#too much responsibility I might implode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emepe · 2 months ago

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The first 48 hours are crucial when a person goes missing. Eren can only pray it’s enough to reach you..

— Content warnings: emetophobia, mention of assault.

— Notes: Helloooo!!! Welcome to TV Friday number 12 <3 I thought about posting earlier but I thought best to keep up our little tradition ^^ Please read the notes at the end for extra notes about TV’s future. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

Forty-eight hours

Hour One

A missed call shouldn't have been enough to raise an alarm, but his gut instantly told him something was wrong. And yet he tried his best to remain calm — stepped out onto the street and made his way to the bus stop where you should've been dropped off, glancing into convenience stores just in case, hopeful that the bus was just running a little late. But when the bus you would've taken showed up — allowing Eren some time to sigh in relief and shake his head at his own presumptions — and you were nowhere to be found among the few people to scatter onto the sidewalk, it only confirmed that previous gut feeling.

Hour Two

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

There's a stiffness to Eren's breathing that makes the process more painful than its intended effects — his lungs feel too big for his ribs, which seem to be pressing them against his heart, pushing his brain into hyperactivity to keep him from imploding.

Where does he even start? Where should he even go?

If there's a proper protocol to follow to find you, he's no idea of it and he's strangely aware that his anxiety might lead him in the wrong direction when there's so much he has to do — so many places he has to be — at once. It's infuriatingly difficult to not have a cool head when you really need it.

He didn't think to bring his car — perhaps it's for the best, considering his vision continues to blur and it's not a sign of good condition to hear your own frantic heartbeat pounding in your ears.

His eyes anxiously scan the faces of every person in his path. Paired with his dazed footing and the sick expression on his face revived every couple of minutes from the nausea stemming from some sort of sensed doom that he continuously swats away, there hasn't been a shortage of odd looks and aversions since he ventured into the dark streets in hopes to find you fine and well out of thin air.

It's been too long to dismiss as a casualty since his calls stopped going through, and yet he insists on redialing your number each time he's met with the automated message that only further fuels his dreadful symptoms, hopeful that your voice will reach his ears again, for that comforting sound to put an end to the infernal crescendo of his insides.

Just as he's about to redial once more, his phone starts buzzing first, and for a split second his body is at peace and his heart soothed in the spare moment that it takes for him to accept the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Have you heard from her yet?”

The voice on the other end causes his stomach to plummet to his feet for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

It takes a moment for his brain to assimilate that it's not you on the other end and another for him to hate himself for not checking who was calling and stupidly spit a response to an Armin who has no fault in anything, especially for not being you.

Armin, as understanding as ever and assuming the more collected role for Eren's sake, dismisses the frustrated tone in his friend's voice, fully aware it's nothing personal.

“The security guard says she left a little over an hour ago and Mika called me a minute ago and said she hasn't been home. Are you sure she wasn't going to make any stops on the way?”

“No, Armin, she would've told me. She would've come here first or she would've at least texted me.” Eren's voice cracks. “Something is wrong.”

The weakness in Eren's voice is enough to fracture Armin's composure for a fraction of a second.

“Let's go to Levi.”

Hour Three

Being in the police station feels more reassuring than Eren would've imagined. At least this means he's doing something — and something right, at that — and the drive over spared him enough time to ease his nerves, even just a little, as he continued to repeat inwardly to himself that everything is going to be fine.

Time is everything and frankly, he can't help but feel a bit dumb for not thinking about getting some help from Levi in the first place. He'll find out what's going on — if there was an accident, if you got mugged and that's why no calls go through, or even if your bus broke down and that's why he hasn't seen you when he should have by now. Even if it turns out to be a misunderstanding, better to cause a scene than to sit on his hands. Though three hours without any sign to say otherwise can't be a misunderstanding.

Eren hunches over, resting his forehead on the edge of Levi's desk, not minding one bit as it digs a dent into his skin. His knee bounces every couple of minutes as he and Armin wait for Levi to get back to them.

“Eren Jaeger?”

He looks up to find a tall blond man instead of Levi.

“Yes?”

“I'm Captain Erwin Smith. Come this way please.”

Eren stands to follow the man's lead, only sparing a nervous glance to Armin, who replies with a comforting one from his seat, only morphing into a more accurate depiction of his worry once Eren turns his back to him.

“Where's Levi?”

Eren's eyes wander the barren space he's been led into. Nothing but a table and a pair of chairs set opposite of each other.

“He'll be here in a moment. I just want to ask you some more questions about the missing person's report you're filing.”

“Of course.”

Doing his best to hold in his exasperation at the ticking clock in his head, he dutifully replies to every question he's already answered for Levi when he first walked into the station — what made him come to the station, his relation to you, your description, what happened before he lost contact with you, amongst other basic things to paint a picture of the situation.

“Was there ever any trouble in your relationship?” Erwin asks.

Eren's brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm asking if there was any indication that your girlfriend,” he makes a vague motion with his hands as he reads your name from the folder in his hands, “might’ve been upset with the relationship. Did you ever argue or have any trouble? Perhaps something in the past few days? Or ever?”

Eren hardens his jaw in an attempt to remain calm. He knew he'd have to spend a while at the station, answering questions more than once — as frustrating as the lengthy process could be, he expected that much.

Erwin's tone has remained neutral for the entirety of the questioning, and it's only natural to want to rule out any immediate suspects, but it doesn't make the implication of the captain's words any less offensive and borderline cruel.

“No,” Eren chokes out, horrified by the mere idea that either of you would walk away without warning. That isn't you.

“So no reason for her to break off contact with you.”

“She didn't break off contact,” Eren spits, growing heavily frustrated at the sudden turn of events. “We were supposed to meet, she was on her way already. I saw her just this morning and she called me first to tell me she was coming home.”

“Maybe she only said that to throw you off?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just tell me what you might think,” Erwin replies, voice stern. “You say it's only been three hours since you last heard from her but she's a mentally stable, healthy adult. Unless she has any conditions that could put herself or others in danger, chances are she's safe and sound somewhere and this is all a misunderstanding. Was there anything suspicious or weird about her?”

Eren's shake of his head grows more and more frustrated as Erwin does little to conceal his skepticism, which only shapes as a misunderstanding from Eren's increasingly impatient point of view.

“What's suspicious and weird is that she never made it to our date at all and it's been three hours and I haven't gotten a single word from her.”

Eren's expression is one of pleading, yet Erwin's remains neutral and made of marble.

“And it's not like that,” Eren murmurs. “I was going to ask her to live with me tonight. She called me after she left work to tell me she was on her way.” Eren can feel his heartbeat start to pick up as his ribcage begins to close in on his lungs once more as more anxious words continue to spill from his mouth in increasing pace and volume. “She told me she had news and that she loves me. Why would she tell me that if anything was wrong? Why would she say that if she wasn't going to make it to our date?” The crack in his voice comes at the same time as the stinging sensation behind his eyes and the uncomfortable tickle in his nose. “I was making dinner for us. I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to surprise her with all her favorite food and the pictures from the new apartment. I wasn't going to tell her about the pink bathtub because I want it to be a surprise when we move in. She…” He curls against the table, hands gripping his hair in frustration, pulling at the strands to make sure he still feels something because there are just too many sensations overwhelming him as he tries to get through to the man in front of him. “She really wants a pink bathtub.”

Eren doesn't lift his gaze, just remains quiet and unmoving until he catches a flicker of movement in front of him. It's only when he takes the tissue offered by Erwin that he becomes aware of the tears streaming down his face.

Levi nearly had a heart attack when he first caught eye of Eren's and Armin's familiar faces walking into the police station. The frantic green eyes and anxious expressions made it clear something awful had happened and hot flashes of searing dread burned inside his stomach. That is until nobody pronounced his niece's name. After that, the flame of pain withered to ashes of guilt, consuming him from the inside in such a manner that it was hard to face his niece's friends knowing he'd felt relief it wasn't his family who'd been affected tonight.

Levi's known Eren since he was a kid — a bit childish and whiny, but ultimately a decent man with a kind heart. It's been a pleasure watching him grow up and knowing he's remained a good friend to his niece.

Levi's only met you once. It was at Jean and Mikasa's engagement party earlier this year. If Jean and Mikasa were the happiest couple there, you and Eren were a close second. It was easy to know just how much he adored you, and how attached you were to him. Eren was rarely in a dark place, but next to you his smile was blinding.

After finding out Erwin conducted the interrogation to rule out a possible runaway case — and how he did it — he still hadn't ridden himself of enough guilt to apologize for making the situation more stressful, no matter what the rules say.

It's no secret some sudden disappearances hold more danger than others. An abducted child, an older person with dementia, a mentally and emotionally unstable person who's looking to cause harm to others or themselves — they demand a higher sense of urgency than logging the missing person into the system and following up when there's nothing more pressing on the police's plate.

The desperation consuming Eren's features when Levi finally walks into the interrogation room is enough to kick off his own instincts.

It's upon Levi's insistence that patrols are dispatched immediately.

Hour Five

When a loved one's safety is on the line, any efforts from authorities never seem to be enough and yet one remains oddly hopeful that the people with a proper protocol should know how to better handle situations that leave one frantic and lost.

Calls to the nearest hospitals, pings from cellphone towers, two patrols dispatched to the last known location and its surroundings, questions to potential witnesses who have nothing to report or are rather too invested to go back to whatever keeps their attention inside to provide some detailed tips, one patrol leaving because of a nearby break-in and the remaining one left with nothing more to go off of than one grainy clip of CCTV footage that shows your figure walking down the street, and a second clip from a convenience store's outside surveillance camera where you don't show up at all, but the lack of witnesses lead to nothing in between.

Keeping up the search when there's been nothing gained starts proving to be more difficult when obstacles continue to pile on. Aside from the growing boredom of those in police cars from the lack of fresh information to keep them motivated, the heavy clouds that hover over everyone's head threatens for the case to soon be abandoned for the night.

Hour Eight

Levi is hesitant to leave. But with no leads — no CCTV footage, no unknown numbers blinking on Eren's screen, no mother, an estranged father, no sign of a struggle at the last known location, and so much yet so little more — there isn't much he has to do than drive back with the pair of worried men to the station for more questioning in case of foul play, while constantly eyeing his notifications for any incoming messages on an assault victim found in an alley not too far away from where your phone was last still on.

Eren refuses to leave. Despite Levi's efforts to persuade him that going back to the station was necessary, knowing he was so close to where you'd last been was enough for Eren to stand his ground. Getting into Levi's car means going back miles worth of steps. It means straying from what feels so much like the right path already. And as ridiculous and futile as it is with no leads, it means losing his grip on something much more solid.

How easy it would be if a last known location means he can find you just by looking behind a tree or having someone point and say “yes, she's right there”.

So when Levi makes another plea for Eren to come back with him — he doesn't mention what for to not stir any more nerves — and Eren says no while steering himself down the block for what feels like his hundredth recon of the area — just in case you really were behind that tree in the small playground all along, playing a nasty prank on him — Levi chooses to go back to all the nearby twenty-four hour convenience stores one last time before the downpour begins.

Armin gives Levi a grateful nod before lightly jogging to catch up with Eren, who's already turning onto the next street.

“You can go,” Eren calls over his shoulder after catching a glimpse of his friend's blond hair beside him. “I'll keep looking by myself. Besides, it's gonna rain soon. You'll get wet.”

“What about you?” Armin looks down at his friend's bare arms. “You don't even have a jacket.”

Eren looks down at his sides, like he just noticed his lack of a coat. He could've sworn he had one on him when he walked out his apartment. You would've been upset with him otherwise, that small pout forming on your lips while your brows are weighed down with disappointment.

The instant of amusement he feels is quickly consumed by the ache of why he's out on the street with no jacket to begin with.

The food must be cold by now. He'll have to heat it all up once you're back home.

Light raindrops brush against his skin with a small gust of wind.

You're still not behind the tree.

It's nearly half past two in the morning. Any civilians with useful information have been asleep for hours, and any passers-by would've reported anything had they seen it, Armin thinks.

It's chilling to walk down streets so quiet and empty, with the only reminder that this isn't an alternate universe being the sparse cars that drive by. Surely the people inside might find it strange to see the pair walking up and down the streets, turning, looking, flashing their phones to make out shapes in the dark.

The tickle of rain on skin is no longer, but the temperature continues to drop.

Armin takes on one side of the street while Eren tackles the other. He receives a polite nod from the security guard of a small daycare center, who fails to conceal his look of pity. Levi interviewed him around an hour ago, so he has to know what's going on.

Armin averts his gaze, his cheeks burning at the thought of some stranger pitying him and his friend when everything is going to be just fine.

The rain starts up again. Eren isn't around anymore. With one quick scan of the street, Armin spots him rounding the corner to the next street — pace firm but anxious. He's quick to follow.

By the time Armin catches up, the raindrops have grown in size, a reliable sign that this time, it's for real.

“Eren,” Armin calls him carefully.

Eren continues walking, flashing a light behind a dumpster in a narrow alley between a family restaurant and a bookstore.

“Eren,” Armin calls him a bit more firmly to get his attention, but to no avail.

With brows knit more in desperation than concern, Armin quickens his pace and pulls Eren by the shoulder just before he rounds the corner to the next street.

“Eren!”

“What?”

The anger and volume in Eren's voice shrinks Armin in his place for a brief moment.

Embarrassed by his own reaction, Eren exhales an apology. But his face hardens once more when Armin suggests it's time to go home.

Armin steps back, surprised to have caught a swear word from his best friend among the words he spits back in a negative response.

But when Eren turns, ready to resume his search, Armin pulls at him again.

“Eren, stop!” he half-yells, quickly readjusting his volume before speaking again to not cause any disturbances to sleeping strangers.

“You don't want to pick a fight with me Armin, I'm warning you,” Eren's voice grows low, but still reaches Armin with the same anger and menace.

Eren harshly pulls away and continues to storm down the next street, leaving Armin to stumble behind.

The rain is heavy enough now to spot the pavement faster than it takes for each drop to dry.

“We need to go back, we aren't going to find her like this,” Armin calls after him. His hands do little to shield himself from the rain. Thankfully, Armin thought to bring a jacket along but it won't do much for either of them when it's bound to be sopping wet in just a few minutes.

Eren's shirt is already clinging to his skin in large patches down his back, and yet he continues walking with purpose down the street.

Armin's shivering now under his jacket as he looks around to gather his surroundings. This street isn't far from the office. It's poorly lit which, paired with the rain, is best explored in daylight. There's a single street lamp that's meant to illuminate the area at night, but it's been broken for months and either nobody has reported it, or laziness has kept it from being repaired.

“Come on,” Armin insists, lightly jogging now and losing his breath under the cold shower as he tries to keep up with Eren, who still refuses to listen. “We'll come back in the morning! You need to get some rest if you're going to keep looking! I'll come with you, okay? But we need to go!”

Armin suddenly crashes into Eren's chest as the latter abruptly turns around in a sudden fit of pure rage.

“I already told you I'm not fucking leaving!”

Armin stumbles back, teeth chattering, muscles drooping from his wet clothes and vision blurred by the heavy rain.

“You can leave if you want to! That's what the fucking police is doing! Just go already! But I'm staying because I care! I don't give a fuck about the rain, I'm going to find her!”

Eren's words pierce through Armin's chest, and the next moment he's tackling Eren to the ground. It's not so much to stop him from leaving this time, but out of indignation.

Eren falls on his ass with a wet thud, his palms painfully pounding onto the pavement as Armin falls on top of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in his hands.

“You think I don't care? Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?” Armin yells in Eren's face. Had the pouring rain not been a factor, he would've been red in the face. But had the rain not been there, Eren also would've easily seen the tears streaming down Armin's face, and that would've taken away from his blue glare.

“She's my best friend! I'm just as worried about her as you are! You can't decide you're the only one affected by this! That only makes you a jerk and you're not!”

Eren is tense all over as he holds Armin's surprisingly threatening glare. His chest heaves as a twinge of guilt surges inside of him at his friend's pointed remarks. The stiff breathing makes its return.

“But we have to go,” Armin's voice softens — it cracks and begs.

And Eren breaks down in sobs. His scraped palms come to his face, aggressively digging the heels against his eyes as if to force his tears back in while his shoulders tremble in cold, grief and guilt.

