#for me writing is a way to understand and comprehend the unfamiliar so it just tends to turn out this way

[angst-and-fajitas]

Every time I sit down to actually tell one of my stories to someone, it strikes me again just how sad I make my stories

[bamfkeeper]

Above.

RQ: 'Hello 👋 I was hoping your requests are still open and I'm not too late! I know my oc Haven is very specific, and I completely understand if you need to work around. I wanted to request a fic centered around the idea that Haven returns to earth in their Seraphim form with like a whole new bunch of traumas, and they think Kurt will not like them anymore because they're a freaky-looking angelic alien with seven eyes and shit. I hope it's not too much, I completely understand if u ignore this request, lmao.' - @ladylorem

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!Reader // Warnings: None

A/N: My very first X-Men oc was a 'fallen seraph' so your oc really brings me back. I love them, and I'm happy to write this for you. I hope I do a good job, I took some liberty since oc work isn't something I am currently doing, but it will heavily be based on the scenario you gave me. No specific names will be used in this. Also tried a new writing style <3 WC: 2.4k

Deep breath...shit.

You sat up slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as consciousness gradually returned. A deep, pervasive ache radiated through every fiber of your being, accompanied by a disorienting fog that clouded your thoughts. The pulsating pain in your head served as an unwelcome alarm clock, forcing you into full wakefulness. As your senses sharpened, you became acutely aware of your surroundings, taking in every detail with newfound clarity.

An unfamiliar sensation coursed through your veins, a palpable energy that seemed to hum just beneath your skin. This newfound power, a direct result of your celestial descent, both exhilarated and unsettled you. The transformation you had undergone during your otherworldly journey altered you in ways you had yet to fully comprehend, including your physical appearance.

As the initial shock of your awakening began to subside, a single thought crystallized in your mind: Kurt. The overwhelming desire to find him, to see a familiar face in this sea of uncertainty, consumed you. Yet, even as you yearned for his presence, a nagging doubt crept into your thoughts. How would he react to your metamorphosis? Would he recognize you? Accept you? The fear of rejection battled with your need for connection, leaving you torn between seeking him out and retreating into solitude to process your transformation.

You stood on wobbly legs, reminiscent of a newborn fawn taking its first, shaky steps into the world. The sensation coursing through your body was an enigmatic blend of strength and weakness, as if a potent mixture of adrenaline and warm gasoline was flowing through your veins, igniting every nerve ending. You felt hot, your skin almost smoking and emitting waves of warm rays that coated you from the cool night air.

Your physical form had undergone a transformation, taking on what you could only describe as a more... biblical appearance. Though you couldn't discern the exact nature of your new visage, you knew it was likely most who gazed upon you would react with fear.

All you yearned for in this moment was to see Kurt, nothing else mattered. The ordeal you had endured left you craving the comfort only he could provide. You longed for the familiar warmth of his embrace, the gentle strength of his arms encircling you, creating a sanctuary where you could momentarily forget the events that had transpired. Your heart ached for the soothing words he always seemed to know how to offer, his voice a gentle blanket to your frayed nerves and turbulent emotions.

"Kurt..." you whispered softly, your voice barely audible as you set off on your quest to find him. The unfamiliar surroundings did little to deter your determination. Despite having landed in an unknown location, a mysterious force seemed to guide your every step. It was as if an invisible thread connected your heart to his, pulling you gently but insistently in the right direction. Your intuition, honed by years of connection and shared experiences, acted as an unerring compass, leading you through the unfamiliar terrain of the thick forest.

As you navigated, your thoughts drifted to Kurt. You couldn't help but reflect on the unique bond you shared - a connection so profound that it transcended physical distance and the constraints of the ordinary world. He had always been the one person who truly understood you, who held your heart with a tenderness that both comforted and amazed you. He was the first person, first mutant who didn’t try to hurt you. Instead, he approached you like a person, talking and making you feel more at ease despite your first introduction to the team. He made you feel safe.

When you finally reached the mansion, exhaustion had overtaken you. Your body felt like lead, weighing you down with each step. Fatigue clouded your mind, making even the simplest thoughts a struggle. A gnawing hunger twisted in your stomach, reminding you of how long it had been since your last meal. Damn, some of Kurt’s cooking sounded great right about now. The biting cold had seeped into your bones, causing involuntary shivers to run through your frame. All you could think about was the warmth and comfort of Kurt's bed, imagining yourself wrapped in soft blankets, safe from the harsh world outside.

With sheer determination, you willed your leaden legs to keep moving. Each step was a battle against your body's desire to simply collapse where you stood. The mansion loomed before you, almost taunting your weary state. Just a little further, you told yourself, even as your muscles screamed in protest. Finally, your strength gave out.

Unable to take another step, you felt your knees buckle beneath you. The world tilted, and you found yourself falling forward, your hands and knees sinking into the damp, cool grass of the mansion's lawn. The moisture from the ground seeped through your clothes, you swayed and ended up falling over on your side. The world faded to black after that, and you felt all the pain disappear.

When you regained consciousness, your numerous eyes slowly flickering open, you found yourself lying in the sterile environment of the mansion's infirmary. Not the best place to wake up to…it didn’t exactly have a good record in your mind. The stark white ceiling above you gradually came into focus as you blinked away the lingering haziness of unconsciousness. As your vision began to clear, you noticed a blurry blue figure standing nearby, its presence both comforting and familiar.

Your mind, still foggy from whatever ordeal had brought you here, immediately conjured thoughts of Kurt. With a surge of hope, you attempted to speak his name, your voice coming out as little more than a hoarse whisper. However, as you blinked more forcefully, willing your eyes to cooperate and bring the world into sharper focus, the blue blur began to take on a more distinct shape.

As the figure's features became clearer, a wave of disappointment washed over you. The furry blue form standing at your bedside was not the lithe, acrobatic shape of your Nightcrawler, but rather the broader, more imposing silhouette of Beast. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh, your expectations dashed even as you recognized the concern evident in Hank's intelligent eyes.

"There we are, take it easy now...you're okay. Just exhausted and a little weak. Nothing some rest and medicine won't help." Hank noted, his voice gentle and reassuring. He maintained a respectful distance, carefully observing your condition without encroaching on your personal space. His medical expertise was evident in the way he assessed your state, but he was mindful not to overwhelm you with too much attention or proximity. He understood that in your vulnerable state, even well-intentioned gestures might be misinterpreted or cause discomfort. Especially knowing your history with him and the others.

Despite Hank's soothing words and professional demeanor, his voice seemed to fade into the background of your consciousness. Your mind was singularly focused on one person, the one you desperately needed to see. The concern etched on Hank's face barely registered as your thoughts raced, wondering about Kurt's whereabouts and whether he was aware of your current situation. The urgency to connect with him overshadowed everything else, even your own physical discomfort.

"Kurt...I-" you managed to utter, your voice weak but filled with longing and concern.

"He's coming. I promise," Hank interjected quickly, his tone reassuring and firm. He recognized the importance of Kurt's presence in your recovery and sought to alleviate your worry with this simple yet powerful assurance.

The door swung open with a sudden creak, and there he stood, your beloved Kurt, framed in the doorway. His striking yellow eyes were wide with concern, brimming with a mixture of worry and relief as they locked onto your form. Without hesitation, he rushed into the room, his movements urgent and slightly clumsy in his haste. He nearly stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness to reach your bedside, his tail swishing anxiously behind him.

In an instant, he was at your side, his hands enveloping your own, having ripped off his gloves so he could feel you. His grip was gentle yet firm, conveying a multitude of emotions through that simple touch. You could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, his concern ran deep and he looked as though he had seen a ghost, like he believed you died. The warmth of his hands felt nice against the cool, sterile atmosphere of the room, providing a comforting anchor in the otherwise clinical environment.

Kurt's lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "L-liebling..." he managed to utter. His gaze never left yours, silently communicating all the things left unsaid between you.

His expression remained steadfast, never wavering for a moment. His eyes meticulously scanned your appearance, taking in every detail with a mixture of confusion and worry etched across his features. However, contrary to your expectations, there was no trace of disgust or fear in his gaze. Instead, his eyes held a depth of emotion that spoke volumes.

"D...Don't...scare me like that..." Kurt finally managed to articulate, his voice barely above a whisper as he swallowed thickly. The words seemed to catch in his throat, as if he was struggling to voice the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. "I was...so afraid I would never see you again. I had no idea where you had gone off to," he continued, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his confession.

Though his words carried a hint of admonishment, as if he was attempting to scold you for your disappearance, the underlying pain in his voice was unmistakable. The tremor in his voice betrayed the fear he had experienced during your absence, and the palpable relief that washed over him now that you were back in his sight.

"I'm sorry...you're not...afraid?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability. "Look at me now. I look utterly..." Your words trailed off, unable to find the right descriptor for your current state. A tumultuous blend of emotions washed over you - sadness at your appearance, anger at the situation, and confusion at his unexpected reaction. You had braced yourself for revulsion, for fear, for any number of negative responses.

Yet here he was, his eyes filled with nothing but genuine concern. It defied all your expectations, leaving you feeling both comforted and somehow more exposed. "Why are you so concerned despite my appearance?" you found yourself asking, your tone a blend of wonder and wariness. "I was certain you'd react differently, that you'd recoil or..." You left the sentence unfinished, the possibilities too painful to voice.

But contrary to your fears, he sat there unwavering, his worry for you evident in every line of his face, in the way he leaned towards you as if wanting to offer comfort but unsure if it would be welcome.

"Why would I care about your appearance? I... I mean, yes, you do look different, but that's not what matters," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. He slowly reached up, his three-fingered hand gently caressing your cheek. He allowed his fingers to tenderly trace the contours of your face, memorizing every new detail. A soft, reassuring smile spread across his lips as he gazed into your eyes.

"You're still... you," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. That gentle smile widened slightly, revealing his pointed canines, "The essence of who you are, your spirit, your heart - that hasn't changed. And that's what truly matters to me."

His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding as he added, "Besides, mein Engel... I'm blue from head to toe and have a tail. Who am I to pass judgment based on appearances? We're both unique in our own ways, and that's what makes us special."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as that particular stressor dissipated, leaving you with a sense of renewed calm. Kurt remained silent for a moment, his eyes filled with relief that you were okay and compassion as he knew your mental struggles were flaring.

Then, with a gentle voice that carried the weight of his sincerity, he spoke up again, "And whatever else you're grappling with, whatever challenges you're facing... I want you to know that I'm here for you. Not just now, but always. No matter where life takes you, no matter how far you might wander, I'll be here, waiting. You are the beating heart of my existence, the love that gives my life meaning. In me, you will always find a sanctuary, a place of unconditional acceptance and unwavering support. You are my home, and I promise to be yours, forever and always."

"I... I'm at a loss for words. Your reaction is so unexpected, given my altered appearance and... the events that transpired." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "I love you too, more than I can express. I'm truly sorry for my sudden disappearance. There were...complications I needed to resolve. But now, being back here with you, I'm relieved. Seeing you, seeing how you look at me...nothing has changed, has it?" You let out a sigh of relief, your hand weakly reaching and holding onto his.

