#she is everything to me...please understand

[rawan-soso]

MY FAMILY IS NOT DOING WELL!!

My 4-year-old sister is struggling with chickenpox with a weakened immune system and a stunted growth due to two years of malnutrition. She’s extremely traumatized and screams when she hears the slightest loud noise. My 17-year-old sister keeps fainting due to starvation and lives with constant headaches. My older brothers are mourning the loss of a close friend. My mother is sick, exhausted and breaking down. As for me, for a week I’ve been feeling extreme pain in my teeth and ears.

We spend hours at the market trying to find something affordable, negotiating to no avail. We spend hours walking around, trying to find a new apartment, because the room we live in is infested with rats and cockroaches that bite us, run over us when we try to sleep and contaminate the little food we have. But everything just costs too much. 1kg of sugar is $150. One 25kg sack of flour is $1,000, and prices keep rising, commissions too. Our current rent is $500 every month. We need help, we’re drowning here.

I know even outside of Gaza people are struggling and donating is hard. I swear I understand that and I’m not forcing you. But please, please just share if you see this post. There is someone out there who can help us and I just need help to reach them.

✅Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #347 )✅

PLEASE DONATE HERE

[mona-risms]

Just figured it out. The entire Huntr/x group has a massive praise kink, most likely from their ✨shared trauma✨ of being rejected/isolated for one reason or another. Honestly I can't picture any of them responding exceptionally well to any form of degradation (again because they've already been there and done that already). Literally that one audio just:

Rumi: Give me the biggest fucking praise buff- 🤗

(Reader): You're such a good girl~

Mira: HOLY FUCK TREAT ME LIKE THAT 🫢

(Reader): Good fucking girl

Zoey in the background: YES I AM!! 🤩

Literally three losers trapped in hot bodies 😭 but you'd be absolutely right and you will be hearing NO objection from me. They've already dealt with some form of degradation in their lives (not in a fun way), and even if it IS a sexual setting and sure they're aware that some people kinda like it bc it's a form of reclamation anyway, it's. Unless it's VERY light and teasing degradation, it's really really not for them. Methinks they'd have individual preferences when it comes to it though

Rumi would respond best when it comes to being praised for her appearance, which seems shallow at base level but think about it w me for a sec. She's grown up believing that she should be ashamed, that she should hide her patterns or else she'll be nothing but a demon to everyone's eyes—even managed to convince her that Zoey and Mira would NEVER accept and understand her if she told the truth and showed them proof of her descent. If you tell her how she's such a pretty girl for you, all ruined while you fuck her brains out, and if you even target the parts that she thinks are 'monstrous' like her patterns or her eyes or literally anything? She's gone. Her entire body's shaking from the force of her orgasm and her claws might damage the bed but oh well!!!!

Zoey would LOVELOVELOVE being praised for being good, which is why in one of my earlier entries I've said how she adores petplay. She CRAVES affection AND approval, especially considering her people-pleasing tendencies—she wants to be more than enough for you, she wants to do everything you ask of her, she wants to give you everything you want, she wants you happy bc you happy and satisfied is her own reward!!! There's that small nagging feeling constantly inside her that gets her thinking if she isn't good then you won't want her anymore :( so bombard her with praise about how she's your good girl, taking everything you give her and squeezing down, all dripping wet and obedient, and those thoughts'll float away as she keeps on babbling and saying thank you with tears in her eyes

Mira wouldn't really voice it out, not really, but the way to get to her may actually be by being possessive during sex. Stay with me here, right. She's never felt like she belonged anywhere, considering her 'problem child' status that most definitely got her feeling shunned left, right, and centre. She's not possessive in general, and if YOU were like deathly possessive yourself she'll even sit you down just to kinda like have a talk w you about it. But when it comes to intimacy and kinks? Oh. Oh my god. There's something about you calling her yours and no one else's, about you gripping onto her tight as if letting go would tear her away from you, that gets her so fucking hot and bothered. Bc her whole life she didn't belong anywhere and yet now you're telling her she belongs to you??? FUCK she'd have such a deathly grip on you too, and her body's movements as it arches as close to you as possible more than speaks for her

Overall these girls def need to be praised so much :( not just in sex but in general as well. It gets them feeling a bit of heat in their core but also it makes them so happy :(((( they deserve love

[pinkpurplesunrises]

When the Darkness Felt Endless (You Were the Light I Found)

4500 words - I guess this is a middle long story - Alexia Putellas x Reader - Maybe this will heal the anxiety - Angst and Fluff - Happy ending - Mentions of depression and prostetics - Please read with care.

Writer's note: wow, wow, wow, you are all so kind! Keeps me going when the creative brain hits. Enjoy this piece while I finally get to work work. See you next week.

The headlines had stopped screaming her name. The lights had dimmed. The cheers faded like echoes in a cold, hollow tunnel.

Alexia Putellas sat in the back of her apartment, hood up, body curled into the corner of a couch she barely remembered buying. The only sound was the ticking of a clock she wished she could rip off the wall. Time was still moving. Everything was moving. Except her.

Her knee still ached, even though the doctors said it was healing. But they didn’t see the part that didn’t show up on scans. They didn’t hear the static that buzzed in her head every time she looked at her boots. Or saw the photos she’d flipped face-down.

Everything inside her was sharp edges and shame. And that voice… her own voice, somehow sounding like someone else. It told her this was who she really was: not the leader, not the fighter, not the hero. Just broken.

She hadn’t been outside in days.

And then the knock came.

It wasn’t loud. Just three soft, almost tentative knocks. Like the person on the other side wasn’t sure if anyone would answer. Or wanted to.

She didn’t move.

The knock came again.

“Alexia.” Your voice was gentle, but it carried something heavier underneath. Like you knew. Like you’d been here, too.

She hated that. That you might see her like this.

Why did you see her like this? You are just one of the neighbors.

“I’m not…” she croaked, but her voice cracked like dry wood. “Just go.”

But you didn’t.

“I brought food,” you said. “You can ignore me if you want. I’ll just leave it here.”

Silence.

“I’m coming back tomorrow.”

That night, Alexia sat with the food untouched on the kitchen counter. Staring at the note you left beside it.

You’re not alone.

She hated how much she wanted to believe it.

You kept coming back.

Every day.

Sometimes with food. Sometimes with nothing but silence and that look. The one that said you see her. Not the athlete. Not the legend. Just her. And she couldn’t stand it.

The third day, she opened the door. Only a crack. Just enough for you to see the bruises under her eyes. Not from fists, but from insomnia and tears.

"You don’t have to…" she started.

"I know," you said. No hesitation. "I want to."

She hated that answer.

Because it didn’t make sense.

People only stay when they want something. That’s what her mind told her. That twisted, looping thought she couldn’t shut up.

What did you want?

Whatever it was, she didn’t buy it.

Fame by proximity? A favor? A story to tell your friends. ‘Oh, I saw Alexia Putellas fall apart once. Up close.’

Or maybe you were just like her… sick with guilt and pretending not to be.

Still, she let you inside that night.

You didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push. Just sat on the floor while she stared at the ceiling. And somehow, in the silence, she cracked.

“They keep saying I’ll come back stronger,” she muttered.

You turned to look at her, eyes soft but honest. "And what do you say?"

She laughed. Bitter, low. "That I’m tired of lying.”

There it was.

The truth spilled from her lips like poison. "I don’t even know who I am without football. Without winning. Without people chanting my name. When it’s quiet like this…" she gestured around the dim apartment, “I can’t hear anything except how much I hate myself.”

Your voice didn’t break, but it trembled with understanding. “I know that feeling.”

She studied you for the first time. Really studied you. There was a weight behind your eyes. Not pity, she would’ve shut down if it were pity, but recognition.

You’d been there, too.

“I used to think if I could just do enough, be enough… maybe I’d stop feeling like a burden,” you said. “Turns out you can accomplish everything and still feel like you’re rotting inside.”

A beat passed. She almost stopped breathing.

Because it felt like you were inside her head.

“Why are you here?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. Maybe because when I look at you, I see someone worth saving.” You paused. “And I wish someone had done that for me.”

She turned her face away so you wouldn’t see the tear fall. But she felt your presence, warm and still. Not trying to fix her. Not telling her to “get back up.” Just… there.

The silence between you was heavy, but not suffocating. For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like she was falling alone.

Later that night, as you left, she murmured it… half asleep, half broken, but clear:

“Luna.”

You turned back. “What?”

“That’s what I’m gonna call you,” she said, voice hoarse. “You’re quiet. But you show up when it’s dark.”

You didn’t reply. But you smiled. And somehow, that smile stayed with her long after the door closed.

One evening, she was distant, colder than before. You noticed it the moment you stepped in. Her eyes avoiding yours. Her body taut like a wire ready to snap.

You became her Luna, the quiet light in her darkest nights.

But even the moon disappears behind clouds.

“Alexia?” you asked softly.

She shook her head, voice sharp and brittle. “I don’t need anyone.”

That cracked something inside you. A fissure that had been growing since you met her. But you held your ground. Refusing to let her slip away.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said.

She laughed but there was no humor. “You don’t understand. Nobody does.”

Her voice broke, just for a second, but that was enough.

“I hate who I’ve become,” she confessed. “The injury, the silence, the empty space where my future used to be. Every time I look in the mirror, I hate her. Hate myself.”

The raw pain in her words stabbed you. You reached out, trembling, to touch her arm.

But she flinched.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m broken.”

You wanted to scream, to shout that she wasn’t. That no one was broken beyond repair. But your voice caught in your throat.

Because you knew this was a battle she had to fight inside herself.

Days passed, and the distance grew. Texts left unread. Calls unanswered.

You tried to respect her space, but the silence swallowed you whole.

One night, your phone lit up, a message from her.

“Go away.”

It was simple. Cold.

You stared at the screen. Heart shattering.

But you didn’t reply.

Instead, you showed up at her door the next morning. No words. Just presence.

After a long moment, she opened the door, eyes red and swollen.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

You shook your head. “You don’t have to apologize for pain.”

Her lips trembled, tears spilling down. “I’m scared you’ll leave. Like everyone else.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. “Luna stays through the storms.”

And in that fragile moment, between fear and hope, she let you in again.

She never understood why you kept knocking. Why, out of all the faces in the building, it was yours.