“You don't understand!” he cries, his shirt still crumpled under Armin's grip. “I fucked up, Armin. This is all my fault!”

Unsure of how to react to this abrupt change in attitude, Armin remains frozen save for his teeth, which continue to chatter under the deafening rain.

“I was supposed to pick her up. I'm never late,” Eren hiccups. “But I didn't come today and now I don't know where she is! It was me, Armin! I did this! This is my fault!”

“Eren,” Armin murmurs gently, eyebrows upturned in sympathy as he finally softens his hold on his friend.

“I can't find her and I don't know if she's hurt or scared or if…,” Eren's words drown in another wave of sore sobs, his lips refusing to let the thought of the worst to escape as a spoken word — to think that someone might have caused you harm and that's what's kept you tonight.

“I need her to be okay,” he whimpers finally, lips trembling as his body begins to react to the harsh cold surrounding him. “Where is she, Armin?”

It takes a while for Armin to gather his thoughts and catch up to the workings of Eren's mind from this hellish night.

He often leaves the office with you, stays behind some evenings when he notices you're close to wrapping up your work and can ride the elevator together. Sometimes even accepts Eren's offer for a ride when he's too tired to deal with the overwhelming setting of public transportation — tired enough to not mind third-wheeling for a short while. If the last place your phone was turned on was before you even had a chance to take a bus, surely he could've done something to prevent this mess too. Why didn't he think to stay behind today, too?

“It's not your fault,” Armin finally says, his voice just barely audible amidst the rain and thunder. He blinks up from the ground to his friend. “And we don't know what happened. We'll try the hospitals again later, we'll keep calling her in the meantime. We have Levi helping us, right?”

Eren blinks back at him, slowly gathering that Armin is trying to encourage him through reassurances, and finally nods in response as he does his best to ignore the tight lump in his throat.

“It's like three in the morning, Eren. I'm not asking you to stop. But we can't keep going like this.” He motions vaguely toward the incessant rain from above and the wet clothes sticking to their skin.

Armin stands, relieving Eren from his weight as he pushes back his hair with one hand and offers the other to his friend whose reluctance casts a shadow over his usually bright features.

Eren trains his gaze on the ground, leaving Armin's helping hand hanging for the while longer it takes for him to convince himself that Armin is right and this doesn't mean he's failing you.

Finally, Eren accepts his friend's hand, who hoists him up just as they both spot Levi's car pulling into the street from the farthest corner.

Armin motions for Eren to follow him toward the car, to which he responds with a weak nod. But just a couple of steps in, something crunches and gets caught under his shoe. Naturally, he looks down, forgetting the deluge falling over him at the moment to frown at the foreign object.

Armin glances over his shoulder, sensing his absence, and turns around fully when he realizes Eren is kneeling on the ground, cautiously picking something from the ground that ultimately dangles from his fingers once it's fully suspended in the air.

Armin retraces his steps, kneeling next to his friend to find his face pallid, and green eyes wide with fear as he stares at the broken chain between his fingers, from which hangs an angel cast in silver with a broken wing.

His features contort in horrified realization. It's almost ridiculous to turn to Eren for confirmation of what he already knows and can already begin to imagine. But when he does, the latter is already hunched over in the opposite direction, emptying his stomach onto the wet pavement while the nearing lights from Levi's car come to blind him.

Hour Fifteen

Mikasa, Jean, and Sasha step into the elevator wordlessly, the only sounds on the way to Eren's floor being the inevitable rustles from the plastic bags with food in Mikasa's hands.

Jean offered to take them, but Mikasa insisted she'd hold onto them. Maybe it's because of her cold hands, but it might also be because she needs something to help keep her grounded — literally; she feels as though she might float away otherwise. Because if anyone were to ask her, nothing has felt real since last night after Armin's call.

The elevator’s hum ceases as it comes to a gentle stop and the doors slide open.

The same somber silence continues to hover between the trio as they mechanically walk down the hall to Eren's door. Jean takes out his copy of the key from his jeans pocket and pushes the door wide open, gesturing for the girls to enter first before quietly closing the door behind them.

Spare keys aren't rare between them. It was chain reaction that stemmed from Eren's father's passing. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay. The rest is history.

“In case of emergency.”

“Can you please water my plants while I'm gone?”

“Can you check something for me?”

“I'm really sick, just let yourself in.”

“Just keep it.”

Jean's copy has rarely been used. In fact, not many of them have made use of Eren's key once he started dating. Not that it's been a dramatic change, but now there's not much need to be wary of barging in on something they'll all laugh about later. And today, after Eren passed out on the street in the rain, it seems crucial to brush the dust off an old habit for their friend's sake.

The trio is careful not to make any excess noise — Eren might still be sleeping —, but the further they venture into the apartment, they realize their efforts are in vain.

They expected Eren to be lying on the sofa where Jean and Armin had so carefully helped him settle down, still fast asleep considering it's only been a few hours since. Although Eren's sudden nausea was a mere reaction to finding the necklace, Armin still spent a couple more hours watching over him as a precaution while he cleaned up the kitchen and dining area, and quietly left for his apartment to make another round of calls before work.

They're met with the view of their friend bustling around his work area in a corner of the living room, his brow furrowed and eyes laser focused as he refills the ink tanks on his printer. Stacks of missing person's posters cover his desk with a handful of faded ones having been scattered and crumpled on the floor as evidence of the ink shortage he's tending to. Your face occupies nearly the entirety of his immediate view, which is why a single glance is enough to distract him from his task that he doesn't notice his friends present in his apartment, nor when the ink begins to leak.

At the instinctive curse word that leaves him in a frustrated huff, Jean rushes over to help him.

“I'll handle this,” he assures Eren, who only blinks in surprise as he realizes he's not alone.

Mikasa and Sasha walk over to him unsure of whether a hug is appropriate as a greeting. In the end, they choose to speak the words instead.

Sasha leaves the conversation in exchange for helping Jean clean up the spilled ink. An irregular blob-shaped stain is left behind on the ash gray wood.

“Are you– How's your stomach?” Mikasa asks.

An uneasy grimace makes its way onto Eren's face.

“It's fine. It was just… Yeah.” He shrugs it off, unsure of how to properly explain the incident without triggering more discomfort.

Mikasa nods in understanding.

“Armin said you're going back to the police station later.”

Eren huffs at a humorless puff of air from his nose.

“Yeah. More questioning,” Eren replies, his head continuously shaking in disbelief, to which Mikasa frowns.

“What's wrong?”

It takes Eren a couple of tries to let the words out, his mouth opening and closing with hesitancy.

“They all left, Mika,” he softly murmurs, a hint of helplessness infecting his fragile voice, that births an ache in Mikasa's chest. “Nobody could say anything and they got bored. What kind of excuse is that?”

Mikasa drops her gaze to her shoes, submitting before the hurt and impotence Eren's words awake in her.

Then she shakes her head briefly, recalling a good thing.

“Levi's on the case�� and there's evidence for foul play now, there's a lead,” she says, trying her hardest to appear more hopeful at each thing on her list. “He'll find her, Eren. This'll just be nothing but a bad memory soon.”

She smiles, but it comes out sad from the red that tints her waterline.

Eren doesn't have the energy to try to appear cheerful from her encouragement, and limits himself to a nod.

“Eren, how long have you been up?” Sasha asks with concern from his desk, where her eyes scan over his computer screen and the stacks of paper with your face printed front and center.

“A few hours?” Eren replies with a shrug, to which everyone else exchanges concerned glances.

Jean breaks the silence with a loud clap, refusing to make way for any awkwardness in the air.

“We brought you some food, buddy. Come on, let's eat.”

Sasha eagerly nods, her enthusiasm a bit too stiff it almost seems rehearsed, as she encourages him to follow them to the dining table.

Eren allows himself to be tugged along for a couple of steps before he tethers himself to his spot for a moment and then decidedly takes a step back under everyone's puzzled expressions.

“I'm not really hungry,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Mikasa gently asks.

“We got your favorite soup,” Jean smiles, though Eren is too busy staring at a blank point to notice. “Minestrone.”

“Extra parmesan,” Sasha adds.

“It's fine.” Eren assures them with a forced smile. “You guys eat. I have a lot of things to do.”

“Well, you can't do them on an empty stomach. Let's eat and then we'll go through your to-do list together,” Jean insists.

“Yeah,” Mikasa agrees, shooting a grateful smile to her fiancé. “Jean can drive you to the station after breakfast and Sasha and I can handle the rest.”

Every offer is sensible and comforting, but Eren still refuses. He can't eat, not when you still haven't come home.

“No…” his voice trembles ever so slightly as his eyes wander around the room, as if looking for an excuse. He ultimately makes his way back to his desk, where the stacks of posters await him. “I'll just head out now. I'm gonna hand some of these out before going to the station.”

The rejected trio exchange another round of anxious, meaningful looks. Mikasa's the first to break away from the group to join Eren in gathering a stack of flyers and a roll of tape from the black metal organizer on his desk.

As her hands roam around the surface of the ash gray wood, the jewel on her finger catches the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Eren's movements grow slow as his focus is stolen by the silver engagement ring.

Mikasa notices the pause in his movements from the corner of her eye, and looks up at him to assess his status. Eren tears his gaze from her ring — embarrassed —, but not fast enough for it to go unnoticed, nor does he remember to ease his hardened jaw afterwards. He moves in silence and sets a fast pace toward the door, leaving an anguished Mikasa to trail at his heel.

Hour Twenty

It takes a handful of hours for Eren to get back home from the station, with a significant reduction to the baggage he left with. The stream of questions would've been fairly simple had he not been charged with so many uneasy feelings as to why he was doing all of it in the first place. It certainly didn't help that he had to face the same people who had simply left this morning. But he has to do things right — even if it means swallowing his anger to contribute with any useful information.

Social media presence, daily routines, bus routes, habits, friends, family situation.

Saying you know someone like the back of your hand is an odd saying, he thinks. He's not that vain to spend lengthy periods of time observing himself. In his case, it suffices to say he simply knows you — all he's done is look at you.

He knows your hands quite well. The shape of your fingers, the curves of your knuckles and the warmth of your palms when they latch onto his heartbeat and manipulate it to your will. And now what's been left since last night is a painful cavity. It's all wrong. Your hand should be here, filling his void.

The apartment is empty, Jean and Sasha long gone. The plastic bags have been folded into neat triangles and the counter has been cleared. Upon opening the fridge, Eren finds stacks of containers that have been added to those Armin helped put away the previous night from the uncelebrated dinner.

He stares at his packed fridge for a long time, any energy to step away vanishing into thin air and leaving him stuck in place, looking straight ahead until he no longer recognizes the shape of anything inside, and he grows numb at the cold air that slowly envelops him.

A ring from his pocket is what finally pulls him out of his daze and he's quick to whip the device out and accept the incoming call with pure urgency and no thought.

“I'm only assuming you've been too excited to call me to tell me how it went last night,” Carla's playfully accusing tone comes through the speaker.

“Mom,” Eren pronounces in a voice so soft, yet empty as he only acknowledges it's her, but any word that bounces off his tongue is devoid of meaning until he can speak the name he wants to.

“So,” Carla's enthusiastic grin is evident through the phone. “Was she thrilled? What did she say?”

Eren's voice fails him.

In all the anxiety and chaos, with all the things he's had to do within the last twenty hours, he completely forgot to tell his mother what had happened and that moment is catching up to him now.

His lips roll inwards, a habit reserved for when he's feeling shy because of things you say or do, and now has come back because of his lack of words — or rather the will to expel them.

His hand comes up to his hair, his fingers brushing his hair back as he struggles to find his voice.

It's only when Eren takes a second too long to reply that a shift in mood can be sensed from Carla's end of the line.

“Eren,” she calls him carefully, which only makes the lump in his throat grow. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“Mom,” is all Eren can muster, voice cracking as he pushes the word out.

“Did you have a fight? Is everything okay?” Carla's concern amplifies through the speaker, as something rustles in the background, a sign that she's taken on a more alert position.

“You didn't break up, did you?”

Out of all the things that could've gone wrong last night, Eren wishes that had been it. At least he wouldn't be as helpless. At least he'd know where you are. At least it's something he could reverse.

“No.”

The word comes out choked, his throat instantly sore for the second time.

His monosyllabic replies must be getting to her, because Carla takes a deep breath before trying again.

“Eren, honey. You have to speak clearly, okay?” Carla's voice grows gentle, as it always has whenever Eren would have trouble speaking his mind. Granted, that's been lost as he got older, but Carla's sweet attention hasn't. “What happened?”

Her patient voice finally manages to coax the lodged words from Eren's throat.

“I don't know where she is. She's missing.”

Hour Twenty-four

Rain is bad for detective work. Eren heard about it in a documentary or a podcast, or maybe he read it somewhere — he can't remember. But it supposedly washes away any evidence, making easy cases tricky and difficult cases nearly impossible. Considering the silver angel necklace was found in the midst of the sky falling, it comes as no surprise when he comes home from a casual meet up with Levi at a nearby coffee shop with the news that no DNA or signs of a struggle were found on site after a thorough search in the light of day. The other half of the broken angel wing was found stuck on the edge of a sewer grate, though. Eren would feel any comfort at all if it meant it would lead to something. But at least the necklace can be fixed for when he finds you and this is all over.

The necklace is pretty much a dead end, but it'll remain under the police's hold just in case.

Eren has never gone so long without seeing your face. Now that the clock has found its way back to the hour you were supposed to walk through his door, it's unbearable to know that you won't. And still he looks over in its direction every few minutes, expecting you to burst in and throw yourself into his embrace, marking the end to a day-long fever dream.

That's probably it. A dream. No, a nightmare. It's nothing but a wicked play of his subconscious — to teach him a lesson on appreciating you more. Maybe to scare him into doing a better job of protecting you. Maybe he's gotten too lax, too careless. After all, the city hasn't been terrorized by any violent crimes in the last few months. But that's no excuse to dismiss the possibility of danger. Right… There was a killer last year. Two murders. No suspects. No arrests. And there was a burglary just last night. So what if…

No.

Eren pulls at his hair, agitated by where his mind is leading him. He pulls hard on the strands, like they're the reins of his thoughts that he needs to redirect onto a less horrifying path.

His phone dings as if on cue with a text message.

I'll be there soon, honey. Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.

A tap on the attached file opens up a copy of a plane ticket for the day after tomorrow under the name Carla Jaeger.

His heart feels a tad lighter.

It'll help to have his mother around for a few days. He types his gratitude into his phone and presses send.

He lets his face fall into his hands as he hunches over his desk.

Everything will be okay, he repeats to himself in his head like a mantra.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Everything will be okay.

Outside, rain starts to fall.

Hour Thirty

The rain has been on and off for hours.

By the time Eren reconnected with his surroundings, ready to go out and look for clues on his own around the area, the rain was nearly as heavy as it was at three in the morning.

He sits by the living room window, watching the downpour. His phone is charging on a wooden stool next to him, taking a break from another round of calls to nearby hospitals to ask for any patients bearing your name. Still no.

His stomach has been growling for a while, but any energy he possesses isn't the kind that'll get him off his chair and into the kitchen — it's the kind that's meant to be used to stare out the window and grow numb over any trivial needs.

It's fine, he thinks. It'll pass.

Hour Thirty-seven

All five of his friends come through the door a little past seven in the morning, with bags of fresh meals to share.

Eren sits down this time, allowing Mikasa to fix him a plate and Connie to pour him a glass of juice.

Nobody mentions the dark circles under his eyes, and Eren's gaze is too lost on a blank point to sense the meaningful glances exchanged all around him.

There's not much room for conversation. Any sense of normalcy is lost in the thick air. It seems equally wrong to create a lighthearted break for the length of a meal as it is to talk about the empty seat across from Eren when everyone is trying so hard to make sure he's at the very least feeding himself.

Eren merely pokes and stirs at his food with his fork the entire time. There's a fresh stack of flyers on his desk that demand more urgency in his eyes than sitting down to eat.

His demeanor is easy to read by everyone at the table, yet another round of concerned glances and subtle nods in his direction being tossed around with silent messages.

In the end, nobody says a thing and the groups is broken off in pairs to tackle the surrounding neighborhoods.

