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writethrough · 2 years

Note

Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.

Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.

I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.

Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.

To Make It Through

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.

Word Count: 1203

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.

I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.

And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.

National Eating Disorders Association

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

The Trevor Project

National Institute of Mental Health

Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.

It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.

You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.

First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.

He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.

It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.

He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.

He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.

After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched.

He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.

He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.

You were also very good at hiding it.

About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He whispered your name. You didn’t move.

He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”

You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.

“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.

The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.

He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.

He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.

“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.

You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.

“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”

You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.

“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.

You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.

Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.

He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.

You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.

You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.

He sat beside you.

Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.

It hadn’t gotten that bad.

He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.

“Why are you friends with me?”

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Because I need you,” he said.

It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.

You shook your head. “You deserve better.”

He wanted to shield you from your own words.

“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”

You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.

“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”

You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.

Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.

You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.

Whatever you needed from him, he would give.

“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.

Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.

“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.

“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.

“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”

It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.

And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.

“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.

Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.

“Okay.”

Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.

The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird

If anyone would like to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me and tell me which character you'd like to receive updates on.

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xo-valxntine · 2 years

Text

Amethyst Eyes II (T. Inumaki)

part one | part two | part three | bonus

pairing: toge inumaki x gn!reader

synopsis: you and toge have been talking (texting) ever since he stumbled into your clinic all those months ago. you can feel yourself starting to fall for him with practically every text, but will you get to see him again?

tws: angst, aged up characters, brief mention of gangs, character death, mentions of grief & coping with loss (let me know if i’m forgetting something?) wc: ~4,900

a/n: i’m going to be honest i love everything abt this story. y/n & toge are so cute ugh . i was rly feeling this part so it’s quite long~ i apologize for what you’re about to endure i hope u enjoy ੈ✩‧₊˚

It had been a few months since Toge stumbled into your clinic the second time, and the two of you had been texting practically every day. There were times when you’d text back and forth for hours and then there were times it would take one of you a few hours to respond, but every time you saw a message from Toge you’d light up. Toge was special and he made you feel special. Especially with the way he’d text you good morning and goodnight without fail. In the time you’d been talking, he never once forgot. You’d been happier since Toge came into your life.

“Well you seem extra cheerful today.” Misuzu says, pulling you from your thoughts. She had invited you over for lunch and you could never turn that down.

“What do you mean?” You say as you trace the ring of your glass with your finger. Misuzu smiles at you as she sets your bowl down in front of you. She had made your favorite soup. You give her a nod of thanks.

“Just like there’s something extra special going on with you.” Misuzu says as she sits across from you. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say there’s someone special in your life.”

You almost spit out your soup. Swallowing the contents in your mouth down slowly, you try to regain your composure.

“Not quite sure if I know what you mean.” You say looking down and swirling your soup with your spoon trying to buy some extra time.

“Hm.” Misuzu eyes you carefully. “Tell me about the lucky person.”

Your thoughts are immediately consumed with Toge and you can’t help but smile.

“His name is Toge. He’s really sweet.” You say before taking another spoonful of soup.

Your mind flashed back to his good morning text from this morning. It ended up being one of those memes with a cat, a bunch of hearts that had “good morning” typed across it. He sent lots of different memes, some of them cute like the one from this morning and some of them were completely stupid, like the one he had sent you yesterday. It was a picture of a cat that looked like it was meowing, but it had been over edited to make the cat look like it was screaming. Despite calling him a “dummy” and telling him how unfunny it was, you laughed. Toge was constantly making you laugh with his memes and his dumb jokes. The two of you constantly traded jokes back and forth. Your mind flashes back to one of your conversations.

toge

i’ve got a question for you

What is it?

why did the chicken cross the road?

To get to the other side

Duh

shut up and ask why

I can’t shut up and ask why at the same time :p

….

Okay, okay

Why did the chicken cross the road?

to get to the idiot’s house

I think the original joke is funnier

knock knock

Who’s there?

the chicken.

….

I bet you think you’re real funny

i know you laughed

.—.

okay, okay your turn

Okay, you have to answer every question with one word answers. And no asking questions because you’ll ruin it.

okay?

What’s the opposite of always?

never

What’s the opposite of coming?

going

What’s the opposite of from?

What’s the opposite of take?

give

What’s the opposite of me?

you

What’s the opposite of down?

(Attachment: 1 Image)

…

(b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

Got you!

i hate you .

<(￣︶￣)>

i’m not talking to you anymore .

You know I’m hilarious.

Wait Y/N are you actually mad? You haven’t replied in like five minutes (ಥ﹏ಥ)

It was just a joke don’t be mad ;(;:(:(

(ಥ﹏ಥ)

i’m not mad you dummy

i just can’t believe you rickrolled me again

I’m just good like that ;)

Through texting Toge you learned quickly that he was a complete goofball. It was total contrast to how he had been when you first met him, so serious and quiet. The last few months you had become fond of Toge. You looked forward to seeing his good morning texts and hearing about the silly things from his day. You liked Toge a lot. There was something about him that ?, every fiber of your being. You knew what was happening, but you weren’t going to admit it. Not yet.

“Well, he must be really something special. He’s got to be to keep up with you.” Misuzu says, pulling you back into reality. “When can I meet him?”

You spoon more soup into your mouth, so you have a moment to think before answering.

“I’m not really sure.” And that was the truth. “Toge’s a teacher and he’s quite busy with his students.”

It was all true. Toge had finally told you he was a teacher, one night when the two of you were telling each other about your days. At first you thought he was joking, because what teacher stumbles into a clinic coughing up blood? You made a joke about him being in a gang again, but Toge insisted he was in fact a teacher and you shrugged it off, not bringing it up anymore.

“Ah, okay. Well I would love to meet him.” You nod as you finish up your soup.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You say honestly. You hadn’t seen Toge since the night you gave him your phone number. You never pushed it, but you did really want to see him again. Especially since it had been so long since the two of you saw each other.

“It’s so nice to see someone taking care of you. You do so much for others, Y/N. You really do deserve the best.” Misuzu says. You quickly become embarrassed and change the subject.

Misuzu and you spend more time talking about different topics and then you take the time to help her clean up. You’re putting the dishes away when you notice Misuzu wincing as she moves.

“Is there something wrong, Miss M?” You ask, turning to face her. She shakes her head and waves you off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just old now.” She says. You watch her carefully and notice she’s wincing more.

“Are you sure? You could come down to the clinic and I could just take a quick look at you.” You say. She waves you off again.

“I’m okay. Now come here. There’s something I want to show you.” She says gesturing you over to the couch. You follow and sit next to her.

“This is something, I’ve been keeping for awhile. I’ve been waiting to give to you. I think it’s finally the right time.” Misuzu says rummaging through a basket. She pulls out what looks like a scrapbook and sits down next to you.

“Is this what I think it is?” You ask carefully, taking in the scrapbook. Misuzu nods.

“Probably that and more. I’ve been collecting pictures of you since you were just a little thing. I’ve been piecing it together since the first time I met you. Not only does it have pictures of you, but all the stories I told you, all your favorite recipes. It’s all here.” She says tapping the book. You feel your eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Oh, Miss M. That’s beautiful. Thank you.” You say giving her a hug. The tears begin to fall as you're holding her. You don’t ever want to let go, but eventually you do.

“Here, let me show you a few of my favorite parts.” Misuzu says opening the scrapbook.

The two of you spent time going through the scrapbook, reminiscing over all the different moments you spent together. Different moments in your life. It was made to perfection. You were sad when you finally had to leave so that, Misuzu could get her rest. You wanted to go over every single detail about it with her, but the two of you could do that another time. Until then, you propped up on your couch examining each page. You’re finally snapped out of your trance when your phone buzzes.

rice ball enthusiast ♡

I haven’t heard from you all day. Everything okay?

〜(＞＜)〜

You let out a small giggle and reply.

all good. spent the day with Miss M and she gave me a scrapbook with pics from when i was little

Toge replies immediately.

Little y/n? I bet you’re adorable. Care to share?

You shake your head, but flip through the scrapbook. You knew just the picture to send him. You were in Misuzu’s kitchen while she was teaching you how to make rice balls. How coincidental had that been? Toge loved rice balls and there you were making them. You quickly snap a picture and send it to him.

rice ball enthusiast ♡

Just like I thought: adorable. Bet the ones I make taste better though :p

doubtful, i’ve been making them since i was six

I, Toge Inumaki, hereby challenge thee Y/N to a riceball off

challenge accepted

don’t go crying when i win

The only way you’ll win is if I let you

not possible, i have a secret that makes them taste amazing

Care to share?

maybe one day

I’m looking forward to it ♡

You sit for a moment, fiddling with your phone in your hands. You wanted to ask him the question that had been tucked away at the back of your mind since the last time you had seen him, but things had been going so well and you didn’t want to ruin them by bringing it up.

toge

can i ask you a question?

Of course

Your fingers hover before typing.

do you like talking to me?

Absolutely not.

I just spend all my free time texting you because I hate talking to you

That was sarcasm btw

I love texting you. Talking to you is the best part of my day. I’d spend every second of the day talking to you if I could. You’re really special Y/N. Special to me.

you mean that?

Every word.

i wanna see you again

Toge doesn’t reply immediately, like he normally would. Instead you watch as the typing bubble pops in and out of the chat. After a few minutes you get a response.

Are you being serious?

You contemplate for a moment. You and Toge had been texting back and forth playfully since that fateful day. The two of you had even been flirting now and then. He had taken a hold on you in the last few months. If you were being honest, Toge had, had a hold on you since the day he stumbled into your clinic. Of course you wanted to see him again. You type your reply without hesitation.

yes.

For awhile there’s no response. You don’t even see the chat bubble indicating that he’s typing show up. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you see the typing bubble show up and then a message.

I’m not sure if I can do that.

You felt a part of your heart break as you read over the words. Once. Twice. Three times. You hadn’t even realized your eyes were filled with tears until you felt them on your thumbs. You go to wipe away the tears on your face, but it’s pointless because they keep falling down. The tears were staining your phone and you did your best to wipe them away.

okay

After you send the message you turn off your phone and then everything that's been building up hits you all at once. You’re crying. Choking on sobs as you’re trying to make sense of what you had just read. I’m not sure if I can do that. The words danced throughout your mind over and over again. There was something about those words that hit you. Part of you had known there was no guarantee you’d see Toge again, not with him being secretive about whatever it was he was hiding. But you still held out hope that maybe, just maybe you’d be able to see him again. That message just served as confirmation that it wasn’t going to be possible to see him again. All that time you had spent growing close to him felt pointless. All the different conversations you had together flooded your mind and you only cried harder. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to give yourself a sense of comfort, but your head drifted to thinking about Toge wrapping his arms around you. You buried your face into your blanket and just cried, and cried, and cried.