"I've missed you. You've always been the one person who could see through my façade, who could truly understand me despite everything. Your acceptance...without any kind of ill thoughts, it means everything to me."

"As do you, liebling...Ich liebe dich. I am here now, you are not alone anymore," he whispered tenderly, his voice a soft caress in the quiet room. With gentle movements, he carefully shifted closer, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he settled beside you. His arms enveloped you in a warm, comforting embrace, pulling you against his chest with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his affection. This was all you wanted…his arms tenderly holding you. "You've been through so much, mein schatz, but I promise you, those days of loneliness are behind you now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Let me…"

His lips quirked into a playful smirk, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he added, "Besides, now you have more eyes to gaze into, hm? Twice the charm, wouldn't you say?" His attempt at lightening the mood was met with a gentle swat to his chest, your hand connecting with the soft fabric of his uniform.

"Kurt..." you murmured, a mix of exasperation and fondness coloring your voice. "You absolute dork." Despite your words, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, betraying the warmth that spread through your chest at his endearing antics.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover image: Nightcrawler (2015) # 10 ; Pinterest

[warabidakihime]

Between Buzzer Beaters and Love Letters

Characters: Akashi Seijuro x Reader Synopsis: Love is like a perfectly executed buzzer beater, defying the odds and capturing hearts in the most unexpected moments. It's a love letter penned with the ink of the soul, expressing emotions that words alone can't convey. Between buzzer beaters and love letters, our hearts dance to the rhythm of affection, reminding us that love is a game worth playing and a story worth writing.

A/N: believe me when i say that i daydream about this back in college lol so many reactors on youtube are watching knb, so my sparks for the show returned at full power. enjoy!

-

In the aftermath of Seirin's victory at the Winter Cup finals, the basketball court buzzed with electric energy. The crowd erupted into cheers, players embraced in jubilation, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of success. Amidst the celebration, you, the team manager, found yourself caught up in the euphoria, standing at the center of it all.

Kuroko and Kagami, the dynamic duo who had spearheaded Seirin's triumph, were beaming with pride and exhilaration. Their radiant smiles mirrored the joyous atmosphere, infectious and impossible to resist. You couldn't help but join in, a surge of elation filling your heart as you hugged them tightly.

"We did it! We actually did it!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. "All our hard work paid off!"

Kuroko, ever composed, nodded with a small smile. "Yes, we gave it our all, and it paid off in the end."

Kagami, his adrenaline still coursing through his veins, laughed boisterously. "Hell yeah! We're the champions!"

Amidst the cheers and laughter, the bond between the three of you grew stronger. As the victory sank in, you realized just how much this team meant to you. They were more than just teammates; they were your friends and family. Together, you had overcome countless challenges and now stood at the pinnacle of high school basketball.

The court became a stage for shared stories, memories, and dreams. The euphoria of the moment seeped into every word, every smile, and every embrace. This was a time to savor the taste of victory and to revel in the camaraderie that had brought you all together.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a new chapter. The Winter Cup victory had opened doors to new challenges, new adventures, and perhaps even unexpected feelings.

As the celebration roared on, your eyes were drawn to Akashi Seijuro, standing alone in the midst of the jubilant chaos. His usually confident demeanor was replaced with an unfamiliar expression of shock and disbelief. It was evident that losing was a foreign concept to him, and the weight of defeat hung heavily on his shoulders.

Excusing yourself from the group, you made your way towards Akashi, curiosity burning in your chest. Kagami and Kuroko exchanged puzzled glances, unable to comprehend your sudden interest in someone you had previously shown distaste for. Kuroko, however, sensing the hidden emotions within you, offered a nod of encouragement, silently conveying his support.

Approaching Akashi, you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he noticed your presence. He seemed taken aback by your approach, not expecting anyone to reach out to him in this vulnerable moment.

"Congratulations on a well-fought match, Akashi," you said, offering a gentle smile.

Akashi's eyes met yours, searching for any hint of mockery or ill intent. Instead, he found sincerity and understanding, something he didn't anticipate. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and resignation.

"I know this might be hard for you," you continued, your voice filled with empathy. "You've always been accustomed to winning. But it's in these moments of defeat that we grow the most."

Akashi's guard slowly lowered, realizing that you were not there to belittle him but rather to offer solace. "It's a bitter pill to swallow," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You nodded in understanding. "Sometimes, the greatest lessons come from our losses. It's an opportunity to reflect, to reassess our strengths and weaknesses, and to come back even stronger."

A moment of silence enveloped the two of you as the weight of the conversation sank in. It was a rare connection, borne out of unexpected circumstances, where walls were momentarily lowered, allowing for a genuine exchange.

Akashi's voice broke the silence. "You're right. This loss... it will serve as a reminder to keep pushing forward and to strive for greatness."

A soft smile played on your lips as you gazed at him. "After watching you play today and even during this whole tournament, I have no doubt you can bounce back."

Akashi's eyes met yours, a glimmer of gratitude shining through. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

As your conversation neared its end, you couldn't help but notice Akashi's captivating presence. The way his eyes held a depth that drew you in and the subtle curve of his lips that seemed to carry untold stories. In that moment, a realization washed over you, causing a soft blush to creep onto your cheeks.

The conversation concluded with an awkward silence settling between you. On the sidelines, Kagami and Kuroko discreetly observed, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected interaction. They exchanged glances, silently speculating on the nature of your conversation with Akashi.

The rest of the Seirin basketball team watched in awe; a mixture of surprise and curiosity danced in their eyes. They had witnessed the birth of an unlikely bond between their team manager and the enigmatic captain of the Generation of Miracles, unaware of the journey that awaited them both.

As the awkward silence lingered, you mustered up the courage to look at Akashi, your heart pounding in your chest. Biting your lip nervously, you felt a mix of nervousness and eagerness. Just as Akashi was about to excuse himself, you couldn't resist but call out to him again, your voice laced with a coy and flirty tone.

"Hey, Akashi," you said, your eyes locked with his. "I don't know when you're going to visit Tokyo again, but if you happen to drop by, maybe you should let me know. We could hang out or something. If you're free, of course."

Akashi's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your boldness. However, his shock gradually dissipated, and a charming aura replaced his initial bashfulness. A dashing smile adorned his face as he gladly accepted your offer.

"I would be delighted," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Perhaps you could share your number, and we can make the necessary arrangements."

Your heart skipped a beat as Akashi asked for your number. With a shy smile, you exchanged contact information, the anticipation growing between you.

"I must admit," Akashi began, a playful glint in his eyes, "losing the game was a disappointment. However, stumbling upon someone as captivating as you, y/n, can certainly be counted as a delightful victory in its own right."

His words were laced with a charming jest, acknowledging the irony of the situation. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a subtle invitation to partake in the playful banter.

The comment caught you off guard, and a hint of blush painted your cheeks. His flirtatious demeanor was as unexpected as it was enchanting. Unable to resist the opportunity for a quick retort, you playfully responded, "Remember to thank your gods then."

With a gentle smile, Akashi's gaze met yours, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The unspoken understanding between you deepened, as if hinting at a future where the boundaries of competition and camaraderie blurred. The unexpected turn of events had created a unique connection, and the prospect of getting to know Akashi on a deeper level thrilled you.

After a few more exchanges of words, the conversation began to naturally wind down. Akashi excused himself, his attention being required by his coach. With a polite smile, he bids you farewell, leaving you momentarily stunned by the encounter.

As he walked away, his back straight and confident, you couldn't help but watch him with a mix of fascination and curiosity. The brief exchange had left an indelible mark, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you.

With a lingering smile on your face, you rejoined your friends, who were eagerly awaiting your return. Their eyes were wide with surprise, and their expressions were a mixture of shock, amusement, and curiosity. The moment they had witnessed between you and Akashi Seijuro had left quite an impression.

Kuroko, ever the calm and observant one, simply offered a small smile, his eyes twinkling with silent approval. "I didn't expect that, but it seems like you two had an interesting conversation," he commented softly.

Kagami, on the other hand, couldn't hide his astonishment. His jaw dropped, and he stared at you with a mix of disbelief and a touch of jealousy. "What the... Really, y/n? Akashi? When did this happen?" he blurted out, unable to contain his reaction.

Hyuga, the captain of the team, chuckled heartily, clapping you on the back. "Well, I'll be damned, y/n. I didn't know you had it in you to approach Akashi like that. I almost feel guilty for defeating your boyfriend."

Izuki, always one for wordplay, grinned mischievously. "Looks like you're taking 'shoot your shot' quite literally, y/n. I can't help but be impressed."

Kyoshi, the team's supportive and gentle player, chimed in with a warm smile. "That was brave of you, y/n."

As you were engrossed in the lively conversation with your teammates, you felt a gaze fixed on you. Instinctively, you turned your head, locking eyes with Akashi. His intense gaze met yours, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the Seirin team exploded in a chorus of exaggerated reactions. Some whistled playfully, while others nudged each other with raised eyebrows and knowing grins. Kagami, in particular, seemed ready to explode with a mix of disbelief and astonishment. You can even hear him mumble things like, "I didn't know you had a thing for psychopaths."

Riko finally chimed in amidst the commotion. "Alright, alright, settle down! Stop teasing y/n! We have to prepare for the award ceremony."

Amidst the playful banter and cheers from your teammates, you couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration. It was as if a new chapter had unfolded before your eyes, filled with possibilities and unspoken promises.

With a final glance back at your boisterous friends, you turned your attention fully to Akashi. And as you exchanged smiles, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursed through your veins.

The story between you and Akashi Seijuro was only just beginning, and with each passing moment, you were ready to discover what the future held.

[dreamonseems]

King Haaland Part 1

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Reader brought to Norway as a slave, and Erling buys her.

I'm literally going to make this a short story, but I'm having so much fun writing it. I'm making it into a few parts.

"Flytt jente (Move, girl)!" My captor's rough voice pierces through the air as he forcefully shoves me off the boat. With a mixture of fear and adrenaline, I quickly step onto the dock, my heart racing in my chest. As I regain my balance, another man, equally as imposing, clasps chains onto my arms, linking me to the other unfortunate souls who are now my companions. We form a somber procession, coerced to follow our captors through the bustling civilization that lies before us.

The sight that unfolds before my eyes is both awe-inspiring and disheartening. The docks are teeming with activity—boats of various sizes and shapes line the water, some carrying fierce warriors, while others, like the one I was just on, serve as vessels of human bondage. The air is filled with a sense of urgency and purpose as people move about their tasks.

We are guided past the array of boats, eventually reaching the grand gates of the bustling kingdom. The gates, ornately decorated, loom above us, a testament to the wealth and power held within. As we pass through, I can't help but feel a mix of trepidation and curiosity about what awaits us on the other side.

