#if you know me i am CONSTANTLY complaining about how we never have any food at home

[bilal-salah0]

Before the war, after I left Gaza for Germany, I used to call my dad almost everday and tell him about my day. He would tell me how everyone else was doing and say that Salah,my little nephew, kept asking where I was.

Now, I hardly ever reach my parents or any of my siblings.I don't think Salah even remembers who I am any more as he struggles to carry water containers. I always find myself agonizing and wondering if I'll ever meet my family again, whether the newborns will see me one day and know that their uncle longs to hold them in his arms.

Every time I look at my dad's picture in our home, smiling and surrounded by his grandchildren, it breaks my heart into a million pieces. The house he dreamed the kids would grow up in was leveled to the ground in a split second. Nothing is left, not even both his shoe shops where he worked so hard to build a future for us all. My siblings are unable to work or finish their studies. There are no schools left for the children. There is no proper food, water, or sanitation, no life; only death and rubble all around.

When my brother sent me a photo of my dad lighting a fire, he still had that same old smile on his face. I was relieved to see him somewhat hopeful but it broke my heart even more. My father is the most resilient and hard-working man I've ever known. He always supported us in whatever we wanted to achieve. His only hope was that his grandkids would grow up safely and happily in their home. He never complained from work and taught us the true meaning of sacrifice and perseverance. Instead of living peacefully with his family, he, the kids, and everyone else have to endure life in a makeshift tent,God knows for how much longer, while their lives are constantly threatened by airstrikes, starvation, and disease. No child, elder, or adult should go through such hardships for this long.

As the injustice persists, we only find solace and hope because the free people of this world are still standing with us. Please continue to support us any way you can. I don't even have the words any more to say how grateful I am to everyone. You have already done so much for us but we need you now more than ever.

Please donate if you can and reblog as many times as possible.

[danielnelsen]

family is out having a nice dinner and trying to convince me to come but i have way too much to do before i have to get up at the crack of dawn to get on a plane tomorrow, so dad's like "the food will be so nice, you're really missing out" then gives the phone to my sister who's like "the food will be so nice, you're really missing out," like........what part of "i have too much to do" says i can be convinced as if im just lazily deciding to stay home? all you've done is made me feel bad on top of being stressed about everything i have to do and how im not gonna get to have nice food today. cool thanks

[gilverrwrites]

Can you write some more Captain boomerang, fluff head cannons I loved your last one, and really would love some more 🥺🥺🥺

Abso-friggin-loutly! Fluffy/domestic HCs P2 [P1 Here]

CWs: Jealousy, guilt tripping. None graphic mentions of unrination. Rating: General

On days off from work (I use the term work, lightly) he is such a lazy git. He’s lounging on your couch in nothing but his undies and socks, both of which are ridden with holes and thoroughly stained ‘but they’re still good tho, here, have a whiff of that’ drinking beer and watching mindless action films or guilty pleasure sit-coms. 

If you join him, he will happily spend the whole day there, unmoving until one of you has to eat or pee. 

I hope you like physical touch because he will not keep his hand off you the whole time either. Playing with your hair, stroking your skin, sneakily trying to tickle you in order to force you into a more provocative position. 

He also loves to be touched in return. Likes it when you trace your fingers over his tattoos, play with his hair. Scratch his scalp and he’ll start twitching his leg like a dog when you hit just the right spot. 

Use a pen to play dot-to-dot with his freckles and he’ll get the result tattooed permanently.

Absolutely hates doing chores, and will try just about any underhanded tactic to get out of them. 

Oh sorry, love, I forgot. I know you did ‘em yesterday, and the day before that, but I swear if you do them tonight we can do that thing you like. But you’re just soooo much better at it than I am, I always do it wrong.

No weaponised incompetence, I swear down if he fucks it up, it's because he genuinely is that dumb/has never been shown how to do it. 

Claims to be outdoorsy, but if you ever take him camping or hiking he will complain the whole time that his feet hurt (because he’s wearing inappropriate footwear) and there’s dirt on his (already filthy) coat. 