The next morning you awoke with a throbbing headache. You rub your temples, trying to soothe the pain when the memories from last night come rushing back. Oh right. It hadn’t just been a nightmare. You shake your head, trying to push the memories away, but you’re reminded of the pain from your headache and wince. You sigh and make your way to the bathroom, so that you can take some pain medicine for your head. You take the medicine and sit on the floor waiting for it to kick in. Once the medicine finally kicks in, you move to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You chug it down, starting to feel a bit better. Your thoughts drift back to the night before and Toge’s words. I’m not sure I can do that. You had known there was no certainty in seeing him again, but you had let yourself hope. And part of you still had hope. It wasn’t like he had said absolutely not, I never want to see you again. He had just said he was unsure, which still hurt, but not as much as no. You were starting to feel better about the situation. Maybe you had overreacted. You’d text Toge later to talk about things more. Your head feels like it’s starting to clear and then you look at the time. Your eyes widen.

“Shit. I’m late.” You mutter to yourself. You move quickly to get ready and you’re out of the door within ten minutes.

When you arrive at your clinic you notice Mr. and Mrs. Yamada standing outside. You’re confused, because you know they didn’t have appointments today. In fact, you were only supposed to have patients in the afternoon today.

“Oh there you are, Y/N.” Mrs. Yamada says.

“Morning Mrs. Yamada. Is there something going on?”

“Everyone’s been trying to get in touch with you and no one could. We were all worried, so we came here.” Mrs. Yamada says. You were still confused.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Yamada, did something happen?” You ask. You watched as her face fell.

“You don’t know?” Their eyes were on you and you were starting to panic.

“Know what?”

“Miss Misuzu passed away last night.”

It felt like a building had just been dropped on you. You weren’t sure if you had heard correctly. You must have a strange look on your face, because they were looking at you with sympathy. You could feel the pain starting to wash over you.

“T-t-that’s not possible.” You mumble. “Y-y-you’re l-lying. I just saw her yesterday.” That was right. You did just see her yesterday. You had a lovely afternoon together. She made you soup, you helped her clean, and she gave you the scrapbook. That had all happened yesterday.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but she’s telling the truth. It was late last night, or early this morning rather.” Mr. Yamada says, stepping forward.

They were lying. They were both lying. Misuzu was fine. You saw her yesterday. You had lunch together, you helped her clean, and she gave you the scrapbook. You think about how she had suddenly invited you over for lunch. How she was wincing when she was moving around.

“I’m just getting old.”

That’s what she had said, but she wasn’t that old, was she? The thoughts are racing through your head. She had given you the scrapbook and— The realization is like a second building being dropped on top of you.

“This is something, I’ve been keeping for awhile. I’ve been waiting to give to you. I think it’s finally the right time.”

She knew. That’s why she had invited you over. That’s why she had given you the scrapbook. Why she had taken the time to go over the memories with you. Your legs become weak and you can tell you’re about to collapse.

“N-no.” It’s so soft, you’re not sure if it’s more than a thought. Your legs finally collapse and you’re sobbing. “No, no, no.” Mrs. Yamada leans over and gently rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Mr and Mrs. Yamada were kind enough to take you back home and make sure you got in all right. You couldn’t even open the door yourself because your hands were shaking so much. ? had to open the door for you. You had calmed your crying in front of them, but when you were sure they had left, it all came tumbling back out. Misuzu was gone and not coming back. You’d never hear her voice again. Those thoughts only made you cry even harder. You cried and cried until you felt hollow.

The arrangements for Misuzu ended up falling to you, because she had no living family. Even though you weren’t blood, you did consider yourself her family. She cared for you like no one else did. She was always there when you needed her. And now she needed you to handle this for her, so you did. She left ? and you would made sure everything was the way she wanted it. It was hard, but you made it through somehow. When the day of the funeral came, you didn’t cry. You held it together long enough to share your favorite memories with Misuzu and somehow held it together as people gave you their condolences. Maybe it had something to do with the hollow feeling. What were the stages of grief again? Whatever they were, you weren’t sure which one the hollow feeling inside of you belonged to.

A week had gone by since the funeral service. You had spent the majority of the time thumbing through the scrapbook she had given you. You took the time to look at every picture and every description she wrote. You read over every story and recipe. Again, again, and again. You’d do anything to have more time with her. You were supposed to have more time with her. You knew you were. Something about the way Misuzu left didn’t feel right. Despite being told she had passed away in her sleep peacefully, you didn’t believe it. Misuzu was healthy, and you knew she was because you were her doctor. She was still supposed to have more time and you were saying that as her doctor, not as her self-proclaimed daughter in denial. You push the thoughts away, not wanting to think about it anymore. You turn your attention back to the scrapbook and your eyes land on the picture of you making rice balls. Suddenly, your head is filled with images of his blonde hair and violet eyes.

Toge had been texting you nonstop since that night and you hadn’t replied to a single one of them. When you had finally calmed yourself down after finding out about Misuzu’s death, you turned your phone back on so that you could figure out what the necessary arrangements would be. When you turned the phone on it was flooded with missed call notifications from people in your small town, most likely from when they were trying to let you know about Misuzu. You cleared the notifications away and your attention was captured by notifications from him.

rice ball enthusiast ♡

I’m sorry.

Good morning! I hope you have a lovely day

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

I think I might’ve just seen a frog in a cherry blossom tree? Think I might be hallucinating

How was your day?

Y/N are you okay? I’m worried.

Are you mad at me for last night?

I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise I’d come see you if I could.

(Attachment: 1 Image) (it was a picture of a cat looking at a phone screen sadly)

Please, I just want to know you’re okay.

Goodnight, Y/N. ♡

You wanted to text him back. You really did. Tell him that you forgave him. Explain to him that at first you were upset and that you had turned your phone off, but you had slept and just wanted to talk to him about it some more. You wanted to explain to him that the reason you hadn’t reached out sooner is because you had gotten bad news and couldn’t be bothered to turn your phone back on. You wanted to tell him about Misuzu’s death. How it had completely shattered you and how you hated having to go through this alone. You wanted him to comfort you in a way only he could, even if it was just from his words and stupid little memes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you never replied to him or any of the texts after that. For the most part, they were similar. He still said good morning and good night without fail. And then every now and again he’d send you a video he found funny or text you about a part of his day. You read every single text and watched every single video. You just couldn’t bring yourself to reply to them.

It has been two months since Misuzu had passed and you were finally starting to come to terms with it. The scrapbook had a lot to do with it. She had left a piece of herself with you, a constant reminder that someone loved you for you. You cherished it. You had even made some of the recipes she had left you. Some of them were ones she had taught you before, others were ones she had made you but never taught you how to make. You found comfort in the meals and noted how great it tasted, but it would never be quite like hers.

After her passing, it had taken you about a month to get back into the clinic. With the arrangements and coping with her death, it just wasn’t a priority at the time. This meant there was a lot of work for you to do when you got back, but you threw yourself into it and the clinic was now back to where it needed to be.

“Hey, Rin, how are you?” You ask.

“Good! Mom says I’ve gotten a whole five inches taller!” He says eagerly bouncing. You pretend to look at him surprised.

“A whole five inches? That’s awesome! Come on let’s measure you.” You reply. His mom smiles at you and you lead them towards the back.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Rin’s mom asks as you’re checking his vitals.

“I’ve been good. Thanks for asking, Mrs. Fujita.” You say. And it was the truth. You were good. For the most part anyway.

“That’s good to hear.” She replies at you smiling. You smile back and then continue with her son’s check up.

“All right. You’re all good to go.” You say and pull out the stickers you keep for the kids. “You did an awesome job today, man. Go ahead and choose one.”

You watch ad he ponders over his choices carefully before selecting one.

“This one!” Rin exclaims holding up one of the ones with a race car on it.

“Very good choice, my friend.” You say laughing at his eagerness. You turn to his mom. “Thanks for bringing him in. He’s all good to go. If you need anything else just let me know.”

Mrs. Fujita thanks you and Rin gives a wave as they exit the clinic. You slump over once they’re out of sight. Despite feeling better mentally, you weren’t feeling the best physically. It felt as if something was wrapped around your torso and your shoulders felt heavy. At first you didn’t think much of it, thinking it was just your body’s way of coping with grief, but when the feeling continued, you decided to get yourself checked out. Everything came out normally, no cause for concern. That eased you worries a little, but the feeling had remained. You weren’t in pain, you were just feeling a lot of discomfort.

You spent the rest of the day updating patient charts and going through your files. You’re sorting the last of your files when you hear your phone buzz on your desk. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and look at the notification.

rice ball enthusiast

(Attachment: 1 Image)

It was a picture of a kitten that looked like it was screaming with the text “Text me back. I miss you.” on the side. You let out a sigh and lock your phone without replying. He hadn’t stopped texting you despite the fact you hadn’t replied to him. You weren’t upset with him. You really had forgiven him the very next day, after he told you he couldn’t see you. You believed him when he said he’d come visit you if he could, but you wanted to put distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to keep falling for him and become attached. Especially not when you were so consumed in your grief over Misuzu. You hoped that he would stop texting you, but you still received good morning and good night texts. He kept sharing his favorite memes and videos with you and sharing details about his day. You watched every video and read every word. It was like he somehow knew you still saw his messages, despite having your read receipts off. Eventually, however, the messages did stop and you hadn’t heard from Toge in over a week.

---

It was late and you were leaving your clinic. You were going to lock the door when you got the strange feeling someone, or rather something was watching you. You check your surroundings to see if there’s anything around and see nothing. You try to shake the feeling, but you can’t. You eye your surroundings one more time before deciding it would just be best to go back into your clinic. Maybe whatever it was would go away and you could go home in a little while.

You were scrolling on your phone, waiting for the eery feeling you had to go away, but it didn’t. It only got progressively worse as did the heavy feeling on your shoulders. You were ready to go home and relax, but with the eery feeling getting worse, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you decide to put your phone down and gaze out the window. Your eyes are met with nothing but darkness and you’re about to turn away when something catches your attention. Your eyes widen and you’re not completely sure you can trust them. You blink several times, thinking maybe it was just your imagination and the sight in front of you would go away, but no. There was a woman fighting what looked like a car-sized purple lizard. And they were moving closer and closer to your clinic. You quickly back away from your window and go to the back of your clinic to hide. You curl up in a corner in the back room, trying to convince yourself this wasn’t real. Any excuse you could think of came to your head. Maybe you were tired. Or maybe you hadn’t eaten enough and—

You’re pulled from your reasoning when the windows of your clinic burst. The windows burst with such force that the glass had scattered all the way to the back room you were in. A strange noise filled your ears, along with the sounds of slashing.

“Dammit. Just where the hell is that guy?” You hear a voice say. You could only assume that it was the woman from before. You hear footsteps along the shattered glass and the strange noise continued as did the sounds of the slashing.

“I see you finally decided to show up, Toge.” The woman says. You freeze. Toge? She couldn’t possibly mean—

“Don’t move.” You hear an unfamiliar voice say. You listen as the slashing continues.

“Dammit, Toge. Just finish it already.” The woman’s voice says.

“Explode.” Toge, you assume, speaks. Following that, you hear a loud splattering noise. There’s a few moments of silence before the woman speaks again.

“Well, we’ve done what we needed to do. Ready to go?” “Salmon.”

Your eyes widen and your mind flashes back to that very first night.

“Can you speak?”

“Salmon.”

“Salmon?”

It was him. But that couldn’t be, it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real. None of this could be real. You had to be dreaming. You must’ve fallen asleep while doing paperwork and were dreaming. You try to wake yourself up.