Once inside, I am herded into a line alongside my fellow slaves. A man, who appears to be in charge, meticulously inspects each one of us. His eyes meet mine, and he pauses, his hand suddenly gripping my face, turning it this way and that as if evaluating a precious object. "Kongen kan betale en høy pris for denne (The king might pay a hefty price for this one)," he remarks in a language I don't understand. My chains are once again tagged, signifying that I am to follow this man, and I obediently comply, my heart sinking further with each step.

The man leads me, along with nine other girls, to a massive log house. As we enter, the sounds of laughter and merriment wash over us. The room is filled with people seated at long tables, feasting and reveling in their own world of abundance. But at the very front of the room, on an elevated wooden throne, sits a figure who immediately captures my attention.

He is a man of striking appearance, his long blonde hair cascading over his broad shoulders, framing a face that exudes both regal authority and undeniable charm. His piercing blue eyes survey the room, effortlessly commanding the attention of those around him. It is clear that this man is none other than the king himself, and in that moment, I can't help but wonder what fate awaits me under his rule.

The man who led me there bows his head respectfully and addresses the room, his words flowing in a language unfamiliar to my ears. "Stor viking konge Erling Haaland, jeg bringer skatter fra forskjellige land for deg (Great Viking King Erling Haaland, I bring treasures from different lands for you)," he proclaims with reverence. Though I struggle to comprehend his words, one word rings clear in my mind—Viking. The very mention of it sends shivers down my spine, for in my homeland, tales were whispered of Viking marauders who arrived in their formidable ships, wreaking havoc and destruction upon villages and towns. They were ruthless, fearsome beings who brought kingdoms to their knees. If this man indeed was a Viking king, then my fate was sealed, and I could only expect the worst.

A surge of fear courses through me, intensifying the already dire circumstances I find myself in. I am overwhelmed by the weight of the situation, my mind filled with images of the horrors that may lie ahead. But just as despair threatens to consume me, my captor's rough hand reaches for the front of my dress, attempting to tear it away. In a desperate bid to retain some semblance of control, I react instinctively, grabbing his arm with all my strength, desperately trying to halt his assault.

"No!" I scream, my voice echoing through the room, a desperate plea for mercy. However, my captor is not swayed by my pleas. With a swift motion, he smacks me across the face with his free hand, the impact leaving a searing pain and a metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Tears spring to my eyes, a mixture of agony and indignation fueling my resolve.

"La gå jente, vite din plass, slave (Let go, girl, know your place, slave)," he sneers, his words dripping with contempt. Blood trickles from my nose, staining my torn dress, but it only serves to stoke the fire within me. In a surge of defiance, I muster every ounce of strength I possess and lash out, delivering a powerful kick to his midsection. He grunts in pain, momentarily stunned by my unexpected retaliation.

Seizing the opportunity, I seize the man's hand that still clings to my dress and sink my teeth into his flesh with all my might. The taste of warm blood fills my mouth, and I bite down with a primal ferocity, managing to tear one of his fingers away from his hand. A bone-chilling scream erupts from his lips, mingling with my own defiant laughter. The man recoils in agony, releasing his grip on me, and I seize the chance to spit his severed finger back at him—a grotesque symbol of my unwavering spirit.

In that moment, something within me shifts. If this was to be my end, then I would meet it on my own terms. I refuse to be a passive victim in this cruel game of fate. With a newfound determination, I brace myself for whatever may come next, ready to face my destiny with unwavering resolve and an indomitable will to fight.

"Drep henne! (Kill her)!" The man's chilling cry echoes through the room, a sentence that seals my fate and sends a shiver down my spine. The guards surrounding me react swiftly, their movements synchronized as they grab hold of me and throw me violently to the ground. I thrash and scream, my body instinctively fighting back against the impending doom that looms over me.

In the midst of the chaos, as one of the guards raises his axe, poised to strike me down, a commanding voice pierces through the air, cutting through the clamor like a sword. "Stoppe (Stop)," the voice utters, freezing everyone in their tracks. The room falls silent, every eye turning towards the source of the commanding voice—the king himself.

With an air of authority that demands attention, the king rises from his throne, his towering stature an undeniable presence in the room. He strides purposefully toward me, his gaze fixated upon my trembling form. As he kneels down, our eyes lock in an intense, unspoken connection. Time seems to stand still, and I find myself holding my breath, unable to tear my gaze away from his piercing eyes.

He reaches out, his hand enveloping my face, his touch both commanding and intimate. In an act of defiance, I summon the strength within me and summon a defiant spit, aimed squarely at his face. The crimson trail of my blood-stained saliva trickles down his cheek, and to my astonishment, a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Jeg liker denne. Hun er en modig liten ting (I like this one. She is a brave little thing)," he utters, his words laden with unexpected admiration. He releases his grip on my face, rising to his full height once again. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, his eyes never leave mine as he makes a decision that sends a wave of confusion through me.

"Ta henne. Hun vil være min nye slave (Take her. She will be my new slave)," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. The guards, now under his direct order, move swiftly, escorting me away from the chaos and into a room adorned with a solitary bed. They leave me there, locking the door behind them. The realization sinks in—I am not to meet my demise just yet.

Confusion swirls within me, mingling with a newfound mixture of relief and apprehension. I am now a prisoner, destined to serve as the king's slave. Alone in the confines of the room, I take a moment to collect myself, steeling my resolve for the uncertain future that awaits me. In this unexpected twist of fate, I vow to remain strong, to find a way to survive, and perhaps, against all odds, to defy the chains that bind me and regain my freedom.

The morning light trickles into the room, casting a soft glow upon the somber surroundings. I rise from the bed, my body tense and ready to confront any imminent threat. However, my guard quickly dissipates as a young woman, around my age or slightly older, approaches me. Startled, I prepare myself for a fight, but her calm demeanor and words catch me off guard.

"Calm down. You are safe for now," she assures me, her voice filled with a soothing familiarity. I take a moment to process her words, a glimmer of hope flickering within me. "You speak my tongue," I respond, my voice tinged with both surprise and relief. "We are from the same lands," she explains, lifting her sleeves to reveal the markings of our people adorning her arm. In that moment, a wave of relief washes over me, knowing that I am in the presence of someone who brings memories of home.

"I am Celine," she introduces herself, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and recognition. Gathering my composure, I proudly reveal my own identity. "Y/N, daughter of Drahseen," I declare, my voice resonating with a sense of lineage and nobility. Celine's eyes widen at the sound of my name, a glimmer of awe dancing within her gaze. "With your markings and the way you are dressed, I had a feeling you came from a noble home. But I had no clue you were the daughter of the great warrior Drahseen, the rebel prince. No wonder you are a fighter," she remarks, a mix of admiration and intrigue evident in her voice.

I recount the tragic events that led to my capture, sharing the story of my father's valiant efforts to protect our family from the wrath of a cruel king. "My father kept our family hidden, afraid that the king would find us and kill us. But we were discovered. I managed to lead my mother and siblings to safety, but I was captured and sold into slavery," I explain, a mixture of sorrow and determination coloring my words. The memory of our kingdom's ongoing conflict, torn apart by the ambitions of my father's treacherous cousin, stirs within me, fueling my longing for justice and restoration.

Lost in the depths of my thoughts, I finally voice the question that lingers at the forefront of my mind. "What will happen to me?" I inquire, my voice laced with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. Celine's expression softens, reflecting the weight of the reality that awaits me. "King Haaland has taken a liking to you. You will learn how to become his house slave," she reveals, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Though the prospect of serving the king looms before me, I find solace in the unexpected companionship of Celine—a reminder of the bonds that tie me to my homeland. As I navigate the uncertain path that lies ahead, I draw strength from the resilience of my lineage, determined to survive and, if fate allows, to play a role in shaping the destiny of my people.

After being led away, I found myself in a small chamber where I was washed, cleansing away the grime and remnants of my past. Emerging from the refreshing ritual, Celine presented me with a new attire—a hangerok, a traditional dress commonly worn by Viking women. Though it felt foreign against my skin, it was a symbol of adaptation to this new life. Grateful for the small comfort, I noticed that my precious jewelry, gifts from my father, remained intact—a necklace and a bracelet—a reminder of the love and protection I carried with me.

Led further into the depths of the dwelling, I found myself in the bustling kitchen. Celine became my guide, imparting upon me the skills of culinary arts, servitude, and the intricacies of comporting oneself in the presence of the king. Days turned into weeks, and I immersed myself in the teachings, honing each nuance to perfection. Yet, in those seven days, the enigmatic king remained an elusive figure, concealed from my sight.

On the eighth day, my fate took an unexpected turn. I was appointed the task of serving the king his dinner—an honor and a trepidation intertwined. As I entered the grand Viking hall, my trembling hand clutched the Mead, a potent beverage fit for this momentous feast. It was my duty to stand by the king's side, fulfilling his desires by filling his cup whenever he beckoned. As our eyes met, a shiver cascaded down my spine, an unspoken tension lingering in the air. He wore a smirk, an expression that both intrigued and unsettled me.

With bated breath, I approached him, my every move measured. Our eyes remained locked, an unyielding gaze that held the weight of unspoken possibilities. He finally averted his gaze, allowing me to fill his cup, but the tension between us remained palpable. The night unfolded, the king indulging in the feast alongside his comrades, while I dutifully served him. However, in a sudden twist of events, he unexpectedly pulled me onto his lap, his immense frame enveloping my small stature. Panic surged through me, and I instinctively sought escape, but his grasp tightened around my waist, rendering me powerless.

He returned to his conversations, seemingly unaffected by my unease. My eyes darted to the table, fixating on the knife he had used to cut the meat. A daring thought surged within me, and in a swift motion, I reached out and seized the knife. My heart raced as I brought the blade dangerously close to his neck, a desperate attempt to reclaim my agency. But he reacted with astonishing speed, gripping my wrist with a firm hold, exerting pressure that forced me to drop the knife. He turned to face me once more, that infuriating smirk still adorning his face.

"Vær stille, kjære. Jeg snakker (Stay still, darling. I am talking)," he uttered, his voice devoid of any flinching or fear. His calm demeanor in the face of my rebellion left me stunned, utterly perplexed. What kind of man was he, who remained composed in the face of a threat to his own life? The enigma surrounding Erling Haaland deepened, shrouding him in an aura of mystery and unpredictability.

Perched on his lap, the night unfolded in a haze of bewildering gestures. The king, defying expectations, took on the role of both host and caretaker, feeding me morsels of food and coaxing me to drink from his horn. Each action left me more perplexed, as the dissonance between his seemingly kind demeanor and my preconceived notions of him clashed violently within me. As the festivities drew to a close, his subjects dispersed, leaving only the two of us in the grand hall, our seats still occupied.

Seated comfortably, the king summoned Celine to serve as his translator, seeking clarification as he inquired about my identity. "Hva er navnet hennes?(what is her name)," he questioned, his eyes fixed on me. Celine conveyed his query and my name, her voice serving as the conduit for our communication. The king, unfazed by the language barrier, issued his decree with an air of authority, causing my heart to race with trepidation.

