#maybe for days. maybe weeks. but i can't. ill never be able to

[toxifoxx]

when the major depressive disorder is major! 😲

[theladygazingatemptiness]

.

[no-144444]

guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse. 

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered. 

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you. 

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise. 

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel. 

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off. 

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning. 

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?” 

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear. 

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave. 

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry? 

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head. 

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed. 

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his. 

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes. 

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

deputy's daughter

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, caught

“rafe!” you hiss as he makes his way into your room through his preferred method of the window. “my dad is going to kill you!”

“is he home?” he questions. he didn't see the cop car sitting in your driveway, which is why he scaled the lattice to sneak inside.

“no, but he's gonna be home any minute now!” you keep your voice quiet despite the rest of the house being empty.

“let me kiss you until he gets home then.” rafe says, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss. you know it's never just a kiss with him, but you can't help but open your lips for his adventurous tongue, gripping his shirt to pull him in closer.

rafe smirks against your mouth. he could have texted you asking you to let him, but that would have taken all the fun out of it. 

“you have to leave as soon as my dad gets home.” you scold him as rafe lays you back on your bed. 

“i know you can’t keep quiet.” rafe chuckles, hand groping at your tits through your thin pajama shirt. thankfully the flood lights above the garage are motion sensored, and with your open window they'll alert you when your dad gets home.

“if only deputy shoupe knew what i was doing to his little angel of a daughter.” rafe chuckles as you send him a glare, tugging at his shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

“shut up, cameron. he likes you anyways.” you roll your eyes. now if it was a pogue in your bed, that would be a whole different story. 

“mhm.” rafe nods, tugging your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. “im just so charming. all the parents love me.”

“all?” you raise your eyebrows, taking your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room. “you mean you do this with other girls.”

“not anymore.” rafe shakes his head, mouth dropping to your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. “you know they don't compare to that delicious pussy, baby.”

you tsk. “it's a shame you don't have time to eat it then.” 

rafe sighs dramatically, like it physically hurts him to not be able to give you head, to let his tongue drag through your folds and slurp up your juices.

“just a quick taste then ill fuck you, promise.” rafe tugs your pajama shorts down, knowing you never wear underwear just for him as he buries his face between your legs, forcing your thighs apart as his greedy mouth explores your pussy.

“delicious, baby.” rafe groans, voice vibrating against your skin. “my favorite meal.” he continues for only a moment longer, flicking his tongue against your entrance before moving up to press a wet kiss to your clit, making you moan out, eyes flickering to your window, making sure you somehow didn't miss the floodlights turning on.

rafe stands up with a lick of his lips, quickly undressing himself until he's just as bare as you are.

“condom?” he asks, forgetting to put one in his pocket, so caught up with getting over to your house on time, even running from his car to your yard, always parking a block away to not cause suspicion.

“fuck, you didn't bring one?” you groan, turning towards your bedside table. you squint in the low light as you scrounge through the drawer, but you know that you used the last one with rafe a week ago.

“just…” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the bed. “just pull out, okay?”

“promise.” rafe nods, eyes on your ass like they have been since you first turned onto your stomach, only half listening to what you're saying, but glad that you're still letting him fuck you.

rafe kneels over your legs before you can move back to your front or rise to your hands and knees. “stay like that.” he hums, gripping his cock and pushing it between your thighs, rubbing the head through your slick.

“fuck, you're so hot.” rafe groans as you reach behind your back, pulling your ass apart to show off both of your holes. “gonna let me play with this one one day?” rafe hums, his tip sliding past your entrance to your other hole, tapping against it.

“maybe.” you smirk. but certainly not today, not when you're already playing on limited time.

rafe slides back down to your cunt, pushing in as he leans forward, covering your body with his own. one hand keeps him held up, stopping from putting his complete weight on you, while the other grips your ass.

“fuck.” rafe groans out, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual. “you feel so good with nothing in between us.”

you moan as well as rafe bottoms out, pushing as far in as your pussy allows. he sits still, allowing you to adjust, to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. he goes from giving you nothing to pounding into you in an instant, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room.

rafe gives a glance at the window. lights still off. he smirks down at you, your hands now gripping into the bedsheets as he plows into you from behind, using the full force of his hips with every thrust.

“m-more.” you mewl out, body shuddering as rafe manages to go deeper with a tilt of his hips, along with you arching your back and bringing your ass up further into the air.

you let out loud groans with every thrust that's now hitting your sweet spot, pushing your orgasm quickly to the surface.

“fuck baby, you're so tight.” rafe grunts out. “don't know how much longer i can last.”

“re-remember to pull out.” you manage to hum out, even though you wish you could feel him fill you up, you're not on birth control and are already taking a risk with having sex at all.

“ass or tits?” rafe questions. 

“ass.” you shake your hips from side to side, making rafe let out a loud curse, pulling out sooner than he'd like to to jack himself off, spilling almost instantly over your ass and back, spreading long ropes of cum along your skin.

rafe is quick to grab a tissue and clean you off, as much as he likes seeing you covered in his cum, he's got other things to focus on.

just as he's about to flip you over to eat you out, the lights outside turn on.

“fuck!” you curse, knowing you have seconds before your dad enters the house. you turn over to look at rafe. you gotta get out.”

“you didn't cum yet.” rafe shakes his head, body covering you again, pressing you back down into the plush mattress. “im not leaving without giving you at least one orgasm.”

“you're gonna be leaving with a bullet in your chest if my dad catches you!” you hiss out.

“itll be worth it.” rafe manages to force his hand underneath you, finding your clit with ease as he rubs his fingers between your folds. 

“y/n!” your dads voice calls out. you usually greet him downstairs, staying locked in your room is bound to cause suspicion.

“rafe.” you moan out quietly. “please, stop.” you can barely keep yourself from screaming out as his fingers just move faster, his weight pressing down on you too much to move.

“babygirl?” shoupe calls out, his loud footsteps marching up the stairs.

“i-in my room!” you call out.

“you okay?” he asks, now right outside your door. you have to cover your mouth as rafe flicks your clit. you take a deep breath before answering.

“yeah, fine!” your voice wobbles a little, something you know your dad notices. “just period cramps!”

“can i get you some midol?” he questions, and you know his ear is pressed to the door, listening for any signs that something is amiss as rafe rubs you quicker, refusing to slow down, needing to get an orgasm out of you.

“already took some!” you call out, having to press your face into your mattress as you cum, body shaking as rafe smirks above you, hearing your muffled noises. “i think im just gonna go to bed early.” you say as soon as you recover.

“alright, goodnight sweetheart.” 

rafe finally allows you to flip over, lifting himself to lay on his side next to you. you raise your eyebrows and hold your finger to your lips, signaling rafe to be quiet until you hear your father's footsteps move down the hallway.

“rafe, you almost got us caught!” you whisper, giving him a shove on the shoulder, only to be met by a proud smile on his face.

“had to get you off, princess, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.” rafe leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips, feeling the way you melt against him.

“am i forgiven?” he questions.

“yeah, just get out.” you giggle quietly. you think your dad bought your explanation, but you can never be too sure.

rafe dresses quickly, throwing your pajamas onto the bed so you can also get decent.

“gotta give you one more kiss.” he leans over your bed to give you a sweet kiss, lips moving gently against each others.

“okay, now go.” you shoo rafe out, heading to the window now that your legs feel a bit more stable, watching him climb down the lattice. he gives you a wave once his feet hit the concrete, only for his entire body to freeze when the side door opens up, your dad stepping out into the light.

“rafe cameron, im going to kill you!”

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[murphysletsdraw]

I'm thinking about chronic illness and wondering if others can relate. And I'm thinking this might sound strange to able bodied people, but it's something I wish I had more help with. My brain fog won't let me phrase it well, but I still want to write it down.

i had a long flare there, something mysterious, left me w brain fog and migraines and fatigue for a few weeks. I'm sitting up today clearheaded enough to do some work and I'm struck again by how it's scarier to be recovering than really ill sometimes. Being really ill is horrible but it's simple and straight forward. When you feel better you're hit fully with what you missed out on and how far behind you are and trying to prioritize which part of life to pick back up with the little strength you have. N it could just be a fluke - maybe I'll be back in bed tomorrow - so if I pick something to do that can't be finished and important TODAY, if I can't pick the one single thing that's worth doing this one good day that mightn't come again, I will feel like such a fool! I'm trying to be excited to feel better, and I am excited, but there's something so simple about the acute phase... "I just have to endure" is so simple. "What if I never get better" is a simple fear. When I'm properly sick I can't even torment myself with what I would do if I felt better, because I'm too tired. "oh, I could see my friends, I could work..." but I'm too tired to want that. "If I was well again"... I can't even picture it when I'm really sick, so my life doesn't look so bad because I can't compare it. When your strength comes back, your wants come back beyond the immediate and it's overwhelming. The fears are more complicated. I have the energy to compare again, and it really sinks in how much time I've lost to this. It's like the difference between being a child and being a grown up. I don't miss being a child, I don't want to go back to that ever, but my life felt simpler then and I could kid myself (pun intended) about so many things. It's not nice that recovery is such an anxious grieving time. Especially since I never know how long it will last, I feel like I don't have the time or energy to spare feeling frightened and sorry! I should be grateful to feel better, i should be excited and grab the opportunity. But it is a grieving time and I can't help it.

[curly-fry-3]

Can you do Sam Winchester and his niece? Like maybe Dean has the Mark of Cain so he’s angry all the time, and he yells at his daughter and makes her cry, so Sam takes care of her?