Hour Forty-five

Nobody has called. Not him or the station. As the only person outside of the police to be contacted for any updates, his phone should've rung at least once. But aside from yesterday's encounter with Levi and his visits to the station to see if his presence alone will bring something up, there's been a drought in leads. And despite his determination in making sure every person he passes knows anything, there's still nothing.

It's been hours since his stomach has demanded his attention. It's finally reached the point where it's so empty, it's gone numb. His body is running on nothing more than sheer will and water.

He should at least try to eat, test if he can hold any food down.

The fridge remains packed with food, even more now thanks to what's been gathered from his morning visits.

Ever so slowly, with overly cautious movements, he takes out a container, transports it to the counter and peels off the lid. It's from the dinner you were supposed to share two nights ago.

His lips tremble, eyebrows upturning for the split second it takes him to grasp back at his composure. An outsider would think he's glaring at his leftovers, disgusted at whatever is inside, completely misunderstanding the mental ordeal he's traversing as he takes several deep breaths.

He pulls out a stool from the breakfast bar, sits down and stares.

Hour Forty-eight

It's been two whole days since Eren has stepped foot in his own bedroom.

His feet drag him toward the bed without stopping to flip the light switch. Though the night is cloudy, signaling another shower for tonight, the moonlight still finds its way into the room just enough for his eyes to take in the most basic shapes of his furniture.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, and his gaze zeroes in on the neatly folded white cotton fabric set on the corner. It's the shirt you slept in two nights ago, the one that's the wrong size because it's his and he likes his clothes to be just a bit baggy.

It's the shirt he gently tugged off your body to feel your skin pressed against his. The one that you take care in folding even if you're in a rush and even though he'll throw it in the wash anyway.

His fingers slowly reach out to collect the fabric.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

It still smells like you. Just barely — a mere scrap of notes that have faded over the last two days. A mix of vanilla, citrus and a faint trace of eucalyptus fabric softener.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Breathe, Eren.

It doesn't work. The air is too thick. It gets caught in his throat and forces a choked sob on its way back out.

His face contorts in anguish as he falls onto the bed, curled up in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible, with your shirt clutched in his hands as the world outside darkens and he simply weeps.

Previous chapter | Next chapter (tba)

Minors and ageless blogs who interact will be blocked

Notes: Tunnel Vision will continue, just not with the same schedule it had before my hiatus. I’ll be adding word count and progress updates in the chapter guide in case you want to keep up with the story in that way (It’ll also give you an estimate of when the next chapter will be posted. I have ideas for some ficlets, which I’ll do my best to post in between TV updates just so I don’t leave you all hanging with Eren content. It’ll depend a lot on whether I see any enthusiasm for it or not though (aka comments and reblogs that aren’t… well… empty). In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box to chat :)

Chapter guide | Masterlist | Navigation

taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop @okaystopwhore @bakuhoethotski @f4irygard3n @saybeyonce @indeedbooks15

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #eren jaeger x you #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n

81 notes · View notes

unfortunately-obsessed · 11 months ago

Text

Bruce Wayne | Quality Time

Love languages headcanons

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Word count: 0.6k | AO3 link 🩵

This man runs a whole conglomerate, dozen different charity foundations, has to play into whatever current political ploy is to earn information, (might have, like, 20 children), is a founding member of the JL, on top of being The Batman and trying to prevent Gotham from imploding – trying to make this unfixable city heal.

He nearly doesn't have enough time for himself – heavens know how many times Alfred shoot him with a horse tranquilizer – and time to you??

All his responsibilities are half the reason why quality time is his love language.

The other half is that he didn't have enough time with his parents. They were snatched from him, a child, and this time (his childhood) is something he'll never be able to have back

Not gonna lie, he's harsh. He won't prioritize you. Not on purpose, not because he doesn't love you, simply because there's people out there that need to be saved. And, after so much time without a proper relationship, maybe Bruce also doesn't know how to cater for you – and because he's way too awkward, too dense to a detective, even if he can play cool at times.

But the tiny things are like love letters:

Strikes to me as the guy that'll be in utterly destroyed, broken ribs and concussion, and still try and get up and have breakfast with you, just to be with you

His personal quiet time is important to him. It helps him organize his thoughts. Yet he'll try to be, at least, in the same room as you.

Bruce will sit on the same room as you, in complete silence, and stay. Maybe you're working and he is there on the couch of your office, sitting with a concussion and sixty percent painkiller, statue-quiet.

I love you, so I'll take the burden of not doing this super important other thing – like resting – to sit with you in silence.

Will stare at you, motionless.

Eventually, you'll learn that this face he's making is lovestruck-ness. Don't comment on it.

And if his love language is all about undivided attention, it means he'll learn how to organize his time to have together time without all the distractions. A walk around the Manor Garden, a quiet dinner in front of the tv, cuddling; might do the trick.

Stays awake to talk with you, even if it's after a case frenzy where he didn't sleep for a week. Crash with him in the couch after a long day.

If I could stay with you here forever, I would. He can't get this words out, a lump on his throat, so he just stay as long as he can

Can't tell me he won't marathon Grey Ghost with you. At the end of every episode will dump on you all the details about the production. It's important that you listen even if you don't find it all interesting. Connection bids, y'know?

Ask him about forensics if you want to know more about the whole Batman deal. Or explain the new additions to the batmobile.

Getting to explain something he loves to someone he loves counts as top-quality time in Bruce's books.

Sometimes will find you just to start explaining a current case he can't crack. Either to see if you have any intelligent idea, but mostly because saying it aloud helps thinking.

And he doesn't know how to have the steady heartfelt conversations, so he'll listen to you talk. About your day, your plans, how much you worry about him, about what you ate today.

A great listener. Will hit you with follow up questions so you can keep talking about what you love. Never talks about him but at this point you know the drill – you have to ask for him to talk.

Regular week preplanned dates. Will do all in his powers to not postpone it. Will be completely heartbroken when this inevitably happens. Will look like a kicked puppy.

He's not distracted with you, all his mental attention on you and you only.

That's it 👍

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #batman scenarios #batman imagine #Batman x reader #bruce wayne #batman #arwrites #lost consciousness and woke up with this #me!batman

205 notes · View notes

kylermalloy · 1 year ago

Text

This has probably already been said, but I have to talk about the courtroom scene and why it was a fantastic introduction to not only Levi, but Erwin too—and their relationship.

So we first meet Levi in the heat of battle. We see very quickly the type of fighter he is—confident, but not overly so. He has a strong command of himself and the people under him. He’s The Guy.

Then Erwin shows up and announces they’re pulling back—Levi immediately argues this. We might assume Levi is being set up as the guy who ~doesn’t do well with authority.~ You know the type. He does his own thing. Doesn’t play well with others. Chafes under orders. He’s too big and too important for all of that!

This impression continues when Eren meets Levi and Erwin in the dungeon. Levi is rude and mouthy, and Erwin’s chastisements do little to curb this. Levi’s confidence and skill give him authority issues…right?

So then we move to the courtroom scene, Eren’s trial. Erwin says beforehand that he has a plan, but we’re told nothing more. We see him propose to the court that Eren be given to the Scouts, and he says nothing more.

Levi is the one to scathingly go after the MPs during the debate, pointing out the flaws in their plan and how likely it is that they’re trying to save their own skin. First time viewers might assume that, again, while Erwin is a charismatic leader, he doesn’t go far enough. Levi is the one to say the quiet part out loud, to go to the places Erwin’s too ~respectable~ to go.

Then things start to go sideways. The court’s favor seems to be turning against Eren and the Scouts, fear and paranoia winning out. Eren is getting desperate.

Enter Levi.

And we get this glorious scene. Levi convinces the court that Eren is harmless to the likes of someone like him. Their best bet is to do what Erwin asked and give Eren to the Scouts. Please.

(Notice how Erwin is not shocked, nor does he try to stop Levi.)

Now again, to a first time viewer, this scene feeds into our preconceived notion of Levi. He’s the guy who isn’t deterred by silly things like rank or authority. He saw that things weren’t going Erwin’s way, so he took matters into his own hands. Maybe Erwin will be mad about this later, but Levi will shrug and roll his eyes and say “but I got results, didn’t I?” and Erwin will have no argument for that.

…Right?

Cut to the next scene, after the court has granted the Scouts custody of Eren—and Erwin’s like, “sooo…sorry about that. We had to make it look good.”

This whole thing was planned by Erwin.

The scene was more or less staged by the Scouts. Erwin wanted to present himself as the calm, collected leader with clean hands. And Levi was the one to do the dirty work, be the brutalizer—even though it was all on Erwin’s orders.

He’ll play that role. He’ll be the rogue, the rough one, the problem child, because his personality fits so well into that niche anyway. But he does it because Erwin wanted him to. If Erwin had wanted him to stand nice and quiet the entire time during the trial, if that’s what needed to be done, Levi would’ve done that instead. He’s not looking to get results; he trusts Erwin’s methods and does what he’s told.

And in this case, he was told to beat up this helpless brat. Gladly.

(How much do you want to bet one of the MPs said to Erwin after, “you need to keep your dog under control.” I would simply implode.)

Like, if this display will land anyone in trouble, it wouldn’t be Erwin—it would be Levi. Levi’s the one who got violent and mouthy during a military trial. He broke rank. He attacked the defendant. Erwin isn’t, ostensibly, responsible for this at all. Levi willingly put himself in that position because he trusted Erwin.

And so everything we thought we knew about Levi is turned on its head! Eren even says so in the next episode—he expresses surprise that Levi’s so diligent about following orders.

Eren, silly boy, assumes that being skilled means you don’t have to take orders from anyone. But Levi does. It’s his whole character. (Notice how, despite him ending up being the oldest member of the Scouts, he’s never in line for Commander? He’s the hands, not the head.)

And this whole thing provides so much insight into Erwin’s character as well! Pyxis says at the beginning of the episode that Erwin is very straight-laced. Well, by the end of the episode, we can see that’s…not quite true.

Erwin is conniving, willing to play dirty, do whatever it takes, to get things to go his way. All while keeping his own hands clean, maintaining the image of the honorable Commander. He simply uses the tools at his disposal (Levi) to do the dirty bits for him.

It’s a fantastic introduction to the Scouts, their leader, and his right hand (or is it the left hand that does the dirty work?)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #erwin smith #aot #snk #eruri #i am tagging it that but it doesn’t have to be #mymeta #kylerrambles #this of course is not an indictment of either character i LOVE what this says about them!#it’s good character writing!#there! i made a meta post!#feels good to ramble lol

746 notes · View notes

juicyolpickle · 7 months ago

Text

Finally finished this sheet about the Zaabuas pregnancy process. The Zaabua do have their sexual differences but only the male and female can get pregnant and give birth, while the vonithral who are a whole complete new sex to the female and male cannot.

The vonithrals are the only ones of the 3 sexes to have the capability to produce fatty nutrient rich milk for the new borns and adults Zaabuas. These have not been illustrated yet but I do plan to show off the male, female, and vonithrals, sexual dimorphism and their unique individual characteristics in the near future. If either the male or female carry children they automatically earn the title of “mother”

But enough of the sexes and more about what we are here for. Pregnant Zaabuas commonly only get 2 to 3 offspring at a time but in some rarer cases 4 to 5 can form inside the pregnant individual, though this is a highly risky process and most of the time both the mother and the developing offspring are at greater risk of death. As more weight being brought onto the mothers back might succumb them.

Though males are at greater risk of this happening as their smaller much less muscular bodies might become too much to carry, while females have a better chance of carrying more than 3 offspring, as they are much larger and have higher amounts of body fat and muscle.

Once the fetus has gone through its 4 month gestation period it sprouts out of from the mothers back with distinct two orb like sacs that are called cells. These cells are responsible for holding genetic material, sodium hydroxide, and warm water, this combination creating a heat pack for both the mother and offspring.

The orange outer cell responsible for holding the water, genetic material, and other general waste from the fetus, while the inner cell that the fetus is wrapped around is responsible for holding in large amounts of sodium hydroxide. These two cells are held together by a thin but very elastic layer of see-through skin, this keeps the two cells from touching each others chemicals. Though sometimes this is not enough from bursting inside the mother.

Due to lack of nutrients or a genetic mutation. Nearing the 4 month mark, either the inner or outer cell bursts inside the mother triggering the exothermic reaction and implode both the fetus and mother from the inside. Though this happens rarely among the individuals.

Another thing that could happen that isn’t life threatening to the mother but the fetus, is that the outer cell responsible for holding the warm water and carrying the fetus and inner cell in place could burst before birth, leaving the mother to excrete it out of the body mistaking it as the fetuses waste leaving the fetus without the outer cell. This wouldn’t be too much of a big issue as the fetus can still use the mother’s body warmth and have a slight chance of survival if it was later in development.

But due to the below -60 dagree weather on Borease if the fetus was still alive by the time it was birthed it wouldn’t have much of a chance drying out before shortly freezing to death.

#land of borease #spec bio #speculative biology #speculative evolution #spec evo #speculative fiction #xenobiology #alien species #artists on tumblr #speculative ecology #speculative worldbuilding #love my self some detonating babies

74 notes · View notes

twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 1 year ago

Note

yellow rose with idia? ^^

Idia Shroud:

Yellow Rose - a happy thought that causes a smile.

Today was a day to celebrate memories.

Idia awkwardly fumbled with his tie, feeling it was so tight it might strangle him. Ortho had checked at least three times and confirmed it was fine, but had since left the room to focus on other tasks that needed to be done. Idia had practically thrown him out as the constant reminder of his quickened pulse and high blood pressure only made his anxiety feel worse. He could only stare at himself in the mirror for so long, though he did admire his handiwork as his hair was neatly braided with his brushed aside to prevent his face from being covered. There weren’t many stylists gifted with the ability to style cursed hair and he’d really rather do it himself anyway.

Today was too important for anything to go wrong.

“It’s time!” Ortho floated into the room with an excited look on his face, gesturing to the hall where there would be many people awaiting his arrival. It made his knees knock together as he’s about to be thrown into an ultra-stressful situation, like he was desperately climbing ladders and avoiding barrels to reach a princess who didn’t even want him.

But you did want him, because how else would he have ended up here?

He has a lot to thank Ortho for, including the embarrassing situation that had got you here to begin with. They had been playing a silly little otome game together, meaning Idia was on a CG collecting journey and Ortho was helping him remember which path led where. There was a scene between two main characters where a note was exchanged, something very juvenile with a ‘do you like me, y/n?’ written on it.

“Have you ever tried that?” Idia was carefully reading the dialogue, making sure there were no flags being raised that he was on the wrong route and thus locked out of a precious CG that constantly eluded him due to the specific choices that had to be done in a very specific order and—

“Tried—Eh?” Idia hit his keyboard and accidentally began to skip already seen dialogue, panicking and back tracking to his previous save while Ortho patiently waited next to him. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“Writing a note!” Ortho pointed at the screen where a crudely drawn note was, suddenly looking around the room as he tried to find a physical example for Idia to use. It took some snooping but he found a few crumpled pieces of paper with madman scrawling on only half of it, tearing it apart and handing over the blank piece. “Ask them if they like you, and then I can deliver it! If they say no, you don’t even have to see them!”

It wasn’t like Ortho to indulge in his brother’s extreme introvert nature, and Idia was nearly swayed before remembering it could also implode the fragile balance of his online friend group. You, him, and Crimson Muscle made a formidable group, often being enough to on most raids together so he didn’t have to interact with other idiots online. It was much less painful to speak with you through a screen, knowing he could erase a message over and over until he got it just right. He couldn’t sacrifice that, could he?

He should’ve known Ortho’s mercy was only temporary.

Idia was forced out of the solitude of his room, a luncheon being held to celebrate the hard work of each dorm leader being held. He’d rather eat his own hands than celebrate but Crowley wouldn’t budge, persistent and irritating about the whole ordeal. The only good part was seeing your face in high-def rather than via a pixelated avatar online. He still didn’t sit directly across from you but diagonal was good enough for him; not the center of your attention but just within your peripheral where you could notice him.

“Psst, brother! I brought it!” Idia has a piece of paper hastily shoved into his hand, “I wrote it last night! Now you can give it to them in person for an even quicker response!”

He’s suddenly certain the entire world is conspiring against him, trying not to attract your attention as he frantically responded to Ortho.

“That won’t work!”