"Fortell henne at hun skal komme til rommet mitt hver natt for å sove. Rommet mitt vil være hennes kammer fra nå av. (Tell her she shall come to my room every night to sleep. My room will be her chambers from now on)."

he stated, his words hanging heavily in the air. Celine dutifully translated, and the weight of his command settled upon me. Fear and panic coursed through my veins as I realized the implications—sleeping in his room meant more than mere rest. It meant surrendering the precious gift of my innocence, an act that terrified me to my core. Tears welled up in my eyes as I berated myself for allowing him to perceive my worth, my vulnerability.

Yet, amidst the overwhelming emotions, the king continued to defy my expectations. He reached out, wiping away my tears, and offered a reassuring squeeze around my waist. "Jeg vil ikke skade deg, søte. Det vil ikke skje noe annet enn søvn,(I will not hurt you sweet one, there will be nothing but sleep happening.)" he murmured, his voice laced with a gentleness that caught me off guard. Celine once again conveyed his words, granting me a momentary reprieve from the tormenting thoughts that plagued me.

Relief washed over me like a cool breeze, easing my anxious heart. But even in that moment, questions gnawed at my conscience. Why was he being so unexpectedly kind? And why, against my better judgment, was I beginning to trust him, even if only slightly? The enigma of Erling Haaland, the Viking king, deepened, intertwining my fear with a glimmer of hesitant hope.

Part 2

[underscar]

If you'd be willing to then maybe do Himeno, Makima and Kishibe and how they'd care for their devil hunter s/o (gender neutral pronouns please) after they got injured after a particularly rough devil hunting assignment! :)

TAKING CARE OF DEVIL HUNTER S/O HCS

feats: himeno, kishibe & makima

warnings: no pronouns used

summary: in which they’re dating another devil hunter, and their s/o gets injured while on duty, and how they would care for them afterwards.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST FORM

authors note: this request is right up my alley. thank you for the request, anon! this is actually my first time writing makima and himeno alone along with writing a head canon (it's been years) so please bare with me.

HIMENO

her dating another devil hunter is probably for the best.

— I can picture Himeno having many failed relationships just because she's a devil hunter. In the world of Chainsaw Man, the occupation is not exactly viewed in a positive light, so normally most civilians would like to avoid devil hunters or devil hunters hoping for a life outside of work would keep it a secret from others.

— Himeno, in my opinion, wouldn't attempt to keep this part of her life hidden and would be open about it.

— It doesn't really matter if you work in the same division or a different one then her; Himeno knows a lot of people in the industry and I can imagine her socializing outside of hers frequently, where she would eventually meets you :)

— I dunno, it just works with you being a devil hunter.

— She doesn't have to worry about you interrogating her extensively or being excessively concerned about her well being as an average person would.

— Simply because you are familiar with her situation. You've walked in her shoes and you don't judge her "recklessness" or "rashness", and that bare minimum means a lot to her. 

— Himeno would also compare you a lot to Aki. Those qualities she loves in you, I think she probably also loved in Aki as well. In addition to the fact that you're a devil hunter, like Aki, I think she would just feel this way generally in a relationship. A rebound if you would. Someone like Aki.

— Although she would never express these thoughts out loud to you, you may notice this with time in your relationship and may cause future complication.

now you getting hurt on duty is a mix and mix.

— A while back, I actually wrote a one-shot about Himeno visiting an acquaintance in the hospital or something? I remember portraying her as being quite calm and casual when she entered the hospital. I think she would act similarly to this with her significant other.

— Hospitals are nothing Himeno is unfamiliar with, and neither should they be to you. Hospital visits are typical, common, and anticipated given the occupations you both have. Along with death always being a possibility.

— Hell, the possibility of dying of a Devil attack as a civilian alone is typical so deaths of devil hunter’s, who actively pursue these spawns from Hell, are even more common.

— When walking into your room she would be calm and no worry on her explicitly face. Serene cause you lived.

— She would torment you and make fun of you until your face flames. Though after her teasing and it's time for you to come home, she'll take care of you, tenderly. Doing your house chores, feeding you, and tending to your wounds. 

— Himeno sort of views these times together as brief dates. Other than passing each other off at work or whatever, you don't spend much time together on actual dates. So, these days of sickness and recuperation are full of fluff.

KISHIBE

him dating a devil hunter is expected.

— I believe that only another devil hunter can really comprehend Kishibe, grasp his thoughts, and truly understand why he is the way he is and why he behaves in the manner in which he does, you know?

— So again, it's expected. If Kishibe is gonna be in a relationship its likely gonna be with another devil hunter.

— This relationships, though, would undoubtedly not develop overnight. It would take some time for you two, colleagues, to choose to part ways from your employment relationship. Maybe a few years as co-workers before taking that step. However in that time it gives more certainty to the both of you of your feelings for one another.

— You grow to learn his mind, and him, yours.

— With you both being devil hunters means you share a few outlooks and habits that civilians may find unusual. Kishibe also considers it's a good thing that you're a devil hunter since you don't nag him about it the way any of his exes did.

now you getting hurt on duty is, also, expected.

— It simply comes with the territory. You didn't die so...

— Both of you are aware of your mortality and the extremely high death rate in your professions. Furthermore, Kishibe is more cognizant of this part of the work. I kind of imagine him being in the game longer then you.

— The majority of the time, you get wounded, and he has to take care of you. Mostly due to Kishibe's stubbornness, which causes him to brush off injuries and not view them as anything that requires your help. Your injuries on the other hand? Yep, you need him to deal with that.

— He is virtually as knowledgeable about treating most of these injuries as a first responder, so that is also incredibly helpful in situations like this too.

— Kishibe uses all of the time he has for your recuperation even though he is sometimes too busy at work to devote his entire day to caring for your injuries.

— Throughout the day, he would call you while he's out to see how you're handing, to make sure you were eating properly, washing your wounds at the proper time, and generally healing without any problems.

— He might not stay with you during your ENTIRE recovery or make it to the hospital before it's time for you to go home, but he will be there that night to help you, and that will be more than enough for the vast majority.

MAKIMA

her dating a devil hunter is “controversial,” technically…

— She would technically be your superior, though. No matter what division you are in, she is practically still in a more advantageous position than you.

— You would think it would spark a controversy, yet nobody actually challenges it. Mostly because no one cared about the devil hunters workplace and because the profession itself is so crooked. Therefore, you dated with no issue.

— You and Makima would not hide the fact that you are in a relationship. In any case, she wouldn't tell you to not tell people about your relationship with her or anything.

— Tell everyone, she doesn't mind, be public about it.

— However, you know better then to be touchy in public.

— That's her only rule. That you can't touch her in public, especially at work or anything like that. She wouldn't want to be viewed in that way in her respected position at hand.

— And you respect her, so you know better then to not.

now you getting hurt on duty is anticipated.

— You aren’t in a position of power and strength like Makima, as I have mentioned before, so she merely anticipated that you would sustain injuries regularly.

— However, it's as if you hurt yourself at the worst times.

— It's always when she doesn't have a moment to spare for you when you need her the most. Makima is a busy woman and a career woman, so when you get injured, it irritates her a little and she makes her desire to persuade you to quit your work and remain at home, but doing so would cause further problems that she is more so unable to deal with.

— She won't be around much while you're recovering. As soon as she learns that you've been injured she may stop by later that day to examine how serious your injuries are and whether you're still alive, but as soon as she's done assessing the issue, she resumes working.

— In place of her visits, gifts and flowers with little notes inside would be given to you practically every day. It was difficult for you to be frustrated over her absence because the letters were so sincerely written and wished you well.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

[south-of-heaven]

can you please write about reader never being loved, like she always felt used by the people around her and shayna helps her realise her that she loves her please? like she treats her so good and she’s completely in love with reader but reader doesn’t really understand it because no one really cared for her?

New || Shayna Baszler x Reader

In a world where love had always felt distant and elusive, meeting Shayna Baszler was like discovering a new universe. Your past had been marred by feelings of being used and discarded, leaving you with scars that seemed impossible to heal. Every interaction had left you cautious, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. But then Shayna entered your life.

She was a force of nature, both fierce and unyielding in the ring, yet gentle and caring in your presence. It was a love you couldn't quite grasp, a feeling that had never been a part of your reality before. Shayna treated you with a tenderness that made your heart ache, her actions speaking louder than words ever could.

At times, you found yourself struggling to comprehend the depth of her emotions. The way she looked at you, with eyes that held a mixture of adoration and protectiveness, made your heart race. Her touch sent shivers down your spine, a sensation that was both unfamiliar and intoxicating.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Shayna showed no signs of faltering. She remained a steady presence in your life, a rock amidst the chaos of your past. She listened to your fears and insecurities, holding you close as you bared your soul to her. She wasn't just there for the good times – she embraced every part of you, even the parts you deemed unlovable.

But there were moments when doubt crept in, when you questioned why someone like Shayna would be so invested in you. The old wounds whispered that you were unworthy of such love, that it was only a matter of time before she realized the truth and left. In those moments of vulnerability, Shayna was there, a pillar of strength to guide you through the storm.

One evening, as you lay in her arms, your fingers tracing patterns on her chest, you voiced the thoughts that had been plaguing your mind.

"I don't understand," you admitted softly. "Why me? Why would someone like you love someone like me?"

Shayna's gaze softened, her fingers gently lifting your chin to meet her eyes. The sincerity in her voice was unwavering as she spoke.

"Because you're you," she said, her tone laced with conviction. "You're unique, strong, and beautiful in ways you can't even see. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. You've never been used with me, and you never will be."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into her eyes, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief washing over you. Shayna leaned in, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both gentle and passionate. It was a kiss that held all the reassurance and affirmation you needed, a kiss that erased the doubts that had haunted you.

With Shayna by your side, you began to navigate this new world of love – a world that was unfamiliar but breathtaking in its beauty. And in those moments of doubt, when you felt the weight of your past bearing down on you, Shayna would be there to remind you of the truth – that you were loved, cherished, and worthy of all the happiness in the world.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

The Split - Jamie Oleksiak

Summary: Jamie and Y/n face the end of their relationship with heartache and resignation. Despite their deep love, they accept the inevitable end.

Words: 1531

Note: Angst.It wasn't requested but for a while now I felt like writing this. Also let me know if you'd be interested in a second part. Thank you 💕

Jamie and Y/n found themselves in an uncomfortable situation. The once lively apartment was now deadly silent, a huge contrast to the laughter, tender words of love and passionate whimpers they had been used to. Y/n who usually exuded a big sense of confidence suddenly appeared smaller in frame which perfectly reflected the weight of the situation they were facing. In that moment, although physically present, Jamie felt undeniable emotional distance between them. He observed Y/n’s face, once so radiant and full of color was now drained and pale. It made Jamie feel guilty and defeated.  Her legs visibly trembled and she was questioning her ability to remain standing. The heaviness in her chest made each breath a struggle. Jamie’s gaze lingered on her face, and he thought of all the moments where he started his mornings by tracing the contours of her face as she slept. He thought of the times his lips gently brushed against hers. Yet all he was seeing now was a face that felt oddly unfamiliar as if their shared past had slipped away just over night. Each delicate detail he knew like the back of his hand became distant, so distant that he no longer could find them, leaving him lost. 