The truth was, you’d never spoken more than a handful of words. Maybe five in total. Mostly just glances through half-open doors or hurried nods in the hallway.

Neighbors, not friends. But something kept pulling you to her door.

Tonight was no different.

Another knock. Three soft taps.

Alexia stared at the door like it was a stranger’s, heart pounding unevenly. She had so many questions, none of which she dared voice.

Why her? Why now? Why someone she barely knew. Someone she’d barely looked at?

She wanted to slam the door. Yo shut out the unknown. But her body betrayed her. The door cracked open.

There you stood. No food. No note. Just that steady, quiet presence.

You said nothing, just offered a small, almost hesitant smile.

She wanted to ask, Why? Why do you care?

But words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she looked away.

“It’s ridiculous,” she finally muttered. “You don’t even know me.”

You nodded slowly. “I don’t.”

“But you keep coming back.”

“Yes.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Why?”

You looked down at your hands, then back up… eyes steady.

“Because sometimes, when someone’s breaking in silence, the right thing to do is just... show up. Even if you don’t understand.”

Alexia’s chest tightened.

She hated feeling like a charity case. A project. Someone to be saved. She was a fighter, or she used to be. But now… now she felt like nothing.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, voice trembling. “You don’t have to be here.”

You stepped a little closer. Still cautious. Still respectful.

“I’m not here because I owe you. I’m here because I see you. And you deserve more than being invisible.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, searching for something. Hope, maybe, or just the truth.

She didn’t know what to say.

So she said nothing.

And in that silence, a fragile understanding settled.

But the walls were still up.

And the healing… if it ever came… was still far away.

You started staying longer.

Never asked to. Never assumed. Just waited. Always waited for her to open the door first.

The first time she left it unlocked, you stood there for a moment. Unsure whether it was an invitation or an accident. But when you knocked softly and she didn’t flinch, you stepped inside.

She was on the floor, back against the couch, legs drawn in. A hoodie swallowed her frame.

No words. Just your breath in the quiet.

You sat down across from her, not too close. The space between you wasn’t distance. It was permission. She needed that.

The silence stretched until it didn’t feel like silence anymore.

Finally, she spoke.

“You live across from me, right?”

You nodded. “End of the hall.”

Her eyes flickered over you, cautious. “How long?”

“About a year.”

She blinked. That long?

“You ever hear me cry?” she asked bluntly.

You didn’t lie. “Sometimes.”

Her jaw tightened. She looked away. “Bet that was pathetic.”

“No,” you said simply.

She didn’t respond, but something in her posture shifted.

You looked down at your hands. “I used to cry like that, too.”

She glanced up. “Used to?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes still do. Just quieter.”

That earned a dry, bitter huff. Not quite a laugh. But not silence either.

Alexia rubbed at her face. Her fingers trembling. “You know... I thought if I lost football, I’d lose everything. Turns out I did.”

“You didn’t lose everything,” you said.

She met your eyes. Sharp, tired, guarded. “What’s left?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You didn’t want to say me. Not yet. Not when she barely let you touch her shadow.

So instead, you said, “Maybe something you haven’t noticed yet.”

Another silence. Heavier this time.

Then she asked, voice low, “What’s your name?”

You gave it to her.

She repeated it quietly, testing the sound. And then... without quite meaning to... she said, “Doesn’t suit you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No?”

She shook her head. “You’re still Luna.”

Your chest ached, but in a good way.

She was letting you in. A little. Enough.

Enough for now.

You didn’t knock.

For the first time in weeks, your knock never came.

The hallway was quiet.

Alexia sat in the dark. Blanket wrapped around her like armor. Phone on the table. Screen blank. No texts. No sounds. Just the ticking again. That clock she still hadn’t taken off the wall.

Her apartment had never felt so empty.

She waited an hour. Then two.

Then three.

Maybe you were busy. Maybe you finally realized she wasn’t worth the effort. She told herself that. Repeated it like a mantra.

This is what people do. They leave. She should be used to it.

But something about your silence was off. Not cruel, not distant. Just… wrong.

So she stood. Pulled on a sweatshirt. Crossed the hallway.

Your door was closed. No sound from inside.

She hesitated.

Then knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

Her gut tightened. She knocked again, firmer. “Luna?”

Still nothing.

She didn’t mean to open the door. But it was unlocked, just like hers had been the night she let you in.

She stepped inside.

And stopped.

Your place was dim. Quiet. Lived-in but tidy. And in the far room... she saw the silhouette of you curled up in bed, facing the wall.

“Luna?” Her voice was barely a whisper now.

You didn’t turn.

She walked closer. Slowly. And then she saw it. The empty socket beside the bed. A sleek black prosthetic leg propped against the wall. The skin of your thigh raw and irritated. Like it had fought a battle all day and lost.

You still didn’t turn. But you spoke, voice low and flat. “Didn’t feel like being a person today.”

Alexia blinked. The words were a mirror of everything she’d ever said. Everything she thought only applied to her.

And suddenly, she felt like a thief.

You’d been showing up for her. Over and over. And she’d never once asked if you were hurting too. She never noticed your limp, never questioned your quiet exits. Never even saw the piece of you that was missing. Not really.

She’d been drowning so deeply in herself, she never realized you might be wading through your own hell.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

You turned your head slightly, eyes tired but calm. “Would it have mattered?”

That answer gutted her.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It would’ve.”

A long silence.

You gave a tired shrug. “It happened years ago. Car accident. I was in the backseat. Some nights I still dream I’m trapped there.”

She sat down beside your bed, not touching you. Just there.

“I used to think I’d never walk again,” you continued. “Then I thought I’d never be loved. Now I just try to get through the day without wanting to disappear.”

Alexia pressed a fist to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“No. I am.” Her voice cracked. “You were always there for me. And I never asked about you. I never even looked.”

You glanced at her, lips curling just slightly. “That’s okay. You weren’t supposed to. You were drowning.”

She blinked fast, but tears slipped through anyway.

“I’m tired of drowning,” she said, voice almost inaudible.

Then, softer still: “Do you want me to stay?”

You nodded, just once.

And for the first time, she lay beside you.

No walls. No armor.

Just two broken people, side by side, in the quiet dark.

The morning sunlight filtered softly through your window, painting your room with pale gold.

Today was different.

Today you were getting a new prosthetic leg.

Your first in months.

The one designed to move. To run. To jump. To feel alive again.

You turned to Alexia, heart pounding with something close to hope.

“I have an appointment,” you said quietly. “Physio and the new leg fitting.”

Her eyes flickered, hesitation written in every line of her face.

“I don’t know if...”

You smiled gently. “I want you to come.”

For weeks, she’d barely left her apartment. The shadows clung too tight. The pain was too loud.

But something about your invitation felt different. Not a demand, but a promise.

She nodded slowly, pulling on a jacket she hadn’t touched in days.

Outside, the air was cool and sharp. A fresh contrast to the stale loneliness of her rooms.

You walked side by side. Tentative but steady.

The clinic was bright, bustling with life and the sharp scent of antiseptic.

You tried on the new prosthetic. Lighter, more flexible. And for the first time in months, you felt the thrill of movement.

Alexia watched, eyes wide, a small smile playing at her lips.

On the way back, you both walked a little taller.

And then, unexpectedly, you saw her.

Eli.

Alexia’s mother.

Her face softened at the sight of her daughter stepping out into the sunlight. Not alone but with you. the stranger who had quietly become her lifeline.

“Alexia,” Eli’s voice was gentle but firm, full of the unspoken worry and love only a mother carries. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

Alexia’s lips trembled as she gave a nod.

Eli turned to you, eyes bright with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing her out.”

You exchanged a glance. Warm and quiet.

For the first time in a long time, hope didn’t feel fragile.

It felt possible.

The days after the clinic visit were quieter but not empty.

Alexia noticed it first in the mornings.

She woke without the usual weight pressing on her chest, the dark thoughts that tangled her mind overnight still there, but softer... distant echoes instead of a roaring storm.

You were part of that change.

Not because you said anything profound.

Not because you tried to fix her.

But because you simply were... a steady presence in a wrld that had felt fractured and cold.

One afternoon, Eli stopped by. She lingered in the doorway. Her eyes warm and kind.

“I see a change,” she said softly.

Alexia shrugged, unsure if she wanted to believe it.

Eli smiled gently. “Sometimes the right person doesn’t just walk into your life. They carry a light you forgot you had.”

That night, you two sat on her small balcony, wrapped in blankets, watching the city lights flicker.

She turned to you, voice quiet.

“You make this... lighter. Like the weight is still there but I can breathe underneath it.”

You reached out, fingers brushing hers briefly.

“That’s enough,” you said.

Alexia smiled, fragile but real.

In the dark, with you beside her, she let herself hope. For the first time in a long time. That maybe. Just maybe. She wasn’t alone.

The knock was soft but deliberate.

You opened the door to find Alexia standing there. A carefully balanced container in her hands.

“I made lunch,” she said, voice a little shy. “Thought you might want some company.”

You stepped aside, letting her in.

The apartment smelled faintly of warmth and effort. Something she hadn’t done in a while.

You ate together, the quiet between bites feeling less like an abyss and more like a space where something new might grow.

After the last forkful, Alexia looked at you, eyes steady.

“I’m going to the training grounds tomorrow,” she said.

Your heart skipped.

“Rehab,” she added quickly. “I’ve decided I can’t stay stuck. And they have staff there of course. Professionals who can help. Maybe even help you, too. With your new leg.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Would you like to come? Start yours together?”

You blinked, surprised.

“I… don’t really have any training clothes,” you admitted shyly, voice small.

Alexia’s lips curved into a proud, teasing smile. “You can wear mine.”

Your heart fluttered in a weird, warm way.

She caught your glance and laughed softly. “I’m serious. You’re going to need something comfortable. Besides, it’s about time I share more than just my pain.”

The morning sun spilled through the windows as you both prepared for the day ahead.

Alexia handed you a loose-fitting sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her training clothes, worn but clean.

You hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric. Feeling a strange flutter in your chest.

“You sure?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a mixture of pride and encouragement in her eyes. “Absolutely. It’s a start. We start together.”

The walk to the training grounds was quiet at first. Neither of you knew exactly what to say, or how to act.