“Wake up, wake up.” You whisper to yourself. “Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

You were so in your thoughts that you barely noticed the sound of footsteps until they froze.

“Did you hear that? Is someone here? Gojo said—hey where are you taking off to?”

You hear footsteps rushing around and you want the the floor to open and swallow you whole. It was your dream right? That could happen, you were control. You keep willing the floor to open, but it never happens. The footsteps that were running had now stopped and you could feel eyes on you. You force yourself to look up and you’re met with those mesmerizing amethyst eyes. It really was him.

#inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #toge x reader #inumaki x you #toge inumaki #inumaki toge x reader #jjk inumaki #inumaki imagines #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #inumaki angst #inumaki fluff #inumaki x y/n #inumaki fanfic #toge x you #toge jjk

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aurumacadicus · 2 years

Note

Stuckony rat race for the meme thing

Me, only vaguely knowing what rat race means: Sure!

What time period is this? Eh. Just know whatever time period, Howard WOULD be that asshole who throws his kid out and disowns them if they get knocked up out of wedlock.

Steve and Bucky met at the doorstep leading up to their apartment building. The sun had set hours ago.

“You got extra hours, too?” Steve asked as Bucky sagged down onto the front steps. He started to sit, then gave up, falling the last few inches with a groan. “Fuck.”

Bucky put a hand up to brace him, letting out a long sigh that clouded the air in front of him. “Yeah.” He pulled his hand back and rubbed it over his face, exhausted. “Christmas is coming, you know.” He sucked in a deep breath, covering his eyes. “I wish it was just presents I’m worried about, but my god, Stevie. The bills. Tuition. Extra groceries. Medicine. Diapers. I don’t remember my parents struggling like this.”

“We’ll get through it,” Steve said, instead of that he remembered his mother struggling vividly, all those nights he stayed home alone just so she could pick up another shift, and another, and another. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, offered him one and then struck a match. “December’s just one month.”

“I guess,” Bucky muttered.

Steve took a long drag, held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, then let out it out in a slow breath. “It’s the only thing Tony’s asked for since he moved in.”

Bucky stayed quite for a while, until half his cigarette was gone, then muttered, “Yeah, I know. I’m not... mad. I’m just... I’m just so tired, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve answered, slinging his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “I know. We’ll get through this, though.” He stubbed his cigarette out, then stood up, dusting his pants off. “Come on. Tony’s waiting for us.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky agreed, taking one last puff before stubbing his out as well.

Tony was bent over the kitchen table when they came in, one hand in his hair, the other scribbling figures onto the paper. Harley was in his rocking bassinet beside him, blinking slowly up at him as Tony used his foot to rock him slowly back and forth.

Steve bent to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Hey, sweetheart. You hungry?”

“We ate,” Tony answered, distracted, then jabbed his pencil toward the stove. “Bucky’s mom brought over some stew.”

Bucky perked up, going over to the stove and opening the pot. “That was nice of her.” He paused, then put the lid back on, turning to Tony with a frown. “Why did ma bring over stew?”

“She thought I looked too skinny,” Tony complained, free hand falling to his rounded belly. “Worried that we’re all working too hard to take care of ourselves properly. I’m too tired to argue. Did you know they raised the price of chicken because of some avian illness? I have to rework our entire grocery budget.” He sighed, turning to look at Harley, whose blinks were getting even slower, sleep clearly creeping up on him. “I wanted to cook dinner for everyone,” he admitted, voice small. “I’m just... I’m just so tired.”

“You’re growing another person in you, Tony,” Steve soothed. “Of course you’re tired.”

“Yeah, but at least I get to be tired at home,” he sighed. “You and Bucky are out there, working at these factories, working overtime and still managing to do homework after--”

“Hey,” Bucky cut in sternly, coming over to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “We talked about this. It’s a decision we all made together. In fact, you were the only one who had to give something up when you got pregnant--Stevie and I are the ones who didn’t want you getting a job on your feet while you’re pregnant.” He smiled a little. “You could probably get more money if you could do your bookkeeping at an office instead of out of our kitchen.”

“But then your mom couldn’t drop in and watch Harley while I wash my hair and take a nap,” Tony mumbled. He turned to look into the crib, frowning. “I just wish I could do more for you guys.”

“You do more than enough,” Steve assured him. “You’re taking care of our son, and having another baby, and taking care of the apartment. On top of that, you offer bookkeeping services to the people who can only afford pennies when you could be making hundreds a week at a big firm.”

Tony sighed again, leaning his chin on his hand. “And I insisted on a Christmas we can’t really afford, so you guys are working even more overtime.”

“You didn’t insist. You asked,” Steve corrected gently.

Bucky smiled at him. “And us working more is a choice we made ourselves. We’re not even doing anything extravagant. A ham, a Christmas tree, some presents.” He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Next year, maybe we’ll be able to spring for some twinkly lights in the window.”

“Next year, I’m gonna have two babies and less time for bookkeeping,” Tony muttered, still frowning.

“Next year, Bucky will have graduated and can have an engineering degree behind him when he applies for jobs,” Steve replied. “And I’ll only have a year to go.” He leaned in to kiss the top of his head as well. “Good thing you already had a degree before you got pregnant, but I’m sorry you didn’t get to do all the schooling you want.”

“Maybe once the babies are in school, I can go back,” Tony mused, then sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta finish this for the Merlins’ shop.” He motioned at the papers in front of him. “If I get it done by tomorrow, Mr. Merlin will give me two boxes of canned goods for free.”

Steve and Bucky immediately gave him space, instead going to fill their bowls with stew. It would certainly help their wallets if Tony could get even one box of canned goods for free. For two? They’d fuck off out of the apartment with Harley if he needed the space.

#bad idea meme #stuckony

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rallamajoop · 2 years

Text

The Mysterious Saga of Ethan Winters' Severed Leg

So, we all know Ethan has a hand stapled back on in RE7 ‒ and that by RE8, he's advanced to first-aid-fluid-ing his severed arms back on himself with hardly a second thought. It's long since become the stuff of memes by this point.

What I did not know was that there's a scene back in RE7 where Ethan reattaches his own severed leg the same way.

I mean, effin' hell, did the rest of you all know this? Why did you not tell me? I have played the shit out of both these games, and I had no idea! Goddamnit, I just got done posting fic which is basically one long, slightly-pornographic laundry-list of every memorably-horrific canonical injury that poor boy receives, and I missed something as big as this?

(Mine you, I do kind of love how screenshots make it look like "You can use this to fix your leg. You can do it!" is just the item text that pops up when you pick up your severed leg again ‒ it's not, it's dialogue, but my god the image.)

Okay, so. For the benefit of everyone as blindsided by this as me: details!

youtube

Ethan Loses His Leg is a scene most playing RE7 will miss, because it happens only if Jack catches Ethan while trying to sneak through the trap door in the pantry, whereupon he'll sever Ethan's lower leg with his spade (yikes). Having done this, Jack will step back, produce a bottle of first aid fluid, and helpfully inform Ethan he can use it to fix his leg ‒ which (if the player acts quickly enough to pick up both items) Ethan will do. I've got to say, Ethan's "What the fuck?" reaction at the end does not even begin to cover the WTFery on display here.

So this is how I found myself legitimately preparing to write meta on the narrative significance of how Ethan Winters can reattach his own leg in an optional scene in RE7, FML.

No, look, fuck it, let's do this. Okay.

A lot of the online discussion of this scene revolves around the question of why Jack would go out of his way to help Ethan reattach the same foot he (Jack) just sliced off. But I think this misses the point: Jack's ultimate goal here isn't to kill Ethan, it's to make him join the family (that he may inadvertently end up killing Ethan in the process is just the sort of tough love you can expect from Daddy Baker).

After all, Jack's perfectly happy to slice Lucas' arm off at his own dining table for a little misbehaviour ‒ why wouldn't he extend the same courtesy to his new 'son'? He's just trying to show Ethan all the crazy benefits he can look forward to as a new member of the Baker family!

The fact he lets Ethan think it's the magic-herb-juice doing all the work is probably just a bit of misdirection. Or maybe what's really in those bottles is some sort of fungal fertiliser. Or maybe this is all just the game doing a bit of extra tutorialising to make sure the player is fully aware of how important all that first aid stuff is going to be ‒ whichever you prefer.

But what really gets me is that there's a disturbingly-strong case to be made that this scene (optional as it may be) should be considered not just canon, but Important Canon. The apparently-burning question of how Ethan could just assume that a little first-aid-fluid will magically fix his severed arm in RE8 comes up most everywhere the game is discussed online ‒ well, here's your answer!

Why? Because he's done it before! How did he know to try it then? Well, Jack told him! And in a world which apparently experiences a major zombie virus outbreak every other week, and in a house where Ethan's already seen people survive some wild and crazy shit, why shouldn't he assume it's this magic-herb-juice that's doing all the work?

But wait, there's more! Because Jack can also slice Ethan's leg off during the boss fight in the slaughterhouse!

youtube

He isn't kind enough to hand Ethan some first aid fluid this time though ‒ playtime is officially over by Boss Battle #2.

But wait there's STILL more! Because, I shit you not, Ethan can also lose a leg to the blade-wielding moulded enemies in the game.

youtube

The moulded aren't so accommodating as to provide Ethan with first aid supplies either, though if you do bring your own though, they will stand politely back wait while you glue your foot back on, which is all you can really ask.

Don't stock up too much though: if your inventory is full, Ethan apparently won't have the space to pick up his own severed leg. Yep, the leg counts as a key item that will take up space in your inventory, because however insane you already thought this game was, it's even wilder than even that.

But this all stands to reason. Given that this may theoretically be the second (or even THIRD) time Ethan has now lost that leg, tutorial time is surely behind us. After all, Jack Baker can't be expected to go easy on you while you (ahem) find your feet indefinitely.

(Thank you, I'll be here all week.)

#Resident Evil 7 #Ethan Winters #Resident Evil Village #Ethan Winters' severed leg #meta #trivia #gore #Youtube #Ethan Winters' severed leg(s)#RE reviews

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anons-has-hlvrai-aus · 4 months

Text

The Metamorphosis of Gordon Freeman [Chapter 4]

“We’re Playing Assassins”

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Forzen invites himself into Gordon’s home.

Word Count: 6,114

Notes: Thank you everybody for your patience! I hope you like bootboys, because I’ve got 18 of them, you’ll meet some of them in this chapter and the rest in a future chapter. Huge shout out to nbenrey-real on Tumblr for their Speculative Sweet Voice Translation.

“Forzen?”

“That’s my name.”

“It sure is.” Gordon sighed, “Who followed you? What the heck is going on? Why are you trying to come in through my window?”

Forzen slowly looked up at Gordon from his awkward huddle against the side of the house. “We’re playing Assassins. It's like Hide and Seek, except instead of somebody being ‘it’ that person is an assassin, and they have a NERF gun.”

“Th-that sounds bad, that sounds VERY bad. Do either of your cousins know you're out here? I need to call them before you guys take it too far.”

He gave Gordon a dirty look, a glint of what seemed to be fear in his one usable eye. “You think I'd be knocking on your window if they didn't know?”

