isn't anything wrong with Teddie using the word "scoring," it's entirely in the way it's delivered.

Of course, that's just my thought on localization. I'm interested in yours!

I think I understand what you're saying, and I understand the exact sentiment. Normally, I feel that adding honorifics can be annoying- esp if the story doesn't really call for it.

However- Persona is a kind of series where it doesn't come off as annoying- because the story is very Japanese as well as being a game about the relationships between a bunch of super powered teens- so its implementation is more organic than say.. idk, if Pokemon did, where that relationship nuance isn't as needed.

There's a lot of nuance that gets lost when those aspects are translated or localized away. Rules like using a person's last name is wildly different in JP than it is in english. Sure, the relationships between first and lasts name have their own rules in ENG, but referring to someone via their last name can be seen as insulting, mocking, or scolding. Maybe even a bit demeaning depending on the context whereas in JP its seen as respectful and using a first name or lacking those honorifics can be seen as affectionate.

Being able to step into the headspace where these honorifics matter in relation to how the characters relate to one another is an integral part of steeping yourself in the narrative. IMO, Making it digestible for English audiences would be more akin to like... "Do we need child characters to refer to themselves in third person?"

English is no stranger to loan words to express things. American-English especially. Schadenfreude, Safari, Rendezvous. Doppelganger? If using "Senpai" is important in the narrative to define a relationship or denote authority or respect between two characters, then I believe it's important for the narrative. I mean, people don't step away from the game clueless on what a Persona or a Shadow is, right?

How I see it... Using English: If Naoto called Yu "Yu" it feels too personable, if they called him "Narukami" then it could be seen as dismissive. "Mr. Narukami" feels stiff and "Mr. Yu" is childish and unfitting. "Sir"? Maybe. But again, that feels too yielding? (AU where Naoto refers to Yu as "Dude".)

Kanji's use of honorifics is important to his characterization, too. Even though he's rough and easy to anger and slacks in a lot of social rules, he's still respectful and that's a really important.

However, I'm no linguist nor a philosopher- let alone know more than a few japanese terms at best. So that's just a train of thought. I know the balance between pure translation and necessary localization is a fickle one.

thought: If this was a fantasy world with fantasy terms and honorifics, is that annoying too? or is it good worldbuilding?

Localizing the area? N.. No. I fully disagree with that. No matter what. If someone needs to be coddled enough that they cannot handle a location change, they can go play a different game. It's like asking Pathologic to be anywhere but the Russian Steppe. That is a different issue divorced from being able to understand the meanings and implications of language.

That being said, I think most people who would find interest in a game like persona would be smart enough to pick up context in a story to give meanings to words. (imagine if persona or even SMT was localized to Soul Monsters LMAO)

(Topsicle is a translation I don't like, especially when they could have called it.. idk, a "Vanilla Bar" or just "Vanilla Ice Cream". "Animal Crackers" too. It's not hard, like.. make up more accurate names for them. "Nillabar" or "Cheeseas Crackers" idk. They had the copyright granted for them to use the originals. Weird.)

Taking a step sideways: Teddie was absolutely fumbled. And yeah, I think the blame lies less in him specifically and more in how the other characters treat him. You are correct in saying the issue isn't "scoring" vs "gyakunan", but I felt that it was the best way to express the issue curtly. But then, I must further inquire... why Scoring? Why not "I to be [Girl]'s hot stud!". I mean, I know why. but "scoring" has negative implications. Hell, they could have just used "hot wife" or "mistress" smth, which carries the ridiculousness forward more.

"Maybe I can be Yukiko's mistress!" "*gasp* YOSUKE, were you trying to be Sensei's Mistress?"

Just thinking out loud at this point.

(I want to emphasize, tho- that I LOVE Teddie. I think he is SO silly and sweet and he is absolutely in my top 5, if not top three, fellas from 4. And yes, I love his bear puns too. I like to use both them and the "Kuma" tics when writing him.)

They really needed to telegraph that the characters don't take him seriously and think he's silly WAY more. Not even in the sense of "child coded". He's a shadow. It's not that abstract that he's immature. But the rest of the world around him needs to act like he is, otherwise the reader/player isn't going to get it either. This is telegraphed suuuuper clearly ingame by the JP team, whereas the ENG team... does not. It is SO clear how fond the girls are of Kuma it's almost comical- and yeah, it even detracts from Yosuke's interactions with him. His annoyance is a little disagreeable in JP, while way more justified in ENG.

anyway, getting rambly. Hope I was able to express something akin to a reasonable opinion.

[myllovellybones]

"Daughter." "Sister."

Oh hell no I'm walking out

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

🙂.

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

SHUT UPPP DON'T TALK TO ME

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

Genuinely how could this be comforting. She just got pregnant by a man who's on the edge of DYING

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

Honestly thats so cool High Valryian is such a pretty language I'd be using it all the time too

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

First of all, appreciate the damn duck. AND MAYBE JUST MAYBE IF YOU'D READ THE LETTERS YOUR WIFE SENT YOU WOULD KNOW

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Omg I totally forgot he was already there when Viserys and Alicent got married. His crash out is about to be insane

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

LMAOO IM DONE

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

OMG?? YOU ASSHOLE???