You noticed the way Alexia kept glancing at you. Maybe nervous. Maybe hopeful.

When you arrived, the clinic staff greeted you warmly. Ushering you both into the rehab area.

The room was filled with equipment: parallel bars, treadmills, balance boards. A physical world of challenge and possibility.

You fumbled with the new prosthetic leg, its unfamiliar weight strange against your skin.

Alexia stood beside you, silently offering support.

“Ready?” she asked, voice soft but steady.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Your first steps were awkward and uneven. The prosthetic didn’t quite feel like part of you yet, and your muscles screamed with unfamiliar effort.

Alexia’s own movements were cautious. Shadows of hesitation flickering in her eyes.

But neither of you gave up.

The physiotherapist guided you gently. Adjusting your posture. Encouraging you.

Between attempts, Alexia reached out, squeezing your hand briefly. A small anchor in the uncertainty.

You caught her gaze, and in that moment, words weren’t necessary.

Hours passed in a blur of effort and quiet triumphs.

By the end, you were both exhausted but smiling. The first genuine smiles in a long time.

On the walk home, Alexia slipped her hand into yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” you asked.

“For coming. For staying.”

Your heart swelled.

When you stopped outside her building. The world seemed to pause.

Alexia looked up at you. Eyes searching. Vulnerable.

Slowly, she leaned in and your lips met in a soft, trembling kiss.

It was hesitant. A question and an answer all at once.

The kind of kiss that promises more than words ever could.

When you finally pulled apart, neither of you spoke.

But the quiet between you now held something new.

Hope.

And the beginning of something real.

A few weeks had passed since that day at the training grounds.

You and Alexia were officially together now. Girlfriends, as she’d said once. Shy but sure.

Most days, you found yourself spending hours in her apartment. The place that had once felt like a prison but was slowly becoming home.

Today, you two tackled the chaos of her room. Clothes piled on the floor. Unopened letters. And the shadows that still lingered in the corners.

You laughed quietly as you worked side by side. The easy comfort between you growing.

Later, she mentioned dinner at her mother’s.

“You’ll finally meet my mamá properly,” she said, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“And my sister,” she added with a smile.

Your heart fluttered, nerves bubbling up. Meeting family felt like a big step. But one you were ready for.

Before you left, you needed to freshen up.

Alexia’s shower was small, built before your accident, not quite made for someone like you.

You hesitated at the bathroom door, voice trembling. “I… might need some help.”

She looked up. Surprise flickering in her eyes.

You’d never seen each other quite like this. Vulnerable, exposed.

But Alexia didn’t hesitate.

She stepped inside, gentle hands steadying you as the warm water glided over your skin. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you close in the tight, steamy space.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly against your ear, her voice trembling with something raw and real. “Thank you for pulling me out of the dark.”

You leaned into her, heart pounding, feeling the weight of those words settle between you like a promise.

When you finally emerged, clean and steady, Alexia smiled softly.

“You’re beautiful,” she said simply.

You blushed, heart full.

Tonight, you’d meet her family.

But for now, wrapped in the warmth of each other, you felt ready for anything.

It still felt surreal. This place was yours and Alexia’s now.

A modest one-floor home nestled in a peaceful neighborhood, spacious enough for dreams and laughter and the quiet moments you both craved.

Boxes sat unpacked in the corners, a testament to new beginnings, but the walls already hummed with the promise of life unfolding.

Today was special.

Alexia had a match.

Her first game back after months of grueling rehab, of rebuilding not just her body but her spirit.

You could see the nervous energy radiating off her as she laced up her boots. Her eyes sharp but filled with a fragile hope.

Her mother was coming with you to watch. Her presence a steady, loving force that somehow made the day feel lighter.

The stadium buzzed with anticipation as you found your seats.

The whistle blew, and she was off.

Watching her move with fierce determination. The joy of the game shining through the sweat and effort, made your heart swell.

Each pass, each sprint, each goal attempt was a testament to her fight. Not just to return, but to reclaim.

Eli beside you smiled softly, whispering, “She’s stronger than ever.”

After the final whistle, you met Alexia outside the locker room, her face flushed. Breathless. Radiant.

“You did it,” you said, pulling her close.

She laughed, a sound of pure relief and triumph.

“We did it,” she corrected, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

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

Writer's note: your thoughts about this one?

[nxi-mon]

Karma, Hearts, and Mizi's warped belief in humanity.

Hello, this is my second time making this post so please forgive me if it is not as nuanced this time around. I am mourning the fact that I accidentally deleted my first post. ANYWAY! Watching Karma, I came out of it thinking real hard about something as I started reading everyone's interpretations of what went down: you have to accept the fact that there will be multiple interpretations of everything and no one interpretation is the whole truth. That being said, below is mine on the heart scenes and how I think it all comes back to relate to Mizi.

What is the belief that humans are inherently evil or sinful creatures? In Christianity, this belief stems from the "doctrine of original sin." The belief that humans are so corrupted by sin from Adam's first sin that we have an inborn tendency to commit sin. Famous philosopher Thomas Hobbes is often quoted for this belief as well, calling humans selfish and seeking endless success in satisfying our desires. That this what we all want. So what does this have to do with Alien Stage and Karma? We know Mizi holds these beliefs. In Karma we see her say, "... humans are the root of all this pain. We're creatures who can't seem to love without exploiting."

The heart scenes prove this. The hearts represent the innocence, purity, and love that everyone holds but the blood represents the core of that love and innocence - pain, selfishness, cruelty, and evil.

Ivan tearfully and violently forces his heart onto Till's mouth. Pushing it inside, and it shatters. The evil exploding into their mouths.

Luka holds the remnants of Hyuna's and HyunWoo's hearts, evil spilled onto his hands. Notably, Luka's heart is intact but not untainted while Hyuna's is completely eviscerated - all Luka holds truly is the remaining evil.

Even Mizi and Sua who hold the gentlest scene here, softly connecting two halves, are not spared. Even their love overflows with this evil.

I think these scenes show what Mizi believed what everyone's love was. What she came to learn what human desire and innocence truly is. Love is exploitive, violent, and in the end no matter how gentle it is everyone suffers because they are all selfish creatures. So, of course, when she knew the rebellion was going to save humanity and give them a fighting chance to return to True Earth and live life as they should - Mizi, pushed to her mental limits, freaked out. No, she thought, the only reason we suffered is because we caused this suffering. Even if humans got to True Earth and granted freedom, we would still suffer the poison of desire and chasing pleasure - whatever that may be for a person. So, she blew up the rocket and in her eyes did the best thing for humanity: stopped them from ever having to go through what she did. Chasing freedom, love, and happiness. Mizi chased that since childhood, its all she ever knew. Of course she did, as humans we are hard wired to chase connection and love.

But my heart bleeds for Mizi because there is an unreliable narrative here and something crucial she could never understand. Her evil, everyone's "corruption," and selfish actions in Alien Stage were not an inborn evil like she believed. It was a result of their environment. It was a result of being in such unimaginable conditions, forced to survive in any way possible, and their loves being shaped by the hands of their oppressors. I think, when Mizi is faced with her choice (the rocket), she realizes this. She does not look up in satisfaction or pride over what she's done. She looks up in horror, and we see this belief start to be overruled.

Hyuna and HyunWoo fall together, happily clinging to one another in love and happiness. All they needed was the chance to be there for each other.

Till and Ivan fall together. Ivan looks down, tentative, and Till sees Ivan. Till reaches for Ivan first, grasps his hand, and pulls him closer to him with shining eyes and a grin. Ivan sees Till, accepts his pull, and lights up. All they needed was the time and place to see each other.

Mizi and Sua grasp each other, always seeing and loving each other. They light each other up and pull each other in, so gentle. They kiss and kiss and just love. This time, there is no suffering, no pain. Just smiles and the knowing: I love you. All they needed was each other in a place where they could simply be.

What is important in this scene is that it is their environment that is falling apart. Their environment is set ablaze and suffering. It is the oppressors that look at this in horror and scream while the humans are overcome in joy. It is the world that tries to tear into their love and call it cruelty. I genuinely believe Mizi fully understands this now, that it was not fair to pass judgement on a whole people based on the cruel circumstances they faced as victims. But she stands there knowing she can not take this back, eyes unblinking and devoid. She then clings to Till, the ghost of Sua hugging them both. I think she also represents this realization, and as she leans down, it solidifies into forgiveness. Who could truly place all blame on Mizi after all she has gone through and all the things we still do not know? She was a victim of emotion, of love being shaped by survival, and suffocating in a land humans were never supposed to be in. Everyone in the cast was.

It is important to note that in all the AUs we have seen where they are free of Anakt, Alien Stage - the cast is happy. Our universe, Alien Stage, is the only one (that I have seen) where they are suffering. Where an oppressive environment drove these people into doing desperate things they never would do otherwise. It is karma. Karma is the cause and effect of someone's actions - what goes around comes around. It is not punishment or reward, it is not good nor bad, simply a result of what has happened and what will be.

In the end, Mizi atones by saving Till, humanity's last hope, and the only person in the cast who would've suffered a death not on his own terms or come as a result of karma. We see this solidified, again, by Sua when Mizi runs back into the room where we previously turned away [from looking at Sua practice her death], and hug Sua, who embraces her back.

Issac at the end spells all of this out for viewers: innocence was never a luxury any of the cast could afford in this universe. That does NOT mean that they weren't innocent. They were all victims and you must see this before judging their actions, which were born out of desperation and survival. In his words, "can we really blame her for that [Mizi's desperate last act of love]?" We can hate, scream, and put these characters on trial for their sins - but we will never get a clear answer for it when their actions were never truly their own. We as a fandom must give them grace for we know not how we act when pushed to our limits. Until it is far too late.

In other timelines, given the absence of oppression, they thrive. They love with innocence. Their nature isn’t evil. Their context was. Actions devoid of innocence are violence. But when that action was full of love and the innocence of it simply torn apart by an outer force, I hesitate to call that solely violence. But they will never know that the cruelty they inflicted wasn't a result of themselves, but rather a result of the oppression around them. Unfortunately, there is no clean slate and no tidy justice here. Everyone is both a victim and vector. Everyone is breeding actions and consequences no one can fully control. That is Karma. No one is redeemed, but we can take a chance to understand them better as characters. Put these souls somewhere safe, and they'll choose love, not violence. That is the point.