𖦹Uncle Sammy's Sleepovers™𖦹

summary𖦹 Sam is there for you when your dad makes you cry

pairing𖦹 Sam Winchester x Niece!Reader

word count𖦹 1,007

notes𖦹 bro I'm low key so busy with school and everything right now so i'm procrastinating by making this also next week is my spring break so ill either be super active or not post at all lol

This isn't really your dad. You had to keep telling yourself that. Ever since he had gotten the mark of Cain, your dad had been angrier than usual and he had started taking some of that anger out on you. You knew you couldn't blame him but that didn't make it hurt any less. You felt like your presence just pissed him off. Like he has so much to do already and he has to take care of you. You had tried to just avoid him until uncle sammy could figure out how to get rid of the mark. You didn't want to feel like a burden, and you didnt want your dad to yell at you again.

You were used to him yelling, but never at you. Dean had made that promise to you when you were little. You had accidentally walked in when he was in a big fight with Sam, you got so scared and they had to stop everything to calm you down. That night your dad promised you that you won't see that side of him–that the only time he would get angry like that is when he needed to protect you. Now he kept breaking that promise, and you just wanted your dad back.

It had only been a couple months since he got the mark but you still haven't adjusted. Majority of the time, you were able to handle his snide remarks and backhanded comments but it had been building up, and it all came to a head one night.

Dean was in the library, researching about the mark, when you walked in. He was already frustrated about his reading leading nowhere and when you showed up, trying to talk about your day like normal, he snapped. He started yelling about how annoying you are, you just won't leave him alone, and how you're too old to be relying so much on him–it was exhausting. 

The second he started his rant, your smile dropped and when he finished you quickly exited the room, weakly looking down at your toes trying not to upset him anymore. You heard him sigh in relief when you were no longer in his line of sight and that's what really broke you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you ran to your room, too distracted by your emotions to notice that you slammed the door. You hear Dean yell out at the loud bang you caused and you sink into your bedsheets, sobbing into your pillows.

When Sam heard the commotion he came out from his room and followed the noise to your room. He lightly knocked and slowly opened your door to find you face down, crying on your bed. “Oh, Sweet girl, what happened”

You turn on your bed to lay in the fetal position and sniffle while trying to whip the snot off your face. After taking a second to regain control over your breathing you shakely respond “Dad yelled and I can't take it anymore”

He quickly but carefully walks closer to you and sits down on the bed next to you, putting your head in his lap. “I'm so sorry, you know he doesn't mean it”

You lean into his touch, “doesn’t make it better”

He starts running his fingers through your hair to soothe you, “I know, you don't deserve it. Im sorry he yells at you, you didn't do anything wrong”

“It's not just the yelling. He just acts so exasperated, like I'm the biggest burden. I'm just really starting to feel it” You correct.

“You're not a burden, you know that right. Your dad loves you so much–we both do. Never think, even for a second, that you're a burden or that you're weighing us down. We could never be without you. I don't even wanna think about the possibility of a world that you're not in. I know your dad would feel the same.” Sam reassures. 

You sniffle, calming down from your crying “I know you say that–deep down I know it's true–but it's still hard.” 

His shoulders slump slightly “you wont believe me tonight so how bout we take your mind off of Dean for a bit. We can have one of Uncle sammy’s amazing sleepovers”

You finally look up at him and lightly nod “I love your sleepovers”

He slightly smiles in relief “uh, that's cause they're the best. Are you thinking movie or tv show–your choice”

You think for a second before responding, “tv show. I just started this one and I think you'll like it. It's a bit gory and intense but its not like super scary”

“I’ll like whatever you pick. And if I don't like it, I'll watch it anyway, for you.” he responds

You shift slightly and hug his middle, burying your face into his stomach “you're the best sammy”

He strokes your back in consolation and lets you embrace him for as long as you need. When you pull away and sit up, he leans down to leave a kiss on your forehead, and stands up from your bed. “Lets go to my room, ok. Do you want me to stay with you or is it ok if I go make some snacks?”

You look up at him before answering “can you stay with me, I don't really wanna eat anyway”

He nods “of course, tonight is all about you”

You both make your way to Sam's room and settle into his bed before turning on your show. He stayed up as late as you wanted, with you cuddled up on his side. Eventually you both fell asleep after about a season of your current hyperfixation and he could tell you were barely even thinking about your dad’s harsh words. He had no idea how hard Dean’s shift was for you, but now he’ll always be checking on you–none of this burden bullshit–And his brother needs to be kept in line too. But, tonight was about making sure you were ok, he can handle Dean’s attitude later. 

hope you like it

sorry for any typos

also this is the "dont cry" from my WIP folder thing lol that name sucked (I also just feel like I suck at picking titles)

@areswasneverhere

[derww]

for @heartcircus.

its not like zam actually tries to talk: he stands, carefully holding his notes, just staring at spawn, noticing one familiar face after another, feeling like all thoughts in his head became too heavy, and then just. turns around. and leaves.

you know, all of the princezam nature is to oppose, is to fight. but the last seasons taught him about just how important it is to appreciate people around, to do not only for yourself but for them too. and just today he promised to not interfere with mapicc's plans.

he can't fight, but he can't support. so he leaves. first time in many days, he has no words to say anymore.

all of it is just too familiar, and memories of the past cloud his mind and make every part of his body weak and stale. story repeats itself, and hed hate to see it continue and weave hemself into it, so he does not. i need some time to be alone, he says to derapchu and goes almost to the border – to sunny hill, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

this time something in it reminds him too heavy. he doesn't build a castle. instead, he builds a hut.

it's not so bad, he says to himself, laying firewood in the stove, it's not season 4 anymore, noone will backdoor the server and mapicc will stop. sooner or later. i cant fight him, but i dont have to. everything will end. and then ill go back.

he feels so fucking tired. only now he understands just how tired he is. so he lies down. and sleeps. and sleeps. and sleeps.

it never gets better; the tombstone of exhaustion only presses him down harder and harder. he sleeps and sees dreams. he cooks himself food and eats it, feeling no taste. he plants flowers and takes care of them. sometimes he talks to derapchu. he never tells where he is.

only in so slow time he suddenly understands just how misplaced he is. he's patch on patch, stitched over and over again with scraps of fabric, no matter how worn or unsuitable they may be, over and over and over, stitched with scars running through his spine. he is a trace of something forgotten, overlaid by images of other people and experiences, accustomed to it so much that it feels like himself. he sleeps and sees no nightmares. maybe it's for the worse.

so far from anyone, without any real goal, Immersed deep into himself, he easily starts missing hours, days, and weeks. time doesn't feel real, and he, at the end, too. people write him. sometimes he answers. he never agrees to meet.

i'll go back when the mawn thing will be over; he promises to derap but hardly believes in it himself. something makes him feel like he has nothing to come back to. this house is also not his home, but it's at least silent here.

derap persists, but in the end he gives up too. and, in the end, he is left alone. he grows dandelions in the field around. when an unfamiliar flower appears in the field, he does not prevent it from growing nearby.

he blinks and feels like he missed a whole week. sometimes he just lies there and doesn't move. he doesn't feel the softness of the pillow, the springy floor under his feet, and, after all, he doesn't feel pain either. a ringing void freezes in his head. he feels tired, but sleep doesn't help.

he missed a moment something changes.

something about how the world exists around him. something about how forest smells like. something about how the grass is rustling under his feet. something is wrong, but he barely makes himself care. it doesn't matter, not really, but time still slows down. he slowly dips his hands into the loose earth, feeling the coolness and texture. nothing here belongs to him, but that's not the point. he plants some poppy seeds. one of them ends up in a pot on his windowsill.

i'm fully okay, he says to derap while not being able to remember what he ate today, i'm just in retirement for now. i will go back to you, i promise. i just need some time.

the boards under his feet creak differently. sometimes something whistles, like an unfamiliar bird. sometimes it seems to him that the grass next to the house is crushed.

isn't this a true peaceful life, he asks himself. to run away from everything and be alone. in the end, there is no way to harm anyone if you are alone. he feels like he was running a marathon all this time and only now stopped.

he adds blue orchids, but their blue is drowning in the red. he takes the smallest orchid inside and turns it into a magnificent flower. In a moment of weakness, he takes the cornflower inside. the next one turns out to be an orange tulip. he doesn't comprehend it.

is it what i wanted in season four, he asks himself. this place strangely reminds him of it. he reminds himself of it, too, allowing himself to feel anything. he still can't decide if it's a good thing. 

the rain is pounding on his window. someone is knocking on his coffin lid. poppies fill the whole field.

i miss them, he writes on a paper. but i can't go back yet. not while spawn is someone's. not while i have to fight my best friend.

when he comes back from the forest, his house still keeps warmth. his footsteps are echoing, and his diary is open by the wind. i miss being able to decide, this page says. i was good at it once.

he doesn't feel sick. he feels dump. the green in his cape is starting to fade.

sometimes it seems to me that i won't be able to overcome this, he writes. but I know i can handle it. i always can. i will overcome anything. i just can't give up.

the forest smells of pine and fir, and it has not been lost in the trees for a long time, wandering far beyond the edge. the forest always brings him back when he wants to. it never holds him by force and generously supplies him with tree cones and wet moss. he always comes back because he has nowhere to go.

this time, when he comes home, he has a visitor. he is not surprised: he calls them by name, nods, makes tea from fir needles.

mapicc rests his head on his elbows.

– lets go home, – he says. zam shakes his head.

– to mawn? – he asks.

mapicc squints.

– yes.

– i won't.

– why.

zam looks at him almost regretfully.

– because i refuse to fight you, – he answers simply, – and i will have no choice but to.

– even fighting me is much better than- than whatever this is, – mapicc remarks irritably.

– i don't want to fight you ever again, – zam signs, – i know you like me as your enemy. i do not.