“Why not?” Ortho tilted his head in a clueless gesture, “In 4 out of the 6 good ends, the note is the pivotal moment in all of them! The Bad End only triggered if you didn’t build up your characters confidence enough to pass the note in class!”

Ortho is just quiet enough that you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying but you can hear him speaking, your eyebrows raised as you looked at the Shroud brothers. Idia saw the dialogue options appear before his very eyes as reality blended with video games for a moment: he could either pass the note to you now and accept the consequences or allow Ortho to reveal it was from the plot of some 3-star Otome game since he wasn’t creative enough to come up with his own way to confess.

He had tossed the paper at you, watching it land right in your half-open bag before he dashed, moving quicker than his physical body had ever moved before. He’d personally expel himself if Crowley tried to drag him back out of his room, he’d just take his parents business over and that’d be the end of that. He didn’t know how long he’d been curled up on his bed, face in his pillow as he considered just smothering himself rather than facing the light of day again. Life’s built-in autosave meant his fate was sealed and, somehow, he felt even more cursed than before.

Until a note slipped under his door, the side the writing was on turned upward so he could see it from his bed.

A little ‘y’ circled in red ink had led to this.

A grand hall decorated with flowers, STYX employees in their finest clothing filling most of the seats, the smell of expensive but most likely delicious foods just waiting to steal everyone’s attention away. When Idia entered the room he could see some of his and your family, along with a few friends dotted throughout but he can’t look for long as he felt like he might pass out.

He stood tall at the front of the room, glancing at the entry way anxiously, like he was truly afraid a too big primate would come through beating his fists on his chest and kidnapping his lover. He had been in a position like this before, albeit less willingly, and he began to understand now why it was so important to put his feelings out there even with the chance of rejection. A bell chimes and the music begins, and Idia can’t wipe the smile from his face.

The pointed grin remained even as you approached, your expression mirroring his as you smiled right back; he suspected by the end of the night his cheeks would ache with how happy he was, but he supposed he could put up with it for a day, for you.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Scenario #Flower Prompts

214 notes · View notes

queeenarii · 5 months ago

Text

Cant get this out of my head

P1harmony × Reader (Polycule) MMMF

HardDom!Keeho, Sub!Jiung, Intak

Light choking, light breath play,

MDNI

Not proofread :)

The boys were working hard for their latest comeback. Jiung especially was super stressed out, and he wasn't dealing with it well. Him and Keeho were constantly at each others neck. Constantly bickering and arguing. Theyre at a music show, just lazing about until their called on stage again.

"Keeho you were like one inch off on the last chorus" Jiung states rather bluntly. But Keeho just ignores him, attempting to keep a bit of peace in the dressing room.

"Keeho? Did you hear me?" Jiung asks

"Yeah, whatever" Keeho answers back trying to maintain his cool. As the leader, he can't loose his head. He has to be calm and collected at all times. No matter how much he was to yell at Jiung, he knows Jiung's just trying to make everything perfect.

It's always perfection with him. Jiung is unable to just let something be good, or even great. Always Perfect.

"Well then say something, you know-how" Jiung starts

"Oh my gosh! Jiung just shush-okay! I was off sorry I can't be fucking perfect" Keeho explodes

The rest of the members look around, the air is thick between the two members. Theyre cat and mouse antics are usually fun. Jiung's introspection reins in Keeho's spontaneity. They're a great match despite what others might see.

Jiung's face turns red, with embarrassment and rage "hey-" he starts before Intak steps between their line of site. Theo follows Keeho out the room, hoping to calm him down. While Intak silently ushers Jiung to the couch. The couch offers little solace though, Jiung holds his head in his hand. Leg rocking and posture slump.

You enter through the door, having heard the two men yelling down the hallway and seeing Keeho rush by you in anger. Theo assures you that he'll talk to him, but you know how stubborn Keeho can be.

"What the fuck y'all? " you rush in seeing two of your boyfriends on the couch. You tentatively great Soul and Jongseob.

"Jiung baby, whats wrong" You question softly. Just then the boys manager and Theo returns, offering an empty dressing room down the hallway for you guys. The best way to get Jiung and Keeho to stop fighting is to just let them fight.

Jiung storms off, hating the numerous eyes of the stylist and others on him.

In the other room Jiung paces near the door quietly. His thoughts spiral out of control, and he's almost consumed by them. In a daze almost. Once he's like this, it's hard for him to get out. You sit with jiung in the room, waiting for him to calm down a bit, knowing that in this state there's no reasoning with him.

A soft knock is heard at the door, then Keeho walks in. At the site of him Jiung implodes getting I'm his face.

"What the fuck man? " he questions

"Jiung back up"

"No cause what the fuck was th-"

"God your so fucking stubborn"

"Like you aren't"

"Yeah, well I'm not a perfectionist little shit sometimes"

"Yeah and I'm not a narcissistic asshole, who does nothing but stare at my flawless fucking face all day"

The two breath heavily in each others face. Skin flushed red and eyes trained on each other. Keeho's flicker down slightly before he envelopes Jiung in a hug.

People wonder why Keeho was made leader and not Jiung. Why the silliest most obnoxious member was saddled with so much responsibility. The truth is no one understands each member better than Keeho. Jiung might know their mannerisms. He picks up on the little things, the observable world is his domain. Where confusion can't take route. Where he can count on a flower being a flower. He's always a beat too late when it get emotional. He struggles to even understand his own sometimes.

Keeho however, is great at emotions. He study and observes others too, but he is great at reading others, especially his fellow members. Especially his partners.

"Baby" Keeho calls out softly then he kisses Jiung. You expect Jiung to pull away, to deflect Keeho's advances. But he doesn't. All the anger and tension leaves the youngers body, he relaxes in Keeho's hold. His legs grow weak, arms lazily strech around Keeho's neck.

Keeho pulls back "hmm, I now I know why you've been such a little shit lately" he quips playfully

"Shut up" Jiung retorts soflty pushing out of the others hold. He sits down on the couch next to you.

You look down and see what Keeho is talking about. The kiss placated Jiungs rage, but it ignited a different fire.

You get up and straddle Jiungs lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hips grid harshly into his, riling him up farther. Keeho takes a seat to your left, softly caressing Jiungs leg. He looks up at you hoping for a kiss.

Your last boyfriend finnaly joins you all, having time to change out of his stage clothes wearing grey sweat pants that mirrors Jiungs.

"Keeho, go return your outfit, the stylists are looking for you". Intak tells him.

Keeho reluctantly pulls away from you to quickly change.

Your lips feel empty so you search for Jiungs again. As you make out you feel him up, your soft hands rake over his hot skin under his shirt. Your hands then travel to his sweats, pulling at them.

You leave Jiungs lap so he can take the pants off, finally met with his dick at full attention. You stare for a second, taking in his thin but long length. Jiung let's out a small whine, urging you to do something. You chuckle and return to his lap, kissing him once more as you usher his dick to your entrance.

You sink down, savoring the feeling. You all hadn't done this in a while. Their promotion schedule was about as hectic as your own, bareltinf leaving you all with time to see each other. Let alone give y'all time for a good fuck.

Keeho returns to the room joining you all on the couch. Jiung is moaning quiet loudly for him. He always gets noisy and so sensitive when he hasn't come in a while. You love seeing him like this.

You continue to ride him. His head thrown back and his pretty, long neck exposed to you. Your temptation takes hold, your hand wrapping around his thin neck. At the feeling Jiung moans a bit louder, loving the attention your giving him. You ride him with vigor, loving the way he falls apart under you. Keeho whispers words of praise in his ear as Intak laps at his nipples, pinching and biting them, spurring Jiung on. Hes quick to cum, and loud once he does so. His eyes roll to the back of his head. His hands, each securely intertwined with the men beside him, squeeze theirs tightly, nails digging into flesh. His toes curl and legs tense. Slowly coming down from his high as continue to milk everything from him.

Anger no longer plagues him, instead he's left feeling giddy, boneless and satisfied.

Intak pulls you over to him next, his big brown eyes lock into yours as you two finally kiss. He flips you over you back on his chest and he guides his length into you finally stretching you open with his fat cock. You whine at the feeling, missing Jiungs length but savouring the feeling of Intak.

It's tight, so he starts of slow. Calmly he thrusts inside you. One hand grasps your breast, kneeding the flesh and teasing your nipple. The other travels to your aching clit, rubbing slow circles that elict soft moans out of you. Gradually Intak picks up speed, slamming inside you with deep harsh thrust. His fingers work magic on your clothes being you closer to your own high. After some time you start to clinch around him. Your orgasm on the horizon. Your toes tingle and eyes prickle with tears. Intaks hand on your breast leaves, clasping over your mouth. That does it, the tight chord in your tummy snaps and your creaming all over Intaks dick. He mutters filthy words in your ear as you dox Cumming shortly after.

Intak let's you go, helping you stand up on your wobbly legs. Immediately Keeho stands behind you "can you handle one more?" He asks genuinely. You mod giving him the green light.

Keeho roughly bends you over and enters you switftly. His dick is well balanced not too long, not too fat, with a slight curve. It hits every spot inside you nicely. It can't reach the depths of your cunt like Jiungs can, or stretch you wide like Intaks. But it's still perfect for him and for you.

Keeho dosent bother to go slowly. He enters you roughly, tugging your hips to meet his. He adores seeing your ass recoil at his hard thrusts.

Keeho grabs you by the shoulders, digging deep and making you go insane on his dick. He soon finds your gspot. Evident in the way you cry out and shudder once he hits it. He pulls you up by the hair, then attaches one hand to your throat.

"Gonna cum for us pretty? " he teases. His other hand slithers down to your clit once again. The stimulation burns from your last orgasm but is so intoxicating at the same time.

You nod to answer Keeho's question. Quickly feeling your orgasm approaching. After a while wetness leaves your cunt. Your loans loud and skin buzzing as your climax washes over you hard. Keeho growls at this as you tighten around him drawing him closer as well. He helps you ride it his orgasm, as once he feels your spent body relax he pulls out, coaxing himself to climax.

Once you and keeho catch your breath you look over at Intak and Jiung on the couch. Jiung, in subspace, is curled up in Intaks lap, snoozing slightly and Intak rubs his back soothingly. Finally content. Everything perfect

#p1h smut #jiung x reader #choi jiung #jiung smut #p1h jiung #keeho smut #yoon keeho #p1h keeho #keeho x reader #keeho #intak #hwang intak #intak x reader #intak smut #p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #p1h x reader

46 notes · View notes

sabakos · 9 months ago

Text

I think maybe most "normal" people really are spoonies, too but they just don't notice because even if they sometimes hit their limit, they always have enough spoons to get by. But I don't believe that there are really people out there who work hard at their desk job and then can come home and cook dinner and work out and clean their house and sleep five hours every night and are none the worse for wear and never reach the point where they can't do more. I think anyone who tried to do all of this all the time and also support a family and maintain an active social life and hobbies would physically implode before they burned out.

And this ideal non-spoonie just doesn't hold up to observation from anyone I've known with a modestly functional life? Many people seem to eat a lot of fast food and takeout all while telling themselves they should cook more. I think there are probably various parts of their house that are full of clutter or aren't cleaned as often as they would like them to be unless they are rich enough to pay someone to take care of that or have a spouse who does that instead of working. Most days they probably come home from work and do the bare minimum before they decompress in front of the television or the computer for a few hours. This doesn't break anything in their life so they never have reason to think about it, but they've "exhausted their spoons for the day" when they're in this state. They do their adult responsibilities like pay bills on Saturdays and maybe sleep in if they need to, so it all takes care of itself.

I don't think the difference between a "normie" and a "spoonie" is that great though? Someone who always "gets by" like this isn't necessarily that far above someone who is "barely getting by" or "not getting by" and they would never even know it! I think it's a lot easier than most people realize to enter a spiral, where one or two bad weeks mean that for the first time, you've overspent your spoons before everything you need to do is done, which has consequences in the form of stress, from self-blame, or late fees on bills, or general fatigue from not eating or sleeping properly, which result in fewer spoons the next week, which results in more things not getting none that need to get done, and more consequences, and more stress.... you get the idea.

From the outside or the inside it's probably not easy to know this is happening, it just looks like a depressed person suddenly doesn't have as much energy to hang out with their friends anymore or enjoy the things they used to enjoy, or even get out of bed anymore at a reasonable time on the weekends. And suddenly it feels to them like they want to die, because all of a sudden everything started going wrong and it happened so gradually and imperceptibly that it just seems like one day they were broken. They might laugh if they knew how trivial or stupid the initial trigger that set off the spiral was. It might make it easier to claw their way back if they develop a sense of humor about it, and realize that it wasn't "their fault" and that sometimes these things happen. They can happen to anyone, after all.

#brain problems

26 notes · View notes

wastelandmoony · 9 months ago

Text

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven : Losing Dogs

Summary: A tipping point.

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI;

a/n: I've been feeling like shit about everything lately, and had considered not posting for a while, but low and behold I've stopped feeling like a twat and am smashing that post button once again.

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

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

May 20th, 1976

Weeks of revising had turned her brain into certifiable mush. For once, the entire study group had organized to meet, but she couldn’t seem to find the mental capacity to join them.

“I just think that if I try to remember one more fact about Chimaera, I might actually implode,” her head was face down on the breakfast table, voice muffled and exhausted.

Remus massaged in-between her shoulders, “You won’t miss much…besides watching Prongs make a fool out of himself to impress Lily again.”

She groaned.

“I know it’s your favorite,” Remus laughed.

Straightening back up, she signed into a bite of toast. Marlene made eye contact with her from down the table. “Want to hit the pitch instead? I don’t much feel like revising either,” she said with a grimace.

“You’re a godsend, Marlene McKinnon,” she smiled in response.

Sirius having just heard the tail end of the conversation, frowned at them, “I want to join too! Don’t leave me with them, please, I’ll be bored out of my mind.” The look he gave her was a cross between sad puppy, and pleading child.

She rolled her eyes, “No! You promised me you’d study now that we’re a month away from exams. I’m holding you to it.”

Sirius groaned and took a rather large swig of tea.

“C’mon Marls,” she grabbed her stuff and stood up, “Lets head out.”

Sirius looked up at her through his lashes, “Have I told you that you’re my least favorite friend?”

She rounded the table, stopping to bend down and whisper in his ear “We both know that’s a lie.” One kiss on the cheek, and a wave to the rest of their friends, and the two girls were off to the quidditch pitch, academics a far off thought for the afternoon.

———

“Jesus, Marls,” she gaped at her friend, having just launched the hardest hit on a bludger she’d ever seen, “I don’t know how you do that. It’s amazing.”

Marlene shrugged from a few meters away, “It’s a gift, I know.”

She smiled, taking a lap around the goal posts to feel the wind. It was a perfect day, no clouds in the sky, warm spring air the prime temperature for flying. She could practically feel the stress melting away as she glided around the pitch.

After a few hours, they took a break, pausing to hover over the far side of the field.

“So…what’s up with you and Dorcas?” She looked over at Marlene. Mary had told her (under sworn secrecy) that Marlene had hooked up with the Slytherin chaser after a party in the dungeons a few weeks back.

Marlene shrugged again, the portrait of nonchalance, “It’s…complicated I guess. We’re exclusive, but we’re not labeling it as anything just yet.”

She smiled tentatively at her friend, “Are you happy?”

A beaming grin split Marlene’s face, “Incredibly.”

“Then that’s all that matters, right?” A crumb of jealously formed in her chest. She wanted to feel that too, the joy and happiness that Marlene had found; the devotion that James showed Lily, and the fondness she had begun showing him in return. She wanted that, wanted to experience reciprocal love.

“What’s going on with you and Black?” Marlene took a drink from her water, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Sirius?” Her heart skipped a beat. Marlene nodded, smirking.

She shook her head, “Nothing. We’re friends.”

“Bullshit,” Marlene turned towards her, “we can all see it!”

This was ridiculous, she felt her face becoming hot.

Marlene shook her head, “You two have always been close, but I don’t know…this year it’s been different.”

She stared out over the pitch, trying to figure out what to say. There was nothing to say. Things had seemed different between them, she hadn’t realized it until now how much closer they’d gotten since last year, how much she’d begun to miss him when he wasn’t with her.