May those who died rest in peace, dreaming in the next universe and Till? Go get em, kid.

[dissociativewriter]

OH MY! congrats on the 400 followers!!! and for the event can't you write some angst with sylus x nonmc, please??? don't know if you have listened to WILDFLOWER by Billie eilish, but i really wanna see what would be born out of that??? not pressure tho! (also sorry for my english but im not a native speaker haha)

thank you!! this was an amazing request! it took me a while to write it, but i really like this. i hope you do too!

request event

The base hadn’t been quiet in months.

It was nice, you thought. A welcome change. In all your years at Onychinus there was always a tense silence. Always something that seemed to say this was an operation, not a home.

That all changed when Miss Hunter arrived, though.

Everything seemed warmer, splashes of color dotted around and a constant hum of chatter echoed through the space.

You’d never seen Sylus like this. Even when he was laughing and messing around with Luke and Kieran, he hadn’t allowed himself to be this happy. It seemed like there was something holding him back, something expectant.

Now the air was lighter, his shoulders lost their tension, his laughs came more freely. Things seemed to be looking up.

That made the newfound silence all the more jarring.

Miss Hunter had left just as quickly as she’d came. It wasn’t a huge ordeal. She hadn’t made a big deal out of it. There was just an conversation, spoken in quiet tones behind closed doors. Next thing you knew, she was gone in a mess of tears and broken promises.

You’d let Sylus alone for a time after that. Taken up the responsibilities of Onychinus in his stead, the role practically second nature ever since he’d promoted you to second-in-command a few years ago.

It was quiet again. You didn’t see much of the Boss, and you never expected to see Miss Hunter again.

But she’d shown up at your doorstep one night within the first week of their separation. Tear tracks on her cheeks and a heart-wrenching sob asking for someone to talk to.

You’d obliged, of course. How could you turn her away when she was like this? Pulling her into you, rubbing her back as she sobbed into your shoulder. She blubbered that she didn’t have anyone to talk to, that none of her friends really knew Sylus enough to cry about him to.

She explained that even if they weren’t together, she didn’t want to expose him and his identity like that.

You nodded, holding her close as she seemed to cry herself dry. She did most of the talking that night. Talking about how it had been a mutual decision, how they both felt like they just weren’t right for each other.

Miss Hunter had said she never expected falling out of love to hurt so bad.

The next morning, Sylus emerged from his room for the first time in four days. Silvery hair messy, eyes bloodshot, usually steady hands now trembling at his sides.

You sat with him. Wordlessly offered him a cup of coffee. He took it with a nod of thanks, holding it close instead of drinking it, like he was willing its burning warmth to thaw the cold that had taken over.

It became a routine. You’d sit with him, allow the quiet that had been uncomfortable, that had had something missing, to settle until it became something resembling understanding.

Sylus tried to distract himself with the work of Onychinus. You limited his access and told him he needed to sit with his grief and understand it before it consumed him entirely, not avoid it with gunfights and business deals.

Sylus never was able to fight you when you got like this.

He let you take care of him in a way no one had in a long time. It was gentle, quiet. A cup of tea here, a gentle reminder there. Never asking too many questions, never pushing for something more. He didn’t mention how much he appreciated it. He knew he didn’t have to.

You should have seen it coming, you thought. He was vulnerable. You were there. You should have expected it when the touches began to linger, when he began reaching for you.

You always thought of her when he did that.

Maybe you brushed it off because you thought you’d never compare to her. After all, what was the worry, when she was so bright and outgoing when you just seemed to fade into the background.

“No one knows me as well as you do,” Sylus muttered one night, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve always been there for me. I think— no, I know…”

Your breathing felt like it stopped. All you could think of, all you could see in the back of your mind was Miss Hunter. Should you feel this guilty? This hurt?

Were you just a replacement, something to fill the void, that fresh wound that kept bleeding?

“I love you,” Sylus whispered, low and reverent.

You didn’t move your hand from his. You didn’t say how all you could think about was how Miss Hunter must have felt.

Sylus didn’t mean to hurt you. You knew that.

Maybe being quiet was for the best.

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

@dolledbunnytail @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @coffeedragonhobbyist

[peasack]

I love your work!!! I was wondering if you'd write a teen!reader headcanon for them struggling with mental health, needing help with homework, coming out or getting bullied please? I especially love how you write Ava (she's my favourite character) and you manage to nail the Alexis voice

Absolutely adore this request.

I chose to write about the mental health, since I all of them (obviously) know how to deal with that. But I'll definitely put the other suggestions on my list!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Mental Health Support Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Ava Starr

The quiet protector. Ava’s not the type to talk circles around you or push you to open up. Instead, she watches. She notices the changes in your behaviorthe silence, the distance, the fake smiles and instead of asking a million questions, she simply shows up. She’ll quietly sit next to you, maybe reading or scrolling on her phone, just so you know she’s there without overwhelming you.

Understands isolation deeply. After everything with her phasing, Ava knows what it’s like to feel broken, like you're a burden, like no one could possibly understand. So when you isolate, she doesn’t take it personally. She just leaves a small trail for you to follow when you’re ready a text, a post-it note, a granola bar on your desk. Tiny signs that say you’re not forgotten.

Soft but firm boundaries. If you try to shut her out completely or brush her off with a fake “I’m fine,” Ava will tilt her head at you with this deadpan look and go, “Try again.” Not mean, not angry. Just “I see through you. You’re not fine. But I’ll wait for you to be ready.” She never lets you disappear completely.

Takes you on quiet, low-pressure ‘missions.’ She’ll invite you on drives, walks, or errands that sound boring but feel safe. “Come with me to pick up supplies. No talking necessary.” It’s her way of offering you company without forcing conversation. These small moments help you reconnect to the world without overwhelming you.

Gentle about scars and history. When she finds out about your past or your scars, she doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t lecture. She just softly says, “You’ve survived a lot. You don’t have to survive it alone anymore.” And that’s it. She holds it like a secret you entrusted her with.

Fiercely protective in her own silent way. If anyone triggers you, bullies you, or drags you down—Ava will quietly, ruthlessly remove that threat from your life. No one knows how, but that person suddenly just leaves you alone. Ava doesn’t need credit or thanks. She just protects you. Always.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Not the best with words, but man does he show up. Alexei might not always know what to say, but he makes sure you know you’re not alone. He’ll randomly sit with you, bring you snacks, or drag you into the living room to watch terrible old Soviet movies with him, just to keep you company.

Overcompensates with physical comfort. He’s big on hugs and ruffling your hair, and you get the sense he’s constantly making sure you’re still there, still safe. He’s the kind of guy who will pat your back so hard you almost fall over—but you feel a little better afterward.

Terrible at hiding his concern. He’ll blurt out things like, "You are not allowed to disappear, okay? I will find you. I will find whoever made you sad. I will crush them like beetle."

Secretly keeps an eye on your routines. He notices if you’re skipping meals, missing sleep, or isolating. He’s not subtle—he’ll straight up drag you out of bed and be like, “We are going for silly little walk. It is non-negotiable.”

Panics when you cry. He immediately calls for backup (usually Yelena) like he’s reporting a code red. But he stays. Always. Even when he’s unsure what to do, he refuses to leave your side.

✦ Yelena Belova

The calm-in-a-storm type. When you’re spiraling, Yelena doesn’t flinch. She sits next to you, quietly, like, "Okay. We are sad now. I will be sad with you." She doesn’t try to fix you. She just holds space.

Violently protective of your mental space. If someone at school or even in the team says something that hurts you, she’s on it like a hawk. “Tell me who. I just want to talk.” (She does not just want to talk.)

Talks about her own issues openly. She’ll casually drop lines like, "Yeah, I have bad days too. I usually throw knives to feel better." She tries to normalize it so you never feel broken.

Pulls you into little missions or tasks when you isolate. "Come help me spy on Alexei. It will be fun." It’s her way of reconnecting you with the world.

Terrible with cheesy comfort phrases. Instead, you get blunt affection. "You are not allowed to give up. You are my family. You do not get to leave me. I will be annoying forever, so you must stay to suffer me."

✦ Bucky Barnes

The king of quiet understanding. He never pushes. Never demands you explain. Just sits next to you, offers a cup of tea, and sometimes just says, "I’ve been there. You don’t have to talk, but I get it."

Not great with open emotional convos but will listen all night if you need. He doesn’t always know what advice to give, but he will nod along, let you ramble, and toss in dry little jokes to keep you grounded.

Gives you space but always checks in. Leaves little notes on your door like "I’m making food. You better eat." Or sends you a text: "Still breathing? Cool. Come hang when you’re ready."

Gets quietly, intensely protective if anyone makes you feel worse. He won’t make a scene but will 100% have a quiet, terrifying “chat” with the person responsible.

Teaches you small things to help. Like how to box when you’re angry, or how to breathe when you’re spiraling. He’s the type to hand you coping tools instead of empty comfort.

✦ Bob Reynolds

So, so soft about it. Bob is super emotionally tuned in and probably notices you’re struggling before you say anything. He gets this gentle, concerned tone like, "Hey, kid… you doing okay?"

Overthinks and worries a lot. He’s scared of saying the wrong thing or making you worse, but he wants to help. He’ll sit with you, make you tea, or put on your favorite show just to be near you.

Big on distraction days. He’ll offer to play games, watch movies, even sit and listen to music together, anything to help you breathe and not be stuck in your head.

Sassy comfort. Once you’re closer, he’ll throw in playful sass to make you smile when you’re down. "Look, you’re stuck with me now. Can’t get rid of me. I’m like emotional gum on your shoe."

If you cry in front of him, he crumbles. He holds you so carefully like you might break, and his voice drops to the softest whisper like, "Hey… hey, you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

✦ John Walker

Awkward but fiercely loyal. John’s not super in touch with his own emotions, but the moment he sees you’re struggling, he’s locked in. He just… doesn’t always know how to handle it. "You, uh, wanna… I dunno. Wanna hit something? Or get ice cream? Or whatever helps?"

Overprepares. Starts reading up on mental health resources, making checklists in his phone like "Things To Help The Kid When They're Sad" because he genuinely wants to be good at this.