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

You absolute idiot

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

Excuse me?

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

I just realized how many grandkids he's about to have especially when Heleana, Aemond, AND Dareon is born

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

Fuck I am so scared cause all this stress is not good for her or the babes

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

STOPPP 😭😭

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

Wow okay actually this made me tear up

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

I can't I really can't

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

It's insane how he says this but then ignores all his children after. I think he had or has good intentions but still man

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

WHAT?! NO STOP DONT TELL ME WHAT I THINK IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN HAPPENS

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

😭

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

NOOOO STOP MY POOR BABIES

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The anguish this genuinely made me feel

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

.... her trying to do everything to wake them up is soul crushing

"They're perfect, are they not?"

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

He's so sweat to her omg

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Lmao I'm but the way their fight really is so sibling coded

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

TIMESKIP TIMESKIP OMG HERE WE GO

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

I'd literally go to war for baby aegon.

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

AHH HES BACK HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH DOES HE KNOW?? IS HE MAD?? SAD?? AHJAKSSLSKL

I say this in the most lovingly way, this chapter killed me. You sure know how to write angst cause OH MY GOD?? I could barely see by the time I finished it cause there were so many tears running down my face and neck. I'm so scared and excited to see how Daemon will react. And I do now have mixed feelings about Viserys cause there's sm things he did wrong but he does have good intentions, and the way he tried helping her too was heart breaking 😭

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯�� 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

[transvampireboyfriend]

i love rian johnson for making me feel smart when im really not, and for making ALL of his characters fun

[art-from-the-pantry]

I don't actually go here, but have this little sketch that I made for @frogtossing that might have gotten a little out of hand. Woopsies.

(I was looking through some Joker Out tags out of interest and got stuck on watching some music videos and the one for New Wave?? I like the vibes a lot)

[sskk-manifesto]

Osamu Dazai and the Depressing Era

[theinfinitedivides]

Ranveer being the most malewife ever and trying to warn us about the danger of Deepika showing up on screen looking like that before Besharam Rang released. he gets it

[adambomb82]

minecraft is such a good game

[thethief1996]

Israel has cut water, electricity and food to Palestinians in Gaza. They are buying 10.000 M16 rifles and plan to distribute to civilian settlers in the West Bank to hunt down Palestinians. They're bombing the only way out of Gaza through Egypt, after telling refugees to flee through it, and have threatened the Egyptian government in case they let aid trucks pass through. Entire families, generations, are being wiped out and left to wander the streets hoping they don't get bombed.

Palestinians are using their last minutes of battery to let the world know about their genocide and are being met with a wall of "What about Hamas? What about the beheaded babies? Killing children on either side is bad!" even though the propaganda claims have been debunked over and over again. How cruel is it to ask somebody to condemn themselves before their last words? Or before grieving the loss of their entire families? When there's no such disclaimer to Israelis even though their government has shown over and over genocidal intent? Like who are you even trying to appease? What will your wishy washy statement do against decades of zionist thought infiltrating evangelical and Jewish stablishmemts?

Take action. Israel will fall back if public opinion turns its tide. The UK fell back on its bloody decision to cut aid to Palestine under public scrutiny. The USAmerican empire spends $3.8 billion dollars annually solely on this proxy war while its people suffer under a progressively military regime as well. News outlets are canceling last minute on Palestinian speakers while letting Israelis tell lies unchecked. Palestinian refugees are being targeted in ICE establishments and mosques are already being hounded by the FBI. France and Germany have banned pro-Palestine protests, while Netherlands and the UK have placed restrictions . You have the chance to stop this from turning into repeat of the Iraq war.

I want to do something but there's hardly anything for me to do from Brasil besides spreading the word and not letting these testimonies fall on deaf ears. I'm asking you to do this same ant work from wherever you are.

Follow:

Eye On Palestine (instagram / twitter)

Mohammed El-Kurd (instagram / twitter)

Decolonize Palestine (website with a chronological explanation of the occupation and debunking myths)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Plestia Alaqad (directly from Gaza. Many of her videos are interrupted by bombs)

If there's a protest in your city, please attend. Here's an international calendar of events:

Friday, October 13

ALBUQUERQUE, NM (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 3 pm, UNM Bookstore, University of New Mexico. Organized by Southwest Coalition for Palestine.

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA (US) – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, Sproul Hall (Vigil), University of California Berkeley. Organized by Bears for Palestine.

DOUAIS, FRANCE – Fri Oct 13, 6:30 pm, Place de’Armes.

GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Brunnsparken. Organized by Palestinska samordningsgruppen Gothenburg.