"I don’t see any other option," she said with a heavy heart. "I can't force you to join me, and I can't stay here. At this point, it feels like there's no going back." Jamie remained silent, her words resounding in his mind as he struggled to comprehend the situation. How had they reached this point? What had led them here? "I'm trying to find it in me to forgive you, but I'm not sure how, and ironically, I'm not even sure if forgiveness is needed. I'm angry, but I also understand you completely."

He let out a defeated sigh and wondered if there was something that could be negotiated even though he knew the answer to that already. "You're set on leaving, whether I'm with you or not. I think that’s enough of a reason for me not to try anymore.” He replied with resignation.

In that moment, the undeniable truth hung in the air, big and scary. This was the end. There was no way they could save what was already lost. There was no more confusion, no more denial.

As Y/n entered his apartment that night, he immediately realized that she wasn't there to mend it. He had anticipated this and believed he was prepared to hear her out and move forward. But it wasn't as simple as he had expected. The sight of her, dressed in a beautiful white silk dress, with her messy hair and sadness in her eyes – she looked tragically beautiful.

Was it a cruel twist of fate to see her in that white dress on the night they were saying goodbye? He had imagined her countless times in that same gown, raising her hand to reach for him as they stood together at the altar. And there she stood before him now in all her beauty slowly raising her left hand to meet her right. With a quick motion, she slid the ring from her finger and handed it over to him. Memories of their love story flickered through his mind as he placed the ring back in her palm, closing her hand around it.  

"I can't keep this, Jamie," she whispered sadly. "It doesn't feel right when I'm the one breaking the promise." Jamie tightened his grip around her hand, a silent gesture telling her to reconsider.

The ring was more than just a promise of marriage; it was a symbol of his love for her and the connection they shared. Their relationship was not going to end in a walk down the aisle or a shared lifetime, but his feelings were more than just a formality. As she hesitated, torn between keeping the gesture of his love or releasing it as a sad goodbye, she couldn't help but feel the weight of their mixed emotions and unfulfilled destiny.

In their special bond, they felt like they could take over the world together. Their love was so deep and unique, only they truly understood it. Even though they knew they couldn't change things, they both wondered if there was a way to find common ground. The pain in their heart grew, each moment feeling like a painful stab with a knife.

With a subtle nod, she mustered the strength to pull herself away from him, her fingers tightly wrapped around the ring, symbolizing her reluctant acceptance of the decision to keep it. Reflecting on her options, she acknowledged the ease with which she could eliminate all traces of their relationship by removing their pictures, blocking his number, and getting rid of the gifts he gave her. Yet, despite all these possibilities, that ring remained as a constant reminder of her most profound failure. A bittersweet memento of their lost future.

"I never wanted to—" she began, tears welling up in her eyes, but Jamie quickly interrupted.

"I know," he nodded sympathetically. "God, I've tried so hard not to."

"I know," she echoed his sentiment, a shared understanding passing between them in that moment.

Even in their final moments, amidst the finality of their relationship, they still shared a depth of understanding that remained even as everything crumbled. The love, the happiness, and the comfort they had always found in each other's presence—it all lingered in the air like a reminder of what could have been. Yet, in the harsh reality of their present circumstance, it all seemed tragically useless, nothing more than a bittersweet memory of a time when their love had been enough. Their shared understanding now served as the only last source of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that neither ever wanted to hurt the other. And as they faced the inevitability of their parting, they found solace in the idea that perhaps it wasn't a lack of love that led them to this moment, but rather, a cruel fate that in the end, they weren't supposed to end up together.

With each passing moment Y/n’s strength weakened and she knew she had to make a move before it was too late. She looked at Jamie and gave him a faint smile trying to convey a sense of reassurance that no matter the pain they were both going to be okay. Her gaze then swept across the apartment. She pushed all sentiment aside and prepared herself to leave for the final time. Without uttering another word, she made her way to the door. She knew she had to appear strong, not just for herself but for Jamie as well knowing that only by standing tall they could find a way out of the mess. And so, with determination, Y/n took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. With that she found herself on the other side.

When Jamie heard the door close behind her, his whole body tensed. He watched her leave from the window. She moved slowly, her white dress swaying gently with each step, emphasizing her figure. Jamie wished she would turn around, maybe look back at him one last time, creating a memory to hold onto. But she continued her path without a glance back, her departure leaving ache in Jamie's chest as he stood by the window, feeling a mix of longing and sadness and unbearable loneliness.

Once she disappeared from his sight, the reality of their breakup hit him hard. He was fighting with a heartache so intense that it felt like it could instantly put an end to his life. Her perfume still lingered around him like a ghostly presence, a stark reminder of her absence. Every fiber of his being yearned to chase after her and change his decision but he knew it was too late. He was consumed by doubt, but he later accepted that she had to go, and he had to stay. And that’s how it was supposed to be. He was alone.

It was a struggle for her not to turn around and steal a glance at him, a ritual she had to see if he was eagerly awaiting her arrival whenever she visited. She knew that if she had looked back, it would shatter her completely with no chance of recovery. So, she continued walking, taking her time. Partly because she lacked the strength to hurry, partly to savor that final stroll, and partly aware of his gaze and the difficulty that awaited once she was out of his sight. As soon as she was out of view, she sank against the wall of a nearby apartment building, her emotions finding escape in tears that seemed endless.

After she had let out the last of her sobs, she took a moment to collect herself, summoning all the strength and courage she possessed to stand up. With a deep breath, she steadied herself, straightened her posture, and composed her demeanor, determined to mask the turmoil that had just happened. With a heavy heart hidden behind the facade, she quietly departed as if the emotional storm had left no trace upon her.

[v-67]

Read Murderer Lewellyn's enchanting dinner invitation

And fuck.

I don't know how the author has this thing. This power. This way of making me feel so many things by imbibing and creating such an intricate plot, such intricate characters. Such emotions, such craving for emotions, such acknowledgement to ones you've never felt, such nostalgia for things you've never been through. You're within the story, so deeply. So fucking deeply. That you even feel like burning the world for such characters, for the pain they've felt, the things they've been through. It's just...so much. So much.

When I started reading this, it felt all complicated, i didn't want the main character to fall in love w a serial killer, i didn't want a character to be so dumb to fall in love w a killer. It was this gray area, an area where I judged Lewellyn, and as I judged him, I just wanted Shavonne to stay away. It made me look at myself in the light of how people treat people who are criminals, and it's an honest reaction, it's a reaction to be safe. I can't wait and fuck around to find out why he's killing people or who's he so particularly killing until I'm sure that he won't be killing me (Shavonne in this case)

But then, as the story starts to unravel, the way it unravels, it's so complex, the emotions and the trauma.

The way we get to understand Lewellyn, his actions, the reasons for him killing people. I cannot comprehend the amount of pain that kid went into, he was introduced in this world as a dog, and treated in such a cruel manner. Cruel isn't even the right word here, it was worse than cruel.

And when Shavonne meets him, and treats him w such kindness, he does not understand that. But he feels this sense of warmth, this energy which he describes so beautifully – It was a type of fire that didn't burn, it provided warmth, it was a type of heat I was unfamiliar with, I had no idea such a thing could exist. (The og dialogue is different, this is just me trying to recall the way I remember it)

But anyways, back here.

One of the most important points I took away from this story, which hit me so much, is the way a person can be brainwashed into thinking that something is normal when it's clearly not. And i think that can be one of the worse forms of torture to have someone go through. To change the nature of their understanding to such an extent. Go change a fact of the world to such an extent. To manipulate them into thinking what's happening to them is normal when it's clearly not. Fuck.

This was a great piece of work. The only part which I am a little question marky about is what exactly was it about lewellyn that the government wanted so much to treat him like that? What was this special condition he had?

It's cool even if I don't know.

Also another cool thing, in the end they show the names of their meaning. Shavonne means 'Grace of God', and Lewellyn means 'Leader of men'. And throughout the story Lewellyn, because of his eye color, is also compared/referred to being the devil – the devil has golden eyes. All this makes me curious about their names and the meanings the dynamic may share.

And the depiction of emotions, loneliness, family, warmth, love, mental distress, conscience. Wow. The depiction of the real world.

I'm sleepy to write more, but it was a beautiful manhwa. The way the words with the right plot and the heaviness of the situation, the words can make you feel so much.

Hats off to the author.

The dialogue where Lewellyn speaks about how if he was a human being..... Those 3 lines, they were so intense.

And the one about warmth.

Fuck.

I love reading content that explores psychological ways and things. The new perspectives, the way there's always going to be this one super simple yet such a profound and intense dialogue because of the gravitas of the situation it is placed at, which gets stuck with you.

It's beautiful. Words. And the way an author's mind works. The way they put so much thought and energy and bring these beautiful stories and characters to life. I love that. And I'm grateful for you all who do that. Thank you for bringing such beautiful tales, thank you for bringing the world and me a little warmth.

[apompkwrites]

So like I love angst and so do many of your followers I bet too since many of the asks sent are angst related so like this headcanon isn't applying to just one sheep, it can apply to whoever but I feel that this could apply to young shroud, the Lil rose, and little schoenheit, mainly shroud.

○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■○●

If you have ever read land of the lustrous, you'd be amazed and deeply saddened in the change in the Mc, phos. Not that the characterization is bad or anything, it's just depressing. I want phos to be happy, to no longer fear burdened, I just want them to smile again. Phos once was a ray of sunshine, always smiling, naive, curious, and had a need to be useful to their siblings. Then as the story progresses, so does phos, she becomes so unfamiliar it feels another person but it's still them. Even after all that change, it's still them.

These panels here show just one character, Phos. Her from when the series first began all the way to her 3rd-5th change in like chapter 70+ (rough estimate)

That brings me to my main point. In these panels we see phos seeing a hallucination of their former self. Phos doesn't recognize herself, she has become something completely different from her former years that she didn't even know who that gem was. Phos has lost themselves in the pursuit of their goal.

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"Nothing is never set in stone, not even death"

From reading your fics showcasing young shroud's past made me a sense of melancholy at the back of my throat (This is good it means you're good at writing making hurt like this). That feeling of dread as you describe how much they adore ortho and their elder brother, the dread in the back of your mind as you know what is to come.

I imagine that you intended for the young shroud to be a joyous, smart child, one with a life full happiness ahead of them. Curious they are, eager to know all there is to possibly comprehend. Just perhaps they were too Curious that it drove everyone away after an incident that tipped them over.

"I didn't know! What was I supposed to do!?! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?"

After being blamed for the death of their beloved brother, you mentioned that they shut themselves away working to bring him back from the dead, though, with a few...changes.

This goal of theirs was must. It must be accomplished no matter what, for his sake. Shroud is willing to sacrifice their soul, mind, and body if it means ortho comes back. No matter what.

Timeskip to when they overblot cause their story ain't finish.