“Marlene, I—“ she paused to find the right words, sighing when she came up short. Rubbing a hand over her face, she groaned, “God, I’m so obvious, aren’t I.”

Marlene laughed, “Yes, you’re both almost gross to look at sometimes.”

“Both?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Marlene nodded, “You don’t see the way he looks at you, he follows your every move, like he’s afraid to let you out of his sight for too long.”

It was similar to what Mary had told her months ago, that Sirius’ attention always seemed to linger on her. Though everyone else seemed to see it, why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he make a move?

She sighed in frustration, a breeze blowing her hair back and cooling her nerves.

“Want to head back? Dinner’s in a few, and I’d love to change out of these clothes beforehand,” She glanced over at her friend.

Marlene nodded, “Yeah, come back to the Tower, you can shower at ours.”

The two flew towards the ground, landing softly and headed back up towards the castle.

———

After showering and changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the two girls lounged by the fireplace and waited for the rest of their friends to get back before heading down to dinner. As she stretched out her sore legs, a soft sniffling echoed through the portrait entrance. Lily quickly walked through, wiping her eyes and hurrying towards the girls dormitory.

The two of them were instantly on their feet.

“Lils, what’s wrong?” She said, trying to placate their friend.

Lily shook her head and pushed past them both, disappearing up the steps.

Mary breathlessly ran through the portrait a split second later, “Did she go upstairs?”

“Yes, Mary what happened?” She was on edge, and by the look on her friend’s face, the feeling was mutual.

Mary shook her head sadly, “It was Severus.”

Her hands curled into fists at her side, “What did he do to her, Mary.”

She felt Marlene tense at her side as well.

“He didn’t do anything…it’s what he said…” Mary trailed off, eyes gazing towards the girls dormitory stairs. Her voice lowered, “He called Lily a mudblood.”

She’d long let go of the power that word held over her, and had come to ignore its taunt so many times that it no longer affected her. But she knew Lily, and though they all hated Severus, she couldn’t imagine having someone she thought of as a friend call her something so vile.

The group of voices tumbling through the portrait hole could only be the boys. Sure enough, the four entered the common room, frantically talking over each other in various tones. Sirius seemed elated, talking hurriedly to James and grinning from ear to ear. The latter was pale and worried, locking eyes with the girls the moment they stepped into the room. Remus raised his eyebrows at her in a way that said “buckle up for this one.”

James strode over to Mary, “Did Lily come back here? Is she okay?”

Mary crossed her arms over her chest, taking on a defensive stance, “She doesn’t want to talk to you Potter.”

She glanced between her two friends, confused, “What’s going on…?”

Mary hadn’t dropped James’s stare, “Why don’t you tell them, James? Tell them how you made Lily cry today.”

Her head whipped to him, “What. Did. You. Do?!”

From the back of the room, the other three boys cringed in solidarity with their friend.

James started stuttering, “I—I didn’t mean to! We were just having a laugh, and of course Snivellus had to take it too far—“

“You removed his trousers while Sirius levitated him upside down!” Mary hissed.

She stared at James, eyes darting to Sirius as he tried to shuffle behind Remus, “I’ll deal with you later, Black.”

A soft “fuck” could be heard from the other side of the room.

She looked back at James, eyes filled with disbelief and hurt, “Why would you do that? I know we don’t particularly like Severus, but how does this make you any better than him or the other bullies in his house?”

James looked at the floor, the reality of what he’d done finally sinking in fully. “I…wasn’t thinking. I just thought it would be funny, and when it was over he…took a shot at Lily. She didn’t deserve that…”

She shook her head, “I don’t blame her for not wanting to speak with you, and I sure as hell am not going to speak on your behalf.”

James nodded sadly.

“You’ll just have to wait until she wants to talk about it. I’m not going to help you this time, Jamie.”

He nodded again, turning around and slumping upstairs towards the boys dormitory, followed quickly by Peter.

She turned to Mary, “Can you go check on her, please? I’ll handle the rest of these idiots.”

Mary squeezed her hand and ran up the stairs with Marlene to be with their friend.

Her eyes narrowed at Sirius, still half hidden behind Remus’s tall frame. The latter gave her a look and began to walk up towards the dorm, Sirius scoffing at him.

Remus turned and raised his eye brows, “I’m not helping you, mate, you’re on your own.”

She stared at Sirius from a few meters away, the two of them the only ones left in the common room. He shifted nervously on his feet. “I—“

She held up a hand to cut him off, “I don’t care, Sirius.”

He nodded, gaze falling to the floor as she approached.

“What’re you doing?” She asked him softly, stopping a few feet away.

He dared a glance, “Standing here?”

She shook her head, “That’s not what I meant. You’re better than this, Siri. Don’t act like them.”

Sirius’ face became stony, “Like who?”

“You know exactly who I’m referring to…”

Sirius paused, looking out of the window of the tower in thought. She could practically see his internal battle, the nature to hurt and disrupt pitted against the desire and the heart to do good. He wasn’t a bad person, not by a long shot, but if he didn’t begin to think before he acted, the consequences would only continue to get larger.

She watched his brows furrow, and her heart strained a little. Over the years of knowing him, she had come to realize that the only way to get through to Sirius was with love. Yelling and fighting with him was pointless, it’s what he’d grown up with, and what he’d learned to counter. Love and kindness seemed to be the only things that actually sunk in.

Closing the gap between them, her arms wound their way around his neck, and she hugged him close. It took him aback for a beat, but he returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

“You’re a good person, Sirius, please don’t lose that,” she whispered.

He played with the ends of her hair, “I’m sorry…”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” she said.

“I know, but I want to,” his eyes were piercing as she pulled back to look at him, the sincerity in them was jarring.

“Thank you…” she whispered, unsure of how to react. She realized he was still holding onto her waist, the warmth from his hands seeping through her shirt.

She cleared her throat, “I don’t think the rest of them will want to come down to dinner, so do you want to help me steal food from the kitchens? We can bring it back up here.”

Sirius smirked, thumbs grazing against her skin, “Go on then.”

———

June 13th, 1976

Remus wasn’t in the hospital wing when she went down just before breakfast. Though his absence was not completely unusual, the look on Madam Pomfrey’s face when she walked into the infirmary was enough to set her nerves on edge.

“He’s already left, dear,” the healer said, her eyes full of something that she could only clock as pity.

“Is he okay? Did something happen” She said, clutching the bar of Honeydukes chocolate in her pocket.

Madam Pomfrey paused, clearly struggling to find the right words, “…I think you should speak with him, love.”

———

Students were filtering out of the Great Hall as she strode through the doors. She glanced at the Gryffindor table, hoping to see Remus and her friends sitting and eating breakfast, but she just caught sight of Lily and Mary packing up to leave.

“Hiya,” she said breathlessly to the two girls, the pattern of her breathing severely impacted by the racing of her heart, “Have you seen Remus?”

Lily furrowed her brows in concern, “He stopped by briefly and grabbed some food, mumbled something about the library. Is everything alright?”

She nodded, though not very convincingly, and ran out of the Great Hall.

Something had happened, something…bad. She could feel it in her stomach.

But what had been so awful Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t keep Remus in the hospital wing? He obviously couldn’t be that hurt?

The familiar carved doors of the library approached on her right, and she ripped them open more aggressively than she should’ve. Madam Pince scowled, and she didn’t even bother giving the old woman a kind smile like usual. Peering down each line of shelves, she searched every corner and chair on the lower floor for Remus, to no avail.

“Fuck…” she sighed, climbing the stairs to the second floor landing. It was usually quieter up here, so she should’ve expected to see Remus posted up at the far corner behind a row of shelves, head buried in a textbook.

“Moony?” She said lowly, to not piss off the crotchety librarian who was more than likely hovering nearby.

He lowered the book and gave her a tired smile, “Hey.”

“Everything alright?” She sat beside him in an upholstered chair, assessing him for any new injuries.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged a scarred hand down his face, then stared out of the windows across the walkway.

“…Remus?” She whispered, finding herself unable to breathe properly.

He shifted his eyes to her, and she saw it then. The devastating sadness and heartache etched into his face.

“What happened?” She swallowed.

“There was…an accident…” he averted his eyes again, staring down at his hands, “Severus. He—he saw—“

Her throat burned. Whether with bile or tears, she wasn’t sure. The only thing she saw after Remus began to explain what had happened the night prior, was pure red.

———

She doesn’t remember how she got to Gryffindor Tower.

She doesn’t remember giving the Fat Lady the password.

She doesn’t remember climbing through the portrait and coming to a stop in the common room.

All she remembers is the color red.

The color red, and the look on Sirius Blacks face.

He was perched on the armrest of the couch, arms crossed and face sallow.

James stood over him, just as pale but his cheeks were flushed in anger. They were talking in tense whispers when Sirius’ attention snapped to her.

James turned around sharply, shoulders relaxing when he saw who it was. “Hey,” he sighed tiredly.

She ignored him, walking closer.

Sirius had been crying, she could tell by how bloodshot his eyes were.

She didn’t care.

He stood up as she approached, knowing exactly what she was there for.

“I didn’t mean to—“ he started, only for her to rear back and punch him in the side of the head.

“YOU COULD’VE KILLED HIM!” She screamed, pushing him backwards into the couch, “YOU COULD’VE FUCKING KILLED HIM!”

James came up behind her and put her into a hold, pinning her arms to her side, “Severus didn’t get hurt—“

“I don’t give a shit about Severus!” She thrashed in his arms, trying to break free, “The ministry would’ve killed Remus if he so much as touched him!”

Sirius clutched the side of his face, turning to stare at her with despair and self-loathing in his eyes, “…I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She continued to pull at James’ grasp.

“You’re fucking dead to me,” she spat as James dragged her towards the portrait entrance, “DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME, BLACK!” She screamed as James pulled her out into the corridor beyond.

The last thing she saw before the portrait shut, was Sirius burying his face in his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake.

A few moments passed, her breathing still ragged as James held her tightly and waited for her to calm down.

“Are you going to behave, or do I have to bar you from the tower?” James said sternly into her ear.

She nodded reluctantly, and he finally released her. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, “This is a fuckin’ mess.”

“We could’ve lost him, James,” she whispered, staring vacantly out of the window, “We came so close…I can’t—“

She began to hyperventilate, sobs erupting violently from her as James pulled her close again.

“I don’t know what he was thinking,” he said quietly against her hair, “Have you seen Moony?”

She nodded silently, not able to speak fully without screaming.

“Is he alright? I only saw him this morning…when Dumbledore told him what happened.”

She shuddered a breath, “He’s…shaken up. We didn’t talk much about it, just what he was told, I guess. You know how he is, he never wants to open up.”

They stood there for a moment, James holding her as she gathered herself.

“Will Severus tell?” She whispered into his chest.

He shook his head, “Sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore.”

Another moment passed in silence.

“I’ll never forgive him, Jamie.”

He sighed, “I’m not expecting you to. I just—promise me that you’ll keep it together, for Moony’s sake.”

“I’m not so sure Remus wants to be around Sirius right now, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And what if Remus chooses to forgive him?” James said as he let her go.

She thought about it, her brain and heart waging a ruthless battle within her tired body.

“Then I’ll respect it, but I won’t change my mind.”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x oc #remus lupin fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era x reader #marauders era fic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

chaoticallyfragmentary · 2 years ago

Text

Dabi x Reader

Hurt/Comfort. I want Dabi to hold me and LoV to tell me that they've got me. Is that too much to ask?

Imagine this happens somewhere after Dabi's fight with Endeavor. Doesn't follow canon. Dabi is afraid and wants to leave you before you could leave him.

You fight awake, mouth pulled open in a silent scream you cannot vocalize, quirk lashing out. Reality returns to you in fractures. You could feel Toga holding you, trapping you in place. Shigaraki looks at you as you sit up, “You’re alright, kid,” he says softly. “You are not there. You are here, and we’ve got you.” He smiles, eyes a touch downturned as all at once, the fight drains out of you and you slump, gasping for air, finding yourself weeping, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“You’re alright, kiddo," Big sis Magne whispers, her hand gently squeezing your neck. “Where’s Dabi?” You ask instead. “He,” Toga clearly hesitates, but then she holds your gaze. “Don’t go to him now. He ---”

“He doesn’t want me, I know.” Your chest feels like it might crack open, the vacant cold of terror, of the half formed thought that Dabi might’ve been gone replaced with the surge of hot anxiety as he will leave sharpnel in his wake, vacant caverns in your heart if he decides to end whatever it was that you had.

But of course, you go right to his door. It is late, a certain kind of stillness to the night, like the whole world is caught in slumber, except for those rest doesn’t come easy to. You’re almost certain that he’s awake, hand poised to knock.

“Dabi,” you call softly and the silence that greets you makes you physically flinch from the ache behind your ribs. A grotesque laugh bubbles up your throat, a worn out sound. You had to suck in a breath and swallow down the rising pressure in the back of your throat.

“Touya, I-I-I, I don’t know if you are listening… but I love you, and none of it was your fault,” you murmur. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath as you fight every impulse to implode into a million pieces. All you want is a little reprieve.

“Love,” croaks a voice form the other side of the door and you press your hand over your mouth as the tears flood your eyes, desperately trying to muffle the sound that rises up your throat, hitched and weak. Silence again but now that you know that Dabi is standing on the other side, you want to tear the door off its hinges, you want to crawl into his arms, you want and you want and you are trying so hard to keep it together, half laughing, half sobbing as you choke out, ”It’s so good to hear your voice. Thank you.”

“They told me you were alive, but I had to see for myself.”

There is no response for so long that you think maybe he’d left, maybe he'd fallen asleep but then the door opens up a silver and you swivel, peering through the crack, the smell of forest fire instantly flooding your senses. Dabi sobs out a hoarse laugh as the door wrenches open all the way and he barely braces himself before you are, quite literally trying to crawl into him, wondering, for one brief moment if, but then his arms are around you and he cannot stop crying as you attempt to meld into him, barely leaving a silver of space between your bodies. You aren’t sure who is clinging to the other harder, digging your fingers into each other, holding on as if the fear that the other might be wrenched away from you had been carved into your bones. You feel Touya’s face buried in your shoulder as he trembles, and he can feel your arms wrapped around him, fingers curled tight in his hair, breathing short and stuttered.

Dabi wants to comfort you, but he’s too busy falling apart at the same moment, both of you barely hanging on by a thread. But you are in his arms, and he is holding on, and maybe, just for tonight, this is enough.

#bnha #mha #dabi imagine #dabi #bnha dabi #bnha imagines #dabi is touya #dabi my hero academia #hurt/comfort #league of villains #platonic loV #dabi x gn reader #dabi x reader #mha imagines

311 notes · View notes

haggishlyhagging · 4 months ago

Text

In Civilization, women are objectified and treated as property—that is, owned to some degree—more than men. That doesn't change with "sex-positive feminism." The sex-positive idea is that women can gain some degree of control by objectifying themselves. Women remain objects, but if we play it right, the reasoning goes, we can partake in more of the profits of our exploitation.

Women are also human beings, with minds, ideas, desires, feelings, points of view, and consciousness. These are what make us alive, and that life is diminished by objectification.

I am less fully human when seen as an object by others, but I am even more troubled by my own participation in objectifying myself. I actively reduced my own humanity. The loss of my libido was only one measurable result. I was not only a victim of my commodification, but also a perpetrator.

Was I supposed to save myself for Love? I'd already been in love, several times, and my lovers imploded and left me. Men found me "too intense." No one wanted my love, not even me. The idea of men loving me for who I actually was, was long gone. No one wanted my soul, but some wanted my body, which was thin at last, and with makeup, a wig, and high heels was literally a hot commodity.

I was well aware I was supposed to be cautious, and took precautions; I only responded to solicitations specifying "no nudity" and "no sex" (both of which turned out to be laughable, and are tactics still used to this day to recruit young, vulnerable women). I was also aware that I was supposed to feel ashamed. I spent a lot of time considering shame, and rejecting it: I wasn't harming anyone (ha!), my choices were informed, my eyes were open. Sex was nothing to be ashamed of. Objectifying my own body was nothing to be ashamed of: all the strippers, prostitutes, and porn models/directors who spoke at SESI made that clear. It was work, it was art, it was expression. No shame in objectification: we are all objects, we live in a material world. Nothing wrong with exchange for money, either; we exchange all kinds of goods and services for money, why are bodies and sex any different?