He would never admit it but he’s more reliant on his creature comforts than he lets on. 

Does, however, genuinely enjoy playing sports together, mainly footie or frisbee boomerangs. 

Can say some pretty nasty stuff during an argument. He will almost instantly regret it but is too stubborn to be the first one to apologise. Instead, he’ll do everything but say sorry until you say it first or you come to an unspoken agreement that you’ve both moved past it. 

I did the dishes, an’ I went down to that food place you like and bought back dinner. Come on babe, don’t be like that, you can’t stay mad at this face, I know ya’ can’t.

Is very much the petty jealous type, doesn’t mind you having friends/being close with people, but takes it as a personal insult when you compliment them.

Funniest person you know, I thought I was the funniest bloke you know, remember that time I made you laugh so hard your drink came out of yer nose?

I’ve got a shirt like that, you never say I look good in it. Yes, I did, I said… Oh, well I don’t remember that.

But when the shoe is on the other foot, he’s such a hypocrite, he loves it when you get jealous. Especially if he’s still stinging from his own envy, he will actively try to make you jealous. 

Loves kissing you, all the time. Got his arms wrapped around you while you’re trying to get stuff done, planting kisses up and down your neck, on any piece of skin he can reach. 

You’re not allowed to go to a different room without giving him a quick kiss before you go. Even if he isn’t in either of the rooms. 

Oi, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, you left the bedroom to get a drink and you didn’t kiss me on your way. You weren’t in the bedroom or the kitchen. Yeah, and?

He’ll take whatever kisses he can get but his favourite are the sloppy ones, tongue halfway down your throat, saliva leaking, noisy kisses. 

Brags about you constantly. Every criminal, law enforcement officer, cashier, random lady at the bus stop way more about you than they ever should. Stories are often accompanied by many candid photos of you, photos you would cringe to see if he ever revealed them to you. Man wonders why he’s so easy to find by the law, when everyone from here to Sydney knows what you look like, what you do for a living, your favourite places to eat etc. 

He also keeps polaroid pictures of you, they’re always either loose in his pockets (cause he never carries a wallet) or pinned to the wall of whatever prison cell he’s locked up in. Many of which he’s drawn on. Some doodles are pornographic but most hearts, stars, halos, and speech bubbles with illegible writing that’s supposed to say things like ‘I love you Digger’ or ‘Miss you every day’.

He doesn’t really know how to convey it but he really does cherish you.  

[thezombieblogg]

Basement tapes transcript pt.1:

March 15, 1999

Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold are sitting in the Harris home basement-level family room. Eric is sitting on the couch and Dylan’s sitting in a chair nearby. They’re drinking from a Jack Daniels bottle, which Eric points out. The boys begin to discuss a number of topics; they speak of their hope that the videos they’re making will one day be shown all over the world, when their “masterpiece” is done and everyone wants to know why they did it.

KLEBOLD: I’d like to make a thank you to Mark John Doe and Phil John Doe. I hope you don’t get fucked. [Eric laughs; Dylan continues] “We used them. They had no clue . . . Don’t blame them. And don’t fucking arrest them. Don’t arrest any of our friends, or family members or our co-workers. They had no fucking clue. Don’t arrest anyone, because they didn’t have a fucking clue. If it hadn’t been them, it would’ve been someone else over twenty-one.

They mention the time a clerk from Green Mountain Guns called Eric’s home. Eric’s dad, Wayne Harris, answered the phone. When the clerk told him, “Hey, your clips are in,” Wayne — who owned guns himself — told the clerk he hadn’t ordered any clips. Eric said his father never asked whether the caller even had the right phone number. Eric says if either the clerk or his father had asked just one question, “we would have been fucked.”

KLEBOLD: We wouldn’t be able to do what we’re going to do.

They then talk about Brandon Larson and how “you will find his body.” The boys talk about the large propane bombs they plan to use on the unsuspecting students in the school caf- eteria. They discuss bombs and two bags of “propane and napalm,” and mention Mr. Stevens and the shotgun. “We’re proving ourselves,” they tell the camera, and go on to discuss their philosphies. Eric says he isn’t spending much time with his family, so that there won’t be any “bonding” and “this won’t be harder to do.”