I just feel it hit real hard if we get a scene similar to the panels I shown. Perhaps they're in a point in their overblot that even if Lil shroud is saved, they won't come out completely intact. They lose maybe a part of their body or mind and they don't even know it. I just what goes on the heads of those who overblot. Will the Little shroud even realize what they're doing to their brothers? Their friends?

Make it hurt more if that they destroy ortho's mechanical body, losing him just as they did all those years ago. Would they even know that they did that to their beloved brother? Perhaps the young shroud is far to gone emotionally that the words of their loved ones can't reach their heart.........

"Who are those children?"

Perhaps their overblot reqches a tipping point where their mind begins to run through all possible memories to figure out a way to save them from ending their story far too soon. That child still has a lot to live for. And just maybe their mind lands on a memory from when they were a child, before the passing of their younger brother, when it was just idia, ortho, and them. A memory from when they were still naive and unknowing of many things in their world, when they had no understanding of loss.

"That......that child there?"

They wouldn't recognize the children in scene as they observe a far as a fourth person. Disassociating themselves from who they once were. And as the first year observes the children playing in a white out facility, one catches their attention. A child with eyes full of curiosity and wonder. An innocence held their eyes glistened under the artificial light. The child laughed and grinned as they ran around with their brothers.

"Oh...that child is....that child....th....oh god..."

"How could I ever I blame you?"

The first I bet when the young shroud ever fell in love was after meeting their baby brother first time. They meet a baby full of purity, a wonder and greatest curiosity gifted to their life. They would protect and teach him all there is to know in this world.

They second time they fell in love was at this moment of realization. How could they ever that child, blame them for the death of their brother? They were young, unknowing, how could a child naive as them ever grasp the terror of those monsters? How could that child know?

I feel that shroud would approach the mirage of their former self and just kneel and cry. Just cry and cry as they ask themselves how they could ever hate such an innocent child. How does one hate a child as naive as them? How? Just how? What was the point of loathing an existence so pure and kind as that child? How could they ever hate themselves?

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The consequences for an overblot as severe as theirs I feel would lead to life long physical consequences. Like losing the ability to walk, hear, or see, something. But that would be find with them. They can cry and cry all they want and that in itself is a gift for they, for the first time in years, fell in love once more.

oooh yeah this concept def fits a few of the black sheep :O

esp lil shroud with the new chapter for their fic, the way that they don't recognize themselves fits the part when lil shroud goes up onto the upper floors. ofc, they still recognize its them in the fic but after the experiment, there is a possibility they wouldnt.

for an overblot, maybe that's how they get saved from the overblot? because they get so distracted by the realization that this pure innocent child is them and they've practically killed them would probably be enough to drag them out of the overblot, or at least enough for the others to help them :((

100% lil shroud first fell in love (platonically ofc) when ortho was brought home for the first time. id say idia probably felt the same when lil shroud and ortho both came home :))

as for who lil shroud was before ortho's death, yes, they were meant to be this pure, curious child that would have definitely been an influence on ortho's personality. but because of his death and lil shroud's banishment, that child disappeared D:

maybe, if their parents didn't do what they did, lil shroud would have still been that child. who knows?

[bugtransport]

oh geez guess who remembered they can actually explain the thought process behind Whatever The Fuck The Rothko Comic Is look don't ask me let's just let me talk about art for a minute that's probably easiest

"nooo aha dont write a fucking novel about your favorite piece of art haha youre so sexy" shut up! my meat is huge. AND i'm sexy as hell. thank you.

let's talk about Clothespin by Claes Oldenburg.

my favorite piece of art of all time. this isn't a joke actually. this 10 foot tall clothespin has made me feel just about every emotion in existence. there's a larger (i think about 45 ft?) version in philadelphia somewhere that i'm aware of but i haven't actually gotten to see that one in person (maybe someday) so we're just going to be talking about the smaller one. which is still quite large. i think to actually explain myself and this one i need to take you through my history with it and how i originally saw it, because that really plays a lot into how i view it. maybe more so than the actual piece itself.

i'm just going from memory here so bear with me... this story takes place back in middle school when i lived in the midwest. i was a young dumb kid who liked drawing stuff so my parents would just sign me up for whatever art classes they could find (i took botanical art with a bunch of middle aged ladies once which fucked severely) and, since we were in the burbs just a train ride away from chicago, one of the options available was to take kids classes at the art institute. so i took some digital art classes there.

enter me: 12 years old and just wanting to learn how to draw anime girls on the computer. at this point i have not thought about art beyond knowing superficially that i enjoy Some Paintings and that certain narrative works have whipped my nuts off and sometimes i would look at pics on deviantart and get emotions i was unable to describe but i have not really, at this point in the story, thought to question why i feel that way.

there's one other important thing to know to make this whole experience make sense. the timing of me attending these classes was right around when the art institute opened up their modern wing! brand new wing + taking a digital art class = i spent so much time in there i cannot even begin to describe it. i wouldn't necessarily say that i like modern art more or less than anything else... but i can say that by sheer volume alone, no question, it is the majority of museum art i have consumed.

anyway, for those unfamiliar: the art institute has two entrances (well, that i know of). there's the main one with the lions that you've probably seen in ferris bueller's day off, and the second one is through the modern wing. here are some pictures i found online showing what the main hall is kind of like:

that glass wall in the far part of the picture is where the doors are. it's a really nice space; there are galleries both upstairs and downstairs. this is also the same place that i saw Untitled (Portrait of Ross in LA) but that's really neither here nor there. i've just seen it brought up before here and thought i would mention that it was a very cool experience. one of those things again where i saw it way before i could comprehend why it made me feel the emotions it made me feel... and then i got hit with The Understanding years later like a cartoon anvil. i couldn't actually find any pics in the 5 minutes i had to spend on google with Clothespin actually displayed, but here it is with a different statue in roughly, to my recollection, the same place:

that is a really dramatic place to put a sculpture.

okay well, anyway, the first time i saw this piece, i did not think it would rock my shit. i actually thought it was just kind of funny. i still remember it - our little group was walking to go take a look at a specific piece and of course, had to go through the lobby to get there. i saw Clothespin for the first time and went "haha, that one's kinda funny, i wonder what that means?" and someone shot back "i don't know, maybe a giant lost it doing laundry." that exchange tickled me so much that i spent the rest of the day and into the next week thinking about it.

the second time i saw Clothespin i was mostly just confused. in the same way that today i can still remember my first interaction with it but not any of the other pieces of art i saw that day, i was confused as to why this thing was leaving such a large impression on me compared to everything else. i did look at it for a while and then just kind of left. and came back to it. and left again. and came back to it.

that dance continued for a couple visits until i finally got the chance to sit down and watch it for a while. there were some benches under the stairs for people to rest; i took one of those and started to people watch. and brother... suddenly i began to get it, i think?

[to be read in the tone of someone who has been haunted by these thoughts for over half their life] see, i think the real genius in the way this was (and the really large one is) displayed is that they're in thoroughfares. they're both in high traffic areas where people are mainly trying to get from one place to another more interesting place, right. people entering a museum usually have a starting point in mind that they're looking to get to and go from there; people exiting a museum are usually kind of wiped and probably not really looking to look at much more art at that point. it's not quiet in a lobby like you get when going through an exhibit - it's not loud, but there is a constant background hum. there's a café upstairs and people checking tickets and families and school groups chatting and, of course, in the middle of that, a 10 ft tall steel clothespin, being largely ignored.

yeah, okay, not totally ignored. people would stop and look at it for a second or make a comment about it maybe or glance at it in passing. but people didn't really tend to look at it like they would if it would have been displayed in a room. maybe that was because they didn't want to hold up the flow of traffic going through (it was always pretty packed on the weekends) or maybe the display location inherently lowered the perceived value of the piece as art - it's not "enough" to be put on display in one of the collections specifically, it's just a clothespin. but it was big and quite impressive and in the middle of the floor and not something you could easily ignore, really. the juxtaposition between the impact it had on me and the way it was being treated by the visitors en masse... you know what? it is kind of being treated with the same thought that you would give an actual clothespin.

it might seem like a pretty base level concept. and it is! of course everything that has ever been made has been made by someone. but this was the first time that thought had really occurred to me in a way where i actually grasped the impact of that statement. somebody out there designed the clothespin and put thought into how it worked and felt and looked. even the most utilitarian designs are still designed. Clothespin my beloved is a reminder to myself to appreciate and recognize the beauty in the little things in life that people might not otherwise think about and i cannot overstate the impact that way of thinking has had on my life. some pieces of art i think definitely are better learning things about the artist but i've never looked anything up about Clothespin - i don't think this is necessarily the impact that the artist set out for it to make, but it alone and regardless of intent obviously has done one hell of a number on me.

"julia that fucks but what does that have to do with sonoi tarou" i'm getting there i'm getting there. god!

i think the important and relevant part of that story isn't at all what i ended up getting out of that piece. the important and relevant part is the confusion i felt leading up to the realization. i am not looking to get into a debate about What Makes Art but i think that we could probably agree on a baseline statement that one of the things that may make something art is the ability to elicit emotions from the viewer.* while yeah sure probably not what i think most people would anticipate or look to get out of art, frustration at your own lack of connection and understanding is an emotion. being unable to understand the artist's intention and experiencing connections but taking those connections you make completely off book is still experiencing an emotion. simply enjoying something superficially is as well an emotion. sonoi is so painfully close to getting things in my Humble Onion and goddamn that really makes me feel some kind of way. he just has to unclench about it.

for someone who has a stick so far up his ass ("integrity and perfection personified," cannot stand the bitch) i can understand why the concept of allowing himself to relax and consider how he is already obviously being impacted by art and what that means is hard. to focus on the correct way to view and create art is... well, how many duels have he and tarou had? how long have they spent trying to do things "right" and get the "correct" feelings from it? i mean, it makes sense for his character. i know a lot of people who feel the same way looking at art. i totally experienced adjacent feelings before the cataclysmic earth-shattering world-busting event known as Clothespin. ooh i just want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. introspection! it's uncomfortable but that's the joy in it! i want to psychoanalyze him so bad.

fuckin, to conclude: MY moral of the story is that there's no right or wrong way to look at art. and i dont think there's any wrong way to love someone either.

*"julia are you arguing that fat anime milf tits are art" fuck yeah i am because they make me feel an emotion: HORNY. sorry i had to add that joke into this otherwise dry ass essay.

p.s. it's my life goal to make everyone look at Clothespin. i have a picture of it at my desk. again i have never made a joke in my life

[platonic-f-o-things]

So…I’ve been meaning to send something about that wonderful imaginary friend of mine, my platonic f/o, for a while, but I’ve been a bit embarrassed to do so. I think I can finally do it, and just gush about him for a little while.

So…G is not human. You probably wouldn’t be able to tell from a distance, since he looks more or less human, if a little uncanny (/pos), but he is actually a powerful alien entity from an unknown higher dimension! This is actually one of the reasons I’ve been so nervous about talking about my platonic selfship with him, because I was worried that people would find me “cringe” for imagining that an interdimensional reality bender far above anything humans can comprehend would ever care about me enough to consider me his friend, but the very idea of his existence is so oddly comforting to me.