– you don't have to fight me. join me.

– i hate everything you've created, – he answers with pity, – and i can't change it. please, leave me alone. do whatever you want to do. and one day i'll be able to go back.

– i dont understand why you oppose it so much. you haven't even given it a try. is it, like, that bad? people love it; you can love it too.

zam shakes his head.

– did you really come to convince me to love what I hate?

– i came to invite you to my thing.

– not this time.

in the end, mapicc still leaves. only after that zam takes his floor apart to find a secret passage under the boards. it leads to a dug-out underground room filled with anything. there are books everywhere. an unmade bed. and a pot with a dandelion in the middle of the makeshift countertop.

mapiccs room, says the sign. he adds a glow ink to it and looks around again.

for an infinitely long moment he considers just starting to live here.

[bad268]

Omg I just read your new kimi fic (with the chronically ill reader) and I love it so much! Soo literally anything else for kimi would be amazing (there's so little fics for him istg) but if its okay I'd love a figure skater reader (but like professional, world champion kind of skater) who's currently not competing cos she injured herself kinda badly (preferably smth to do with her acl but anything is fine) so she can't skate atm (like kinda Angsty but also fluffy, maybe kimi comforting reader or smth?)

Otherwise I'd also love same concept with figure skater reader and her and kimi going skating and like her teaching him or smth haha

Thanks so much in advance already <3

Go for the Gold (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Figure Skater! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! I'm glad you liked it <3 I may or may not have semi-based this on Sasha...)

Warnings: Drugs (pain meds)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1040

Summary: Silver will have to do until you can get back on the ice.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

As if finishing second in the Olympics wasn’t a hard enough blow, you landed wrong during a practice jump and made a worse injury for yourself when you proceeded to compete on it. Yes, it wasn’t your main jumping leg, but that did not mean you didn’t stand on it during certain moves. And yes, silver was good, but when you set a world record in your program, maybe you set the expectations too high when you expected gold. Your teammate ended up getting gold. 

You just got back to your apartment in Italy after a medical appointment. Of course, you tore your ACL. And to make matters, worse, your boyfriend was out for testing all week. That just added salt to the wound.

Your parent dropped you off after you assured them you would be fine as you hopped up the stairs with your crutches in hand. You would not be able to get in for surgery for at least a week, so you had to suffer in pain for the next few days until the doctor scheduled you. 

You hobbled up to your door, trying to fish out your keys one-handed while simultaneously balancing on one leg. Usually, it would not be difficult, but you were still in pain and still felt the effects of the pain meds. It was a little harder than you remembered. You finally got your keys out, and of course, you dropped them.

“Can anything go my way for once?” You groaned to yourself as you tried to grab them. Just when you touched them, a hand came out to swipe them off the ground as another hand wrapped itself around your torso and pulled you toward the door that you just now noticed was open. You looked up at the person, dazed, to see Kimi holding you up. “When did youtube here?”

“Testing ended yesterday, I thought I texted you?” Kimi replied as he lifted you, grabbed your crutches, and carried you into the apartment. He carried you all the way to the common room where he set you on the sofa and handed you the remote. You took it from him with a glare as you pulled out your phone to show him no messages.

“Does it look like you texted me? No. You didn’t,” You snapped as you threw the remote to the side as you opted to stay on your phone. “Would’ve been nice to have you with me, but no, You were here chilling while I was getting drugged and x-rayed.”

“I must’ve forgotten to send it,” He muttered as he pulled out his own phone. Indeed, he did forget to hit send. He wanted to be upset at the attitude from you, but he’s been with you long enough to know that when you get hurt, you get mad. It’s never directly at him, moreso at yourself, but that did not mean it hurt any less. He knew the best way to go about this is to give you space for a while.

So he left you alone. As soon as you snapped at him, you felt bad, but you couldn’t follow him because he left your crutches against the far wall. You had to just sit there in the hole you dug and wait for him to come back. 

What felt like forever to you was more like an hour for Kimi. How did he know? Because he cooked you your favorite food (that he knew how to cook) as an apology. He went to hide away in the kitchen, so he could still keep an eye on you while also focusing on food. If you were still on the meds, you would be hungry after they wore off, he thought.

He was right because he peaked over to the common room when he heard rustling, and he saw you trying to stand up using the table. It was not nearly tall enough to provide adequate support, so you kept falling. He ran over to help support you, and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes when you noticed he was the one helping you.

“I’m sorry I’m being difficult, Kimi,” You whispered as you leaned into his shoulder and cried. ”It’s just a lot, and I didn’t plan on being injured, and I know I’m not the nicest when I’m injured, and I know I snapped at you-”

“And I know you’re sorry, and you don’t have to apologize,” Kimi chuckled as he cut off your rambling. Every time you got hurt, you would apologize profusely every time you snapped, but it became something he would look forward to. It usually means the initial pissy mood was gone until the (inevitable) next injury. “I made your favorite to cheer you up a bit? Are you hungry?”

“Are you a mind reader?” You gasped as you snapped your head up to meet his eyes. “Did you know I was craving it?”

“I just know you like to eat it when you’re feeling down,” Kimi consoled as he helped you toward the kitchen island to sit. Then, he went around to plate up your food. “It’s known to give you strength. Maybe enough to get you back on your feet sooner.”

“Oh, I wish,” You sighed as you began to eat the food. “This is amazing, Kimi! Who knew you could cook?”

“You’ve known I could cook for years since you taught me how to make it!” Kimi defended himself. “And what’s with the ‘I wish’? Something happened at the appointment?”

“Just that they can’t get me in until next week at the earliest,” You groaned as Kimi took his seat next to you. “Looks like you and I are gonna be attached, more than usual, for the foreseeable future. At least a week wait for the surgery, then a 9-month recovery period. Therapy won't start until at least a month post-op.”

“And I’ll be here the entire time,” Kimi comforted as you leaned into his side. He left a kiss on the crown of your head before whispering, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get the gold next time. You’ll come back stronger than ever. I think this is the start of your comeback story.”

~~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[ratgirlexe]

To wrap up my thoughts on HDG as horror, now that I’m no longer in severe pain and writing my thoughts at 3 am:

I think the best summary of it all is that it’s hard for me to go into any given story and feel truly horrified, because I know on a meta textual level that everything is going to work out in the end, and the characters will likely be happier than when they started. I don’t know how to suspend my disbelief in the idea that ultimately things will work out, so even if the main character goes through any number of acts which are horrifying in *theory*. I almost empathize more with the affini putting them through that experience, more so than the character who’s point of view I’m seeing things from.

Are you a rebel feralist being put through awake surgery for your haustoric implant? It might be the scariest experience of your life, but that just means you get to be a floret now! You’ll have someone to care for and love you forever, and you’ll never have to be alone. Give it a week and you’ll be thanking them for doing so.

How about if you’re a terminally ill patient at end-of-life, or in excruciating pain that even the affini can't somehow solve? That's okay! We'll get you on a nice tasty regimen of class-O's, and you'll never hurt or be afraid again. There will be nothing but unending bliss, and you won't even realize that you're hurting. Not all suffering can be prevented, and eventually it all has to end, but heaven is real, and we've placed it inside you. Even in that last situation, which is the most personally scary to me, there's a certain level of bitter sweetness to it all. Maybe it's just the pain I've been in, but there aren't quite as many ways to end someones life that are as kind as bliss never-ending.

Ultimately I think it's just the fact that I know the affini are benevolent within the story, which makes even the most harrowing or scary events take on a more lighthearted tone for me. Yes, getting to where you want to be, where you *need* to be can be really scary. I'm autistic. Change is terrifying, change is death, and some changes can feel too monumental to ever surmount on your own. But to me HDG is a true escapist fantasy that says "Even if this change is scary, even if you can't choose to change for the better, even if the process hurts or makes you feel like you're dying, I'll be here with you to hold your hand and guide you through it. You don't have to go through it alone, and by the end you'll be able to blossom into who I know you can be."

And to me that's just not scary or horrifying. That's something that I yearn for each and every day.

[ouchthathurts]

❝ SHUT UP! ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 3.1k

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 | 3

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Finally meeting the nurse!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Vomit Mentioned | Anya being Anya | Piss Punk - VIAL

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ APOLOGIES AGAIN! I DROPPED FROM A 95 TO A 25 IN TWO OF MY CLASSES. SO SORRY THIS IS VERY LATE AGAIN! WINTER BREAK TIL EARLY FEBRUARY SO ILL BE UPDATING AT LEAST ONCE OR TWICE A WEEK!

There’s something about the nurse aboard the Tuplar, she’s sweet, not sickeningly, but in a beautiful moderation. The way you’re given a piece of candy for completion of a simple task and even more so envelopes you when the day is rough. You’re not surprised by her nature; however, you are surprised by her knowledge.

You won’t lie to yourself that Jimmy had definitely convinced you that Anya was someone who tried too hard at things “She’d never be good at.” You feel for her, Jimmy setting these unrealistic expectations of what his own needs and wants that he desires from the group. 

Anya…Musume? Maybe it was a lack of attention you paid in school, but God, you couldn't read cursive to save your life. Looking at her name card, you could tell who she was. She was the nurse on deck and who you'd be spending your time with. Luckily for you, you'd given this time to really take in your surroundings, and by taking your surroundings, be stuck with Jimmy for a majority of the duration of your trip.

It peeved you to say the least, and you couldn't help but hate how much Jimmy was going to be around you, and how much this was definitely going to affect your relationship given the situation.