Dad-mode activated. He’ll randomly show up with snacks, your favorite drink, or movie nights without making a big deal out of it. If you try to thank him, he waves it off like, "Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s what I’m here for."

Gets super angry at anyone who hurts you. Like, full-on clenched fists, ready-to-throw-down angry. But he channels it quietly—he just gets very, very protective from a distance.

Awkward comfort, but real. Might pat your back stiffly and mutter, "Look… I might not always get it. But I care about you, okay? You’re family. You’re my kid now. Deal with it."

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope this was alright, it's a little more detailed on Ava’s part since, of course, the request was for her.

If you guys have more requests please leave them in my inbox! <3

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

In the Closet

The second I met him, my life changed for the better. At least, that’s what I thought until his landlady started meddling.

“There’s an extra bedroom upstairs. That is if you need it.”

My hackles rose, which they always did when an innuendo regarding my sexuality was brought out for scrutiny.

“Of course, we will need it!” I exclaimed exasperated.

“Oh, we have all sorts around here, dear. Mrs Turner next door even has married ones.”

Sherlock murmured something under his breath, and I prompted him to speak up, which he refused. My legendary stubbornness got the better of me – again – and I urged him not to be shy.

“Very well,” he said haughtily. “I do not understand why you are so determined to suppress your bisexuality. You are obviously in the closet, but like Hudders just said, we have all sorts around here. No need to hide like you apparently had to in your childhood home and in the army.”

If I thought his deductions from the day before were amazing, this unwelcome disclosure just made me nauseous, and my intestines clenched painfully.

“That way,” Sherlock pointed.

I ran to the loo; I must’ve looked quite green around the gills for him to notice and vomited violently. 

There was no way I could move in with him now; though I did contemplate to move into the bathroom on a permanent basis to avoid meeting that dazzling gaze ever again.

“She’s gone. You can come out,” Sherlock said calmly. “Tea?”

“Are you even real?” I wanted to ask.

I had never met anyone who took my deepest fear and transformed it into some trifle in just a couple of minutes. Maybe it was all fine.

“You’ve been a bloody soldier, Watson! Surely, you can cope having tea with the man.”

I had trouble lifting my gaze to his face when I finally emerged from the loo. A perfectly brewed mug of tea stood on the kitchen table. How he knew that I only took a splash of milk and no sugar, was beyond me, but apparently, Sherlock Holmes was some sort of weird magician who knew absolutely everything tiny detail about me.

***

After I shot Jeff Hope to save Sherlock’s life, he took me to his favourite Chinese restaurant, and prattled on about the lower part of the door handle. I paid no attention to the actual words; too elated, giddy, and a tad bit frightened after I realised, he could’ve died if I hadn’t raced after him and brought the gun with me.

“Don’t do that again,” I said quietly after he had ordered for us.

“Do what?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Leave me behind like that. You couldn’t have known that I would follow you.”

“Oh, but I did know, John,” he said confidently.

“Whatever,” I sighed, knowing there was little use to argue with him. “Just…please, promise me.”

“Why?” he asked in a hushed tone.

The waiter brought our food and interrupted my speech. We were both famished and dug into the most delicious Chinese food I’d ever eaten.

***

Later, when the door to 221B closed behind us, Sherlock turned to me and asked again.

“Because now that I’ve found you, I can’t live without you,” I said softly.

The genuine smile I was rewarded with, sent electrical jolts down my spine, which only increased when his large hands cupped my face.

“Ditto,” he whispered and kissed me.

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(Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

(Accidentally posted this as a draft, then deleted it)

Florida man is a state of mind. One that shows how we all want to live. He exists without shame. Without hesitation. And most importantly, without a single thought. If you say you don't want to be like Florida man, you're lying.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Julie, Frank, Wally & slightly unhinged/eccentric Reader

Julie

★ You and her make all sorts of new games. One afternoon, you "borrowed" a shopping cart from Howdy. And tried to see how fast you could go with her inside. Julie cheered. Howdy screamed. Now you owe the shopkeeper a new cart.

★ Somehow, you function on three hours of sleep and a bag of chips. Like a teen that got a hold of energy drinks for the first time. Julie just assumed it's normal for you to live like this. When you finally crash, she watches you. Amazed you stayed up this long.

★ She drew the line at "homemade fireworks." Because Julie really doesn't want you to destroy stuff. "You're gonna blow up that mailbox!" She warned you, wide eyed and a little scared. But you lit the fuse anyway. And all she did was watch.

Frank

★ Frank started questioning natural selection after meeting you. Not for being a good example. But because nothing you've done has killed you. The catalyst for this thought was when he saw you lighting... what looked like a pile of cardboard tubes? Followed by an explosion.

★ You must be doing something right if you've made it this far. Even though he's tried reasoning with you to make better decisions. "Please don't." He says while pinching the bridge of his nose. You grin "What if I do?" Sometimes, Frank makes you wear a helmet.

★ Despite everything, he likes having you around. He may tell people "They're going to be the death of me." But Frank still has a first aid kit stashed away. Just for you. As history suggests you'll need it again.

Wally

★ He always thought life was best lived carefully. Then you came along. With your scraped knuckles and busted knee. And Wally was charmed! He doesn't understand most of the things you do. Which is why he can't stop thinking about it.

★ You climbed the tall clock tower without safety gear. It wasn't damaged, but you were after losing grip. He didn't lecture you after. Just said "You should be more careful." While Frank, on the other hand, gave you an earful.

★ When somebody complains about your recklessness, he's the first to defend you. Saying “They think it's fun.” And nothing else. Because that might start an argument. And Wally doesn't care for those. 

[friendlyneighborhoodcat]

Forsaken Yandere HC-3

Took a while for me to actually start on this because of homework, sorry for the delay:(

I still got 2 pounds of assignment I gotta finish but regardless, enjoy the food<3

This one is for the killers, Noob, and n7 btw. The other survivors are in my two other post

Coolkid will automatically be a platonic yandere, romantic yandere Coolkid writers DNI.

Jason will be the only non-yandere in all three parts. I HC him to be aroace and refuses to look past that.

Warning: Might be ooc

1x1x1x1: She's a narcissistic, sadistic, and pathetic wet cat. Will def target anyone BUT you. Always leave you for LMS (She still kills you, tho, she just likes the thrill of it). Would definitely be grumpy if u ended up winning the LMS and went back to the killer's cabin to stab the wall with her Daemonshank. She resents you, a lot, for being on her mind 24/7. She has long taught herself that affection is weakness(HC), so she doesn't know why it was much different when it comes to you. She's too prideful to admit shit, so if anything you'll just get absolutely mauled if you ever mentioned or teases her about it. It always feels wrong to kill you specifically, and she's fuming that it is.

John Doe: He's a gentleman when it comes to you, mainly because the feeling he has for you reminded him of the feelings he still has for ____. He'd give you small things like flowers he found in a round, or things he made by hand. He doesn't understand much of humans' emotions, but he still tries to for your sake. He always leaves you for LMS before coming up to you and trying to communicate. It always scares the living shit out of you, but you eventually let your guard down a little and share with him some things abt you. You're still wary of him, though, that's for sure. But he's always patient with you. He'll literally do whatever you tell him to, seriously. Tell him to go fight The Spectre, and he WILL actually try it. The Spectre ended up throwing him back to the Killers' cabin with a warning.

C00lkid: Strictly platonic yandere!! He loves you mainly because you're friendly and open around his dad. Would definitely target you first because you're 'his new fav tag buddy', it's only cuz n7's clone fools him every time and he got grumpy from that. You pity him, you really do, since he has to be forced to kill in order to survive as a child. So you're always forgiving and patient when it comes to something that he did. Even if it's server wiping and ripping you to pieces, you'd still forgive him. He thinks of you as a second parent because of that, so he'd always try to get you to 'marry' n7 so it can be official. He's not, in any way, possessive of you. He just gets upset when you show attention to anyone else who isn't his dad.

Jason: Yell at me all you want, but Jason is NOT a romantic yandere. Nor is he a platonic yandere. He's not the type to get jealous or protective over someone. He does think you're cool, tho. Doesn't stop him from hitting you with gashing wound. He only kinda likes you because his mother likes you, but even then, he still wouldn't hold back from server wiping. Overall, he doesn't give a fuck. Ki ki ma ma

Noob: He's tripping over his own feet running around trying to please you. Nervous as hell when it comes to interactions regarding you. You would have to be the one to start a convo with him, cuz he's too scared to even be in your vicinity. He does share his bloxy colas with you during rounds, only if you ask cuz he's fucking terrified of you. You find his nervousness endearing in a way, while he's just trembling when you're around. It's bc of him thinking that you're too cool and stuff to be hanging around him, and he thinks you're judging him for everything he does. He's pathetic, I know. Your patience does get him to warm up to you a little, but he's still somewhat closed off.

007n7: You're one of the few people who don't mind his past, hence why he likes you. He wouldn't show himself much during rounds, but he would leave bloxy colas and medkits near your area(referencing YFAT AU, peak AU btw yall should check it out). He'd apologize for Coolkid's behavior whenever his son tries to get you to 'marry' him. You both find it quite amusing, though. He loves it when you start convos with him regarding the CoolGUI, though he does get uncomfortable when he mentions his past. He'd sometimes get dirty looks from Elliot when he was around you, and he'd visibly flinch from that(Elliot heavily resents him for burning his workplace several times and fears something like that might happen to you).

-----

UEUEUUEUEUE

This is so painful to write, especially when I don't know most of their personalities *sobs*

I'd love to write additional characters like Noli, Azure, or Mafioso but this post would be too long and I'm too tired for that sighs.

I'm considering taking requests, but it's not decided yet since I have to see if I have the time

BYE SILLIES<3

[obx-may]

Together -Rafe Cameron

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, lots of fluff at the beginning, angst with a happy ending, self doubt (rafe), comfort, excessive alcohol consumption.

summary: after telling rafe he was going to be a father you were surprised with how well he took it, though when he felt the first kick everything got a little to real and he freaked out, leaving you crying in your shared apartment and hoping that he’d come back to you.

notes: this is an unofficial part two to this fic that i wrote a little while ago (which you don’t need to read to understand this). i’m stuck on ideas so i decided to just add to that original story! hope you enjoy angels🧸🤍🫶🏼 - this is a long one for me so strap in!