“It is true that there are horrors beyond our comprehension in our worlds, but there are wonders beyond our comprehension out there also. I know, because my best friend is one of them.”

-my self-insert.

So, in the source material, G is extremely enigmatic, with his glowing eyes and odd manner of speaking and his unknown motives and strange power over time and space. But I’ve always noticed signs that he is not indifferent to humanity, wanting to understand us better, to guide us in the right direction, possibly even growing fond of us as a species and the games’ protagonists whom he works through to achieve his goals. Now, I gotta admit I am quite the existentialist, and as the dark corners of my mind were once filled with the fear of the unknown and the unknowable, G terrified me at first. But throughout my playthroughs of the games, the image of him watching over me from the distance slowly became something reassuring, almost like a guardian angel. My version of G became a reflection of my view of the unknown itself: perhaps a little frightening from a distance, but gentle and fascinating once you get to know him. He is the cosmos that cares, the infinite being that smiles down at us, the Comforting Otherworldliness, and I now know him personally and love him as surely as if he were family.

As I realized how happy he made me, I slowly imagined myself getting to know G better, and I view him as my otherworldly companion, my Star Man (waiting in the sky/ly), my best friend from Somewhere Else. I’ve been writing a fanfic about exploring the void and different dimensions with him, and I was even confident enough to upload that fic to AO3. But he isn’t the only one who showed me his world, as I happily taught him everything I know about Earth and humanity, as he is still rather unfamiliar with it, and he finds it as beautiful and fascinating as I find everything he has shown me.

I’m honestly just glad to have him by my side, always ready to hold my hand from beyond the veil of our reality.

~stars-n-freckles45

🌌

That’s so incredibly beautiful! Thank you for sharing! 🥹💕

I want to say that first of all, selfshipping is never cringe! It’s an expression of truth! It’s an expression of real relationships you have with characters!

Humanity isn’t insignificant. It’s vast, wonderful, and beautifully-diverse! G learned this through observing earth, I’m sure, but he also learns it through his friendship with you!

He’s beyond honored to protect you each and every day, and to show you that while the vastness of the unknown may seem daunting, it isn’t so different from Earth!

Everyone everywhere has a heart, and he’ll protect you with all of his heart! From every earthy terror to every possible existentialist doubt that might sneak into your mind. 🥺

My personal philosophy is that existentialism is a fear of the unknown, and that the ultimate fate of our universe is much more forgiving than people predict.

I hope that gives you a little solace! And I hope that G gently reminds you that peace will always be with us, every day, in big and in small ways!

[bookshelfmonkey]

November wrap-up

I'm actually posting this somewhat on time this month. This might have something to do with me being too tired & sick to focus on actually reading right now. This might also mean that the reviews are even more unhinged than normal, or maybe that they're just utterly incomprehensible. We'll see.

Anyway

King Henry VI pt. II- Shakespeare- 1/11/22- 1/10

Boring. Also I can't remember it.

In An Absent Dream- Seanan McGuire- 4/11/22- 10/10

Pretty banging. Love this series. Kinda sad though.

Lord of Ravens- A.K. Faulkner- 4/11/22- 7/10

I like this series the more I read it but I'm not sure if I like it enough to read the rest of it. I feel like certain events aren't discussed in enough depth. I'd like more discussion and character development.

From A Low and Quiet Sea- Donal Ryan- 6/11/22- 4/10

Needed speech marks. That would have got it at least another 1/10. Some of the narratives were individually interesting, although not all of them. Felt kinda detached, like it lacked any authorial emotion and passion. Needed speech marks. Also the narratives didn't really come together in a comprehensive way. I would've liked that. Needed speech marks.

Henry V- Shakespeare- 12/11/22- 1/10

They all merge together after a certain point.

We Hunt the Flames- Hafsah Faizal- 14/11/22- 7/10

I wanted to love this more. Still pretty good, but I feel like I've read similar things that were also better. I wanted more from it.

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester- Maya MacGregor- 16/11/22- 9/10

I don't think I trust neurotypical people's reviews of this. Everyone was saying the 18yo protagonist seemed childish & naive but as someone around that age, who thinks a similar way, I think they're just unfamiliar with reading a character who doesn't understand social cues/situations. The mystery was pretty good, I was invested. Characters were actually brilliant. Loved it all. Tabbed a lot of quotes on being trans & autistic. Thought that was well done.

A Prayer For the Crown-Shy- Becky Chambers- 17/11/22- 10/10

Didn't enjoy this as much as APFTWB, but it still felt kinda enlightening in its own way. Funny moments with Mosscap always rule. Would love to read more about these 2.

Hell Followed With Us- Andrew Joseph White- 18/11/22- 10/10

Absolutely unhinged in the best ways. This book means more to me than I could ever express and I feel so strongly about it. I could write an essay on this. I might write an essay on this. I might write many essays. We shall see. Anyway I love it and you should read it. Very trans. Very autistic. Very cool.

Ship of Magic- Robin Hobb- 20/11/22- 8/10

A different type of story to the Farseer trilogy but not necessarily worse. I think I just really desperately wanted that one guy to get what he deserved to the point at which I couldn't enjoy the book as much as I might have otherwise been able to,

The Kingdom of the Gods- N.K. Jemisin- 27/11/22- 8/10

Hard to comprehend. Interesting to read. An ending.

Venus and Adonis- Shakespeare- 28/11/22- 3/10

Spent so long focussing on trying to understand this that I forgot to understand it,

The Tournament At Gorlan- John Flanagan- 30/11/22- 10/10

This still slaps. Love the humour. Love the vibes. Love the plot. I'm also kinda starting to build up a case for some of these characters being (probably incidentally) ND-coded. Maybe that is one of the reasons I love it so much. Maybe.

[chacha-diaries]

Lost in the moment, I’m so scared

June 1, 2024

For the last three hours, I’ve been trying to write something. But words are nowhere to be found. I cannot articulate something I currently find difficult to comprehend.

But one thing is for sure, it’s been a tough May for me.

All I do is breathe. Literally, I wake up for the sake of breathing. I fall into this nihilistic cycle of existing. I just operate as it is.

Life will take you to the highest of rainbows then one day it will drop you fucking hard. And it's almost impossible to get back. The point of impact has lost my ability to function at the moment. I am paralyzed after getting the first appetizer of life. It’s not very good, indeed.

And for the past 31 days, I have been trying to be present in whatever consciousness is left in me. I wanna still show up for the people I fight to keep with despite being lost on my way. It’s like I am operating on a not-so-me mode. That’s not me. The real me is lost somewhere and I am still figuring out how to get her back. Because I have no idea yet how to get her back.

As I tried to read every poetry, pieces of writings I’ve ever wrote, everything is grief.

I only learned life through losing. It's in grief that I learned how to love. It's in emptiness that I attempt to give more. It's in anger that I learned how to be graceful and compassionate. It's in moments of denial that I sit with uncomfortable truths. It’s in the absence that I learned how to be present. At the end of the day, how am I supposed to carry all of these in one single breath.

Yes, I gotta admit I tend to keep everything to myself. I never share my plans, my next goal, the next step. Because I hold so much responsibility for releasing frequency onto something that is still uncertain. Something that isn’t happening yet or may not actually happen. It’s a risk for me to say things I cannot bring to life or dismiss twisted emotions. I just cannot stand words that stay as words. Or declare things without finality. That's why I take time because initial things are not dependable. That’s why I close doors when the light goes off. Because just like you, my mind has so much to tell and I cannot cater to the voices beyond that door. The world is too loud for me to hear myself. That's why I shut you off. Because I trust that everything I need is already here, I just have to unpuzzle it.

But with the thousand possible pieces, I haven’t found the edge that I can start with. And I am still yet to know as to why I cannot initiate it. I find it hard to pinpoint which emotion is holding me back. There is too much and it has to be rooted somewhere deep. I have hit enough rock bottom but this, I cannot understand. It’s way too unfamiliar. I can’t even finish whatever I am saying here.

But maybe let’s start with, not knowing.

Let’s slowly bounce back, June

Chacha

[anormalmuffin]

Review my first step in 'nurturing education'

Last sem-break I started to open a free class firstly for my sister and my cousins (as I want to experiment my own teaching strategy and content) to practice their speaking and writing skill but most importantly to hone their logical thinking and open their knowledge outside the world. Besides the technical skills (pronunciation, paraphrasing), the first topic I chose for them to discuss and learn about is Nature and one of the activity I gave them is to watch a Youtube video about “Sneaky Ways H&M Gets You To Spend Money” of Business Insider and then write their thought about individual and government responsibility for this tragedy. It maybe is a tricky topic and an unfamiliar thing from what they can approach so they seem uninterested and I can see that they not clearly understand and want to consume in their mind. In the journey to transfer the sustainability lifestyle toward the people I living beside, I reflected that I have embraced not the loss but the first fail of integrating that mindset in my student. But I then try to tackle their needs and wants by slowly comprehend them first through activities talking about the obstacles they currently undergo, it’s a long and unexpected story to me but through that change, I can totally experience the feeling of you guys - the teacher about starting to opening your students heart and growing in them the seeds of knowledge. This is just the first stage and I know I have a long way to go but I’m still trying to experiment and build my own teaching knowledge tho. 

[gobackhomewhereitssafe]

She’s the Only One

This is my first post! It’s the fake scenario I currently fall asleep to every night. I finally had to write it down. I’m not totally satisfied with it, I just usually fall asleep before it ends. Haha.

Pairings: mob!bucky x you

Warnings: violence, mild angst, fluff

The night had been going unbelievably well. It was the first time you were meeting Bucky’s friends. They’d taken to you instantly and you’d spent hours at a booth in his club listening to their stories, you’d hardly stopped laughing. Bucky was the happiest he could remember being. He couldn’t stop watching you, amazed at how natural it felt to be with you, easy as breathing. And he realized, as necessary. 

Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time, it was disorienting. Like a scene from a movie, suddenly bottles behind the bar started to explode as if in slow motion. The sound of shattering glass filled the room as screams erupted from every corner of the club. Bodies were dropping to the floor, some dead, some simply trying to crawl to safety. A group of men had opened fire, and their target was anyone. 

You had barely begun to process what was happening when you felt a strong hand push your head down. You felt yourself being tucked under Bucky’s arm, his hand gripped your waist and he was half-carrying you out of the booth. He kept you behind him and you watched as his metal hand shot out in front of him. It moved with alarming precision, you heard the sharp “pings” as the bullets aimed at him were deflected off of his palm. He never flinched. You couldn’t close your eyes. You watched his face, hard with concentration. You couldn’t understand it, but you were not afraid. His men had convened into a line in front of you, returning heavy fire. Bucky led you both out through the kitchen and out the back door, into a waiting car. He had no sooner closed the car door and it was peeling away down the alley. 

The car ride was silent at first. He was too afraid to speak, too afraid that if he broke the silence it would fill with you screaming at him for putting you in that situation. You opened your mouth to speak and he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the onslaught. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, merely curious. His eyes snapped open wide in surprise. He could barely comprehend your casual tone. Of all the questions you could have asked, that was all you wanted to know?