Now-me knows sex is different, and bodies are not commodities. Then-me simply wouldn't have believed it. The body is sacred? Nothing is sacred in this world. Was I supposed to just cloister myself, be abstinent until Mr. Right came along? There is no Mr. Right, there was no one who would understand and respect and love me the way I needed to be loved, and time was ticking away while my very temporal body was at its peak of beauty and my hormones were screaming "fuck! fuck! fuck!"

Radical feminism might have helped me, but at the time I didn't know it existed. Dworkin was a dirty word. Plus, my craving for sex with men made it impossible for me to see men as they are, to admit how widespread misogyny really is.

Heterosexuality: it's a hell of a drug.

A hot body is often the biggest asset many young women have. We are lucky if we have hot, conventionally attractive bodies. All my years developing my mind and talents meant nothing compared to my brief moment of hot-boddedness. Men who were never impressed by my art would fall over themselves to buy me drinks and otherwise attend to me when I went out in a wig and makeup. I actually felt sorry for these men, so helplessly conditioned they were to respond to stupid gender cues, their feeble minds taken over by mediated programming. Do I pity them still? As much as I pity anyone who surrenders personal responsibility and critical thinking in favor of unexamined social programming. Such people are pathetic—and authoritarian, dangerous enablers.

For about a year, I enabled them myself, by dressing up as the male idea of a sexy woman: drag.

-Nina Paley, “My Sex-Positive Memoirs: How I Learned to Stop Drinking Kool-Aid and Start Judging” in Spinning And Weaving: Radical Feminism for the 21st Century

#Nina paley #performative femininity #female objectification #heterosexuality #female sex drive #sex roles

8 notes · View notes

mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 6

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: okay so... it all goes to shit here kind of lol

Genre: angst fr

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

"Mom- how could you not tell me?" You ask her forcing yourself to remain calm.

"Well, your father and I-"

"Daddy knows too?" You ask quietly because the idea that your parents agreed to keep you in the dark makes this whole thing that much harder to process.

"Of course he does."

"Why would you keep this a secret from me?"

"Because we weren't sure you'd ever turn."

"What?"

"In both your father and I we have a rare genetic thing, our wolf genes are dormant. Neither of us can turn- we thought, maybe you wouldn't be able to either and we didn't want the pressure of knowing that to affect you growing up. It can be very hard, being a wolf who can't be a wolf. We worried that if we told you that you would go through middle and high school thinking you were broken because you never turned. It's- wonderful that you have! I can tell you anything you want to know now that-"

"I haven't." You mutter.

"You haven't?"

"I haven't turned."

"Then- where did the question come from? How did you suspect you were a werewolf if you haven't turned?"

"I got clocked." You mutter.

"You got clocked?!"

"Yep. Some guys, near strangers, actually told me I was a werewolf. I've been mulling it over for like the past month wondering if it was even possible. I finally decided to just give you a call and put the whole thing to rest."

"Okay, wait strangers told you? How would they know?"

"They're werewolves. There are actually quite a few of them out here apparently mom."

"And one of them realized you were one?"

"Two of them but, it would appear so. And now I have a second problem."

"What is it baby?"

"These same men that told me I was a werewolf, told me Bruce has known this whole time." You say.

"Bruce your scientist boyfriend?"

"Yes mom my scientist boyfriend, who specializes in studying supernatural creatures. Would've been nice to know I WAS ONE before committing three years to him!" You huff.

"Wait you never told us he studied supernaturals. Why would you leave that out?"

"Because why would my human parents care about what he's sciencing mom?!" You scoff.

"You're okay with him experimenting on supernaturals as long as you aren't one?!"

"He doesn't experiment on them he does pretty much exclusively observational research as far as I know. Mom, what do I do if he's known this whole time and kept it from me? How do I even ask him something like that?"

"Be direct. And look out for the tells."

"Tells?"

"I know as a kid you had such sensitive hearing you could tell if someone was coming to the house before they even reached the front porch and I'm sure by now you've learned to manage that sensory response but if you can focus, you'll be able to hear his heart, hear his breathing change. If you can't focus watch for if he makes eye contact, or if he starts fidgeting, sweating, or pacing. Those are the tells of a liar. Plus regardless of if he's known all this time or not, I don't like the idea of you dating someone that treats our kind like lab rats."

"Okay well, I guess my life is imploding. I'll call you later. I have questions about this werewolf thing but I must first sort out the boyfriend drama." You tell her.

"Alright dear, take care of yourself hm? And tell Wanda I said hello."

"HI MOM! BYE MOM!" Wanda shouts before you hang up.

"Bye Wanda dear!" She says and the call ends there.

"So- you're a werewolf. I was right!" Wanda practically squeals in excitement.

"Okay you need to calm down." You tell her.

"I need to calm down?! How are you not less calm?"

"I think I'm still in shock. Kind of. But also I've been considering this for a while now. Plus Steve and Bucky being right about this means they might also be right about Bruce."

"You really think Bruce knew you were a werewolf this whole time and kept it from you?" Wanda frowns.

"Believe me I don't want to but I have to consider it. He swore Steve and Bucky were delusional liars and- if they were telling the truth about the wolf thing why would they lie about Bruce?"

"So are you going to ask him?"

"I have to. Don't I?"

"Unless you have access to his research yeah."

"How would access to his research help me avoid asking?"

"Well, for him to find out even though you didn't know, he'd have to have run a blood test or something on you at some point and I'm sure he kept them on file somewhere."

"I'll just ask him. I wouldn't feel comfortable going through his files anyway."

"I dunno considering it's likely that he's been running tests on you fuck his privacy in my opinion. Do you have access to his research?"

"Technically, yes, but he takes his laptop to the lab with him usually. I wouldn't be able to go through it without him here. It'll just be quicker to ask him. Mom says I should be able to tell if he's lying about it." You shrug.

"Well there ya go." She says.

"Would it be awful if I waited?" You grimace. The thought of this makes your stomach turn.

"No, it's gonna be a tough confrontation you should do it when you feel ready. Although it's probably not good to let it fester. Can I ask what's holding you back?"

"If he's lying I need to be prepared to leave and I wanna have that in order first-"

"I can't believe you're saying that as if I'm not right here! Pack a bag or two right now and I'll take your stuff to my place. As soon as you find out he's lying head right out the door and come to mine."

"Wait- do you think he's lying Wanda?"

"How should I know?"

"You said as soon as I find out he's lying, as if he for sure is and it's just a matter of confirming. You think Steve and Bucky are right about this?"

"They were right about you being a werewolf. You said it yourself, if they weren't lying about that why this?" She shrugs. "I know you love Bruce but it's not farfetched that in 3 years with all he knows about supernaturals, he suspected you were one, like I did, but unlike me he did what he could to confirm that suspicion."

"Oh." You frown.

"I'm sorry y/n. I don't want to believe that he would do that to you, but you know I've always had my reservations about him."

"No I- I know. It's a valid thought. I mean Steve and Bucky were right about one thing and if I was so sure they were wrong about Bruce I wouldn't feel the need to ask him in the first place but- the ethics of his research have always been a point of contention for me so, I'm not surprised we're here anyway."

"Honestly if he's been telling the truth that's great, but what you should pay more attention to is how he reacts to the question regardless. I mean- everything you thought you knew just got flipped on its head he should understand why that would raise more questions especially since the source of one truth is the source of this information."

"I dunno he's been pretty agitated about this whole wolf mafia thing. Every time we talk about Steve and Bucky he's like in hyper defense. Sometimes it feels like he doesn't believe I can think for myself. If I'm not agreeing with him he says it's because I'm too naive or too trusting or whatever."

"That's- kind of ugly." Wanda mutters and you laugh.

"He's paranoid and he feels guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Because if I'm in danger it's because of his research all those years ago. Not that anyone has made any indication that I'm in danger it's just- knowing all of these supposed mobsters are in my social vicinity he assumes they're just waiting to strike. Circling me like sharks." You chuckle.

"If anything it seems like they're circling to protect though?"

"Bruce would have an aneurysm even trying to consider that possibility." You scoff.

"Okay well, pack some things. You don't have to take him on today but since I'm here we'll pack your evacuation stuff now and just keep it at mine til you do."

"Maybe I should be giving him the benefit of the doubt." You sigh as you pull your small suitcase out of your closet.

"I think you're giving plenty of benefit by bothering to ask him and not just assuming he's lying."

"Yeah but- packing like this? As if I'm expecting to hear a lie and need to escape?" You frown, folding up clothes and packing them into the suitcase without much thought.

"Hope for the best but prepare for the worst that's what you always say. I know it's hard when the worst is that your boyfriend betrayed your trust but it'll be easier to face if you're ready for that possibility."

"Right. Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." You nod.

"So- if the werewolves end up being right about him, what's your plan with them?"

"My plan with them?"

"Yeah, like- will you go talk to them?"

"I dunno. I have no way of contacting them Wanda they just kind of appear every couple of weeks. It's not like I can go looking."

"I think you could." She shrugs.

"How does one go looking for werewolf possibly crime lords?"

"Well you said Peter knows two of their men?"

"Maybe. I mean Peter knows two of the werewolf mobsters yes but. That only helps if Steve and Bucky really are on top like Bruce thinks they are. If not the last thing I wanna do is have more werewolves looking for me."

"Hm, I guess dealing with Steve and Bucky can wait. First we deal with Bruce." She tells you.

"Yeah sure- I guess so." You agree and finish packing your things for her to take to her place. Despite Wanda's conviction on the matter, you don't have the courage to confront Bruce when he comes home that night. You have dinner and discuss his day and wind down together like you do every other night. You pretend that nothing is wrong and can I just say you are one hell of an actress because Bruce does not suspect a thing. In fact you sit on this information for days before you deal with anything and it's not exactly by choice. The bell at the front of the store rings and you greet the way you always do.

"Hello! Welcome in!" You call, looking up to see Wanda walking towards you with serious conviction. "Uh oh." You mutter.

"Hi Peter!" Wanda says without even looking for him knowing he works pretty much every shift with you at this point.

"Miss Wanda! Hi!" Peter pokes his head into view from behind some shelves. Wanda waves at him and then turns her attention to you with a point.

"You." She says.

"Me."

"You need to talk to him." Wanda says.

"I will! I just-"

"No no you just nothing. You've been sitting on this for over four days. What are you gonna do just pretend it's all okay for the rest of your life?" She crosses her arms. You knew this was coming, and to her credit, she has left you to your devices until now.

"No of course not, but- I'm not ready." You sigh.

"Y/n right now you don't know if you can trust him and that's something you need to sort out because a relationship without trust is like, jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. Death waiting to happen."

"Sorry I'm not eager to risk blowing up my entire relationship." You shrug.

"Newsflash the fact that you're in this situation at all means your relationship is probably already fucking doomed. Especially if the truth is what we're worried that it is, then your relationship has been over for a looooong time."

"Ouch." You frown.

"Honey if he's been lying to you this whole time then he thinks you're a fool. Do not let him make a fool of you. When you get off work, talk to him or I will come to your apartment and accuse him myself."

"That is a terrible idea." You shake your head.

"I know, the point is to light a fire under your butt so you take care of it yourself. Because you know I'll do it."

"Why can't you just let me do this on my own time?" You pout.

"I wish I could but as your best friend it would be irresponsible for me to pretend that I'm okay with this ignorance is bliss act you have going on to protect your relationship with a man who we suspect is lying to you. All you're doing is wasting your time and I can't in good conscience allow that to go on especially because in a few months you'll probably bitch at me if I do and if I were in your shoes you would have my head."

"I know you're right but I hate you for it."

"You will thank me later, and I will maybe see you tonight. At the very least I expect a text or I'll be banging on your door by this time tomorrow." She leans over the counter and kisses your cheek before sauntering out of the store.

"What a terror." You sigh to yourself.

"Wanda left?" Peter asks coming up to the counter.

"Yeah. She only came in to yell at me in person so I couldn't ignore her."

"Yell at you for what?" Peter laughs.

"Avoiding my problems. Honestly Peter the best and worst thing you can do is have a best friend that will ride your ass because they will have your back but man is it annoying to hear when you're not acting in your own best interest." You roll your eyes and he laughs some more.

"I'll- keep that in mind. I don't have much in the way of friends honestly so, I'd say you're pretty lucky to have her."

"Aw come on Sam and Clint don't ride you about being responsible and shit?" You ask.

"They're barely responsible themselves." He snorts.

"Fine then I'll be accountability friend."

"You'll be my accountability friend?"

"Yeah! I'm already Wanda's. Usually. Right now my life is minorly in shambles so she's mine but we swap as necessary. I can do the same for you." You say ruffling his hair. Peter makes a face but he doesn't complain about your affection. He never does.

"I mean you don't have to-" Peter trails off.

"I know but, you're a sweet kid. I'm sure I've got tons of advice I can offer you." You shrug.

"Oh- I appreciate it. You've been real nice to me since I started here so, thanks."

"Of course Peter." You smile at him. The rest of your shift passes quicker than you'd like it to because now as you're closing up with Peter you're thinking about the conversation you now have to have with Bruce. When you unlock your apartment the smell of food hits you first. You kick off your shoes and walk into the kitchen where Bruce is pulling a tray out of the oven.

"Hey Brucey." You say.

"Hi babe, welcome home." He says.

"Thank you. What'd you make?" You ask him, setting the table for you to eat.

"Stuffed peppers and roasted potatoes."

"Sounds good!"

"You're just in time to try them." Bruce puts the peppers on a serving plate and walks them over to the table with the potatoes. The two of you sit down and eat together, mostly in silence, but eventually, when your plates are almost empty, you initiate conversation.

"So how was your day? Did you go to the lab today?" You ask him.

"I did yeah. Nothing terribly interesting happened really just analyzing data and whatnot." He shrugs. "How was your day? Any shitty customers today?"

"Not particularly, we don't tend to get a lot of those anyway. Wanda came to visit for a little bit but that's about all." You tell him.

"That's nice." He nods and you feel your heartbeat start thundering as you convince yourself to get to the point.

"Yeah. I need to talk to you about something actually." You say standing to clear your dinner plate. You feel like if you walk you can dispel the nervous tension you're feeling.

"Oh? What's up babe?"

"You know how Steve and Bucky said I was a werewolf?"

"Yes and we agreed they were delusional. Why? Did you run into them again?" Bruce shifts in his chair to look at you as you lean against the counter by the sink.

"No, I haven't seen them since the last time we spoke about them a couple weeks ago it's just- well I finally called my mom about the whole thing-"

"Why would you call your mom if their claims are baseless?"

"Becuase it was the easiest way to put an end to any doubt it's not that big of a deal, I call my mom for all sorts of things Bruce."

"I mean sure but it's a weird question to ask her since you aren't-"

"Except I am." You say, crossing your arms. You barely catch Bruce's eyes widen before he turns back around in his chair so his back is facing you. He takes his time pushing the seat back to stand up while you keep talking. "Yeah according to my mom I actually am a werewolf. She never told me because of a dormant gene in our family, but I definitely am one. Steve and Bucky were telling the truth." You say. Bruce clears his throat and walks over to the sink placing his dinner plate into it.

"Well how are you feeling about it? I mean this is sort of big-"

"What I want to know, is if you already knew." You cut him off backing up a bit to put more space between you.

"What?" He asks with a little chuckle that you think is nervousness.

"Steve and Bucky were right about me being a werewolf, so it begs the question were they also right about you knowing and keeping it from me?"

"Oh come on that's ridiculous, for me to somehow find that out and hide part of your identity from you? I can't believe you'd even entertain the notion." He shakes his head. You look him over carefully, considering your mother's advice. He's not sweating, but he also hasn't looked at you since you said you were a werewolf, he's not exactly pacing but you look down and realize he's rolling his fingers together. "Y/n, come on you can't seriously think that I'd deceive you that way can you? I mean these strangers get one lucky guess and suddenly you trust them more than me?" Bruce adds when the silence drags on longer than he'd like. His heart, focus on his heartbeat. You take another few seconds to try and pick it up. When you really focus like this you can pick up on so many things it can be overwhelming but you force yourself to pick up his heart rate and it's not as steady as it should be. Not full blown panicked pounding but definitely nervously fast.