The first few weeks after telling Rafe were hard. You were so stressed about telling your family and everyone on the island possibly whispering about how stupid you could’ve been to get knocked up at such a young age. But Rafe was always there to reassure you.

He was surprisingly calm and collected. He was nervous, anyone would be in that situation but he kept himself together for you.

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” He’d whisper as you battled morning sickness, one hand on your back rubbing soft circles as the other held the hair out of your face.

He held you when you cried and sobbed about how you were just so scared. He’d let you talk before reassuring you, “I’m here, we’re going to be okay. We can do this.”

When you eventually broke the news to your and his parents he held your hand and did as much of the talking as you wanted him too.

Ward was disappointed, Rose managed to crack a fake smile, you were so relieved when your mother pulled you into a hug and told you she’d be there for you, even though your father sat straight and glared at Rafe with rage in his eyes.

Eventually he calmed down and after around a week he became accustomed to the idea. You knew he was accepting when you were going to spend the night at Rafe’s house and before you left he said, “now you be carful driving on those roads, it’s been raining and you’ve got my grand baby in there.” He gestured to your stomach. You hugged him and he hugged you back, which is something the both of you didn’t know you needed.

After that Rafe proposed moving in together. He knew it was inevitable so he said he’d rather be settled at a place when the baby arrives than scrambling last minute.

Within a few weeks he - with the help of Ward - had found and bought an apartment, it was spacious yet cosy. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an open plan kitchen and living room with a sweet little balcony overlooking the sea. It was perfect.

News spread fast once you went to your first appointment, told your friends and began to show - just slightly but it was there.

The stories were ridiculous. “She baby trapped him for the money.” “I heard it’s not even Rafes.” “She’s faking it for attention.”

You tried not to think about it too much and Rafe helped with that. Though sometimes he made the situation significantly worse by reacting to the stares when you were out. “What the fuck are you looking at punk? Huh? That’s what I thought.” His excuse always being that he was just protecting his girl, which you didn’t argue with.

Your old life was completely gone, being pregnant meant no drinking, partying or staying up late since you were always exhausted anyway.

Though Rafe on the other hand did continue his drinking and partying late, just now without you by his side.

You were pleased at first. You hadn’t wanted him to give up all the tings he did before since you thought he’d be much worse if he had to suddenly change his lifestyle.

Unfortunately, at some point - actually around the time you started to show and a small bump formed on your stomach - it got excessive.

You brushed it off at first, the coming home at two in the morning completely plastered, the increasing nights spent at the country club with Topper and Kelce, but you now realised he was beginning to slip away from you.

Arguments about his behaviour became a reoccurring thing. You cried all the time, though he was never there to hold you and tell you everything was going to be fine like he would’ve in the beginning.

Something had changed in him but you couldn’t understand why.

You felt so alone. Pregnancy is weird like that, even though you’re actually never alone because you constantly have a little human in your stomach it makes you feel like you are, even when there’s people around you who do care.

One night, you heard Rafe stumble through the door as usual. The door to your shared bedroom swinging open just moments later. “Hey baby,” he murmured drunkenly.

You sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with your knees to your chest, tear marks on your face.

His brows furrowed as he immediately sobered up a little, noticing your state.

He sat on the side of the bed. You flinched when he went to place his hand on your leg. “y/n-”

“I’m going to live with my parents for a while,” you blurted out, voice shaky.

“You’re- what?” He was surprised, caught off guard.

“We- no I need some space. In five months we’re going to have a baby Rafe and you’re off getting drunk twenty four seven. I’m tired and I don’t know what’s happened to my Rafe. The one who took care of me when I was sick, the one who reassured me when I was scared, the one who actually seemed like he loved me-” your sentence broke with a sob, “I don’t recognise you.”

He sat there, blindsided. “I… yeah, maybe you should go stay with your parents,” he replied.

You couldn’t believe it. He really wasn’t going to fight for you? Not even a little bit?

With one nod you got off the bed and started to pack. Was it two o’clock in the morning? Yes. Could you spend even one more second in his company? No, no you couldn’t.

So you packed, left without another word and drove to your parent’s house.

Rafe remained in the same position on the bed. He’d fucked it all up.

In the following few weeks there was little to no contact between you and Rafe. It actually did you good to focus on yourself for a little while though after two weeks you were really starting to miss him.

One night, you were sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom folding your laundry when your phone rang.

It was Rafe. You took a deep breath and answered the call, bringing it to your ear.

“y/n?” Was the first thing he said but he didn’t give you time to respond, “I’m so sorry, I freaked out okay? I love you so much and I know I want this with you. This life, this baby, I want it all and I fucked it up. I’ve stopped drinking, I promise I’ll do better. Can you forgive me?”

You slowly took in his words. You knew what you were signing up for when you got with Rafe and you’d been through worse. “Of course I’ll forgive you, I always will because I love you Rafe. But if this happens again-”

“I know.” He knew he only had a limited number of chances and that you might not forgive him so easily next time.

After that night everything slowly but surely got back to normal. You moved back in, he went to your appointment with you where you found out it was going to be a little girl and he spent every night with you in his arms.

A week later you were mostly back into your usual routine. You woke up, took a shower with Rafe, he left for work and you had recently started a job that you could do from home so that’s what you spent your day doing.

His parents were rich and so were yours - everyone knew that - but the both of you wanted to live your own lives, not relying on your parents for everything, so that’s why you started working and you were slowly building your savings that would mostly go to things for your baby girl.

Hours later Rafe finally arrived home. He greeted you with a gentle peck on the lips before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

He sat down next to you on the sofa and peered over at the website you were scrolling through on your laptop.

“Looking at cribs already?” He asked, before opening and then chugging some of his water.

“There’s a sale on - thirty percent off. I just thought I’d have a look,” you replied calmly.

“Get whichever one you want babe,” he mumbled before kissing your forehead and then standing up.

He got halfway to the bedroom to freshen up before you gasped.

He turned around quickly. “You alright?” He asked, slight panic in his voice.

“Come feel!”

He noticed as he moved towards you that you’d moved the laptop and now had your hand resting at the base of your stomach.

As soon as he was close enough you grabbed his hand and placed it where yours was.

“What- oh? Is that…?”

“She’s kicking! The doctor said it might take a while but she was starting to worry me, I’m so relieved,” you excitedly rambled.

He just stood there, slightly bend down, hand still on your stomach with an emotion you couldn’t quite read on his face.

“Rafe?” You questioned, brows furrowed, “are you okay-”

He pulled his hand away and stood up straight. “I just,” he cut you off, “I can’t- sorry.”

He glanced from your stomach up to your face without fully meeting your eyes then he turned and made b-line for the front door.

Leaving you, now stood in shock. What the hell just happened.

You tried to convince yourself that he’d just got a little overwhelmed and would come back in a minute.

A minute turned into thirty which turned into an hour and then two.

You were now a mess. Just when you thought you’d got him back he was slipping again.

You sat on your bed, head in your hands as you cried. The raging hormones causing through your body definitely weren’t helping the situation.

He’d left everything. His keys, his phone so you couldn’t even call him. You called Topper though, then Kelce, then Sarah, no one had seen or heard from him.

When the clock hit nine you were seriously worried. You decided you couldn’t just sit around any longer so you got up, slipped some shoes on, grabbed your keys and left the apartment.

Since he hadn’t gone to any of his friends or family you decided to go to his most frequented places.

First you went to the country club, he wasn’t there. Next you visited the beach by tanning hill, nope. Lastly you drove to the place you used to hang out at in your early teens, the place you shared your first kiss.

It was a long shot since it’d barely been mentioned since you left school but you were running out of options.

You parked at the bottom of the cliff edge and then walked the ten minutes up hill to get to the top.

By the time you reached it you were huffing and puffing. The baby now pushing down on your lungs meaning you were out of breath doing the simplest of tasks.

But it was all worth it because there he stood. Hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as he stared out at the crashing waves below the cliff.

“Rafe?” You called from a few meters behind him.

He was quick to turn around, clearly not expecting you to have found him.

You approached him slowly, as if you were trying not to scare him off.

“What’re you doing up here? It’s almost dark,” he asked, his voice soft and quiet.

“I was looking for you dummy. You scared me,” you replied, now standing next to him with your hands crossed over your chest as the evening breeze passed over your skin.

He sighed, a deep, troubled sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. “Talk to me Rafe,” you whispered gently.

“I’m worried,” he began.

You placed your hand on his arm, insinuating that he should continue.

“I’m worried I’m going to turn out like my dad,” he finally admitted.

Your heart sank.

“Look at me.”

He did, finally meeting your eyes.

“You are nothing like him. I know you, I know you’re going to be the best father. You already care so much and the fact you’re worried means you do. Your childhood wasn’t easy, I know, but that’s not us.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for you to laugh or take all that you said back but those things didn’t happen, all he found in your eyes was genuineness.

Rafe never had a way with words so instead he just leaned down and pressed your forehead against his.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice full of emotion before he closed the gap between the two of you.

The kiss that you shared was full of love and relief.

His hands moved to grasp your waist as yours intertwined with the hair on the back of his head.

Once you pulled away the both of you were smiling, because in that moment you knew everything was going to be okay.

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | I HOPE YOU SEE (RIGHT THROUGH ME)

w.c. 1.2k

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (23), some cussing (it's not bakugou's internal monologue if there aren't any), suicide-related deaths (see series synopsis for more details), discussions of suicide, canon-typical descriptions of violence

a/n. welcome to another series by yours truly!!!! i know i still have that body swap one in the queue, and while i am planning on working on that, this series' premise just spoke to me and i was emboldened to write it as soon as i could. i'm writing this as i go, though, so the posting schedule is likely gonna be erratic, but i promise i'll try to write this consistently. anyway, i'd absolutely love to hear what you think throughout the process, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me!

links. masterlist, ao3

Somehow, he’s wound up in the emergency room of Musutafu’s highly renowned Central Hospital.

Which, if he had the energy left to really think about it, is not particularly an unusual occurrence. He’s been here—and other similar hospitals—enough to have a general blueprint of the corridors etched in his mind, as well as the basic rules they shared and protocols that were strictly followed. Stuff like how phone calls are prohibited, fatigued doctors specializing in emergency medicine are perpetually present, and how—for a place supposedly and rightfully dubbed with the ‘emergency’ title—the staff sure don’t seem to have a whole lot of sense of urgency.