Your eyes laid on Anya, she was gorgeous, in fact, one of the most prettiest girls in the world. She honestly reminded you a bit of Daisuke’s older sister, she's not meek when she talks to you. In fact, you watch as Anya takes over Jimmy, she's a lot more carefree than Jimmy made her out to be, passionate about helping you, Jimmy also calls that her hellbent need to be in charge, and she tells you about how you should join her and Daisuke for a game, and which Jimmy will tell you that they’re both childish ego maniacs who have never told no in their life.

“They keep trying, reaching for something that they know they'll never reach, but thanks to their parents' big ambition and big push, they think they can accomplish the world. They don't know hard work. Failing 8 times? It's obvious she's not trying hard enough. Daisuke? It’ll just be inheritance.”

You hated how little time you were able to spend with Anya. It honestly pissed you off how fucking pushy Jimmy was. It was irritating to be around somebody so annoyingly negative, pessimistic, ignorant to the world around them, only thinking of how things can only get worse. 

It wasn't even you who told him to go away, it was Anya. The dark-haired woman speaks to you. There's a big, chipper smile on her face, and it's radiant, like a halo behind her, and she's looking to you like Mother Teresa. “I would love some help from you if you don't mind. I know Jimmy is rather busy since he is Copiloting and I am pretty sure Curly's been talking about needing some help in the cockpit for a minute. He came in here early with some injuries. I was hoping I would find Jimmy to tell him to go help Curly. It gives you the time to really look into the nurse's office and get to know more about the area, I'd be happily able to inform you while Jimmy's gone.” Jimmy scoffs. Obviously, he can't even help the idea of you wanting to do something else rather than be around him.

“Well,” “I’d love to, Anya!” 

Jimmy's eyes as it hits your gaze but Anya's there, and she's tall and proud and she doesn't give a shit. She's like this bright flashlight, beating down on a shadow. “You’re our only hope!” Anya jokes. There's a soft giggle in her voice. Jimmy leaves in a huff and it honestly brings you more joy to even be out of the area. She watches as your soldiers fall in relief and she can't help but just feel for you in those seconds as she watches you. 

“What a hardass, no?” You let out another sigh, “You’re fucking telling me.” Bursts in the laughter. It's the same boisterous laughter that you hear in the game room while her and Daisuke are going at it.

It's nice, you're not surprised Curly feels so at peace around her, she's like a garden, if you're gonna be honest, with all the pastels surrounding you and the smell of the nature hitting your nose. It's sweet, not nauseous, not irritating to the skin. Everything is soft and the temperature is perfect.

“Well, tell me about yourself,” she says. She takes a seat on the other side of the desk, and you follow in suit as you just can't wait to talk to this woman. “What do you like to do on the ship? What makes you smile? Why are you here? How'd you throw up on Jimmy without him making a bigger scene?” Anya's quick quiz questions. She's very inquisitive.

You look around her desk to see the small doodles on sticky notes, the many different books on psychology and mental health, and the personal notebook on her desk decorated with old worn-down stickers that are scratched up and fading in color.

You try to answer every question with suave, you hope your cool in her eyes, “Honestly, I like sleeping on this ship. I never realized how exhausting everything would be, especially with such a hard ass like Jimmy. I mean, Jesus, man this guy can't do anything without being such a bitch! He's always trying to make me do more and more and more like me doing the basics isn't enough. And he acts like this is like something I've done 1000 times but I'm literally doing only for the first time. And I can't believe it. He's just so aggravating, you know?”

Anya's listening earnestly, and it's riveting to have somebody genuinely sit there and listen to you. There are no accusatory glances, there's no language that has any type of anger or hindrance towards your story or how you feel. It's fully allowing you to be in the moment and be in your emotions.

You’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to Anya when you struggle talking to anyone else, is it always this easy to talk to strangers? It’s probably why your always on online chatrooms, like the time your mom caught you on one at 3AM and almost tore you a new one. 

Anya hits you with the simple responses, “Mhm.” “Right.” “Oh my god.” In her tone, it's laid back, it makes you feel casual, and it makes you feel amazing. “What makes me smile? Honestly, I really couldn't tell you, but I promise you that the reason? That's probably on this ship, actually.”

Anya's ears perk up, and she's most definitely way more into this than you thought she'd be. Not like she wasn't into it before, but it's definitely something that's alarmed her.  “On this ship?” There’s a hum in her voice as she playfully smirks, your bite your tongue as punish before shaking your exposed palms at her to try and lower the attention to your wording.

“No, not like that, just–” Anya just dismissively hums at you, she knows something you don’t and it’s eating you alive, “I’m really only on this ship for my mom? She wants to make sure I get better opportunities when I get back. But honestly, I just can't wait to move out of this house. It's exhausting. Everything is just so exhausting, but I think it's gonna get better. Once I'm out.” Anya nods, “Once you’re out!”

You smile at this. There's something so sweet about this, thus you continue on. “Honestly, I didn't really mean to throw up on Jimmy, it was a lot in the moment and honestly it was just so icky being around him. I felt like there was hundreds of thousands of maggots just swirling around in my stomach acid and they were becoming more than my stomach acid could take and not enough was being burnt down and I just felt it just plummeting back in my throat and I just couldn't fathom being around that man anymore.” 

Oh, fuck.

The look on Anya's face is caring but there's definitely a hint of anger, irritation even, and just grief for you specifically. Anya feels for you, she honestly can't stand being around Jimmy in the minutes she had to meet him. He was just nothing more than somebody who was just super-duper grumpy with Daisuke and Swansea make little jokes about the bitter man.

Anya stops joking with Curly after making one joke and Jimmy hearing it from Curly and thus Curly mentioning Anya and thus Jimmy saying lot of things very much out of line that led to their dismissive interactions with another unless under a professional lens.

“It’s just treating him if he needs it and making sure I do the psych evals, other than that, he has no reason to be around me.” 

You respect Anya in that regard: She's very much self-oriented, if it’s hurting her, it’s out of her life like that, she snaps, and you notice the shimmer from the glitter on her pink almond nails. “Do you get them done often?”

Anya raised a brow, you point to her hands put them out to cradle her as she allows you to get a closer look, “Oh, I do ‘em myself. I used to do my mom's when I lived at home.” That’s when Anya turned your hands around, your hands were fried from the manual labor that Jimmy put you through, she winces but a light bulb above her makes her shine like a descending Angel. “I don't know if you're against it, and if you are it’s cool, but I'd really love if you let me work on your nails. If not, it's completely cool. But you know, if you let me, I'd be like super happy!” There’s a cheekiness to Anya, she’s unapologetically herself, never in a mean way but uplift others. A smile on her face, it’s subtle but there, “I’d be super happy too, if you did my nails.” Anya gives you an even bigger smile, before she slowly pulls in with a flutter of her lashes, “Oh, yeah?” You giggle at her nature, “Oh, most definitely.” 

The two of you share a giggle before she unfortunately has to dismiss you, “Studying sucks, but I don’t think my gut can take more chili fries.” Anya playfully sighs as she waves you out.

There’s a pep in your step as you walk, this pep however hushes once you hear Curly and Jimmy talking in another room, “And she completely dismissed me, as if I didn’t exist!” You listen in closely.

Obviously, they're talking about you, so you should hear it. Because they won't tell you and they never will. Maybe that's your own fault, but the more you listen to Jimmy complain, the more you wonder if Curly even cares at this point.

“Well, you didn’t really take the time to really address Anya, y’know?” He's dismissive to the fact that Curly could even be right in this scenario. With how he's been carrying himself this whole time, he's assumed that Anya should just respect him regardless.

You have no choice but to really listen to him regardless since this is really all you really have, and you'd have to hear about him talking shit about everybody later anyways. “Even then, she should respect me, I am the co-captain.” Curly sighs, “Well, you don’t really act like a nice co-captain.” There’s a stifle in his voice, a choked out laugh escapes Jimmy and you can feel the spit hit your face from memory.

“Oh, you mean be you?”  “No. I mean be more likeable, try with the others, all you do is sit here cooped up in this section of the ship barking orders at…”  Curly backpedals, your peeved that he’s not saying more, Jimmy repeats your name, you feel your back straighten at the sound.

“Listen, what goes on with the training has nothing to do with you or anyone else on this ship. Besides, you put me in charge of them, you think I’m gonna sit there and let my protege get soft like Swansea’s?” There’s an eye roll from the blond, “What are you even talking about? Swansea has Daisuke study, and he gives him tests on the material.” 

Another sigh leaves Curly, you hear those beat up shoes hit the floor as he adjusts himself before he speaks again, “Y’know what your problem is? You sit here and you constantly compare yourself to others, and when they're not exactly like you, you wanna sit there and make them feel bad for being themselves.”

'Jimmy says nothing, your shocked by that fact alone, “I got you this job because it’s easy money, Lord knows your situation before wasn’t any better than this, and instead of trying to get along with others or at least being cordial, you’re trying to self-destruct when things don’t go your way.”  

There’s a drag in the air, you peek a bit to see that Jimmy huffs and his head hangs low, he’s like a child being caught digging in the candy jar.

Curly looks irritated, it's a very different light you see him in as its rare you ever seen him disgruntled, “I really am screwing this up. I mean, have I really not been trying at all? I feel like I have. Have I really not been changing to begin with?” Jimmy mutters to himself, loud enough for you and Curly to hear since the sound of a foot echoed throughout these halls.

Curly’s features soften, “Maybe you’re right, I’m not cut out for this stuff, I should’ve just stated back.” He sighs before pulling Jimmy in for a hug. “We’ve known each other since forever, I don’t want to see you struggle like you did before, this is how you lost your last job, remember?” Jimmy doesn’t even respond, he nods with his head in his friend’s shoulder before Curly has a big smile on his and he pats his friend’s back.