"I don't know who I can trust Bruce." You say.

"Me! I've never given you a reason to think otherwise. You can trust me. Why would I lie to you?"

"It makes sense."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does. Your supernaturals research is your life. I mean you've studied enough werewolves, it's not impossible to think that you'd know you're sharing a home with one or suspect it and convince yourself it's necessary to investigate those suspicions."

"I can't believe you think I would do that to you."

"I don't want to. God knows I don't want to but it's hard not to when you won't even look at me. You haven't looked at me since I told you I was a werewolf and you always look at me when we talk. It's hard when I know how much supernatural studies takes up your life, I know you've tracked and trapped werewolves before so you obviously know how to identify one, but I'm supposed to believe you wouldn't be able to clock one sharing a bed with you?! It's hard when at every turn you tried to convince me Bucky and Steve were crazy. You swore it was impossible for them to be right about this and now look at where we are. The impossible is not only possible it's true. So if they were telling the truth about one thing, why not the other? And when I think about it, like really think about it, since the second 'lie' is dependant on believing the first 'lie'- if you really thought they were insane and lying to manipulate me, why were you so against me calling my parents to find out? I mean if you truly believed it was false a quick call to confirm that would've immediately dismissed the second lie and we wouldn't be here. Your continued objection doesn't make sense unless you knew they weren't lying."

"This is ridiculous y/n I love you, I would never hurt you-"

"If you're lying to me Bruce you've already hurt me. And the fact that you have yet to actually deny it is enough of an answer."

"ALL I'VE DONE IS DENY IT!"

"NO YOU HAVEN'T! You've said it's ridiculous, you've said you can't believe I think that, you've said you'd never hurt me, you've it doesn't make sense, you've said I trust them more than you, but you have not at any point said 'no y/n I didn't already know you were a werewolf and kept it a secret from you.' So yeah, I'll take that as a confession."

"You- you started this conversation assuming I was guilty."

"Do not turn this on me Bruce. If you can't look me in the eye right now and say you didn't know I was a werewolf and keep it a secret from me... I'm leaving."

"And going where? To those crime lords, y/n they do not have your best interests in mind. You'll get hurt."

"Say it Bruce. Say you didn't know." You say quietly. There's a stretch of silence that you take as your answer and without another word, you put on your shoes and grab your bag still by the door.

"Y/n wait!" Bruce says before you can leave.

"You still can't say the one thing I asked of you." You say pulling open the apartment door and leaving without even looking at him.

***

Part 6/???

Tagged Users: @cjand10 @vicmc624 @mandijo17

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfic #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky #stucky angst #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf au #Just Let Me Adore You #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers

98 notes · View notes

bekaroth-reads · 2 years ago

Text

HAL 9000 Overview, Humanity, and General Character Study

This is something of an overview of how I understand the character of HAL 9000, what and more so who I think was most responsible for his mental breakdown, and how he and his existence and personage relate to humans.

Important things to note

First of all, this will have spoilers for 2001: Space Odyssey, 2011: Odyssey 2, and for 3001: The Final Odyssey. This also assumes that the film telling of 2001 is canon and not the events in the novel as that is how all of the sequel books proceed.

Also, and most importantly here are some things that will be talked about that could upsetting for some people. So, if any of these are things that make you uncomfortable please proceed with caution.

Mental health struggles- And, to be more specific, mental health struggles that in many cases have outdated names. I will be doing my best to update these where I can, but I will not go into too much detail as I do not have any sort of medical training and do not think it would be fair to try to correct one misnomer with another one; in fact, that could be harmful. If, and this would be completely by accident, I do say something offensive with this subject, or any others for that fact, please let me know (politely, if you would please) and I will gladly do my best to fix it.

Strenuous relationships with parents/ overbearing parents- Specifically in regards to parents pushing their children to achievement past the child’s wellbeing.

Artificial Intelligence- I know that this one might seem silly given the subject. But, I know that the subject of AI’s can be upsetting to people, and especially talking and comparing them to humans can be distressing in some cases.

Something else to keep in mind is that this is just made for fun with plans to do this with some other notable AI characters so there can be a sort of side-by-side comparison for them. I was just writing my personal character study of him, and decided to edit a bit and post it :)

A General Overview

The story of HAL 9000, often just known as Hal, is one of tragedy, redemption, happily living with a friend, then tragedy once more.

He was one of the first supercomputers of his kind along with his twin SAL 9000, and was considered by many to be one of the first computers to be an actual person with his own thoughts and not just following inputs from his creators. However, due to being forced to lie about the nature of the mission he was sent on, he felt that there was always an error in his system. This in turn led him to feel as though he was always failing his duties.

There was also the fact that Hal had never done something like lying before, so he did not have the understanding of a guilty conscience and how to handle it rationally. To make things worse, Hal also did not have an understanding of the difference between sleep and death, meaning that he thought that any form of a pause mode as it were would be the same as being completely disconnected.

All of these factors made him think that his life was being threatened and that he needed to defend himself. This led to him killing three of the crew members on the ship Discovery, and attempting the lives of two of the others. Hal was eventually put into a limited state, where only basic functions ran for a while before even they shut down completely.

Hal was then woken up once more by his creator Dr. Chandra who had arrived ten years later with another team. Hal was only awake again for a short time, however, as the nearby planet Jupiter imploded, taking the Discovery and Hal’s physical being with it. It was not the end for Hal though, as his mind, or rather spirit was saved by none other than David Bowman, one of the crew mates he tried to kill, and who had in turn powered him down.

As a new being, he and Bowman became very close friends. This was understandable as at least for a while they seemed to be the only two of their kind known as Star Children. The beings that elevated them to this new type of life used both he and Bowman as errand boys of a sort, going where ever they were told and intervening only when they were told to. Even as more and more people were changed to Star Children, Hal and Bowman remained close.

So close, in fact, that they eventually became one person that addressed themselves as “Halman,” and were quite contented with the state.

There was something that the beings who created the Star Children could not have planned for, and that was Halman, who was supposed to be devoid of all of their mortal desires and emotions, still held onto them even if just a little. And, above all, Halman still held their love of humanity and their endearing memories of their lives before. So, when they were given a choice to continue working with the higher beings or to help save humanity, they chose humanity. Sadly, however, they were infected with the same thing that was used to fight off the higher beings and had to be quarantined indefinitely; leaving them, to perhaps never wake again. If they did it would likely be 1000 years later and all they would have known will have been long gone. The only solace is that Halman had each other during their long sleep.

The Incident on The Discovery and The People Responsible

As discussed before there reason that Hal malfunctioned was that he was made to lie, and could not handle the discrepancies that lie added to his processing. But, I wanted to talk more in-depth about some of the people that aided this breakdown and what they did to make the situation possible in the first place.

The Governmental Agency and the Scientists that Worked for It

The first group of people are those that were using Hal for their own, selfish purposes. It was true that the scientists that found the monolith on the moon wanted to use Hal for study, but it was not the study that people thought it was for. This was not study for the sake of betterment, at least not solely so. This was for the most part study for fame and the hope of power.

We see that they often use the excuse that they fear people will not accept the existence of other life well, but none of them seem really convinced of the fact. They mostly want to keep things secret so that they can get credit for everything. Add to it the fact that they got the actual government involved, it quickly turned from curiosity to a desire to lord over all of the other peoples of Earth. The president himself ordered that Hal not tell anyone the true nature of the mission so as to not lose the nation’s head-start in what could be the second space race.

This means that they ruined Hal’s health, reputation, and most other things about his life simply for greed.

There did not seem to be any malice against Hal as a person in forcing him to lie. In fact, the problem came from them not seeing Hal as a person at all. There were still plenty of people that did not want to accept that the two 9000 computers were people and not simply machines. The people must have lied to Dr. Chandra about the type of work Hal would be doing, thinking that if there were something that went wrong he could simply rebuild Hal or, more sickeningly, think that he wouldn’t mind losing Hal since he could simply, “replace,” Hal with Sal since there were two of them.

Even when these people are rightfully blamed for their part in the incident, it’s framed more like a workplace safety violation (which it certainly was as well) rather than the wrongful manipulation to the point of ruining the mental well-being of one of the crew mates.

The Crew of The Discovery

While the least responsible for what happened with Hal, David Bowman and Frank Poole were, unfortunately, the tipping point of Hal’s haggard mental state.

These two men were as much victims of the situation as Hal was, being put in danger from also being kept in the dark about what the actual mission was. That meant they had no warning that Hal might have started to act as he did, as well as not knowing how to handle him when he did start to act as he did.

They were sadly put in an, “us vs. him,” scenario with someone that they considered a friend. They were even planning on doing all they could to just put Hal in a stasis mode rather than disconnect entirely; much like if he were a human crew mate that they placed into one of the hibernation pods until they could get him back to earth to get the help that he needed.

But, due to his misunderstanding of sleep as opposed to death paired with his ever-growing paranoia, Hal thought that they were planning to attack him, and so, attacked first.

All things ended up working for the better, at least for the three of them, and especially for Hal and Bowman, as if it weren’t for these events, humanity would not have had the people needed to help defend them from attack in the future. And, on a personal note, it was very sweet to see them all discover the truth and reconcile with each other, even after they were all quite changed.

Dr. Chandra

To make things clear, I think in no way that Dr. Chandra intentionally hurt Hal, and was as much a victim as the others in the situation. I do think there is a level of negligence that he is responsible for regarding Hal and that in turn caused so of the things that caused at least one major factor in Hal’s lapse in actual logic. There are a few related yet different things that I think Chandra did that unfortunately were instrumental in causing Hal’s problems and leading to the incident.

The first thing to talk about is the fact that Hal was sent on the mission before he was mature enough to do so. No, it was not Dr. Chandra’s fault that he agreed to let Hal go with certain criteria only to have his son basically kidnapped and forced into something that neither he nor Dr. Chandra agreed to. But, Dr. Chandra did allow Hal to go on a mission into an uncharted, at least by actual people, territory in space. Put quite simply, Hal was not mature enough to go on that mission.

While almost everything about Hal is adult from his mental capacity to modes of conversation, and most things in the general stage of his life with one of the books talking about him having a sort of childhood that he had grown out of, there is one thing that cannot just be learned in a few months to a year even with the mind of a supercomputer- life experience.

The accepted time that Hal first became operational, basically when he was born, is 1992. This means that Hal was only nine years old. Again that doesn’t seem relative when you take into account that his lifespan and aging works differently from humans, but no matter how intellectually intelligent one is they still need to have learned some things through experience.

So, even though he is functionally an adult, he still had not gone through many of the basic life milestones that most people go through as children or teens. One such thing included is the first time he was ever faced with something that he felt was morally wrong. Nine is an age where many people do the first thing that really eats away at their conscience, where even if the thing is minor in the larger picture of things, it feels like the end of the world for the person who just did it.

Usually, with a nine-year-old human, this would be something like, “I stole a candy bar,” or, “I watched that movie you told me I wasn’t ready for,” or maybe, “I lied about what grade I got on the math test.” However, in this case, there was not a chance for one of those minor things to happen in a controlled environment like a home or a school, as before the mission it seems like Hal almost exclusively interacted with his sister, Dr. Chandra, or people that the doctor specifically approved of.

There wouldn’t have been a time for him to interact with other people outside of his family to gauge how other people work or how he might have been pushed into doing something that he didn’t like. So, in this case, since the horrifying ordeal of the first time lying was set in an adult work environment rather than at home or in school instead of sweeping a broken vase under a rug, Hal was knocking Frank Poole into space.

Not to mention, when many nine-year-olds get told not to tell what happened in their situations it’s from a friend or a sibling, which causes more stress. Could you imagine the stress it would put on a nine-year-old to have the same situation, but the president himself was the one that told you to keep quiet? It’s no wonder the poor guy broke down!

As for Chandra’s part in it; he wouldn’t have wanted any of this to happen to Hal, but was part of the reason Hal was in that position in the first place. No, Chandra didn’t agree with the hidden terms and was actually angry when he found out that Hal was being forced to lie. However, him sending Hal on a mission when he did not even think his son was ready to know things like the difference between sleep and death was negligent. Even if Hal wasn’t made to lie, and never became paranoid because of it, it was still an exploratory and dangerous mission that might have called for plenty of other reasons to put Hal in stasis, like unexpected ship damage, something messing with the energy levels of the Discovery, and so on. (Not to be crass, but Hal not understanding how his own, “body,” works reminds me a lot of those situations where parents refuse to tell their child how periods work, and the poor kid thinks that they’re dying the first time it comes around.)

If Hal was not seen as mature enough to even know how every part of his person worked, then he was also not mature enough to go on such a dangerous and official mission that far away from his father, who was also the only person that really knew how he worked. Yes, Hal is an adult, but in the same way that it would be negligible to send an adult that had never been outside of their house into the middle of an unknown city and tell them to figure it out themselves, it was negligible to send Hal that far away from Earth and expect him not to get overwhelmed in some capacity or another.

The next thing to mention is related to the last bit of the previous point, and that is that Dr. Chandra while meaning well, pushed Hal too far.

I’m sure that many of you have heard the term, “gifted child,” in terms of knowledge and development. The way that Dr. Chandra treated Hal, especially before his trip on the Discovery, very much feels like a parent with a “gifted child.” The fact that Dr. Chandra not only thought that Hal was incapable of making a mistake, and said so to the point where Hal himself believed it, which caused him to completely crash on the occasion that he did make a mistake, or what he perceived as one.

The way that he so ardently denies his mistake, the lies not only about the mission but also about the communications satellite, while also trying to hide it as he thinks the penalty for being found out will be much worse than just correction is very reminiscent of a someone who also gets A’s on their school work being terrified to tell their parent that they just got a B and trying everything they can to hide their report card.

My mother is a teacher, and one thing that she constantly has to tell parents is that up to a certain point in life it can actually be detrimental to force kids into an older school grade, even early in life, which can affect people all the way into adulthood. There are programs out there that let kids do intelligence-appropriate learning work while still keeping them in an emotionally and age-appropriate social group.

All of that to say, while Hal was certainly intelligent enough to run the Discovery mission, emotionally it would have been the same as moving him a grade or two up in school. And, similar to how things go when kids have moved up a grade or two, even if the people there are kind to them, like how Bowman and Poole are considered to actually be his friends and not just people babysitting him, there is the strain of feeling of needing to match the emotional level of one’s peers as well as the academic level.

This can lead to regression of maturity from the feeling of, “I cannot achieve this, so why even try,” or, can all come crashing down in a singular, major event that reminds everyone that this person, while good at keeping up appearances, is still in fact not as emotionally prepared for the world as we are expecting them to be. For Hal, this was the incident and the mental collapse that caused it.

Chandra sending Hal on the mission is the equivalent of if Hal was a human son, and he was sent to either a study camp or more closely a boarding school seeing as he was to be gone for years. The problem being that even though Hal would have been intelligent enough to go to this school and would have people who were kind and would watch over him (Bowman and Poole in the actual situation), he simply was not ready to be away from home and that independent yet, and certainly not ready for the teachers and headmaster (the head scientists and government in the real case) to force him into doing something he thought was wrong. Yet, he was too afraid to tell his father what was happening as he felt threatened by the teachers and did not want to do anything to disappoint his father, who was so proud of him for being where he was in life. After all, if his father sent him to work with these people in the first place, then he must agree with them, right?

To finish this section, I do want to clear some things to make sure to hammer in the notion that Dr. Chandra was not at all a bad man, especially with Hal. He simply made some poor choices and was also deceived into sending his child somewhere dangerous for him.

We do see that he has learned things from what happened to Hal through his interactions with Sal. It seems that he not only kept a better eye on her, but the two of them became so close that she picked up his accent. He also makes sure that she is well-informed on everything that he wants her to do, and, more importantly, he asks for her consent before having her go through certain functions and procedures. He wants to make sure that, unlike Hal, she is well informed and well prepared, and mature enough to handle the world around her.