Although he supposes he’d rather have that than be in a room teeming with frantic energy. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, actually, for the sake of the patients who get rolled in.

Except right now, he was not a patient.

He was technically not a guardian, either, though the disheveled-looking middle-aged man blatantly staring at him from a few rows up front is most definitely thinking otherwise.

Well, then.

Acutely aware of the unwanted attention, Bakugou shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wincing ever so slightly when the connected metal chairs to his right creak loudly with the motion. It doesn’t help that he’s still in his hero clothes—although he’s aware there’s no point in mulling over it now; after all, he didn’t exactly have the time to do a costume change with all the shit that went down.

Not that he’s exactly sure what that ‘shit’ even was.

It all happened too fast.

One minute, he was walking down his regular patrol route down Shizuoka’s famous tallest bridge—cursing the unbearable summer heat and the dehydration-induced headaches that it brought with it; the next, he was jumping off of it.

He even boosted himself with his quirk to aid gravity in his free fall, but to no avail.

Your body had already collided with the ground by the time he could grab your wrist.

The moments that passed after that are even more of a blur now. He doesn’t know how he did it, but after what seemed like an eternity of merely staring at your limp, bloody body, Bakugou was able to pull out his phone and call 119. The medics arrived shortly after, maybe in a span of five minutes, but to him it felt like more.

It took everything within him not to just haul your body and propel you to the nearest hospital.

Because if someone died under his watch…

“Mr. Dynamight?”

Bakugou startles, looking up from where he was blankly staring at his intertwined, scarred hands. At the sight of a white coat-clad woman, the pro-hero immediately stands up, nodding, turning to face the brunette with his full attention.

“Hi,” the doctor greets, “It’s come to my understanding that you’re the one who called in regarding Patient—” she trails off, looking down at her clipboard to double-check, before saying your name in a question. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bakugou rasps roughly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Uh, yes, doc.”

The doctor nods. “Were you on patrol when you found her?”

Close, the voice in Bakugou’s head retorts without missing a beat. I saw her fucking jump.

Instead of saying all that out loud, however, the ash-blonde only nods wordlessly.

The woman hums. “Okay, then. Well, her parents are still on the way here, and normally we’d let them know first, but given the nature of your involvement and your occupation, I might as well inform you.”

Instantly, Bakugou finds himself bracing for what’s next.

The doctor presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, shaking her head solemnly. “She didn’t make it.”

Dead on arrival.

You were dead on arrival.

At least, that’s what the doctors told him when he pressed them for more. He couldn’t tell if they were hesitant about divulging further information about you aside from the basics or just simply in the dark themselves, seeing as how they only had your wallet that they found on your person to go from. Either way, Bakugou decided it didn’t matter as soon as an older couple burst through the doors of the emergency room—a good half hour later—whom he immediately identified as your parents.

Needless to say, he hightailed it out of there.

The last thing he needed was to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news, or worse, be recognized as the reason why their daughter is currently lying lifeless in one of the hospital’s private rooms.

After that, he couldn’t remember much of his actions, only that he somehow decided to head to the agency. The entire flight down to his office, he stuck his good ear out for any signs of ringing from his phone, which surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—didn’t come.

Which makes sense.

He’s heard stories before. Exchanged in hushed whispers back in the UA dormitory, and uttered in low voices in the agencies he worked at as a sidekick. About how suicide cases in the country are criminally underreported—not just because of the stigma surrounding the act, but because the police allegedly make it a point to conceal such cases, away from the media’s prying eyes and before it gets blown out of proportion by the public.

Hakamada told him it was most likely to prevent the occurrence of suicide clusters, to which Bakugou scoffed instinctively, granting him a reprimanding look from his mentor.

But really, could anyone blame him?

The idea seemed stupid then.

If he killed himself for whatever reason, he sure didn’t want his death to be treated as some sort of curse, talked about only when people think no one’s watching.

There’s nothing more pitiful than fading away without leaving a single trace, after all.

But now, as he sits in the quiet dark of his agency’s office—the building silent if not for the gentle whirring of his air conditioner—Bakugou finds himself oddly grateful.

Because…

Because.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to face the press about what just happened.

He’s not sure how long he sat spaced out in his office, but by the time he’s inserting his lone copy of his key into the door knob, it’s already two hours past midnight, and the exhaustion from the day’s events has finally made itself known in the form of muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

Bakugou doesn’t try to fight the sigh of relief that wracks his body the second he hears the lock click, his movements automatic as he pushes the door open with his side, left hand reaching out in the dark until it lands on and presses against the switch.

As if on cue, light floods the living room slash kitchen of Bakugou’s apartment unit, a sight so mundanely familiar that he doesn’t even blink at first.

Just—drags his aching feet towards the foyer where he toes off his sneakers and drops his duffel bag, which he swears he’ll collect the first thing tomorrow morning.

But then that’s when it happens.

Bakugou barely catches it—the movement at the corner of his eye—but he does.

And when he does—glance to look at it—he blanches.

Because sitting on his sofa is no other than a ghost.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ

[zhelin-thames]

[TikTok Group Chat: #GhostZoneTakeover]

Beast Boy: Ok so I just convinced Danny to do the ‘Invisible Man Challenge’ and it’s already 10x better than anything I did

Danny: Bro, I’m literally invisible all the time. This is just called ‘Tuesday.��

Raven: Can someone please explain to me why I’m suddenly trending for lip-syncing ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’ with ghost effects?

Danny: Because I made you do it. You owe me a pizza.

Jason Todd: Wait, is this like one of those ghost trends where if you don’t do it you get cursed or something? Asking for a friend.

John Constantine: Mate, if Danny’s involved, everything is cursed by default.

Danny: Technically, it’s blessed — just cursed enough to ruin your WiFi.

Starfire: Is this… a game? I do not understand. How does one become invisible and yet still dance?

Damian: I refuse to dance. However, I will observe and document these antics for future blackmail material.

Danny: Already recorded Damian doing the ‘Ghost Boogie.’ It’s terrifying.

Damian: That video does not exist

Beast Boy: Lies. I just saw it. Damian flailing like a possessed crow.

Batman (in group chat, uncharacteristically active): Stop sending me TikTok links. I’m monitoring for actual threats, not… whatever this is.

Danny: Bats, chill. We’re just summoning viral content, not villains.

Superman: I watched the ‘Ghost Zone Glow Up’ challenge and now I’m reconsidering my skincare routine.

Danny: Yeah, the ectoplasmic filter does wonders.

Raven: I’m considering a ritual to purge my TikTok history.

John Constantine: Ritual or just delete the app?

Dani: Can I get a tutorial? I want to make the ‘Three-Headed Pup Shuffle’ trend.

Cerberus Pup (three heads typing)(don't ask): Woof. Woof. Woof.

Danny: She’s officially the queen of cursed TikTok.

Beast Boy: Next up: ‘Phantom Scream Challenge’ where you scream so loud you phase through walls.

Danny: I’m the reigning champ, obviously.

Damian: This is officially the dumbest digital war the I have engaged in.

Jason: Speak for yourself, Damian. I just gained 500k followers.

Batman: Leaves the chat

Danny: And there goes Bruce. He can’t handle the glow-up.

Raven: This was a mistake.

[julietcpulet]

Jinshi’s Scar

Why did she do it and why did he accept it?

Why Shisui gave him the scar:

Overall I think this is fairly simple. Regardless of how her mother treated her, the bad blood between them with her sister or the downfall of the clan, a part of Shisui loved her mother and wanted to do something to show she could please her.

The one thing her mother seemed to want was to get back at the former Emperor for spurning her. Even if she didn’t understand the motives behind it, she hated him. So Shisui marking Jinshi is basically fulfilling her mother’s one wish, to get back at the face of the empire in the only way really left possible to her. Is it somewhat petty and ultimately futile? Yes, but it’s a young woman showing what little love and honor remains for a mother who never gave any back to her.

I believe it also has to do with her knowing that if she does make this choice to mark a royal person, she will be punished and as she had realized by then, there was no turning back. The only choice was to cast the stage light on herself to pull it away from others like her sister. So in scarring Jinshi, she ensures that those who protect him will act against her as the final villainess and with Jinshi's protection, leave her sister alone.

Why Jinshi accepted being scarred:

Outwardly this seems like a strange choice that he would let the enemy’s daughter mar his face. Especially when we learn that he knows his subordinates would be punished if his face is damaged. Here’s the double-edged sword to that though, Jinshi at his core is a very caring person, almost to his own destruction at times. We see when he confronts Shishou and the solider is nearly shot, Jinshi steps in front of him and blocks it.

This is shocking considering he’s the one meant to be protected and the Prince. So for him to willingly let Shisui scar his face when he knows others will be punished when he’s tried hard to keep from people being hurt shows that he’s doing this for a deeper purpose. Jinshi’s subordinates will not be privy to the bigger picture of everything Jinshi learns about the Shi Clan plot and how it ties into the nation as a whole. He is the one who willingly takes on the burden of the knowledge and the atonement for the former emperor’s wrongdoings.

As Jinshi says after Shisui asks him why he didn't take the feifa from her. "You had something you wanted to tell me." He's a reasonable and sympathetic person, once he's listened to her story, he grants her requests, one of those being to scar his own face. Jinshi has also always struggled with wondering if he looks like the Emperor and feeling the burden to break away from that legacy, this scar in a sense finally gives him the chance to do so. That’s why he embraces it almost in a fond way later in the novels.

So for Shisui this scar was the last severance of familial obligation and love for a parent who couldn’t get past her revenge and for Jinshi it was about trying to right wrongs done by the past and show a new way forward, even to rid himself of his “nymph” status by having a flaw. The scar is important to both for what it represents as a means for change.