“I just want what’s best for you, Jimmy.” Curly says as he pulls away, Jimmy nods again, “Yeah, I know.” It’s like he’s reflecting on himself almost, before Jimmy begins to fold in on himself, “God, I really am screwing this up.” The brunette then puts his head in his hands leaving Curly to quickly comfort the man, “Hey, you’re doing your best, I’m not expecting you to get it overnight.”  

You're in awe by them, you wonder if you should do something or at least doing something more than just watching them right now. You clear your throat causing the two to look back to you, Jimmy straightens up, that remorseful look on his face now a bittered expression that was the sourness that your existence caused him. Curly perks up, “Hey there.” Jimmy says your name, you fix your posture, “Jimmy. Curly. How’s it hanging?” “Was doing a lot better earlier.” 

God, you wanna punch this guy so fucking bad.

“Ah, I get that. I heard from Swansea that Daisuke was sniffling earlier, you probably caught it.” The man raises a brow, “How can I catch it? I only saw him once today.” You also a raise brow, “Y’know, like pathogens? He sneezes and it’s all in the air now.” Curly nods in agreement, “Yeah, we are trapped on this ship so it would be hard for something like that to just disappear in the air.” Jimmy nods alongside him, “You’re right, Curly.” 

You allow the situation roll off your back, like a duck to water, you don't let it affect you and you're glad you don't. Now Curly and Jimmy are just looking at you before Curly perks up with a little question, “I mean, didn’t you throw up earlier? You probably got it from Daisuke.”

Now you're here stuck thinking about the fact that Daisuke has such a disgusting implication of you.

“Oh, yeah, probably.” That’s when Curly looks towards Jimmy, his eyes dart towards you and then back towards Jimmy. “Maybe you should turn in, it’s been a long day, and I need you to handle the challenges for tomorrow.” Gee, thanks. You smile, eagerly, “Thank you so much, Jimmy. I really appreciate this.” You dismiss yourself because what else are you doing around these two? You don't need to be around them longer than you need to be, and just being around these two just makes you feel off. 

You quickly make your way to your room. While walking around, you however discover one of the room’s door opened, It's not in your nature to really peak. The Jimmy and Curly thing was definitely you just trying to learn more about why he was such a douchebag, and you didn't really learn much to be honest with you. 

So maybe peeking isn't gonna really help you in this situation—

“Hey, come in here, you.” The only feminine voice you'll be met with on this trip. You turn your head after walking by the door without looking, and there you're met with Anya, she's out of uniform some pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt, you notice the face on it– “You like Love Island?” Anya raises a brow, “You know Love Island?” You nod your head, “My mom’s really into it, sometimes I just watch it with her while I’m making food.”

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.”

There’s silence between the two of you, it’s nerving given that she just has this unphased expression on her face, her half-lidded eyes with a small smile that showed how happy she was to be around you had only made you worry more as you believe your overstaying your welcome by standing around her. You try to dismiss yourself—

“You wanna come watch it with me? I got a bunch of downloaded episodes.” 

You perk up at the question, not like you have anything better to do, you’re not sick and Jimmy just let you go. Anya tilts her head, awaiting your response, “So?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yeah, of course.” The smile on Anya’s face got bigger, “Yeah, come on in.” 

©ouchthathurts please don't translate, claim as yours, redistribute and/or plagiarize in any way. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[goddessofroyalty]

hello! the fanart of Viktor with a baby you reblogged this week got me right in the soft feels u.u would you consider revisiting the Work/Life Balance 'verse? (random ideas: pregnant Viktor dealing with a minor illness (very minor, not a complication, no real threat to his health and no threat whatsoever to the baby, but Jayce is still fussing over them)? how a newborn affects Viktor's already hectic work/sleep schedule? either Viktor can't or chooses not to nurse and good papa Jayce does his part with formula and bottles?)

Kind of combined the second two parts of this into what I’ve written but more leaning on good papa Jayce helping feed their baby. Maybe I’ll figure out a quick 4th scene (to even out the POV’s) that focuses a bit more on Viktor’s messy sleeping schedule. Have also made a note of the first prompt as well to do separately.

I’ve given up and am naming this kid Naph as well. Why? Because it’s a nice easy name for me to kidnap and gods knows Arcane played fast and loose with League lore anyway. Also I like it and it has become the default in my brain if nothing else fills the space. It can be easily subbed out if I decide on something different later.

Warnings: past-mpreg, omegaverse (I refer to the baby as pup that’s literally it), some mention of after-birth pains (nothing major just a bit tender)

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

Viktor wakes to the sound of a baby crying.

“I’ve got him, don’t get up,” Jayce says as the sleep fades from Viktor’s brain and he remembers that it is their baby that is crying not just some random abstract one. Their baby that Viktor had given birth to days prior and had finally been allowed back home that day. The doctors happy with both their progress.

The bed shifts as Jayce gets up to go to their child. Viktor pushes himself up on his arms to sit up more as he does. Wincing as his weight settles on where he’s still tender from the birth.

“I told you not to get up,” Jayce says holding their son in his arms as he looks back at Viktor. It is a good image and one Viktor could get used to seeing. Will get used to seeing, as surreal as that feels.

“And I have not gotten out of bed.” Nor will he be. Not when he has a perfectly good and willing Jayce to get things for him while he still heals from the birth. To make up for you having done all the work to this point Jayce had said and Viktor had nothing to gain from fighting him on it. “What’s the time?”

“2AM. And you can go back to sleep,” Jayce says. “He just needs a bottle.”

“I’m awake now.” Viktor had never been able to go back to sleep once he woke. There always something he’d rather be spending the time doing than tossing and turning. “I can hold him while you heat up the bottle.”

“The doctors said you need rest,” Jayce says despite it being clear he needs both hands to keep their son settled which would leave none free to prepare a bottle as well.

“I am resting!” Despite how much he misses it he still hasn’t returned to the lab since he was put on bedrest in the final trimester. Working on formulas and schematics from bed can hardly be considered work. It’s just keeping his mind occupied. “Let me hold him.”

Jayce clearly wants to argue but he relents when Viktor raises an eyebrow. Carefully handing their son over and only taking his hands away once the baby is very secure and settled.

Viktor would almost be offended at the lack of trust but he all-too-well understands the impulse. It turns out newborns are tiny and so delicate. It is almost terrifying to think about all the different ways they could accidently hurt him. It is scary to even have him in Viktor’s arms but also nerve-wracking when he is not within easy reach.

“I’ll be right back,” Jayce promises, only taking his eyes off them when he physically leaves the room.

Viktor once again examines his son while he waits. He had hoped their child would have taken a little more after both of them rather than looking mostly like Viktor but it is still impressive to think mere days ago Naph was still growing inside him and now the boy is alive and experiencing the world, frowning up at Viktor as his tongue peaks out between tiny lips, followed by a small cry of impatience.

“Not much longer,” Viktor promises. If his milk had come in the wait wouldn’t have to be this long. But it is useful to know that Jayce can look after their son entirely on his own if needed.

Naph is still far too young to actually understand what Viktor is saying. Another louder cry being made as Jayce hurries back into the room.

“No, no, don’t cry, I got it,” Jayce rambles, sliding into bed beside Viktor, warm bottle in hand. He pauses when Viktor holds their child back out to him. “Uh-“

“You said you were feeding him, no?” Viktor has no problems with doing it as well but Jayce likes to feel useful. And Viktor likes to watch him with their son.

“Right, of course,” Jayce recovers quickly. Carefully taking their son back into his arms, offering him the bottle. It only takes two passes of the teat for the tiny mouth to open to let it pass.

“He is hungry,” Jayce says as their son makes quick work of the bottle.

“I suppose it was a big day for him.” For Viktor and Jayce they came home but all their son knew until the day before was the hospital.

“It was,” Jayce agrees, shifting slightly to allow Viktor to lean in closer and push the fabric from their son’s onesie down from where it had crept up to his mouth. “But we can all rest for now.”

Viktor gives a hum of agreement despite how he already itches to get back to the lab.

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

Jayce wakes to find himself alone in the bed.

It isn’t that unusual. Neither he nor Viktor can be said to have a normal sleeping schedule even before their pup was born. But Jayce still never likes it when he reaches out for his partner only to find cold bedsheets.

He pulls himself out of bed and shuffles to the main living area. There’s no point trying to get back to sleep anyway and he might as well check on Naph to make sure he hasn’t woken in the night.

Viktor had apparently had the same thought whenever he had gotten up. He stands in front of the blackboard they had set up so they can make any changes to their equations even when not in the lab, a piece of chalk balanced in the fingers of the hand resting on his cane as the other holds their son steady where he is swaddled against Viktor’s chest. A slight bounce with every move clearly to keep the pup settled.

“I put coffee on,” Viktor says, not even turning around to acknowledge Jayce. Not that Jayce wants him to – he’s perfectly happy just watching his partner and their child together.

“Thanks.” There’s an almost empty baby bottle next to the coffeepot. It’s cold to the touch so Jayce rinses it out in the sink and puts it to the side to be sanitized with the others. He makes Viktor a cup of coffee as well as his own. “Couldn’t get him to go back to sleep?”

“He doesn’t want to be put down,” Viktor says, looking away from their life’s work to their son. “Clingy. Like his father.”

Jayce can hardly blame his son for that – he wants to cling to Viktor too at times.

“I can take him if you need to write,” Jayce says as he brings Viktor’s coffee over to him. Tapping his partner on the arm with it before placing it down on the table they keep next to the blackboard almost exclusively for coffee. He picks up the old empty one and takes it back to the sink.

“It is fine,” Viktor says with a small shake of his head, his eyes flitting back to the blackboard. “I have nothing new to add to it anyway.”