We can also see that he truly cares for Hal, being broken up for years about his decline and supposed death, making sure that his sister Sal remembers him, and jumping at the first chance to possibly bring his son home. When Dr. Chandra does get to Hal, restarts his functions, and hears his voice for the first time in years, he openly weeps, partly from joy and partly from thinking of all Hal has been through evident through his strained speech. Dr. Chandra was also willing to spend four entire years on the Discovery with little to eat or drink just to be sure that Hal never felt lonely and isolated ever again in his life. And, when Hal was physically destroyed along with the Discovery due to the unexpected blast from a new star, Dr. Chandra once again wept, and the crew around him knew it was the tears of a father who lost his son and not of a programmer who lost his work.

Despite all that happened, Dr. Chandra loved his son. And, Hal was always his son, not just a machine that he made.

The Humanity of Hal

This section not only talks about the relations of Hal to humans personality-wise but also how he and the humans in his life viewed each other.

Personality

There are many things that Hal does that show him to have his own personality and that he is not simply a basic computer imitating true personality. He is interested in what his companions are doing, showing an appreciation for art by asking Dave to see his sketchbook, wanting to play games as in 2011 he is shown to be constantly asking people if they want to play chess, and even having his own habits such as clearing his “throat” every time he goes to say something that he’s thought of rather than repeating messages. This is also seen in his faults of not wanting to admit he is wrong and trying to cover his lies; to err is human after all.

He’s seen to have emotions, though he has trouble showing it. Hal is shown to be curious with all of his questions that he will never run out of, caring with how concerned he is with manners and politeness, being sure that if he has to get someone’s attention that it’s always with a gentle, “Excuse me,” or, “I’m sorry to interrupt,” and he also is very confident in his abilities, proudly stating who he is and what he is trying to achieve in life, which is being as helpful as he can to other people.

Hal also shows emotions like anxiety about lying or being mistaken about something, haughty pride when he insists he cannot be wrong and everyone else is at fault, being huffy like the many times he says, “Listen, Dave…” and even fear to the point of begging when he’s being put to sleep by Bowman.

We also see him long for friendship, and not wanting to be alone; a very human thing. Once again, he asks people to play chess with him, and practically begs for Dr. Chandra to stay when he finds out that he and the others have to leave in a very Hal sort of way by repeating, “I do really like to work with humans,” and when he is turned into a Star Child, he is seen clinging close to Bowman like a younger sibling would with an elder one, rather than go traveling as the elder Star Child once did; valuing companionship more than any of the wonders of the universe. This is so important to Hal that he and Bowman become so inseparable that they come to be seen as the same person known as Halman.

Even in this new form, Halman shows that even though they are supposed to be beyond any human emotion at this point, they can actually be seen as the most extreme of certain key parts of them. They make it their duty to protect, be that the people of Europa or humanity, something that though many people might argue, is very human in nature. Unlike the beings that create the monoliths that see others as nothing more than entertainment and statistics, Halman is willing to put themselves in harm’s way to protect the humans, seeing value in all life and remembering an old friend whom they never want to see hurt again.

The beings miscalculated and did not remember that the Star Children were not something separate from humanity, but an evolution of it. And, the fact that Hal was not only welcomed into life as a Star Child but was one of the earliest examples of one means that, while perhaps not human, he was indeed a person of equal value.

Relationship with Humans

The way that people view Hal seems to be fairly well split. There are people that still see him as just a fancy computer as is seen with many of the scientists seen in the events of Space Odyssey. But, for every person that thinks the latter there is always someone to argue for his personhood like Bowman and Poole insisting that he was a part of the crew, Dr. Chandra cutting off all communications with any peers that say Hal has no original thoughts, and even the rescue crew in 2011 who start by seeing him as a computer, but easily accept him as a person by the time they leave, making it more difficult of thinking of shutting him down and seeing him as Dr. Chandra’s son.

Hal also seems to be rather indifferent to the difference between humans and himself. It’s not that he does not care for them, but rather that he thinks he is neither superior nor inferior to them. There are times when he flaunts that he is more intelligent than they are, but this comes off more so as a friend teasing or the smart person in the room showing off rather than a place of true superiority or clinical narcissism.

Hal also shows no need or desire to become human in any physical way. He seems rather content being himself, and content to let his friends, family, and acquaintances be the way that they are. This makes him rather unique as far as AI characters go.

The way that he and others see his position as a person could be described as human adjacent. That’s just their friend Hal that happens to live in the walls. We love that guy.

#hal 9000 #2001 space odyssey #long read #ai charater study #this was just made for fun #so dont take it too seriously 😊

42 notes · View notes

rubylize · 2 years ago

Text

Needy

Summary: You teasing Stiles.

Pairing: Stiles x reader

Word count: 806

Warnings: some body insecurity other than that pure fluff. Brotherly Scott.

A/n: I know it’s kind of weird if you’d kiss your brother but I thought it was cute Scott and the reader have a good connection, while making Stiles jealous. (Kiss on the cheek)

I was about to part ways to my next class. “Baby,” he called out to me, I turned my head to look at him. “I love you,” he told me. “I know,” I replied, while turning back to leave once again. But I felt a hand around my wrist stopping me. “Say it back,” he said, he looked so beautiful, he made my heart warm. “It back,” I replied. “Y/nnnn,” he whined, frustratingly. I silently smirked.

“Stilesss,” I whined back. He gave me a look, more like a pouty face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, while his hands went around my waist. “Love you,” he rolled his eyes at me. He looked at our best friend Scott, “Scott can you believe this?” He said. Scott just smiled, he loved our relationship. “What? I said it back.”

“She literally did,” Scott pointed out. We both laughed, while Stiles had a serious face on. “You might wanna look away Scotty,” I looked at him, while still having my arms around Stiles’ neck. While I was looking at Scott for his response, Stiles kissed me on the cheek. “Yes ma’am,” Scott looked away. I looked back at Stiles to see his eyes sparkle, already knowing what’s coming. I leaned in slowly, Stiles leaned in as well. I backed away to tease him, but I eventually kissed him. I backed away after a few kisses, “Thank you,” he whispered against my lips. Giving Scott the cue to look back.

“Awesomeee,” Stiles sang. Scott stifled a laugh, “Don’t think I forgot about you Scotty.” Stiles knew what that meant too. I grabbed Scott’s face and moved it to the side. I kissed him on the cheek, while looking at Stiles. “Muah, muah, muah.” I kissed him again. “Okay!!” Stiles said, “Baby, you know it’s nothing.” Which was true. This was just a thing I did to Scott to make Stiles a little bit jealous. “I know.” Scott was like my brother.

I looked Stiles face to face and pecked him on the lips. “I’m gonna head to class.” They both nodded.

Stiles was coming upstairs, I laid on his bed, looking at the ceiling. He opened the door, “Y/nn,” he sang excitedly. “Didn’t know you’d be in my room.” I didn’t say anything, he laid next to me, his hand going around my stomach. “Stiless,” I whined, looking at him. He was already looking at me. “Baby, we’ve talked about this.” I made a face, “I love you, you know that, so can I keep my hand here?” My heart warmed and I nodded. “I love every part of you,” he added. My stomach imploded with butterflies.

I turned around on my side to look at him. I brought my hand to his face, he moved to his side as well. His hand went to my face. I smiled at him, “Words can’t describe how much I love you Stiles.” He smiled widely, “Finally you said it.” I laughed lightly, “I do say it. I just like messing with you,” I explained myself. I caressed his face and looked into his eyes. “Your eyes are really pretty.” He flushed a bit, “So are yours.” I smiled at him, and leaned in, his mouth opened trying to kiss me, but once again I backed away. “Always teasing me,” he said against my mouth. I kissed him. Hard. Like I meant, every single fucking word I said. He moaned while kissing me. His hand left my face and went down to my waist all the way to my thigh. He picked my leg up and put it around his waist.

I pulled apart and looked at him, we both were out of breath. He licked his plumped lips and we laid next to each other, just admiring each other. His hand was still on my thigh, his thumb went back and forth, giving me butterflies. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” I repeated, while kissing his face. He smiled and kissed my forehead. He got up and got between my legs and hovered over me. “You’re so hot,” he told me. I grabbed a pillow from behind me and covered my face. He pulled the pillow away. “Hey. I wanna see your face,” he pouted. I rolled my eyes, “But I mean it Y/n.”

I looked him straight in the eyes, “Estoy tan enamorada de ti.” He licked his lips again but looked slightly confused, “I don’t know what the fuck you said, but hot.” I smiled at him, “I said, I’m so in love with you.” “So am I.” He kissed me, our heads moved in sync. He was my safe place. “Can you go get me some water?” “Sure baby, that makes two of us.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles fanfiction #fluff #imagine #one shot #brother #scott mccall #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #cutestiles

85 notes · View notes

shadowkat678 · 6 days ago

Text

For someone who’s talked so much about the value of hope, I don’t think I’ve been doing much to show that I believe it. Saying, maybe, but not doing. Not really.

I wish I could claim that it’s just been a hard time lately, but that’d be downplaying the length of it. Two years ago I wrote an essay on the concept of Hopepunk by Alexandria Rowland. I wrote that I’d been clinging to the concept like a life raft, but I’m not sure if that’s true. Clinging is active. Drifting might be more apt. Passively draped around it while screaming at others to hold on. I didn’t have the energy myself.

My family likes to tell the story about how I learned to swim, in Florida at my great grandmother’s pool. I was four years old. Stubborn even then, they’d say. Smug, even.

We had a rule like responsible families do that kids had to wear water wings, but I’d been wearing them. The whole trip I’d been wearing them, and I was doing fine. In fact, they were slowing me down. So, I decided I was going to show off, called out for my great gran and mom to watch, tore off the wings, and ran straight for the deep end of the pool.

I don’t remember much after, but I remember somehow making it to the other side of the pool, my mother worried and scolding me as she pulled me out, and my great grandma laughing. The story always ends with my mother mimicking me, saying, “I told you I could” like the smart mouthed child I was. But I also remember the fear before that. The flashes of my head bobbing below the water. Of the glass roof surrounding the pool room above as I tried to orient myself.

Two years ago, after just learning to drive and never living away from family, I moved all the way across the country. My car broke down halfway. The engine was overheating. I tried to keep driving. I’m lucky I made it into the autozone just as it gave out.

My whole life has been me jumping into the deep end, getting out, catching my breath, and doing it again, pushing myself to keep going, with or without the support. But through the last year the weight has increased. The water is deeper now, and the shore is a lot farther away. I’m not sure who’s running to the other side to try and grab me.

When the news broke, I felt like I was finally drowning. On election night (or very early morning, by the time I checked the results) I didn’t sleep, I was too busy crying. The second day I spent sleeping. The third day, I turned to music, old songs made years earlier and still far too relevant. Protest songs. Punk music. Lyrics that screamed the same anger and sadness and loss I felt. The rage at a system that is still continuously failing us and leaving us to tread water.

I didn't know why this hit me harder. Not that other instances had been exactly easy, of course. Then I read a post that someone else wrote.

They'd been used to being angry. Being tired. Being disappointed. But they weren't used to hoping. They let themselves hope. And they watched it implode.

I think one of the reasons I've been so fixated on the idea of hope is because honestly, as much as I like to pretend, I haven't actually had a lot of it.

I knew there was a chance of loss. I knew there were still plenty who supported the policies of Trump, or at the very least overlooked them in the hopes of gaining safety to float away from their own fears and concerns. But the magnitude of it still caught me off guard. The emboldening of those who resonate with him, even if a smaller subsect of the total numbers, frankly scares the shit out of me.

I had hoped that after one term we'd learned. I hoped that while things weren't perfect, the match of progress was going steadily forward, even with backsliding. I hoped that people had become more aware the past few years, even with hatred very much alive and well. Even with genocide. Even with natural disasters. Even with everything else. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, there were enough people that saw now to at least choose someone who'd mitigate the damage of the situation our world is facing, as much as there still is to fight for.

And I watched my hope implode. I watched the country vote across the board for people who have been nothing but loudly vocal about their intentions and hatred. More even than the first go. After we already have been seeing a mass movement to repeal civil rights and protection for minorities and vulnerable populations.

I watched it happen in a way that could not be brushed aside as a near miss. It was a landslide.

I wanted to sink. I felt so tired at that moment. Of fighting. Of hoping. Of seeing the support I’d finally relented into admitting I needed so badly being ripped away from me. Why should I keep swimming if it only ends with me drowning again? Not that this is exactly new for most minorities, but it felt like things were changing. People were waking up. Before it just was. This was a slap in the face.

And yet. And yet.

I started moving anyway. After three or so days, the panic receded, and I started treading water again.

I went to the grocery store. I got hugged by a stranger while I was checking out groceries, and we shared our fears. She told me about her kids. I told her about how I was hoping to start T this year. I cried again in the middle of the check out line.

I went on a walk at 3am and kicked a Trump sign. I didn’t watch the sunset, but I did watch the sunrise. I checked in with friends. I sat with myself. I cried again. I screamed in my car, the same one that has been sitting for three months waiting for a repair that no one in town but the manufacturer can fix an issue with, that’s been booked for one and a half of those months after I dropped 2k on other car issues before that.

I accepted that in no way, shape, or form am I remotely fucking okay. The world is not okay. Genocide. Natural disasters. Climate change. Emerging facism. Those aren’t things you can be okay with if you’re paying attention.

I have no idea what’s going to greet me as I head towards shore. I don’t know exactly what lurks under the water. I don’t even know if there’s going to be a shore to reach.

Part of me feels like raging against that is just a way to cope. But we only have the options in front of us, no matter how tired we are, and despite all these feelings. Despite it all. I’m still swimming, for some fucking reason.

Maybe it’s instinct at this point. That same stubbornness I had as a child pushing back against the waves crashing down around me.

Maybe I just don't want them to get the satisfaction of winning here too.

Feel the feelings. Acknowledge the situation. But FUCK them if they think this is over. If I stop swimming, it will be. At least for me. And I can't let myself accept that.

So I'm going to keep going the same way I always have. Because I can't turn back on what's happened. I can't change it. I can't make the storm in front of me disappear. But I can live through it. I can show up on the other side. I can build another support to help me on the days I'm tired, and I can try my best to build a raft big enough to pull others onto with me.

They can vote away our rights. They can try their best to intimidate us. But they can't make us lay down for it. Be afraid. Be sad. Be angry. But they don't get to drown us. Fuck that.

I've been clinging to hope like a life raft, but hope is motion. Hope is a muscle you train. Hope isn't thrown to you. It's taken and built with bloody, stubborn hands.

Sometimes hope is a burden, not a gift. Sometimes you don't want it. I don't want to fight. I want rest. I want peace. I want safety. But that isn't handed to me either, even if it's unfair.

It's not something you can take and hold and keep. You have to build it up, consciously and constantly. You can share it, but you can't promise it's going to stay without maintenance.

When it's taken, you have to find it again, and you have to accept it's going to hurt every time.

You have to be ready to open yourself to what that means. To hope is to face disappointment, again and again and again, and decide to keep after it anyway, because the only other choice isn't any better.

Sometimes it's more sadness than rage. A quiet voice of longing for what you wish could be, and the knowledge that if no one else is going to make it so, you have a choice if you accept it or try and make the change you long for, even if it's smaller than you'd like, because it's better than nothing. A small act of resisting when your arms feel like lead and you're hardly able to keep your head above the water line.

Self destruction is what they want. Hope is turning the page, even if what comes next is scary, again hoping that eventually a new chapter can be written. It's pushing the boulder up the hill. It's going out in public despite the best efforts to shut you away. It's spite. It's love. It's anger. It's continuing to live despite all efforts to make you choose to the contrary.

And that's how change works too.

Uninteresting times are a myth. The world is always chaos. People are always having to fight for things that in a just world would already exist. This fight, these feelings, aren't new.

Here in the USA where I am, only a few decades ago women couldn't own their own bank account. In my grandmother's lifetime Jim Crow was still in effect. Same sex couples have only been decriminalized since 2003, and still are fighting for that much throughout other parts of the world.

If those who came before us facing injustice gave into these feelings at every setback, we wouldn't be far enough along to feel these losses.

Does that make it sting less? No! It doesn't! But it's still important to remember. It's proof. Hope is not pointless, as much as it hurts. To continue moving forward you have to go through the rough waters.

We're in the storm together now, and there's only one direction we can go to get out. Feel your feelings and please. Keep moving. I love you. I see you. I'm so sorry. But one day the waters will be calmer. Keep allowing yourself to hope. If you struggle to do so alone, let this help to start, when you're ready.

4 notes · View notes