GREENSBORO, NC (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 4 pm, Wendover Village, 4203 W Wendover Ave, Greensboro, NC. Organized by Muslims for a Better NC.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Fri Oct 13, 5 pm, Keir Starmer’s Office, Crowndale Center, 218 Eversholt St, London. Organized by IJAN UK.

MEANJIN/BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, King George Square.

MIAMI, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Bayfront Park. Organized by Troika Kollectiv.

NAPOLI, ITALY – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Piazza Garibaldi, Napoli. Organized by GPI and Centro Culturale Handala Ali.

NGUNNAWAL/CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Carema Place.

PERTH/BOORLOO, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct. 13, 5:30 pm, Murray Street Hall, Boorloo/Perth. Organized by Friends of Palestine WA.

PORTLAND, OREGON (US) – Fri Oct 13, 3 pm, 1200-1220 SW 5th Ave, Portland.

PORT RICHEY, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 7:30 am, Route 19 and Ridge Road, Port Richey. Sponsored by: Florida Peace Action Network; Partners for Palestine; CADSI

PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA – Friday, Oct. 13, 7 pm, UP Main Campus, DSA Building opposite Thuto. Organized by PSC UP.

WITSWATERSRAND UNIVERSITY (SOUTH AFRICA) – Fri Oct 13, 1 pm, Great Hall Piazza, Flag demonstration. Organized by Wits PSC.

Saturday, October 14

ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, St. Nichlas Square. Organized by Scottish PSC.

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Aotea Square, Queens St, 291-2997 Queen St. Organized by PSN Aotearoa.

DETROIT/DEARBORN, MICHIGAN (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Ford Woods Park, 5700 Greenfield Road. Organized by SAFE, PYM, SJP, Handala Coalition, more.

DUNDEE, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, Place TBA. Organized by Scottish PSC.

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct 14, 2 pm, Princes Street at Foot of the Mound. Organized by Scottish PSC.

FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm Hauptwache, Frankfurt am Main. Sponsored by Palestina eV, Migrantifa Rhein-Main and more.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – Sat. Oct 14, 2 pm, Buchanan Steps. Organized by Scottish PSC.

HOUSTON, TEXAS (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Organizd by PYM, PAC, USPCN, SJP and more.

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND – Sat Oc 14, 12 pm, Church St. Organized by FRFI.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Oct 14, 12 pm, BBC Portland Place, London. Organized by a broad coalition.

MILANO, ITALY – Sat. Oct 14, 3:30 pm, Piazza San Babila. Organized by Young Palestinians of Italy, UDAP, Palestinian Community, Association of Palestinians.

ORLANDO, FLORIDA – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm, Lake Eola at Robinson and Eola, Orland. Organized by Florida Palestine Network.

TORINO, ITALY – Sat. Oct. 14, 3 pm, Piazza Crispi. Organized by Progetto Palestina.

VALPARAISO, CHILE – Sat Oct 14, 6 pm, Plaza Victoria, Valparaiso. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Oct 14, 1 pm, Lafayette Square. Organized by AMP.

Sunday, October 15

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, March from Dam Square to Jonas Daniel Meijer plein.

NAARM/MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, State Library Victoria.

TARDANYA/ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, Parliament House.

AUSTIN, TEXAS (US) – Sun Oct 15, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Organized by PSC ATX.

GADIGAL/SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 1 pm, Sydney Town Hall.

SANTIAGO, CHILE -Sun Oct 15, 11 am, Plaza Dignidad, Santiago. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

[ymahousewine]

There's something you need to know about US health insurance

While the topic is still hot I want to mention something I think is important. I have made a post or two before but it bears repeating.

I once worked at a call center of one of the leading health insurance companies

The corruption and coddling of "the rich" is REAL.

None of the executives of Facebook, snap chat, twitter (any social media or tech company) pay deductibles

YES THE RICH DO NOT HAVE DEDUCTIBLES

Not only that but ELECTIVE SURGERIES (noes jobs, boob jobs, face lifts, tummy tucks ect.) for these people was also covered in full.

And these are RICH people. Not your neighbor who collects fancy watches with the lake house. Not the guy with the loud shiny car or the lady with fancy clothes. Oh no those neighbors might as well be paupers cosplaying as rich compared to these people.

The other thing that I need to tell you is this: the children of the rich are walking pharmacies. All the party drugs normal people go to jail for "abusing" yeah these kids have a script even if the medications don't make sense to prescribe together.

One of the most radicalizing moments in my time there was:

I had one call with a RICH person and let them know their elective rhinoplasty and boob job for their wife was covered with no deductible. The plan they were on was like $250 a month, for a billionaire, for the whole family.

Right after that call I had to tell a young woman that her medically necessary abortion would not be covered.

Walking out of that job was not difficult. Keep in mind, the call center reps have no control over what insurance will and will not pay for. They cannot "do you favors" and push a claim in faster. I have plenty of stories from my time there, from people loosing their minds to actual threats to completely incompetent supervisors. But the thing that stuck with me the most is that the unfairness and corruption is baked into insurance from the start.

It's designed to keep/make you as poor as possible