Jayce would suggest Viktor go back to bed then but he knows his partner would have as much a chance of going back to sleep as he would.

Instead he joins Viktor at the blackboard. Close enough that Viktor can shuffle over and lean against him while they both try and figures out how the equations fit together and wait for the morning sun.

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

“Jayce!” Viktor calls because he is in the middle of wiring up the controls for the latest iteration of Hexgates and their son is crying. Jayce is just doing some paperwork, necessary, yes, but nowhere near as dangerous to be walked away from in the middle of.

“Huh?” Jayce asks as he sticks his head into the room before realizing why he was called. “Right. On it.”

“Up we go,” Jayce says as he picks their son up from the cot they keep in the lab for him to sleep in while they work. Out of the corner of his eye Viktor watches his partner hold their son high to sniff at his backside. “Nope. Must be hungry.”

Viktor returns his attention back fully to his work as Jayce carries their son into the kitchenette of the lab to heat up a bottle for him. He’s still at it when he two return, their son still in Jayce’s arms as he comes to watch over Viktor’s shoulder.

“How are you going?”

“Nearly finished.” The wiring had nearly taken him all day but it should be worth it.

“And then we can test it?” Jayce asks despite the fact he should already know the answer.

“Yes. They should lead to a less, uh, jolty experience when the jump is made.”

Jayce doesn’t respond, but Viktor can hear him pace around the lab no doubt bouncing their child in his arms as he does to keep the boy settled and not distracting Viktor’s work.

Viktor doesn’t alert his partner to the fact once he finishes. Instead watching the two of them for the minute it takes Jayce to notice himself. He had been told by many how lucky he was to have Jayce as the father of his child and, really, he cannot argue it.

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part nine

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: its been a while thats my bad i have no excuse

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

and biggest of loving thank you's to @milliesfishes for prereading this for me :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

Teaching yourself to play the guitar at eighteen was maybe a little bit harder than you had anticipated.

After two weeks, once you got the hang of all the chords and finger placements matched with how to properly strum the instrument, it started to kill you the same way the familiarity of your piano now did.

Every note, every chord, every pull of the strings with your fingers called for you to sing. It was a physical sensation, stemming from so deep in your chest you weren't sure you'd ever felt less real in your life. Your body was hardly a passive vessel used by you day in and day out to carry you from point A to point B. It was begging you to make a sound, to sing in a way that used to be second nature but was now forbade by your own anatomy. You wonder, if your body plead to create music so desperately, why had it even let you survive without functioning vocal cords? Why had you woken up from that trauma in the first place, if your body, separate of mind, needed the music so badly?

You have a vision of what you know the melody would go, should your mindless repetitive strumming be accompanied by lyrics. You can't even be granted the peace of being able to hum it to yourself.

What had you done to deserve this gentle torture?

You don't know when you'd started writing things down, scribbling on the nearest pad of paper you could reach for days between visits from Coryo or silent dinners with your parents.

That song was all you could think about until it was done, written and prophesied to never be heard in its entirety by anyone except your own mind.

By the time Dr. Gaul reaches out to you again, the song is perfect; scribbled and scratched and rewritten until it became what you were sure was your magnum opus- though you had never written your own music before. You had nearly succumbed to it being a work of tragedy, something you would never even get to hear yourself until Dr. Gaul gave you hope.

On September 3rd, the day before classes started and Coryo was meant to begin his apprenticeship under her, Dr. Gaul made a house call with a folder of extensive research done on the jabberjays in hand- she believed she could fix you.

In small doses, she believed it was possible to slowly tweak away at the remains of your vocal chords until they could be salvaged. Maybe. But you were more than happy to take a maybe, and so were your parents. What's the worst that could happen?

Coriolanus Snow had fallen in love with the beautiful voice of his best friend long before he ever realized he could feel similarly about the rest of her, too. If he were conscious of such a fact, it would have offered a much needed solution to his current predicament.

He could hear you in everything. In the whispers of the girls behind him in his lectures, in the crackling elevator music on the way to and from his penthouse- now that it was functional again, that is. In his own absentminded humming while he was too focussed on his reading to notice he was really doing it.

In the chirping of jabberjays in Dr. Gaul's lab.

Today, however, reviewing charts and signing off on the wellbeing of other creatures he couldn't really care less about, he has become convinced that the lack of sleep has finally caught up with him and he's actually lost his mind.

It is you. It is your voice he's hearing, like those records that lined a shelf in your room, though one he's never heard. Talking, instead of singing.

You were talking, and he clearly needed to ask Dr. Gaul for a prescription for some kind of sleeping med, because that was just plain impossible.

But he knew your voice as well as he knew the voice in his own head.

"Yes, please." Your voice says, echoing through a cracked door down the hall. "No, thank you."

His feet are carrying him through the corridor before he can weigh the merits of leaving his job, the section of the lab he was meant to be monitoring for the moment.

Dr. Gaul's office, separate from the extent of the broader laboratory she ran in the lower levels of the citadel, was somewhat of a mystery to him. It was her office that the sweet sound was coming from, but it was just more echoes of the same thing. "Yes, please." "No, thank you."

"Hello."

That one sounded off.

"Goodbye!"

That one sounded so cheery he almost jerks his head back like the word had struck him. When he knocks on the door, your voice abruptly stops and it's quiet for a moment before the door is opened.

"Did something bite you?" Dr. Gaul asks, raising an eyebrow as she looks at him in the doorway. She was clearly unimpressed that she was being interrupted.

"No, but-"

"Scratch you? Sting you?"

He shuts up then, shaking his head.

"Then I am busy. Please ask one of the other doctors to sign off on whatever you need me for and I'll look at it later."

He stops the door when she tries to close it in his face, his eyes searching hers. "I heard her, is she here?"

Dr. Gaul's lips press together at the question, her head tipping slightly. "Your chickadee? No. But I was just speaking with her mother on the phone, perhaps that is what you heard."

Immediately, Coryo is skeptical- his eyes flicking past her into the room. As if he wouldn't know your mother's voice from your own. It was you. He was positive.

"Why did her parents call? Is she okay?" He asks instead of calling her out on the obvious lie.

"As okay as a bird with clipped vocal cords could be, I assume." Dr. Gaul responds, and it's clear to him from the smile on her face that she somehow didn't mean any harm by saying something so horrible.

"If there is nothing else, then, please return to your duties." She adds when he doesn't say anything, and as she closes the door in his face, he can just make out the twitching wings of a bird pinned down to a metal sheet on her desk.

You hadn't intended to keep it from him. But something in your gut told you not to say a word, and you were grateful you couldn't. You were a lot of things, but not a good liar- and your muteness offered you a wall between you and your best friend that allowed you to guard secrets for once.

This was also made easier by the fact that you had less classes with him here at the university than you did at academy. Spare for a couple general studies courses you both needed for your differing degrees, you didn't see each other nearly as much. It was a curse and a blessing in equal measure.

Like a perfect routine, you slid his dedicated notebook back and forth across the desk between you while your English professor rambled on and on.

'Bellacora's after class?' He writes next to your previous doodle of a flower, sliding it back over to you quietly with a questioning expression.

You redip your pen a couple of times while you think about it. He had the day off, but thats why you had to see Dr. Gaul today. You couldn't accidentally cross paths with him while he was working between or after classes. But you did really want to go.

Being a little late to the lab wouldn't be the worst thing if it was only once, right?

'Sure. I'll meet you there after my last class :)' You scribble out and you can practically feel his smile as his hair brushes against your ear from where he was leaning close to watch you write.

Bellacora's is quieter than usual. The bustle of students in the shop set between the university and Academy campus's has dulled to a low murmur, the clink of spoons and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine filling in the space. Coryo's already found a booth by the window, one the two of you have always frequented since your parents allowed you to go out alone, and there are two mismatched mugs between you by the time you slide in across from him.

He doesn't smile right away. But he lifts your mug, blue with a spiderweb crack near the handle, and nudges it toward you with both hands. You mouth a silent thank you and take a sip.

It's perfect. Lemon tea with honey, no sugar- he remembered.

"I thought maybe you'd change your order," he says lightly, "new voice, new tastebuds, or something. But I decided to play it safe."

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused, and he immediately flinches.

"Sorry. That was stupid."

You shake your head, then pull out your notebook.

'Not stupid. Funny.' You underline funny twice for emphasis. He was right to wonder that, though. That had been your favourite drink for years- moreso, the only drink you could have other than water because it was good for your throat and kept your voice perfectly smooth. As far as anyone was concerned, there was no reason for you to continue drinking three cups of the substance a day. Truthfully, though, it was both a habit you couldn't break and ideal for the soreness that was a fresh constant since you'd started seeing Dr. Gaul.

He lets out a short breath, it could almost be considered a laugh, and leans back into the booth. His gaze drifts toward the window, where autumn leaves skip past in small bursts of wind. "Feels weird not seeing you everyday anymore."

You nod slowly, holding onto the top of your high neck shirt and pulling it up under your chin, further covering your neck as you rest your chin in your palm and mindlessly stir your drink even though you're not adding anything.

"Do you miss it?" he asks.

You hesitate as you let go of the spoon, then write, 'Every day.'

There's a long silence as he reads it and nods once. "You've been... different lately."

You freeze.

"Not in a bad way," he says quickly. "Just... quieter. And I guess that's ironic, but... I don't know. You feel far away. Even when you're right here."

Your throat tightens. You scribble something and slide it over with a bit too much force.

'I'm trying.'

He reads it once, then again, like he's looking for something hidden beneath the ink.

"I know," he says. "I can tell."

You look down at your mug. Your reflection wobbles inside it.

'It's not you.'

"I didn't think it was." He mutters. "But I wish you'd let me help. You always used to let me help."