The sound of foam darts hitting somebody from a couple houses over, followed by a muffled laugh, supplemented the answer.

“Lemme in lemme in lemme in-!”

“Okay okay okay!” He held out his non-dominant hand to pull Forzen inside. “Is it just you and the rest of Neo Team Nice playing?”

“I saw an old guy with glasses chasing after Eddy and Tower earlier, so probably not.”

“That doesn't help me any. There's a lot of people with glasses out here, especially from Black Mesa. You know from experience that people there have itchy trigger fingers.”

“You don't. You're built differently. They're all shoot first, you're all questions and stuff.” He looked around the dimly lit room with mild interest. “Woah, wicked lightshow. Did you have a perk saved up or something?”

Gorden waved him and some strings of Sweet Voice out of his room, “It's a long story, do you need me to put Irate Gamer up on the TV or something?”

“Nah, I can connect with my tablet.” The man threw his backpack onto the front of his chest to rummage around, looking incredibly silly in the process.

“Okay, you go do that.” He plucked a ziplock bag from near the bed. “Do you need anything to eat? I've got a surplus of toast from breakfast this morning, and I know you like yours extra crispy.” He shook it for emphasis.

“You got anything that’s charcoal?” He walked backwards out of the bedroom, skillfully catching a burnt bagel that was tossed his way. “Thanks.”

Once Gordon could hear the distant sounds of YouTube from the other room, he closed the bedroom door and slid himself onto his carpeted floor. Forzen was much more tolerable now that he had permanently bailed from the military, but he still had a few quirks that came from his then-situation as an extremely online 19-year-old. He was better off now, living with his two cousins and the 15 other people that were all raising Legal Hell on the HECU, but for some reason he seemed to gravitate towards Gordon every few months whenever he felt ‘homesick.’ It possibly had something to do with his parents disowning him, but Forzen frequently refused to give any other specifics.

Gordon did not appreciate these visitations at all for the first year or so, given he was still going to therapy at the time, but the man's semi-infrequent appearances had done more good for the both of them overall; Gordon was able to help Forzen engage with other people without immediately resorting to internet memes or YouTube, and in turn Forzen somewhat desensitized Gordon to the sight of camo, berets, and whatever else his brain associated with the HECU that the former soldier just had on him for some reason. Forzen was not on ‘official part of the Science Team’ status yet, what with him still being on thin ice with Tommy, but the fact that, as of last year, he and a few of his buddies from The Frat (AKA “Neo Team Nice”) were being considered for invitation to some of the Science Team's regular celebrations was a sign of progress.

There was certainly some irony in the fact that Gordon was more quick to invite a former bootboy into his life than he was of Benrey; they were pretty much the same person in some ways, but the differences were pretty transparent in Gordon’s eyes.

Forzen had literally been a kid trying to pay for college when he and the Science Team crossed paths. The guy wasn't even supposed to be deployed! Benrey, meanwhile, had intentionally made himself a problem for Gordon at every possible opportunity, and the three or so days they’d spent together had been more than enough Benrey for his lifetime. Forzen showed up in small doses, and usually left before he got too annoying to be around (even if he was getting better, he still had his moments of obnoxiousness).

Between the two, Forzen was also better because Gordon had managed to turn him into an almost-tolerable person; hell, he’d say the guy was a few steps away from being normal! He’d honestly much rather have Forzen teaching him how to do this alien shit.

Alas, another difference between the two annoyances in his life was that the one he tolerated more wasn’t an alien.

Although, it did give Gordon an idea…

He felt his way into the living room, Forzen somehow not needing any light to navigate the house and thus not bothering to turn any of the lights on prior to Gordon emerging from his room.

“Forzen.”

“That’s my name!” The man looked over from the center of the couch, the large smile on his face only just visible thanks to the glow of the television; his eye sparkled similarly to how Benrey’s did not that long ago.

“I’ve been consistently getting it right right for months now, you don’t need to get excited every time.”

“But it makes me happy, because sometimes I forget it too.” He relaxed to a more neutral expression.

“You forget your own name??”

“Only sometimes.”

Was this guy even sure that ‘Forzen’ was his real name? Gordon shook his head in bewilderment. That was a can of worms for somebody else to worry about. “Anyways, you and Benrey used to be friends, right?”

“We used to be best friends.”

“Cool. Did he ever tell you anything about Black Mesa?”

Forzen shrugged, “Sometimes. Neither of us liked to talk about it, so we just…didn’t.”

“You-? Hold on!” Gordon flopped into the loveseat, emoting with his hands as he usually did, albeit with more bumps into Sweet Voice. “What do you mean by ‘neither’? That means you-when did YOU visit Black Mesa prior to the Resonance Cascade?”

Forzen growled, “I don’t remember, time is an illusion. I just know it was after they let Benrey out for the first time. Military got access to experimental stuff and they’d test it out on people. They put some of the experimental stuff in my body, started teleporting everywhere, then fell into a restricted area when it stopped. Benrey harassed me until I left. We became friends after that.”

“Oh, so like, the experiments they did-wait, is that why you teleport sometimes?”

“Mm-sure.” He gnawed on his burnt bagel until it audibly crunched, a chunk of the literal charcoal freed from his efforts. He proceeded to ‘munch’ on the piece of bagel while he talked. “The Bill Nyes from your old work call it, uh, ‘harmony fuckers’ or something.”

“Can you not talk and chew at the same time please?”

Forzen obliged with a hum and another of his signature shrugs.

“Thank you.” Gordon sighed and paced around the room. That wasn’t the sort of information he came out to ask about, in fact it gave him more questions about what was going on with Benrey before the Resonance Cascade happened. What did he mean by ‘let Benrey out’? Did they keep the guy in a fucking cage? Were they trying to domesticate him? Acclimate him to being around humans? Why?

‘Focus, Freeman.’

Right, right. Thank you, inner scientist.

“Thank you.”

Forzen made a confused ‘huh’ at him.

Gordon shook his head, “Ignore that, I’m getting distracted. So-!” He shifted himself into a normal sitting position. “Everything you just said sounds VERY interesting, but I actually did have an important question to ask.”

“Mm?”

“Did Benrey, in all the time you’ve known each other, ever talk to you about the Black Mesa Sweet Voice?” He asked.

Forzen looked at him silently, eventually answering with an indifferent “no.”

Gordon swore under his breath, burying his face so deeply into his palms that it left his glasses askew. He’d hoped that maybe Forzen knew a thing or two about the Sweet Voice; having been friends with Benrey for so long, surely a normal guy (or at least normal compared to anybody else that knew Benrey) like Forzen would have been just a little curious about how the Sweet Voice worked.

Forzen had been a bootboy just one lifetime ago, though, and in Gordon’s personal experience they tended to not question or second-guess anything.

“Why do you wanna know about Sweet Voice so badly?”

Correction: Bootboys tended to not question or second-guess anything…unless it was to Gordon’s inconvenience. Forzen wasn’t a bootboy anymore, but the statement still partially stands true.

“Again, long story. How long were you planning to-?”

The doorbell rang, Forzen immediately cut off the TV and ducked out of view from whoever could see him from the main entryway. Gordon sidled over to the door, then stalled. He couldn’t be seen with piss-yellow Sweet Voice pouring from his mouth, he was anxious enough as it was. He rummaged around a nearby drawer and slapped on the first paper mask he was able to find before wearily cracking open the door.

“Hello?” Gordon answered, and then let out a very loud scream. He almost immediately calmed down once he recognized the visitor. “Mitchell! Don’t fucking scare me like that, dude.”

“Hello, Freeman.”

Mitchell was the less-weird of Forzen’s two cousins; both of them were weird, but if Gordon had to label only one of them as ‘the weird one’, it certainly wouldn’t have been Mitchell. He was a handsome-looking guy, despite the odd scars that he had apparently gotten while in Black Mesa, and seemed to be the closest thing to a leader when it came to the shenanigans of Neo Team Nice. Unfortunately, he had a strange aura about him that always scared the hell out of Gordon whenever they crossed paths, and he always, always talked like he had been trapped in a bad Metal Gear game for several years. Mitchell was a mixed bag to say the least, but he was never rude to Gordon, and that’s what really mattered.

“Howdy. How’s it, uh, how’s it going?”

“Fine. I have a question for you.”

“Yeaaaaah?”

Mitchell blinked a few times before answering. It made Gordon wonder if his manner of speaking was intentional. “Can I squat in your house for a couple hours?”

“Whuh-? I-? Pardon??”

The confusion must have been visible on Gordon’s face, because Mitchell immediately took this as his cue to explain everything in the most nothing way possible.

Mitchell smirked cockily. “Adrian and I made a deal that if he couldn’t find all of us before sundown, he would have to wear The Chicken Hat.”

“Can I ask why you have a chicken hat?”

“Collective punishment for us leaving the military. Everybody was supposed to get one, but they only sent a single hat, not that it affects us since the military can't force us to wear them.”

“I see…” Gordon slowly nodded. “That uh, yeah, that makes sense.”

It did not, in fact, make sense.

“I will ask only once more, Freeman. Can I-” Mitchell let out a horribly exaggerated yelp before ragdolling at the foot of the door. A little foam dart rolled onto the grass next to him.

A man dressed in cargo shorts and a white tank top came into view. He was immediately recognizable as Adrian, not because of how absolutely strapped with NERF guns he was, or the the gas mask he was wearing, but because of the tween-sized frog-thing trailing behind him like a puppy.

The two shared a moment of eye-contact before the ‘assassin’ gave a silent thumbs up. He ran out of sight just as quickly as he arrived, and Gordon decided to also make himself scarce upon Mitchell’s body despawning.

He peeled the paper mask off his face, drawing his eyes from the door back to the nearby couch. “It’s safe to come out now, man. Neither of your cousins know you snuck in here.”

“Nice.” He put the TV back on.

Gordon melted into the recliner for a bit to watch with the young man. He couldn’t help but squint while doing so.

“Don’t you think you should watch something other than Irate Gamer?” He asked, “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen this episode at least five different times at my house.”

Forzen let out a huff. “No. I like it, it makes me happy.”

“But that’s not normal. We’ve talked about this, you gotta branch out so you don’t just default to that when talking to new people.”

“If you wanna watch something else, you can just ask.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Gordon sighed, “You’re doing a really good job at fitting in right now, despite your shortcomings. You were almost as bad as Benrey in some of the ways you talked to people, but you’re doing great now! The real world, outside of Neo Team Nice and outside of the Science Team, is like a uh, a giant puzzle, right? Everybody has a place. I have a place, Adrian and Mitchell have a place, and you have a place!”

Forzen let out a grunt to imply he was sorta listening.

Gordon started to go into one of his little talks, ‘The Puzzle Metaphor’ he liked to call this one. Everybody has to fit into the puzzle, no matter what. You might have a few people without needing to fit in, but you need to be able to fit in to get along with everybody!

“Liking Irate Gamer is an innocent hobby, but it’s not gonna be the most acceptable one when you’re trying to meet new people. Not everybody likes it, and they’re not gonna want you around if that’s all you wanna talk about! But, uh, you know that already.”

“…You done now?”

Forzen clearly had enough babying from Gordon today. He got annoyed with Gordon, too, sometimes, even if he clearly meant well.