“Safe house.” He said. You nodded, and took his hand as you leaned your head against the window. 

The drive was long, and you’d eventually dozed off on the way. Bucky knew you had to be in shock. Nothing else could explain your lack of fear. No anger, no panic. Once you were asleep, he called Steve. 

“Who the fuck was it?” He spoke low as not to wake you, but his voice was urgent. 

“Rumlow’s boys. Ambushed us in retaliation for the deal with Zemo. We’re behind you. We weren’t followed. See you in a minute.”

Bucky snapped the phone shut, and crushed it into pieces.

...

He was beyond pissed, but he carried you like a baby, gentle as could be. The mix of feelings he had was making it hard for him to breathe. Furious, scared, worried, enraged. You looked peaceful, which was helping him stay focused.

He laid you on the bed and your body automatically responded to the soft sheets, stretching then curling up, and you let out a soft sigh. He felt his heart squeeze and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He pulled the blanket over you and tucked it under your chin. He moved an armchair closer to the bed, so he could sit beside you and reached out to run his thumb across your forehead. He didn’t know if you even needed soothing, but it made him feel helpful and he didn’t know what else to do.

“Is she ok?” Bucky tore his eyes away from you to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face serious.

“Yes. She didn’t get hit.” He looked back to you. “She’s just sleeping.”

“How much did she see?”

“Everything.” Bucky said, a mix of rage and guilt in his voice.

“What are we going to do about it?” He put both hands up defensively, shaking his head in response to Bucky’s head snapping up, knowing what normally happened to witnesses. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, what are we going to do for her. Is she going to be alright?”

Bucky relaxed slightly and returned his gaze to your face. “Full protection, around the clock. And she does not leave my sight until every last one of them is dead.” Bucky’s jaw tightened, the only sign of his fury, as he continued to softly stroke your hair. “But yes, I think she’ll be alright,” he said. 

Steve nodded. He watched as Bucky noticed you moving. Still asleep, a frown slowly formed on your face, your fingers started to twitch and your hands turned into fists. You whimpered softly. You were having a bad dream. Bucky’s metal hand moved to gently massage the hard furrow between your eyes until your face relaxed again. He moved his hand to your cheek and leaned down to put his face next to yours. He whispered into your ear, “Shhh, baby, you’re ok. I’ve got you.” He nuzzled his face into your hair and kissed the top of your head. You didn’t wake, but responded to his touch by pushing your head into his palm, like a kitten. He resumed thumbing soothing brushes across your face.

“I’ve never seen you like this before, Buck.” Steve said. “This one is different.”

“She’s the only one.” Bucky said simply. Bucky felt weak, his mind forcing the image of what could have happened tonight into his head. He shuddered and instinctively moved to hover protectively over you.

“You’re in love, pal.”

Bucky didn’t look away from you. “I know.” 

...

You stirred and stretched, slowly opening your eyes and taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. You turned to your side and saw Bucky’s figure immediately slide off the chair he was in to be face-to-face with you. He looked so sad. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“What’s wrong?” He almost yelled. “What’s wrong?! You were almost killed last night. I’m waiting for you to run screaming from this room! I spent the whole night trying and failing to prepare myself for you to leave me!” 

“You didn’t sleep at all?” Your tone was only concerned. It was absolutely maddening that you were so calm.

“Baby,” he paused. He was truly confused. “I don’t understand. How are you so...ok? Last night, you could have died. Weren’t you even scared?” 

You thought for a moment and answered honestly. “No.”

“Why not?”

You took Bucky’s face in your hands and looked him in the eyes. “Because.” You pulled him closer and gave him a long, firm kiss. “I was with you.” 

He rested his forehead against yours and chuckled softly in relief. “Goddamn, baby. You are one tough bitch.” His tone was pure awe.

You smiled. “Yes. And you are stuck with me.”  

[pup5000-af]

[ on Reina x Angelie :]

In this au thing...fantasy of mine, Reina was never after Malachia (since she treats him like trash and pushes him around in the show, it made me wonder: did she even like him at all to begin with? or was that fully just an obsession to the bone? the answer is yes.)

in my personal opinion writers have not given her character any valid base for a romantic attraction, however they have given her a crazy obsession over a mortal she was supposed to guard. fully one sided: with all the power and interest piled up to one party and a complete disregard for any consent of any sort … just ew.

I don’t want her to be like that… So I was thinking, what if Reina actually interacted with Angelie prior Mals enslavement and fell for her instead? cuz i believe that could be quite interesting for so many reasons and connect nicely with other lore i’ve made. so i wanted to develop some theories for that

warning✋i’m a complete novice when it comes to writing and anything verbal-words-related, this is way out off my field

[beginning]

At the time that Rei was assigned to guard Malachia , homeboy was in the middle of shooting his shot with Angie...

since Angie is psychic and everything, she noticed celestial beings over other people, could hear their thoughts and see their magic

[ celestial thoughts are like a weird coded blur of unfamiliar sounds and imagery. It was hard for her to even guess the general intentions at first. Most of her spare time Angelie spent on journaling the bits of information she caught and attempting to decode them as best as she could. this was her hobby]

Because of that, at times ... and by “at times” I mean: relatively often, she would behave in ways others couldn’t comprehend. she was a “weird one”

The things she saw and wondered about, the way those things impacted her day to day life... made her a freak to other terrestrials. People stared at her a lot. They called her names and generally treated her pretty poorly out of fear. She had no community to turn to. And even tho she spent most of her life without having any close relationships, even tho she appeared to be numb to her otherness, she was still misunderstood and ....alone. It never actually got better

[ Her knowledge and slight fixation on these otherworldly creatures, who carefully impacted the very lives of those around her… existence of which - only she seemed to be aware of... this experience shaped her in many ways. She studied them every moment she could, trying to understand them: what they are? what exactly they’re doing? why? what do they need from us? ]

Malachia could never fully understand what she was going through... and even if he could, she never actually allowed to him get close enough. not a chance. If he knew, she thought: like the rest of them, he’d probably think she‘s gone mad. Angelie was scared of getting attached and then being rejected like always (or worse, getting herself killed). But our dude didn’t get the hint, so he hung around anyway and somehow they became friends overtime (well sorta. he was just too oblivious to be afraid)

[ he still lowkey had a crush on her

maybe to him Angelie seemed just mysterious, troubled? obviously very smart, she knew things about the world and he couldn’t imagine what those things were. it was hard to figure her out, more then anything.... he was actually just in awe and kind of intrigued by her “unusual” act]

/anyways/ moving on

One day, while Malachia and Angelie were taking a stroll, just chatting about something mundane. his guardians showed up to watch, for whatever small, moral dilemma Malachia had during that conversation.

It wasn’t the first time Angelie noticed them, but the first time they got that close to her, it was hard to ignore...

Rei and Angie both noticed how they were aware of each others presence and decided ...to sorta approach one another

[ uh 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠... which 𝑖 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ: of ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟? 𝑤ℎ𝑦 exactly 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜ℎ𝑒𝑟? what were their first thoughts before choosing to confront 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 when they did... 𝑏𝑢𝑡. 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡. Imagine it’s there lmao, 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦~ ]

Their interactions weren’t just ^ celestial being creeping over terrestrial, without their consent or knowledge ^ as it usually is.. no, human could see the angel. They could actually talk, without the whole ^turning into terrestrial and making up ur identity on the spot^ charade. it was raw and refreshingly honest for the both of them.

𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 

Time passed, Rei and Angie got closer to each other. Angelie was able to open up about all the things, that she had to keep hidden, under control... all of her secret experiences, struggles and ostracisation she had to endure as a terrestrial woman with "supernatural" abilities.

Reina related to many things An was describing: like that feeling of isolation, that loneliness. She had no one to talk to about the many things that concerned her throughout her existence: Being created for service, constantly wondering about her [and every other beings] purpose in this world. She too, didn't have anyone to discuss these things with... Angels seemed to be ...secure.. in their collective "identity" as if none of them ever had a craving for something more ? .. like they were never even a bit curious of what it would feel like to deviate ...

And devils … well .. those didn't even respect her enough to have an open discussion. she had no luck finding ones who actually would give her the time'a day.

and for Angie it was almost comforting in a way... to find a non-human friend. this... being... this guardian angel, who was never afraid of her, the two of them could actually have something... which felt unusually "normal"? Healthy. Much needed for the both of them. they could finely connect

[𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁, virgin Mary style Imao. “the mother the daughter and the holy spirit”. 𝘀𝗼 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝗶𝘀 𝗥𝗮𝗳𝘀 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 (also ʀᴇғᴇʀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʀᴀʟɪɴᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟs) and -> 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗥𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗥𝗮𝗳𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 only one in Rafs surroundings 𝘄𝗵𝗼 "noticed". cuz she is her fucking mum.]

After Angelie got pregnant, they made up a plan to convince Malachia that it was his. Because there wasn’t a possibility, that Reina could physically help Angie raise jesus2.0 on the same plane of existence. Even tho Reina really tried to convince High Spheres, they are not historically known ..to let angels deviate and find happiness in the human realm.

 Reina helped how she could, to protect her bestie and their love child. Mostly by spying over everything and everyone (even at the slightest possibility that it could possibly affect her loved ones. momma-bear-fbi-agent) She would even sometimes use terrestrial form to interfere, but that was the last, last resort. It did get her in a bit trouble with higher ups, but as long as it didn't majorly affect terrestrials HS were "merciful" and “willing to overlook”. this small, family of outcasts, couldn’t afford to have Rei get taken away for a celestial punishment. Angelie might not even live long enough to see her completely platonic girl-pal ever again... [ or Reina could get straight up wiped out of existence... we don’t know how far HS would go to “fix” something they consider inconvenient/wrong/deviant/a mistake. Which Reina certainly started to appear like to the angelic system at that time ]

Angelie got abducted

No one knew what took her or ...why? Reina, even with her abilities couldn’t find An. Angelie was the closest and only friend Rei ever had, her love ... and she lost her . Rei’s leads were going nowhere... and just the thought. that a depressed man with ptsd, was now raising their child... oh boy... was not helping the situation. It was driving Reina crazy! She was not...... .. stable ... Even Zebel (her rival) was weirded the fuck out by her out of line behavior [more than he usually was anyway]

she interfered too much... and at one point .... she

s҉t҉o҉l҉e҉ M҉a҉l҉a҉c҉h҉i҉a҉s҉ f҉r҉e҉e҉ w҉i҉l҉l҉

Cuz she thought... that maybe... if it’s is hers, she could 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 how he raises Raf, she could 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙛𝙛 his grief and 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 a better person. a better parent

Then.... maybe... this way, she could also be just a little closer to her daughter.. Somehow it seemed like a pretty decent plan at the time.

She was so desperate…

𝑇𝑜 𝐵𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 

𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝑖 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 ~ ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑑. 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜: 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 / 𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 /𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠: 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠, 𝑑𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒.

𝑖’𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛

♥︎