You tap your pen against the side of your notebook. 'Some things you can't fix.'

That gets him. His jaw tightens. But then he nods, slowly.

"I'm still here. Even if I can't fix it. I told you that."

You can't meet his eyes, so you trace the edge of the table with your thumb.

He reaches across and places his hand on top of yours. Just rests it there, warm and still.

You want to speak, to say something real, something that would let you fall apart safely in front of him, but the words are still locked inside you. Maybe not because of your voice. Maybe because after the show those months ago, things had gone back to normal even though you were certain it would be the beginning of change.

So instead, you stay like that, holding onto him.

The lab was nearly empty, the usual unending busyness reduced to a low mechanical hum beneath the thick veil of silence. Coryo lingered, pretending to review data logs, but his gaze kept drifting toward the far corner of the testing room. The small metal cabinet, usually overlooked and locked tight, seemed almost to pulse under the dim light as he went over log after log, checking and rechecking dates for what he felt was no real reason.

He checked the time on the wall. Everyone had left at least an hour ago, and the dim orange glow from the street lamps filtered faintly through the narrow windows- the kind of light that made every shadow stretch and flicker.

His fingers brushed against the small, cold master key tucked in his coat pocket, the one Dr. Gaul had trusted him with weeks ago for emergency access. She trusted him, and for the first time, he's considering that maybe she shouldn't.

The urge tangled in his mind, an electric mix of curiosity and dread. It was none of his business, he knew that. His tasks were limited to the list of busywork given to him every day when he signed in, but the voice in his head was louder than that. He thought of her, of you, and the fragile hope in your eyes when you'd sat in the hospital room in the short weeks following the assault. The widening of your pretty eyes when you'd ran into him at this lab on the day he was offered his apprenticeship, and how he'd never been given a straight answer on why you were here.

With a steady breath, he rose from his chair and crossed the room, careful not to disturb a delicate jar on the nearby shelf. The key slid into the lock, turning with a quiet click that echoed louder than it should have in the stillness.

Inside, rows of glass jars gleamed under the low light, each containing pinned jabberjays, labeled meticulously with dates and codes he was still learning to decipher. Coryo's breath caught as he reached for the one near the back, its label marked only days ago, hastily scrawled in Dr. Gaul's unmistakable handwriting.

He lifted the vial gently, eyes scanning the tiny glass filled with a strange, pale tissue sample suspended in liquid. Notes accompanied it — words like "vocal cord regeneration," "experimental dosage 04," and "patient confidentiality." His chest tightened.

A soft rustling sound made him freeze. Footsteps? His heart hammered, and he pushed the cabinet door shut, pocketing the vial. He slipped back to his desk, hiding behind a cluster of equipment just as a janitor's shadow passed beyond the doorway.

When the footsteps faded, Coryo sank into his chair, the weight of the glass heavy in his pocket. His fingers reached instinctively for the worn notebook you shared with him. Filled with song lyrics, doodles, programs from your past performances. The pages were stained and creased, but still sacred.

He traced a finger over a line he'd written to you, he remembered sitting in the grass in the academy's courtyard over the summer when he'd told you something dumb.

'I'd sell my soul to hear you sing like that again.'

And then, where you'd replied in print:

'Me too :('

At that time you'd laughed at the dramatics of his claim, but he'd meant it. Only now he was considering the possibility that you did too.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[lizzy019]

Hello! I love your writing! Would I be able to request a fic where Ponyboy has a younger twin sister and the week he's away at the church she's just shutting down? Won't eat can't sleep even with Soda there to keep her company, and just keeps breaking down at tge thought of never seeing her twin again. Then when he does come home she's attached at the hip like sharing a bed and even getting sick because he was sick?

Hope that makes sense!