HARRIS: I’m sorry I have so much rage, but you put it on me.

Eric then complains about his father and how his family had to move five times. He says he always had to be the new kid in school, and was always at the bottom of the “food chain,” and had no chance to earn any respect from his peers as he always had to “start out at the bottom of the ladder.” He hated the way people made fun of him: “my face, my hair, my shirts.” He’s wearing a t-shirt that has the words “Wilder Wein” printed on it — he references the shirt several times during the video but never explains what it means. [“Wilder Wein” is a song by Rammstein.]

HARRIS: More rage. More rage. [motions with his hands for emphasis] Keep building it on.

KLEBOLD: If you could see all the anger I’ve stored over the past four fucking years ...

Dylan then recalls how popular and athletic his older brother Byron was and how he constantly “ripped” on him, as did his brother’s friends. According to Dylan, with the exception of his parents, his extended family treated him like the runt of the litter.

KLEBOLD: You made me what I am. You added to the rage.

Dylan says that as far back as the Foothills Day Care center he hated the “stuck-up” kids who he felt hated him.

KLEBOLD: Being shy didn’t help. I’m going to kill you all. You’ve been giving us shit for years. Fuck you, Walsh.

The boys go on to discuss Walsh patrolling Deer Creek. [Deputy Tim Walsh primarly works the south end of Jefferson County.] The teens then talk about how there’s “a month and a half left.” They mention Green Mountain Guns again and how they phoned the house, leaving a message on the answering machine: “Your clips are in.” Dylan and Eric brag about hiding their tools of death — and about the close calls along the way. Eric shows the camera a black tackle box with his bomb-making equipment stowed inside. They boast about concocting their plan under the noses of unsuspecting parents and friends. Dylan recalls a time when his parents walked into his bedroom while he was trying on his trenchcoat to see if it would hide his sawed-off shotgun.

KLEBOLD: They didn’t even know it was there.

Eric tells about a day he was going to go shooting in the mountains. He had his shotgun in a gym bag: it was in his “terrorist bag, sticking out.” When he walked by his mother, she saw the butt of the gun but she assumed it was nothing more sinister than his BB gun. Fooling people was a point of pride for both boys, one they gloat about during the video-taping.

HARRIS: I could convince them that I’m going to climb Mount Everest, or I have a twin brother growing out of my back. I can make you believe anything.

The subject shifts and they begin talking about several people they know. They make a com- ment about Dustin Harris [or Harrison], and how “everything you say is pointless.”

HARRIS: Shut the fuck up, Nick, you laugh too much! And those two girls sitting next to you, they probably want you to shut the fuck up, too! Jesus! Rachel and Jen . . . and . . . whatever.

KLEBOLD: I don’t like you, Rachel and Jen, you’re stuck up little bitches, you’re fucking little . . . Christian, Godly little whores!

HARRIS: Yeah ... “I love Jesus! I love Jesus!” —shut the fuck up!

KLEBOLD: What would Jesus do? What the fuck would I do?

Klebold acts like he’s shooting the camera with his hand, with sound to accompany it.

HARRIS: I would shoot you in the motherfucking head! Go Romans! Thank God they crucified that asshole.

HARRIS AND KLEBOLD: Go Romans! Go Romans! Yeah! Wooo!

Eric discusses “Arlene,” his 12-gauge Savage shotgun.

HARRIS: Thanks to the gun show, and to Robyn. Robyn is very cool. [Robyn was a friend of Klebold who had purchased the gun for him.]

The boys then decide to take a video tour of “Reb’s room” and “all the illegal shit” in it. Dylan backs out of the room with the camera and pretends to be Eric’s mother.