“Yeah, yeah I’m done now. Ju-just trying to hold out for ya, man. Like I said, a real big improvement from how you were.” He pointed to the kitchen, “I’ll be in there if you need me…”

Gordon waited until it was dark out before politely kicking Forzen out of his house, perfectly exposing the poor man to a barrage of darts. While waiting, he had made sandwiches out of the remaining ‘toast’ from breakfast that morning, plus whatever meats and cheeses were closest to running out; Gordon passed them around to the conglomeration of buff guys loitering in his yard, plus Lydia and Seargent Nutter when they were finally tagged out.

“Excellent job, everyone!” Mitchell proudly beamed. “We have successfully conquered my brother in a test of unbridled stealth! We will prepare The Chicken Hat first thing tomorrow morning!”

Gordon cupped his hands to be heard among the discordant cheering. “Cool, great, get out of my yard now!”

“There’s no need to be a sourpuss, Gordon. You’re too young to be getting so uppity about people on your property. Maybe wait another 20 years or so.” Sgt. Nutter gave him a wrinkly grin that really emphasized her age. “How’s Harold doing? Still back in the ring?”

“He’s been back in the ring for a while now, I don’t see why he’d wanna stop.” He gave her an annoyed tone, one she apparently didn’t like.

“It’s only a question, Gordon. I just like checking up on him.”

“Well you both have phones, I don’t see why you can’t call or text instead.”

“And communicate with him directly? Goodness, Gordon, are you trying to stop my poor, purple heart?” She got up close to Gordon, an evil glint in her big, buggy eyes. “By the way, this is your reminder that the only reason your ‘Science Team’ is alive right now is because I went AWOL. If I was manning the radio array when the orders went out…”

Nutter made a slow and quiet ‘pew’ sound.

“…So don’t forget that. You can get uppity with me all you want, but don’t you dare keep that up with them.” She pointed to Forzen and his cousins. Right, fuck, all three of them were younger than Gordon by at least five years. “I’ve held a grudge with Harold for a decade now, don’t think I won’t hold one threefold against you.”

“U-understood, ma’am. Uh, sir? Uh…Sergeant! Right away! Mrs. Sgt. Coomer-Nutter! Ma’am.”

The woman giggled heartily, as if she wasn’t threatening a (probably) violent grudge against him just now. “Oh, Gordon. You silly thing. Just Sgt. Nutter is fine, or just Nutter. I only use ‘Coomer’ in legal documents and on the field.”

“I’m pretty sure one of those two things is illegal.”

“Hasn’t stopped me yet!” She grabbed another sandwich from the tray Gordon was carrying around, a corned beef in lightly-toasted pumpernickel. “Goodbye, Gordon!”

A horrible, limousine-sized monstrosity known as the Jumble Jeep pulled in, a good enough sign if any that Neo Team Nice was leaving now. The team all gave their goodbyes for the night.

A few notable ones stuck out to Gordon.

“See you, Gourd-Man.” From Forzen.

Eddy, who Gordon immediately picked out from his glasses, ran by, wishing for him to “Keep up the good health.” Gordon rightfully interpreted this as a threat since he was the one licensed medic of the group. You should never piss off the healer.

“Catch ya later, Freeman!” Was barely audible from…either Adrian or Mitchell? They both sounded alike, he couldn’t tell unless he focused on the inflection. It sounded too optimistic to be Mitchell, so it was probably the oddly tender-hearted Adrian.

“Goodbye, Human Gordon!” Was loudly uttered by a guy named Anthony. “Human Anthony, who is a human, is saying goodbye to you now!”

Anthony was most certainly not a human. Gordon didn’t know what he was, because the rest of the Team was intent on keeping it a secret, but he wasn’t hurting anybody.

“You don’t have to say that every time you leave, Anthony.” Gordon waved at him, paused, then motioned him over. “Actually, hey! Anthony! Before you leave, I have a question for you!”

“Human Gordon has a question for Human Anthony?” He ran over and stopped a perfect five feet away from him. His orange-yellow eyes focused directly on Gordon’s face, and his arms waved a bit in front of him before he snapped them behind his back, military style. “What is your question?”

“So from one not-alien that has been to Black Mesa to another, have you ever heard of something called the Black Mesa Sweet Voice?”

Please say yes, please say yes! He needed somebody, anybody that could help him turn the fucking bubbles off. He didn’t want to bother Coomer after saying he wasn’t calling anybody tonight, and he couldn’t wait until Benrey got back in the morning, assuming that’s when he was planning to come back. He needed to speak and breathe without those terrible little orbs popping up in his peripherals. He dearly missed the chromesthesia; it was a little intrusive when he became too focused on one emotion, but it didn’t make his every thought into a public service announcement.

“Yes! I HAVE heard of this Sweetened Vocalization!”

“That’s great!” Gordon didn’t even hide the elation in his voice. ‘Pistachio, let’s go!’

“So you’ve used it before?”

“No!”

“Shit.” Gordon hissed. ‘Mahogany, fuck me.’

“But!” Anthony smiled. “Human Johnson has!”

“No I haven’t!” Johnson distantly rebuttaled. “You’re thinking of Jackson!”

“Oh yes! I apologize for the confusion! Both of you look alike!” Anthony clapped his hands over Gordon’s shoulders. It felt like he had been slapped with a live lobster. “Human Jackson is the ‘Jack of all trades’. He has many experiences with many things, he will help you! I will bring him to you!”

“Thank-”

“JACKSON!!!!!”

“Aaugh!” Gordon let out a weak scream. “Jeez, you’re so loud!”

“Thank you! It is because of my human lungs! Look, here comes Jackson!”

“Thank you, I can see that! I’ll meet him halfway.”

Gordon pried himself out of Anthony’s hold and slinked from one broad-shouldered man to another. Jackson and Johnson were easy to spot because they both had a cigar of some sort in their mouth, but Jackson’s was seemingly always lit, if how much smoke it actually produced was anything to go by. They did look a little too much alike, in Anthony’s defense.

“Hi, howdy, good evening.”

“Freeman!” Jackson laughed, “What’cha doing asking about that Sweet Voice?” Smoke puffed out with every hard consonant, fading almost immediately when it did.

“That’s a long story.” Gordon repeated his current go-to explanation. “You know how to use it though, right? The Sweet Voice?”

Jackson tugged the cigar from his mouth and cleanly sung four notes, two low notes followed by a high and medium note, in a voice that very distinctly sounded like Hatsune Miku. Instead of bubbles, the Voice took the form of pastel-colored smoke.

“That is wonderful, incredible even.”

“Glad you think so.” He put the cigar back in his mouth. “I know you ain’t asking around just to look at pretty colors, though.”

Sighing, Gordon removed a mask he had thrown on before kicking Forzen out. “So I, uh, kinda got stuck with it. I was hoping you might know how to turn it off?”

“Turn it off?” Jackson repeated. He took the cigar out again. “Fuck if I know. I’ve been stuck with it for years, now!”

“What?”

He held the cigar out to Gordon. “This thing ain’t even real. I just carry it so nobody finds out I blow balls from my mouth.”

“In PUBLIC?” A guy immediately responded, like a knee-jerk reaction.

“Yes Mike, in public, shaddup.” He sneered. The smoke wavered into an almost-bubbly shape when it went from white to more vibrant colors. ‘Orange to cyan. You’re pissing me off, man!’

“So you can’t turn it off?” Gordon asked.

“I don’t know, they just gave me the surgery and asked if it worked. Adam got the same surgery and he only made bubbles one time before it stopped working for him. I’ve learned that keeping my mind empty and suppressing my emotions keeps it a white and smoky-looking, so I just ‘picked up’ smoking to mask the problem.”

“That’s probably not healthy.”

“It’s not, but I don’t know how else to fix the problem. I’d marry the first guy that could perform that miracle, though.”

A deep, familiar voice butted in from behind. “Sound like a you problem, man.”

Gordon quickly turned around, meeting Benrey’s face by mere inches. Jackson screamed in Hatsune Miku.

“What’s up? Sharing notes with the class? S’all cool. It’s your first day, gotta catch up to the curriculum.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Gordon asked. He chose to ignore the baker’s dozen of scared and confused mumblings from the former-bootboys nearby.

“Doesn’t matter. So you wanna do Sweet Voice?”

With a tired exhale, Gordon let out a long and defeated “Yessss.”

“Okay, okay children. Class is-class is in session. I’m gonna teach you how to sing so good man.”

“I don’t wanna know how to sing! I wanna turn it off!”

“Oh that’s easy.” Benrey smiled.

He quickly shoo’d off Neo Team Nice, minus Jackson and Adam, promising to bring them back safely before promptly no-clipping them into Gordon’s house.

To Gordon’s (not) surprise, the group took Benrey’s words at face value and left. Gordon hoped he wasn’t expected to drive the men home, but he didn’t trust the other man with transporting them so…he might as well.

“You coming?” Benrey shouted.

Gordon turned to see a head and upper torso clipping through a wall. He didn’t feel like commenting, just nodding and heading back inside was enough to ease whatever worries Benrey had for him.

Gordon, Benrey, Jackson and Adam sat in a circle near the center of the living room floor. Chairs were apparently out of the question for the lesson, and nobody was willing to challenge ‘Professor’ Benrey about it.

“Your Sweet Voice is mapped to the first noise you made when you got it. Talking or yelling or whatever will map it to your normal voice, you gotta go into your settings and key-bind it to something else.” Benrey explained.

Jackson sheepishly raised his hand. “Can you explain that in non-gamer terms?”

“No.”

Gordon gave Benrey a Look.

“I’m joking, man. Lighten up.” He made a weird rattling noise before continuing. “Go into the filing cabinet in your brain. Go to your brain cabinet.”

Jackson and Adam both nodded.

“You too, Feetman.”

Gordon let out an aggravated “fine.” Admittedly, he had an easier time imagining the video game menu, so he stuck with that.

To put it simply, the Sweet Voice (SV) worked by pairing up vibrations in the voice box; if you matched the SV with humming, for example, it would only appear when you hummed. You could also completely change the sound output of the SV, which was apparently how Jackson managed to get his Miku voice.

Having access to the SV automatically gave one the ability to do what Benrey called a ‘throat whistle’ (which he humorously shortened to thistle). It was like laryngeal stridor, a condition that caused somebody to ‘whistle’ while breathing, except this was entirely on command and not connected to any health issue that Gordon could think of. Jackson had seemingly figured out how to thistle on his own and matched it while thinking about a certain digital idol, and from there you could probably guess what happened.

Gordon wasn’t sure how Benrey and Jackson had managed to help him actually perform a thistle, it all sounded like nonsense when Benrey explained and Jackson just kept telling him to ‘not overthink it’, but he did eventually get the hang of thistling. It was oddly fun on its own.

Adam had apparently thistled by accident when he got the SV and didn’t know how to replicate the sound, which was why it hadn’t worked for him for so long. He seemed quite elated with having a new set of noises to bother his boyfriend with.

It was a very effective lesson overall.

Unfortunately, this was also how he learned that you could have a maximum of two voices paired on you at any time, which was both a blessing and a curse as demonstrated when Benrey opened his mouth and released a horrifying harmony of his usual ‘singing’ voice and a high-pitched beep.