Ooo this is such a cute idea :D

~~~~~~~~ 🖤-> ~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~ 💚! ~~~~~~~~~

The silence in the house was almost deafening, it was like a surround sound machine that was eerily loud.

Ponyboy was gone for a week, and you struggled to really wrap your head around the news. Your twin brother, the one you'd bicker with the most and steal cigarettes from was gone. Gone, like- for good? No, he wasn't, right? Maybe you were overthinking...

You felt yourself growing ill with depression. Gaslighting yourself wasn't helping, and you became glued to your bed or seated at the kitchen. You were emotionless, aimless. You felt no reason to have motivation when your closest sibling was gone.

Darry and Soda seemed to notice, and they tried hard to keep you happy. Darry would make the foods you enjoyed most, Soda would always offer to let you watch the TV whenever you came downstairs. But none of it felt the same, none of it felt the same without Pony making a mean comment or him fighting for a channel on the TV.

Even if you were immersed in the TV show, you weren't enjoying it as much as you should've. Soda's hand was reassuringly rubbing your back, an act of kindness to show you he was there. You couldn't find it in you to enjoy the things you normally would, such as his kind gesture.

It wasn't long until you passed the empty phase and headed into the tearful phase. You were crying almost every waking second of the day, you didn't know how to cope with the fact that someone so close to you could be so far gone.

You felt awful knowing you didn't give him a proper goodbye when he ran away from home, because now you felt like you were cold and distanced.

Sodapop was trying his best to be there for you and trying to manage his work. But he took many days off because you'd stay home from school, too emotionally unstable with knowing your brother could be out there somewhere, or come onto the news dead.

"It'll be fine, sis. Darry and I are worried too, but Pony's too tough to just give up, yeah?" He smiled, trying to get a somewhat positive reaction from you.

You just turned your head up to look at him, and you felt yourself admiring his positivity just a bit more than usual. Yeah, Pony was tough, but he'd been gone for a week. What if he didn't come back?

The next few days were spent alone in your room. You didn't want anyone to come in except for Darry and Soda, but on the occasion you'd let Steve come in just because he could be a bit humorous when you needed a pick-me-up.

But it wasn't until one day, the door opened loudly followed by a bunch of noise. It was obnoxious, stirring you awake and irritating you more than it should've. You lived with a bunch of boys, this wasn't uncommon, but still.

So you angrily got out of bed, wiping the tears that were already a bit dried from you napping before you slipped some proper clothes on and trotted out. The closer you got, the louder the noise grew, and you were just a bit too aggravated to handle it calmly.

But once you managed to pass by the kitchen and swerve into the living room, you froze instantly. No, was it really Pony? You waited for Darry to stop hugging him before you started bolting over.

"Pony!" You exclaimed, arms up and around Ponyboy's body as you clutched him tightly within your grasp. His arms did the same, squeezing at your shoulder blades and stuffing his cheek against yours.

"You smell like depression..." He teased, but his voice was shaky just like yours.

Ah, you couldn't argue with him, you were quite literally rotting away in your room anyway.

The next few days, you were right beside him. You made breakfast with him, brushed teeth alongside him, went and bought cigarettes together, hell, you even took naps with him. You were so grateful to have him back, you were so happy to finally be able to tease your brother after a whole week and a half.

But then again, he did kind of stink at times. Eating all the leftovers and hogging the TV. But, he was back, and he was doing all the things you missed while he was gone.

You couldn't really complain, could you?

[fairykazu]

aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? [ plus an update ] cw: no plot, crackpost, use of kms/kys jokes, mild cursing, technically canon compliant, fudanshi joke / ref masterlist

r/amitheasshole ∙ a few minutes ago imjustagirl aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? i know how the title sounds but i swear it's nothing creepy! i (f18) saw this person with a peculiar hat (m19) and he just looks familiar to me. as if ive seen him before but if i tried to remember, it's like my memory was wiped. so, i tried to ask him if we had met before but he dismissed me, which i could understand since we are technically strangers. but i asked him again on another day and he seemed reluctant. he said that we never met but if thats true-- i know this sounds a little creepy but his handwriting. i saw it before, it's pinned on my board at home. letters written with love disguised as hate and little hearts. i have proof too, ill link it if anyone is interested. so am i the asshole here?

replies: albertlovesbarbara712 ta, you sound unreasonable. it's clear that you have this weird obsession with him and youre probably losing your mind lol rospearia albert you cannot be talking, you literally stalk barbara like your life depends on it albertlovesbarbara712 you dont understand her like i do albertlovesbarbara713 ok who got me banned again?

chronicgambler nta, i was going to say you're the asshole from your title but nvm... wait wdym you have notes from the guy? imjustagirl [OP] like i have this letter from this guy. and it matches up with the guy mentioned chronicgambler on aeons? imjustagirl [OP] on archons. ill show it in an update if anyone else asks

moonflwrscr lwk, ah. imjustagirl [OP] fr? why moonflwrscr idk i just wanted to disagree

winewhiner17 idk i need more updates imjustagirl [OP] alralr

load 200+ more comments?

r/amitheasshole ∙ a week ago imjustagirl aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? i know you guys have been waiting for this for a long time. but lwk, for a while i was like damn, maybe i am crazy. besides people in the replies do not help either- you guys are like "op, maybe this is all a dream?" but how could it be a dream? when you can't even make up the image of someone else if you haven't seen them before. anyway, here's the picture of the notes. ignore how it makes me look crazy.

replies: gqqmbler OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST CRAZY. BUT MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT??? imjustagirl [OP] with the ta comments i got, i was like "damn, maybe im the crazy one." mar7th but youre just a girl gqqmbler real load full thread?

fudasethos waitt...𖦹donotinteractgetoutofmyhouse? yoifire OP BLOCK THIS MAN!!! mehrakisbetterthansomescribesclearly how did you manage to get his reddit? no other person is able to get anything from him fudasethos blackmail :p imjustagirl [OP]𖦹yoifire wdym?

donotinteractgetoutofmyhouse wtf imjustagirl [OP] ummm nothatguy why did you block me? dm me your ig imjustagirl [OP] OH MY GOD???? WTF...（；´д｀）

[ageingfangirl2]

You Drive Me Crazy! Buggy (OPLA)

You might be able to fight, but you have a knack for injuring yourself on stupid things around the ship much to the frustration of your captain who's had enough and decides to take you up on your offer...even if you were joking. Buggy x Reader Fluff

BUGGY

There had to be something wrong in y/n's head. They were the most skilled on the ship next to me and cut down many people without so much as getting a cut or scrape. However, interacting with everyday objects was a challenge for them because they kept hurting themselves. At first, it was endearing, thinking they would do anything to get my attention, but years had passed and it was no longer endearing but annoying.

As the captain, I had a responsibility to the crew, but some days I considered pushing y/n overboard and watching them either sink or swim.

'Where's y/n, I haven't seen them all day?' I ask Cabaji as we walk across the deck.

He shrugs his shoulders, 'Err the kitchen I think captain. The cook is ill and y/n promised to help out.'

My eyes widen at the thought of y/n alone in the kitchen with enough things to injure themselves, 'I'll check on them, they shouldn't be left unsupervised.'

Cabaji laughs, 'at least it's not dull with y/n around.'

I glare at him before stomping across the deck towards the kitchen which is below us, '...yeah fun for everyone but me,' I grumble.

When I entered the kitchen y/n was sat on a barrel peeling vegetables and humming to themselves. I approached cautiously since they looked okay, maybe I did need to stop overreacting.

y/n locks eyes with me and smiles, before waving with bandages on their fingers, 'Hey captain, what brings you down here?'

My eye twitches, they didn't have bandages on this morning, and the cuts must be fresh because blood seeped through the fabric, 'I can't leave you alone for a second without you hurting yourself, can I?'

I close the space between us and take their hand in mine which makes them flinch, 'I mean, I'm fine so it's okay--'

'No, it's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going to go crazy thinking you've hurt yourself. You're more than just another crew member and I need you in tip-top shape y/n,' I growl, cutting them off, and keeping their hand firmly in mine.

y/n's eyes widen, 'since when did you care about me like that captain?'

y/n might be loyal and a good fighter but sometimes they could be a little slow. I inhale sharply and bring their bandaged fingers up to my lips and kiss them one by one, 'since forever you idiot.'

A faint blush creeps onto y/n's cheeks but they quickly compose themselves and smirk, 'What are you going to do about it, captain? Going to keep me locked in a cage and never out of your sight?'

'That's a brilliant idea y/n,' I mutter, feeling a smile stretch from ear to ear, 'I should have done something like this earlier.'

y/n goes to jump off the barrel but I catch them and throw them over my shoulder with ease, and walk out of the kitchen grinning to myself as y/n struggles against me. I ignore y/n's protests as I carry them towards my quarters, sending one of my hands ahead to get a cage ready. Normal people would find it odd to have so many human-size cages, but pirates liked to kidnap so it was always handy to have some around.

'We'll make it super comfortable y/n and safe so your pretty head can't injure yourselves,' I say, kind of giddy at the thought of having y/n locked in a cage and at my mercy.

y/n continues to kick and protest, 'It was a joke captain...please put me down...I'll be good...' y/n pleads.

Entering my quarters I cackle seeing the cage, 'Here we go y/n, welcome to your new home.'

I throw y/n in the cage and lock the door before they can actually comprehend I followed through, and wave the key at them while they glare and shoot me a rather colourful hand gesture. I tap the top of the cage, I'd start by padding the sides, this was going to be a fun time.

EXTRA

Y/N

Two weeks had passed since Buggy put you in the cage for your own good, only letting you out a couple of times a week to walk around and bathe under his strict supervision. He'd kept his word about making you comfy giving you whatever you needed, knowing full well that when he eventually freed you you were going to find a way to kill the smug clown.

[datlokibumtho]

EDIT: I said I'd add more, and so I shall. I swear, the more I rewatch it, the more abserdity crosses my mind. I forgot some, so I'll add those when I remember them.

Rewatching the Mugen Train Arc, and there are a few things I noticed that I shall now share with you. I will add more as I think of them.

▪︎Rengoku's mom is hot

▪︎You will never be able to convince me we didn't see Akaza's O Face during that final attack.

▪︎Why didn't Akaza just drag Rengoku along with him to escape? All that oomf he has, and you're telling me one dude is too heavy? Nezuko can carry someone easily while in baby mode and was strong enough to curbstomp Daki, and you're telling me Akaza, Upper Three, the fourth most powerful demon in existence can't drag one guy along for the ride while bailing? I'm calling that shit hard.

▪︎Tanjirou's VA knocked this shit out of the park.

▪︎I call bullshit that Rengoku didn't activate his Demon Slayer Mark during all that.

¤ Edit: I now know why that didn't happen, so nevermind this one.

▪︎While we're on the topic of Rengoku, can I just briefly express my confusion as to his dream of choice when Enmu put him to sleep? Out of everything he could have dreamed, all the scenarios his mind could have conjured up, he chose "that one time I did something extraordinary and my dad didn't give a shit" followed by any given day of the week. Tanjirou got his family back, Zenitsu got to spend time with the girl he loved, Inosuke got to do whatever the fuck that was...and Rengoku's got an alcoholic father who doesn't give a hair on a witch's tit if his kids live or die, a mom that's still dead from illness, and last Tuesday, the Tuesday before that, and the Tuesday before that, also known as his everyday life. Why? He could have had a father that was a presentable human being again, a mother that wasn't dead or ill, a happy life...and he bypassed all of that. Just. Fucking. Why.

¤Edit: upon further thought and some amateur analysis of his psyche, the dream probably revolved more around time with his brother, or his boundless optimism making him think every day is a gift or worth celebrating or special somehow. Or maybe he just has a really bad imagination.

▪︎Rengoku just gave Enmu his first brush with heartburn.

▪︎Look up the lyrics to Homura by LiSA, and I believe you will join me in saying fuck whoever chose the music. Why they gotta do that? Why?

▪︎Get you a man that's an absolute goober, a total badass, a complete and utter derp, a major sweetheart, and a super serious hot mess all at once. Get you a Flame Hashira. Get you Rengoku Kyoujurou.

▪︎"I'm a box lunch vendor" wasn't suspicious until he said it wasn't suspicious. Then it became suspicious.

▪︎Rengoku moving his ass like "Total Consentrstion Fuck You I'm A Hashira" speed mode activated. "Ecceleration Mode", for anyone that's up on older anine.

▪︎Pigtails runnin' her way through Rengokus dream world like the edge isn't invisible and she was at zero risk of slamming face first into it.

▪︎God damn, Tanjirou, right between the man-titties. Rude as fuck.

▪︎Tanjirou: smells blood in a snow storm, Muzan in the middle of Tokyo, identifies people by their scents after only meeting them once, can smell character traits

Rengoku: two cars down from them, chowing away at bento, unnoticed

Zenitsu: hears thing down to a celluar level and can figure out what something's species and intent are based solely of of their sounds of existsnce

Rengoku: two cars down from them, practically yelling "tasty" repeatedly, unnoticed

Inosuke: has super insane instincts and the ability to lock onto things miles away

Renkgoku: STILL just two cars down from them, living his best life with a crapton of bento, unnoticed

Tanjirou/Zenitsu/Inosuke: "Wonder where the Flame Hashira is."

▪︎Slasher demon: "No one's faster than me!"

The Other Speedy Stripy Boi Of The Mugrn Train Arc: "Destructive Death: Kick-Your-Ass-Faster-Than-The-Speed-Of-Sound-You-Scrub Type."

▪︎Rengoku's Dream World: sunshine, daisies, and fatherly rejection

Rengoku's Subconscious: flaming hellscape

Enmu's Lackey: "What the flip flap fuck is going on with this man?"

▪︎Enmu: shocked Zenitsu did anything while under his spell

The rest of us: "Yeah, it was always gonna go that way, chief."

BONUS: ORIGINAL WATCHTHROUGH THOUGHTS

▪︎My thought process through my original watchthrough eons ago: "Rengoku is a silly mans. Rengoku is kinda cool. Rengoku is utterly endearing. Rengoku is awesome. Rengoku is one BAMF. RENGOKU IS DEAD."

▪︎My almost simultaneous thought process through my original watchthrough eons ago: "I can't believe he dies, he's so amazing and wonderful and i love him. Ok, he dies in this fight, and now that i know the man, i instantly hate whoever did it. Oh no, he's HOT! My emotions are very mixed right now. My emotions are completely decided in their stance, and I am getting teary-eyed over yet another ficticious character."

▪︎My afterthoughts of my original watchthrough eons ago: "Akaza is the absolute worst, that pretty face, hot body and smooth af voice cannot change that. Wow, Muzan was mean to him after he did his damndest. My opinion can not change now that I have seen Senjurou, he is a wonderful little cinnamonroll, and Akaza must remain the worst. He can be terrible and still look good. I mean, are he and his utterly whorish waist and very lovely, somewhat delicately featured face really to blame or is Muzan or psychosis of some kind? Wow, that's a nice hourglass physique and horribly tragic backstory."

▪︎End conclusion from my original watchthrough eons ago: "My opinion of Rengoku has done a 180. I would die for Senjurou. I will probably never truly like Rengoku Shinjurou despite understanding that grief and disillusionment do strange things to people. Akaza is too hot, broken, and in a weird way endearing and lovable to hate. I loves me a tragic backstory and damaged man. I DO NOT HAVE A NEW SHIP I DO NOT HAVE A NEW SHIP I DO NOT HAVE A NEW SHIP"

▪︎I had a new ship