[donvampiro]

Can we get a Sabo with a s/o that doesn’t understand his humor as easily as others. Not in the ‘I can’t take a joke’ way but in the neurodivergent way like ‘wait- what’s wrong with my hair? You said you like it like this l-…OOOOOH I GET IT NOW. Okay yeahh that’s funny-‘ but sometimes the joke processing can take a few seconds to a few hours too. The reader and social undertones sometimes just do not get along-

hello Anon! brooo this is just so suitable for Sabo somehow?? i love it omg. hope these lil HCs will meet your expectations! :) thanks a lot for your request. Love <3

@pure-kirarin take ur sabotonin its time

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Flop'

Sabo x (neurodivergent) gn!reader

whether you’re neurodivergent or neurotypical, it would never make much difference to Sabo, as long as you’re being yourself. besides, your atypicality — whatever its nature — would pose no problem for him. Sabo’s a man who is curious about different ways of thinking, patient with those he likes, eager to know what interests you and what doesn’t. no matter what happens, he’ll always try to understand you, to try to know what the world looks like through your eyes.

however, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be confused at first when he realizes you’re not very receptive to his jokes. your smile is so dear and precious to Sabo, every opportunity to make it happen shouldn’t be wasted. your happiness means a lot to him. so, he makes a point of trying to make you laugh... but for some reason, he flops a lot — which doesn’t fail to make Koala burst out laughing btw. his embarrassed expression is just priceless.

‘ugh, this book is quite gory!’, you cringed, closing the book in question as you showed Sabo the cover. ‘can you imagine?! one of the characters has lost the entire left side of their body…!’

— ‘oh yeah?’, he raised his eyebrows in astonishment, though the ghost of a mischievous smile lingered on his lips. ‘guess they’re alright now.’

you stared at him in confusion, frowning. his tone didn’t sound serious — was he joking? but there was nothing very funny about being cut in half…? he didn’t sound too unserious either. joke, not joke? it was hard to tell.

— ‘what do you mean “alright”? have you lost your mind? their body is cut in two!’

— ‘n-no, (y/n), i mean “alright” like they’re “all right” now, you see? since they don’t have a left side anymore.’, he chuckled nervously, still smiling, but painfully adding a new flop to his list.

you rolled your eyes, sighing through your nostrils.

— ‘you’re weird, Sabo.’ was the only thing you replied, leaving him mortified as you went back to your book.

sitting further back in the room, Koala genuinely thought she should clip every single one of Sabo’s reactions during these kinds of interactions.

if you can, please explain the situation to him. Sabo will never judge you. just let him know. tell him about any difficulties you may have understanding certain humorous traits; otherwise poor top-hat guy will overthink it and believe he’s being annoying and making your life hell with his lame jokes and puns.

‘is my sense of humor really that bad, Koala?’, he’d pout, slumped against the table in a defeated expression.

— ‘yes, it is’, she’d confirm nonchalantly while reading the newspapers, not really paying attention to the blond’s lament; which immediately made him raise his head.

— ‘hey, you’re supposed to comfort me!’, he’d groan, but all his dismay would soon fade away as he’d hear you giggling a few steps away, approaching him. Sabo would quickly readjust himself in his seat, flashing you a smile and showing himself to you in his best light, as if he hadn’t just been whining for minutes. ‘oh, (y/n)! what’s up? you seem in a good mood.’

— ‘i was just thinking–’, you’d grin, before shrugging casually. ‘what you said yesterday was kinda funny! i mean, the “alright” thing.’

he probably wouldn’t remember exactly everything he said yesterday. but damn, he’d be soooo happy and giddy to know you think he’s funny. no matter how long it would take. for your smile and laughter, Sabo’s ready to wait all the time in the world. Sabo’s ready to flop, over and over, if there’s still the little possibility that you might smile at his nonsenses at some point. you have time. don’t rush, it’s okay.

Sabo will always take the time to explain his jokes so that you can try to understand them too, even when he’s in public. he also tries to help you as best he can so that, little by little, you progress on this subject. nothing makes Sabo prouder than when you can understand a joke — whether it’s his or not — on the first try.

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

I remembered what Max had said about his emergency contact, and I was off.

Notes: no girls or children. Well, almost no children.

Emergency contact 🚑

✨️Imagine ✨️

"My emergency contact used to be Daniel. It's probably time to replace it."

Dan can't figure out why his alarm clock is ringing. He rarely sets his alarm now, and he definitely didn't turn it on yesterday.

"What the heeell?"

Opening his eyes, he realizes two things: first, it's too dark outside for the morning, and second, it's not the alarm clock ringing.

He groans hoarsely into the pillow. The call ends and Daniel is about to fall asleep when the phone starts ringing again.

"Fuck!"

He sits down and picks up the phone. The number isn't identified, but it seems familiar, and there's a feeling inside him, as if he should definitely answer.

"elo."

"Hello, Mr. Ricciardo, this is the hospital."

Women looks up at the sound of Daniel crashing into the nurse's post.

Everything inside him stops.

It's easy to get to the hospital through the streets of Monaco. It's quick, even on foot. But Daniel is half-asleep, half-in shock, so he chooses the car. Getting lost on foot with all these stairs and elevators is easier than by car.

🚑

"Oh, Mr. Riccardo, it's been a while!"

The familiar nurse smiles sweetly. Daniel would have remembered her name if he hadn't been sleepy and shocked.

"Hello. Yes, I... You know, I have no idea what's going on right now."

She laughs quietly and opens some notes.

"No need to worry. This rookie? Kimi, he's fine. Just a broken eyebrow, no concussion. He's already got stitches. He's waiting for you."

🚑

Daniel is sitting in his car still trying to digest the information, but it just won't stick. Maybe it's because of the two teenagers in the back seat.

"So. One more time. But now slowly, in order, and just the essentials."

He looks at them in the rear-view mirror. The boys suddenly look scared. Damn.

"I'm just overwhelmed, okay? I don't quite understand what's going on. Not yet." He speaks in a softer, calmer voice.

Kimi nods, keeping her eyes on him through the mirror, and then looks out the window, as if embarrassed.

"Me and Ollie..."

"It's me."

"I know it's you, buddy." Does Oliver look pleased?

"Ollie and I decided to go for a ride on a scooter. Something went wrong..."

"I'm sorry, but the cat..."

"And I fell..."

"There was so much blood on his face, I got scared and took him to the hospital."

The boys fell silent. Dan sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was too old for this shit.

"Are you all right?"

"My eyebrow hurts a little, but I'm fine."

"And you, Ollie, buddy?"

"Y-yes, sir, I'm fine."

"Sir." Dan smiled. "I know I look old with my beard, but I'm 35, not 50. No need for sir, buddy, just call me Daniel."

"Yes, sir...I mean, Daniel!...Okay."

"Okay, let's get you back."

"Wait, we didn't tell you the address."

The guys seemed to calm down when they heard the sound of the engine. Damned kids, brought up on Formula 1. Oliver and Kimi were whispering in the back seat as Dan smoothly drove through the streets of Monaco, straight into a trap.

🚑

Kimi giggles at something but stops suddenly. He kicked Oliver's leg.

"Nope." Dan chuckled.

"But then where..." The question was cut off by a knock on the window.

"What the fuck!? First, you text me "What the hell, Max!?" Then you're gone for 30 minutes, don't answer your phone, and then you just text "Wait downstairs?!" What happened?"

Dan looked at Max's outfit. His casual shorts and washed-out T-shirt suggest that he dressed quickly and didn't pay much attention to matching his clothes. This is particularly evident in his different shoes.

"Remember when you got drunk with the guys at "Jimmy'z", and all of you went for a walk, and you, Maxie, hit the road sign with your face?"

Max stares at him, his face flushing red. He remembers. Not everything, but the way Dan stood over him in the hospital, wearing the same "Woke up at 3 a.m." outfit, looking upset, and worried.

"You had five stitches then," Dan continues, a small smile on his lips. "But the doctor did a great job. There's not even a scar left."

"I remember, Daniel, what are you getting at?"

"Then don't make a scene." The rear window slowly lowered.

"Andrea Kimi Antonelli!"

"Max, I'll tell them about Saint-Tropez."

"It was your fault!"

"I warned you!"

"Max said that if I couldn't reach him, I should call you."

[japrilalltheway]

Season 4 spoilers, my Sydcarmy rant

Why would they have a scene with Syd telling Donna about Carmy essentially being the main reason she works at the Bear and how he is the best in the world and AGAIN THE PAUPIETTE HAMACHI DISH 😭😭 why do they keep mentioning this moment in Sydney's life, season 1 talk with Marcus, then season 3 premiere actually showing us the scene of her eating it (!) accenting how significant of a dish that was for Carmy, how it changed everything for both of them, how it led Syd to work at the Bear, how it's a fucking heart shaped dish that he only did ONCE when he could truly show himself😭 why would they mention it again in season 4, why do they make it seem like it was a fucking FATE that led to them meeting, like they were supposed to be in each other's lives. WHY WOULD YOU DO ALL THAT FOR NOTHING. FOR HIM TO QUIT. FOR HIM TO LEAVE HER. WHY DIDN'T DONNA TELL HIM WHAT SYD SAID ABOUT HIM. WHY IS HE LOOKING FOR A FUCKING SWEATSHIRT FROM YEARS AGO INSTEAD OF FINDING OUT THE BEST MEAL OF SYD'S LIFE WAS HIS. and don't even tell me how pissed of I am about him making this decision to leave after Cl*ire told him to find peace. Like what 😭 I don't understand, it's like 1x01 - 3x01 and 3x02-4x10 were written by different team of writers. I don't understand the significance of the whole Sydcarmy dynamic if they're going with Claire. Besides, Storer said he selfishly didn't imagine a show without a romantic plot, but thought it could be interesting not to? Okay.. so it's not interesting to make main characters who have a huge potential and undeniable chemistry a couple, instead it would be more interesting to have him end up with a background character introduced in season 2, a character he was clearly not in love with for the whole time of them "dating" and who he wouldn't contact for MONTHS after the refrigerator gate. It's so unclimactic, the build up is non-existent, it's so boring and frankly so, so sad, because they put so many clues in for Sydcarmy in previous seasons, just to reduce them to not even partners at the end. The whole purpose was them building something and excelling TOGETHER. From the pilot episode the most electric and exciting thing was their connection. Fanfic writers please save us 😭 I feel physically ill after watching season 4 and I kind of knew not to have any expectations but still 😭 it might take a while to get over, I've lost hope for them being canon, but I need season 4 fix fics asap 🥹