Gordon was grateful when he stopped.

“Pretty cool, right?”

“NEVER do that again!” He demanded, spewing a LOT of dark blue at Benrey. Neither of them needed a reminder for that translation.

“Ouch, man.” Benrey frowned.

He frowned. “And I mean it, too.”

Jackson,now that he was more acquainted with the non-human, seemed more humored by the display than anything. “I can finally go to the non-smoking sections of buildings without looking like a jackass! This is the best day of my life!” He looked at Benrey. “Fucking marry me, dude!”

“Not interested.”

“Perfectly understandable!” He returned to slouching, and looked over at Adam, who had figured out how to alternate between a car horn rendition of ‘la cucaracha’ and a slide whistle. Jackson started responding with his Hatsune Miku voice and what sounded like the rough imitation of an electric guitar.

Benrey gave Gordon an intense look. “Now you.”

Jackson and Adam stopped what they were doing to watch.

Gordon’s heart started to thump in his head at the attention, he could barely hear himself think. His hands balled up in front of him and pulled strands of carpet into their grip.

‘Pink lemonade. I’m nervous, not afraid!’

It felt like being stuck at an interview. He hated interviews. He was always being judged.

A pair of hands placed themselves over one of his own, the left hand.

“Hey man,” Benrey spoke in a slightly hushed tone. “Don’t take the class thing too serious? S’just a silly joke. Just a goof. Like the passports. I’m not testing you or anything.”

He looked into the other’s eyes, shiny cyan scleras with irises so deep and dark that they blended into the pupil. He must have learned that from Dr. Coomer, because he did the same thing when Gordon needed help calming down. He wasn’t sure when they would have told him, but that probably didn’t matter right now.

His heartbeat settled some.

‘Breathe, Freeman.’

The reminders from his inner scientist came to him clearly now.

‘Square breaths. Inhale four, hold four, exhale four, hold four, repeat.’

In four.

Hold four.

Out four.

Hold hour.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

Again.

And again.

And once more.

‘Focus.’

Focus.

Settings Menu, Sweet Voice, he could see it now.

Input 1: Default

Re-binding Input 1…

Input 1: Thistle

Inhale, exhale.

No Sweet Voice, not even a single bubble!

Benrey looked at him expectantly.

Was he waiting for Gordon to serenade him with the song of his people? Jackson and Adam were waiting as well.

He was tempted. He shouldn’t have been.

‘What are YOU waiting for?’ Asked an irrational thought. ‘This is something you’ve always wanted to do, isn’t it?’

Maybe for a moment, but that was when the Player was in control. It had been a fleeting desire that scuttled off after that game of Spin the Bottle, nothing more.

…

And yet?

Output 1: Default

Re-binding Output 1…

Gordon took in a slow breathe. He felt the slight constriction in his throat as he sung out the unearthly tone of a synthesizer he’d once heard humming away in a plant nursery. It was in that eerie pitch that lingered only for alien abductions in movies or shows.

That’s what Gordon felt now.

That’s what Gordon was now.

He let the pitch fluctuate, and held it in spots where it sounded nice until he ran out of air. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing breathe back into his lungs to hold back tears.

It was beautiful, and terrifying, and dreadful, and wonderful, and every other appropriate descriptor that his shitty, shitty memory failed to conjure.

One of Benrey’s hands moved off of Gordon’s, he felt something wipe a dampness out of his eyes, slightly dislodging his glasses. Gordon had a pretty good idea of who the culprit was; his eyes confirmed his suspicions once he willed them open.

Benrey pulled his hand away from Gordon’s face, clasping it over his mouth. If there was Sweet Voice, it was well hidden. Usually he would try to calm down Gordon with some blue but…maybe he was trying to avoid that.

“Uh,” The man mumbled behind his covered mouth, “final lesson for tonight. Binding the Sweet Voice doesn’t mean it’ll only show up when you want it. Big emotions will make it all just kinda-pfffffft. Ya know?”

“Why are you telling me-?” Gordon didn’t finish, he immediately noticed how his shaky breath let out tiny yellow bubbles. ‘Lemonade means I’m afraid.’

“Hey-” Jackson frowned, “I don’t really know what’s going on but…you seem scared right now, and it’s okay if you are. You just…can’t let it consume you, okay? Your beautiful friend seems to know what he’s doing, I think you can rely on him for whatever is going on.”

Gordon nodded without comment.

“You go sleep now.” Benrey got up.

“I can’t do that, I have to-”

“Sleep now, please?” His face was blank.

Gordon struggled to convey his concerns. He knew that arguing with Benrey wouldn’t make him any less stubborn, but Gordon had to take Jackson and Adam home. He had a car, he knew the area, he knew where they lived.

Benrey didn’t know that stuff, if he did he would maybe feel better about letting him take them home?

Gordon thistled out a shaky tone. Where words failed him, a blossom of technicolored orbs seemed to convey everything he felt.

It all must’ve been more complex than how he currently understood it; he wasn’t sure how ‘yellow like curry means I’m worried’ and ‘robin eggs with wine, I NEED to know it’s fine’ were able to combine with a few other colors Gordon didn’t notice in order to explain his concerns…but for Benrey it was more than enough.

Benrey looked at the other two men in the room. “Go wait outside, please.”

They both nodded and bid Gordon ‘goodnight.’

With the living room empty, he crouched back down to Gordon’s level and let out a sigh. “Words are hard.”

Gordon laughed. “Yeah. Th-they are.”

“But you understand words better right now, I think.”

“…Yeah. I do. My brain is translating the rhymes alright, though.”

“It’ll make sense, eventually.” Benrey said, “You won’t even need the rhymes…You’re doing good, even if Sweet Voice doesn’t make sense yet.”

Gordon waited for more, but received nothing else. Benrey looked like he was waiting, too, but for what…Gordon didn’t know.

Benrey let out another sigh and sang a string of blue between them both.

Gordon tentatively reached out to an orb, it popped at his touch and filled Gordon with a familiar calming sensation. It was much more appreciated than he had realized, and so he felt compelled to pop two more bubbles to let the calm completely overtake him.

“Thanks.” He mumbled.

A tiny smile showed up on Benrey’s face as he sat back up and reached over to help Gordon do the same.

The room had become completely dark without Gordon even realizing it. He had never turned the lights back on, having just used the perpetual stream of Sweet Voice to light his way. Now the only light left was the slowly-fading bubbles of calming blue, and even those were soon gone.

Gordon’s eyesight slowly adjusted, as was typical of the human eye.

Benrey coughed a bit, getting his attention. Gordon’s eyes had adjusted enough to barely notice the man’s hunched over posture, which almost immediately straightened upon Gordon looking his way.

“I can handle things.” Benrey told him. “You’ve had a long day, you need rest. I know how to find uh, Forzen. The bootboys all live together, that’s what Bubby said. I can-” He smacked his lips a couple times, sighed again, then let silence overcome the room for a minute. “…yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Gordon let out a tired laugh. The irrational thoughts whispered to him sweet assurances that it would be fine.

Gordon allowed them to win.

“Okay, I’ll trust you.” He took out his phone and unlocked it. “Give me your number, if anything goes wrong-”

“Nothing will go wrong.” Benrey insisted.

He looked at the man with doubt. “If anything goes wrong, doesn’t have to be tonight, it could be tomorrow, or next week, or whatever…if anything goes wrong, if anything IS wrong, call me. Not text, call. If I can’t do anything to help, I can at least contact the rest of the Science Team for you.”

Benrey looked at the ground before telling Gordon his number. He flew off before Gordon’s confirmation text could send, but the irrational thoughts convinced him to let it go for now.

Gordon went about his usual routine, this time in darkness; he was actually proud of himself for being able to handle it for this long, as silly as it likely would have sounded to an outsider.

About five minutes after Benrey had left, his phone buzzed.

‘bootboys delibirded pls be sleep when i hime’

He couldn’t help but snort at the text. At least Jackson and Adam were home now.

It was only 10 o’clock at night, but Benrey was right: Gordon had a long day today, what with the doctor’s appointment and the alien puberty and the game of Assassins happening outside his house and his first ever lesson regarding the aforementioned alien puberty, he definitely deserved a long rest.

Gordon’s eyes drooped shut the moment his head hit the pillow, but his mind did not ease itself into sleep until he was able to hear a mumbling in his attic that unmistakably belonged to his new roommate. The barely-hushed hoots and hollers of a man deep into an online match was oddly soothing as Gordon slipped into unconsciousness.

#hlvrai #hlvrai au #hlvrai metamorphosis au #metamorphosis au #fanfic #the metamorphosis of gordon freeman

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oc-atelier · 5 months

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🍀💀🎓

Weird combo but I'd love to know!

(Shhh that's totally okay oh my gosh! I love different types of combos of questions! :D) For this, I'll answer with my main WHA OC Leoht!

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Leoht was actually inspired from a, "Create a Witch Hat Atelier OC," meme going around a few years ago! For each question that was on the prompt sheet, one comment on the post would decide what each part of him would end up being! So, it went something to the effect of this:

1.) Brimhat or pointy hat? Pointy hat

2.) Magic specialty? Lightning

3.) Forbidden body mods or occupation? Occupation: Using lightning magic in some form

4.) Where do they live? The Assembly/the Great Hall

5.) Color scheme? They have a dark color scheme with very vibrant details (imagining lightning striking through a dark cloud)

6.) Hat details? Inspired by Sailor Moon's Makoto's oak leaves crown

7.) Robe details? Very clean and elegant robe with decorations related to lightning; basically, the outside is very fancy, but inside has a thunder pattern and more chaotic?

(The final two that needed comments ( 8.) Extras? and 9.) Pen design?) I came up with myself)

And thus Leo's creation was assured thanks to a fun little meme all my friends were participating in at the time JJKLGSKLJGKJ

As for what inspired his personality as a character, even though he's since deviated from his original inspirations and has become his own thing over time, I definitely initially based his personality around really goofy, charismatic, not-a-single-thought-in-that-head and sunshine-y characters such as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel bc I was basically trying to make an OC that encapsulated my favorite character archetypes and mashing them all together

But nowadays he definitely has a nice balance of everything I love in my favorite character types, and I'm really happy with how far he's come in his development since then!

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Oh, absolutely! I'd say his biggest ones that affect him the most would be his fear of water, fear of thunder (ironically) and fear of heights.

His fear of water has been around for about as long as he can remember, though whether that fear is because he's afraid of the idea of drowning or because he's never learned how to swim is unclear even to him, but he has a feeling that the two kind of go hand-in-hand in contributing to his fear. He'll still go around smaller bodies of water like streams and the like, but anything bigger than that and he gets paranoid about tripping and falling in

His fear of thunder is more so due to the loud booming noise of it more than anything. Since he was little, he's always gotten rattled up by loud sudden noises, and thunder was no different. Even when he lived underwater via The Great Hall, the muffled noise of thunder above the surface was still enough to keep him awake at night, and once he moved into his professor's atelier for the first time and had to bare witness to thunder full-throttle without the safety net of the sea above him-- well, it really only further cemented a phobia he already had and cranked it up to an eleven

As for his fear of heights, Leo only really started developing a phobia of it when he was first learning how to fly with his shoes. One wrong glyph drawn on the soles of his shoes was all it really took to make him utterly terrified of flying high in the air like that again, and even though for a bit (after he met his childhood friend Elric, who tried his best to help Leo overcome that phobia) Leo seemed more or less calmer about heights than he used to be, after his and Elric's friendship ended out of nowhere during their youth Leo found his confidence in flying shaken and his ability to do so properly even more so. So, despite trying his hardest to hide his phobia of heights from those around him as an adult, all it takes is looking at his face once to realize he's completely and utterly horrified at the events that are unfolding that led him back into the air after so long spent deliberately avoiding it

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

I've had Leoht living in my brain since January 13th, 2022 (but technically he was starting to exist on the 9th since I was brainstorming him around that time)! He's officially been around for the past two years now, and I'm honestly so beyond happy and proud of how much he's grown and developed as a character; and I'm even happier that I revisited his outfit design last year and gave him a much needed new and improved one since I was learning more about character design and how I wanted to incorporate the different elements I wanted for his character into his clothing; the colors are definitely a massive upgrade bc his old outfit colors were hideous to me JKJLKSJDKLG

#long post #ask #oliolioxenfreewrites #Thank you so much for being so kind and sending such a sweet and fun ask! I really appreciate it a lot;;;;;#Also apologies for the length SGJGKJSJDGJKS #I never really get too many chances to ramble about my OCs so I accidentally just braindumped everything here without meaning to #but I hope it was still a fun and interesting read!

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jungshookz · 1 year

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Hey Cee, I don't think I ever thought I'd ask for advice like this. But I genuinely just want to know what your take or anyone who reads this thinks about my situation?

I have a guy friend I had met on a dating site. Originally not intending to be friends, but ended up just being friends because he thought of me only as that. However, before he had come out of left field with that statement, I had thought what we had going on was flirting? Talking every day, even still, sending each other funny reels and going to museums or cute fun places together. Meeting up and just talking or taking a walk together, yknow.

And I guess because he had stated he doesn't see me as anything more than just a friend already, I wasn't letting myself get my hopes up. He drew the line, and I was okay with it, im still okay with it, because i genuinely value him as a friend, and i love talking and meeting up with him.

But I've gotten attached? Maybe it's because I never got to even tell him I like him before he went and told me how he only sees me as a friend. And after all this time, I've come to like him more and more? And as sad as it sounds, a small part of me wants to think it would be possible he'd like me or eventually come to like me after so long?

But recently, he asked me to help him take pictures for his dating profile. And like a good supportive friend, I said I'd help. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping him, but I suddenly thought about smitten y/n and how she went above and beyond to help JK with his date despite having huge crush on him herself, doing it to be supportive and seeing him happy. Going to get the flowers and then florist Yoongi asking her "why are you doing this? What do you get out of this?"

And then I had to take a step back and really ask myself, what AM I doing?? Ngl, it kinda stung seeing that he'd ask me to take pics for him to update his dating profile cause he wants to get back onto dating and finding someone. Cause after so long, I thought maybe he hasn't gotten back into it because we've been talking and going to do stuff together? Maybe I'm being delusional or hopeful. Realistically, I know I don't have a chance. I never did. But it felt like i might have had a possibility after so long?

I guess after that entire spiel, my question is, should I continue on as we are and take those pictures, be genuinely supportive friend, and learn to move on sooner or later? Or idk, what other options do I really have?

I don't want to ruin this friendship, what we have going on right now, by telling him I like him. Cause I know what the answer would be, and it would hurt even more to lose him as someone to talk and hang out with. But it kinda stings knowing I was never an option to him romantically.

I guess it's also because recently im starting to feel like I'm lacking to be appealing or attractive to guys. I'm only ever seen as friend material and not dating material.

Thank you so much for reading this. I just felt like I needed to rant and get some outside opinions.

hi! i’m happy to help as best as i can but don’t feel pressured at all to listen to me or anyone else, do what you’re comfortable with doing!! also my answer might be a little all over the place because i have so much to say and i feel like i need to get it all out before it disappears from my brain so here we go ALSO reading over this there is some tough love in here but i feel like everyone needs tough love every now and then and also everything i’m saying here is coming from a place of genuine love and care :-)) i’m a sagittarius we r blunt people whoops

some guys have extra firm tofu level dense brains and don’t interpret what you’re doing together the same way that we’d interpret it — the sending each other memes, going to places together, etc — if you asked them they’d just be like yea i sent you that meme because i thought it was funny and also we went to the park together because it was nice out and i like the park??

i know you said you’re okay with being friends but are you really okay with it? because i don’t think you’d still be pining after him if you were really okay with it!! it’s okay to NOT be okay with it, don’t force yourself to try to feel another way just so you can justify continuing to be friends with him — holding onto the hope that one day he’ll come around and like you back is not a healthy way to deal with your feelings

with that being said, we can’t rule out the possibility that maybe one day he’ll change his mind and see you in a romantic light, but we have to take the situation as it is in current time. right now, he’s made it clear that he sees you as a friend and that the relationship is platonic. right now, he has asked you to take pictures of him for a dating app. right now, i assume he is on the dating app talking to other people. you can be hopeful, but you also have to be realistic.

smitten!y/n did go above and beyond for jungkook! she did all of that for a man who didn’t see her in a romantic light and was literally on a date with another woman. and yoongi was so right in grilling y/n with those questions because really, truly, WHY would she do something like that for jungkook knowing that she’d get nothing in return? why is she hurting herself just so she can stay close to him?

of course it would be sad to lose him as someone to talk and hang out with, but talking and hanging out with him when you like him romantically and the feeling isn’t mutual is guaranteed going to be an even more horrible feeling. and it’s only going to get worse if he started dating someone and you still had feelings for him

at the end of the day it’s really up to you whether you’d like to continue being in this friendship or not. i can’t tell you what to do, your friends and family can’t tell you what to do — the only person you can listen to is yourself. that’s one thing that i learned from my relationship — even though everyone around me was telling me to do this and that, ultimately i had to listen to myself and do what i felt was right.

this is your life and i am simply a person on the internet, but this situation is one that i’ve faced before and i promise you that there is someone out there who’s going to be more than happy to go on walks with you and send memes to you because they’re romantically interested in you! i know it’s hard to believe but at one point even i thought that i was just unattractive and unloveable and that no one was going to date me but i am a firm believer that the universe will start to work its magic once you come to a place where you’re happy with yourself <3 it’s tough work but it’s so worth it, i’m not there yet either but i hope you find comfort in knowing that i’m right here working on myself alongside you!!

#ask cee #answered

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valeriestahl · 10 months

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3, 16, and 29 please??

i'm sorry for posting this meme and then immediately forgetting about it. classic me :)

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

as of recent, i'm really happy with i think my woman's calling because i think i got the character voices down and it felt really natural and exhilarating to write - kinks i haven't yet explored! yippee! weirdly balanced relationships!? negotiation!? it was fun and a bit complicated but felt very natural to write. this is an astarion/tav baldur's gate 3 fan fiction. it's BASICALLY self-insert. i'm kidding.

i'm also pretty proud of my loser's club reverse bang, though i think my artist never finished reading it, probably because it's kind of boring :) just kidding. it was hard to write because it was very beyond my usual style and was...rated T for teen. but i'm proud of it as an actual story. born from a wish is its name! if you don't know what losers club means you won't care that it's an IT (Stephen King Movies) fanfiction. i wrote a lot of those!

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

is there a way to actually determine this? oh. found it. shocking no one - Blow Jobs (30)! :)

the second most used only hits 15 times.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

probably from almost sweet

And that was the crux of it, if Jean let himself accept it. He wanted to know Harry better than anyone else, and he was satisfied that he did. They hadn’t been at it for long, but still, he was certain that no one else understood the inner machinations of Harry like he did. That was what others told him, at least. Harry’s different around you. You keep him almost sane, the captain had said, a couple of months into their partnership. They even gave Jean a minor raise, indicating that if he kept his mouth shut and kept Harry in line, there would be more where that was coming from. Maybe not a promotion, that wasn’t really something they could give him, not with how little experience he had, but a little extra cash in his pocket never hurt.

and okay i miscounted because i was looking at a list without numbers and answered 30 before realizing you'd asked 29 so here's 30

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

that i wrote!?!?! i had kind of resigned myself to a year of little output and then it hit and i've been back on the grind and it's felt really nice. like i haven't written a crazy amount compared to previous years but considering i couldn't find my voice, period, back in february...i feel good.

my other biggest surprise is that i'm back into a dragon age: inquisition esque fandom where i'm actually sort of using my tav(s) as visual indicators even if personality wise it's something i'm more molding on a variety of factors. i don't find OC or reader fanfiction to be at all my forte and this is the closest i get here, and it reminds me of my dragon age era (which was very productive).

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brightwoods · 1 year

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I think you'd do amazingly as a tv show/film writer because it is coming up to a year of me waiting for the thomas/alastair scene where they actually sort everything out in this fic and the hold you still manage to have on me is astounding. I'm so excited when you post (I love your commentary on the characters/books/the memes too <3 ) and I love the extra stuff you always add but it is both a blessing and a curse (affectionate). How's it gonna go? will they be okay? will there be an argument? when/where will it happen? will they go back to dating or take some time? how will it factor into everything else? how will the merry thieves respond? of course I want an extra thomas pov even if it slows ch22 writing wdym? and the whole luciejesse thing? oh my god

(This is not a critique in any way btw I love 10tihay I'm just in awe more than anything 💕💕)

Thank you! This is so nice!

I swear the scene where they actually talk about things is coming up. Somehow chapters keep being too long and it keeps getting pushed back and now I have a chapter I'm posting today from Thomas's POV that happens before we finally get to what happens next, but the next regular Alastair POV chapter DEFINITELY has Thomas going to apologize and talk to Alastair

And most of those questions will be answered during that chapter

Some might take a little bit longer

Oh, and Lucie and Jesse won't really have a role in the Thomas's POV chapter but I would just like to point out that Lucie leaving James' house before Thomas even texts Cordelia is not me forgetting the timeline. There's a reason that Lucie is leaving her house well before she shows up at the Carstairs' place 😂

#10tihay fic #My Posts #Ask #Anonymous

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your-sweet-cookies · 1 year

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What is your preferred name?

What are your pronouns?

How old are you?

What is your zodiac sign?

How would you describe your aesthetic?

What are your favorite hobbies besides roleplaying/writing?

How many languages do you speak?

How long have you been roleplaying?

What is your favorite band/music genre?

What is your favorite food?

If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Who is your celebrity crush?

Munday Questions Meme

1. What is your preferred name?

Answer from Mun: I won't go on to disclose my actual name (since we are on the internet after all), but I usually go by the nickname that's the shortened, cute form of my name: Sabi (sometimes with the variation of Saby with the "y" at the end because it adds a little something extra to it).

2. What are your pronouns?

Answer from Mun: She/her.

3. How old are you?

Answer from Mun: 22 years and 9 months old. I'll be turning 23 this October.

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Answer from Mun: I'm a Libra. Should've been a Scorpio, but my doctor decided it was a better idea for me to be born one week earlier than the original due date.

9. How would you describe your aesthetic?

Answer from Mun: I guess something chill, classic, cute and zen. I usually gravitate towards pastel colors when formatting/editing stuff, because I find them more easy on the eye and pleasing to look at and I do incorporate a lot of cutesy and 'kawaii' elements into my things, so that's something too.

11. What are your favorite hobbies besides roleplaying/writing?

Answer from Mun: Drawing and coloring, listening to music, watching shows and movies, reading, going out for walks and chit-chatting with my friends.

13. How many languages do you speak?

Answer from Mun: 4 including my native language. In terms of foreign languages, I can speak English fluently and partly French (since I studied both of these during my formative school years, but French didn't really stuck much with me) and aside from these two, I know a bit of Japanese too (studied like 1 year of it in middle school as an optional class).

14. How long have you been roleplaying?

Answer from Mun: I've been roleplaying online since age 11 (okay, the first time I ever RP-ed I didn't even know that's what it was called, but I enjoyed writing stories with my friends on one of these gaming sites for kids and it stuck with me). So it'll be 12 years this year since I've started roleplaying.

16. What is your favorite band/music genre?

Answer from Mun: My favorite music genres are pop and rock and I've had many favorite bands over the years: One Direction, Linkin Park, Evanescence, Green Day and Three Days Grace and now more recently I've got into Black Pink, BTS and Stray kidz (expanding my horizons to the beautiful world of k-pop).

17. What is your favorite food?

Answer from Mun: I don't have a favorite food, but I do enjoy pizza and pasta a lot.

18. If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Answer from Mun: Probably New Zeeland. It has some of the most variety in landscapes of all sorts and it was the place where the LOTR and Hobbit sagas were filmed (to give you an idea of how vast its geographic variety is, so you wouldn't get bored easily).

20. Who is your celebrity crush?

Answer from Mun: When I was little, my celebrity crush was Johnny Deep. But now as an adult I don't really have any celebrity crushes.

#ask mun #munday asks #ooc interactions #ooc post #twentyfourhourtitts

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cass1x1 · 1 year

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ok imm sorry but the “ i only have eyes for you. ” meme is so elogan coded 👀

@carlyraejcpsen

send in “ i only have eyes for you. “ for five times where the sender was caught staring in admiration/affection at the receiver, by the receiver. ( scenarios can vary! examples include: the receiver delivering a fierce passionate speech to encourage people to do something, the receiver walking into a room while dressed glamorously, the receiver walking into a room while dressed NOT glamorously, literally ANYTHING! )

int. tattoo shop; afternoon

Of all the habits Ella had formed over her years, the hardest to shake was the need to be busy. It seemed ,to her, despite what her friends often said, that there was no harm in wanting to be busy. That it was good, in fact, to want to be productive. She understood that they were trying to help, but she also couldn't sit idly by. That ability had passed her by.

So while she waited for Logan to finish up his appointment, she had to find something to do. It wouldn't do for her to offer help. And Beyonce, the cat, was perfectly content to nap in the window. So what was she to do? Well, for starter, she tidied, putting all the magazines left out in a pretty little display. She found the glass cleaner and wiped down the display case where they sold earrings. And then, having helped herself to the supply closet, she swept. None of it was necessary--Logan and his fellow artists kept a perfectly nice, clean shop--but she liked the act of it all. And she liked to think that, in exchange for seeing her so late, Ella could save him some time at closing.

The trouble was that he kept a tidy shop, in fact. Ella ran out of things to do rather quickly. She would have to sit back down. Perhaps read one of the magazines she'd set up so nicely. There was one that said it had recipes for watermelon, so she was just about to do that when there was a movement in the corner of her eye. She made an involuntary sound, covering her mouth immediately so it didn't sound like a scream.

Logan laughed, pushing himself up off the wall to approach her. "You okay there?"

Ella put her hand on her heart. "Yes, sorry. You startled me. How long were you there?"

"Did you realize you were singing?" he asked. That wasn't an answer to her question, but even more than that, it surprised her. She frowned--had she been singing?

"No." A hot blush rose on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. Did I dist--"

"You don't have to apologize. It was--it reminded me of before."

She forced herself to hold his gaze. Logan had always had such sharp eyes; Ella couldn't help but feel nervous under them. "I'm glad, then" she said.

ii. ext. high line park; sunset

There was something magical about being out late on a summer evening. The sun set slowly and left the sky twinged gold for a long time. Ella always felt extra warm and glowing at that hour. But today, she was especially enchanted.

Ella hadn't known where Logan was taking her; only that he'd said it would be outside. The park was stunning: a long, raised, paved trail with native plants along each side. From different spots, she could see out over the city. She could watch the water over the Hudson river. Everywhere she stopped, there was something magical to see.

She stopped at one of the little outcroppings and leaned against the rail. The sun left a trail of golden light over the water, and if she looked hard, she could see the outline of boats out towards New Jersey. "Wow," she gasped, stepping back to turn her attention back to Logan. "It's so beautiful."

When her eyes met Logan's, there was an intensity to them that threw her off-balance. He looked like he was looking through her, trying to find something. Despite wanting to thank him, Ella couldn't hold that gaze; she turned away to look back out over the park. "Sorry," he said softly. "I was just..." He didn't finish the sentence.

Ella turned back to him. Logan looked like his usual self--this new usual self that she was still getting used to, a little warier, a little less silly. A little more handsome than she remembered. Her cheeks warmed at that. She hoped he assumed it was about the park. "No, it's fine, I'm sorry," she answered, more as a reflex than anything else. "I--I just wanted to thank you for bringing me here."

"Yeah," he said, looking away this time. "It's pretty great, huh?"

iii. ext. apartment; morning

Ella hadn't dressed up for Logan to come over. No, that would be silly. But she was wearing her favorite dress because today was a good day and when she woke up, she felt drawn to it. No matter how her roommate had teased her, said that Logan would enjoy seeing her in this color, Ella brushed it off. He wasn't--he wouldn't--it wasn't like that. Even if sometimes she thought about it being like that, those were just the kinds of thoughts that were normal to have about so old a friend. Surely, that was it.

Still, when she noticed him waiting on the stoop of her building, she found it was hard to look him in the eye. Ella had always had a hard time with that; she was more shy than she expected to be. Instead, she froze, half-way down the steps. Rather than meet his gaze, she dug her phone out of her bag and reviewed their plans for the day. Museum tickets? Check. Lunch spot? Picked out. Her drawings? Yes, she had them, even if she was nervous to share them.

Once she'd looked over everything, and couldn't think of any other reason to delay, and didn't want to make him late, she turned up, immediately caught in his gaze. He'd been watching, which she'd suspected from the way she'd felt eyes on her. Ella straightened, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and wishing maybe she had dressed up for him, so that she would be worth looking at.

"You look great," Logan said, as if he'd read her thoughts.

Her stomach dropped-oh, god, had she said any of that out loud? "Oh, I...thank you. Her voice was uneasy. Would it be weird if she asked if she'd spoken aloud?

If he was reading her mind, he was doing a very good job of it, by the way he laughed, offering her his hand like he was going to escort her down the steps. "I don't mean to be weird, but I wanted you to know why I was staring. You look great, is all."

Ella took his hand. She took the last few steps and, when she got to the sidewalk, she turned up to look at him. He wasn't joking or teasing her--not that he would joke about something like that--just sincerely, openly staring. "You--" She hated how nervous her voice came out. This wasn't like that and she wished her roommate hadn't said anything because now the idea was in her head. She cleared her throat and smiled. Ella was good at putting on a smile. "You look quite handsome, yourself." This time, she sounded more normal, thankfully. More like herself. "That color is nice on you."

Logan ducked his head. Like her, he was better at giving a compliment than taking one. At least that had stayed the same between them. "Shall we?"

"Yes."

iv. int. animal shelter; evening

After all the food was gone, after all the guests had left and the lucky dogs adopted off, there was just this: the remaining trash on the floor, and the donation box to be counted up. Several other volunteers had offered to handle the trash, and left Ella and Logan with the lock boxes. Once she'd offered--five or six times--for him to go home, she gave in and accepted his offer to help. It was late, and everyone was exhausted, her included. If he helped, maybe they could all get home a little faster.

They'd divided the bills up, so it was just a matter of counting and tallying. Ella had worked a dozen jobs where she opened and closed; she could make quick work of this. And, as far as she knew, Logan could too. But when she glanced up from her count, Logan still had his pile in his hand. His eyes seemed fixed on her hands, focus entirely on her.

He seemed surprised when she made a sound. His eyes slid up, from her hands to her face. There they settled, a warm, soft gaze holding onto her. "Did, uh, did I do something wrong? Or make a mistake?" she asked.

"No," Logan said immediately. And then, chagrined, "I don't think so. I wasn't listening." Ella smiled, writing her tally down before putting her hand out. Logan shook his head and, with one last flick of his eyes, began his own count.

While he worked, Ella watched him. The smooth movement of his hands, the sound of him counting under his breath. The way his eyes flicked up to catch hers every few minutes. It was fascinating. She wondered if, perhaps, this was what distracted him in the first place.

v. ext. restaurant; evening

Once she'd gotten used to the idea, dating had not been so hard for her. She was naturally social, and she liked going out. She'd tried speed dating, tried tinder, tried all sorts of options, and all of them had felt effortless. Ella was good enough at that sort of thing that she'd never had a bad date, but she'd never gotten the hang of flirting. She said precisely what she thought, and in precisely the simple way that she thought them. She had no skill for pretty words.

Logan, on the other hand? Well, he just couldn't seem to help himself. He made it seem so easy, with his casual words and his playful looks and his laugh that rumbled through her entire body. Ella felt like should barely keep up with him. Her cheeks hurt from laughing and blushing. She felt giddy and light, tipsy off of the easy conversation and smiles.

By the time they left, the sun had fully set, and the sky was crisp. There weren't many visible stars--Ella was still getting used to that--but the lights from the skyscrapers never failed to dazzle her in their own way. Ella wasn't much for technology. If she wanted to mark this moment, she would need to do it on memory. So she did. She took everything in--the lights, the sky, the sounds from the restaurant, the full feeling, and, of course, Logan--and then she closed her eyes. With them closed, she did her best to memorize what she'd seen and heard and felt, so that if she wanted it, she could pull it back up and relive how she felt in this moment.

When her eyes finally relaxed and opened, they found Logan staring at her with a particularly amused smile. Ella smiled back instinctively. This time, she didn't have to ask what he was staring at. He offered the answer on his own. "I can't believe you're here with me," he said, like she had given him some wonderful gift.

That was silly, of course. He had taken her out on a date--a perfect one, at that. All she'd done was try and keep up. But she kept her smile anyway, and slid her hands into his, squeezing tight. As though she could convince him of that fact through grip strength alone. "I can't imagine anything better," she told him, hoping that covered what her hands could not. He laughed, and dropped one hand so he could hold the other while they walked toward the park.

#answered #carlyraejcpsen #this was long i apologize #it's cute tho! or i think it is #otp: elogan #ch: ella #o: logan #does cassy like endings? no she does not #also if any of htis is wrong lemme know and i'll rewrite

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