HARRIS: [waves at the camera] Hi, mom

Taping Eric Harris’s bedroom, they record a desk with a hutch, where Eric points out a pair of gloves which he says he took from a doctor’s office and uses for making bombs. He points out several packages of fireworks on top of a speaker, which is also on top of the hutch. He also calls attention to a soda can with several shots through it, along with quite a few shotgun shells sitting atop the hutch. He then points out a small “black treasure chest” that he calls a “good hiding place.”

Eric then points out a small bullet that he says is his “first bullet,” then in a drawer he shows off a stash of solar igniters, batteries, pipes, clocks, and engines. He pulls out a black two-bell alarm clock that he discusses using to build a bomb with and then takes out what he describes as “completed pipe bombs” from a Home Base bag taken from one of the desk drawers. He pulls out another Home Base bag filled with more pipe bombs he calls the “beta batch,” at which point Dylan mentions the “bunker.” Dylan tries to film out the west window but it’s too dark outside; all that records is the glare on the window.

KLEBOLD: You can’t see it, it’s buried there. That’s why it’s called a bunker.

Eric says there are “four mortar grenades, ten crickets, and three alphas.” He then points out a blue spiral notebook that he calls his “journal.” Eric opens another drawer, revealing a piece of the handle of one of their sawed-off shotguns. Also filmed in one of the drawers are two clocks which the boys describe as “future bombs.” They show off a box of “crickets” — small CO2 cartridges, duct-taped with fuses.

Dylan turns the video camera toward the dresser that’s against the west wall. Eric opens up a door and points out a “Hell dog drawing” taped to the inside of the door. He says it was given to him years ago. Next to it is a piece of paper on which is written an “Anarchist substitute ingredient list.”

Eric goes on to describe a “25 pound bag of #8 buckshot” which is inside the dresser, but isn’t shown on the tape. Eric then pulls out a BB rifle from what he describes as the hall closet (though it appears, on the tape, to be a closet in his room). He says this is where he keeps his shotgun. He also takes a box out of the closet and tells the camera that this is his knife. From the box he pulls out a black-handled combat knife in a black sheath. He says that he paid $15 for it. Eric says there’s a swastika on the side and the camera zooms in to show the swastika etched into the sheath.

On the east wall, adjacent to the bedroom door, the teens point out a coil of green wire that they call a “50 foot cannon fuse.” They move to the bookcase on the east wall, talking about a “Demon Knight” CD case, which Eric opens to reveal a receipt from Green Mountain Guns for “nine magazines” of 9mm carbine rifle bullets that they purchased for $15 each. Eric then removes a CD rack to expose three large pipe bombs hidden behind it, which he calls the “biggest.”

Eric then pulls out a black card box filled with “twenty-nine crickets” (more CO2 cartridge bombs). Eric then points to an area of the room (though the camera doesn’t follow where he points) and describes a “coffee can in the corner which is full of gunpowder.” The camera then focuses in on a black plastic box with the word “explosives” scratched into the side, sitting near the north wall of Eric’s bedroom on the floor. Dylan mentions how Eric’s parents took it away from him. Eric adds that they only took the pipe bomb out of it, and gave the box back. Inside the box the camera shows clock parts, fuses, tools, and CO2 cartridges.

They also tape a white plastic file case that holds “nails for pipe bombs, caps to be filled with gunpowder,” two boxes of 9mm rounds (50 bullets in each), 12 shotgun shells in a box, another box of shotgun shells, clips for a gun, and webbing. “What you will find on my body in April,” Eric tells the camera.

► Later Footage

Dylan Klebold sits in a tan La-Z-Boy recliner in Eric’s basement bedroom, chewing on a toothpick while Eric Harris messes around with the now-stationary video recorder. When he’s done Eric moves to sit in another recliner with the bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, and his sawed-off shotgun named “Arlene” on his lap. He takes a small drink and tries not to wince at the taste.

HARRIS: [in reference to the Kentucky and Arkansas shootings] Do not think we’re trying to copy anyone. We had the idea before the first one ever happened. Our plan is better, not like those fucks in Kentucky with camouflage and .22s. Those kids were only trying to be accepted by others.

They go on to talk about how they hate all races, They also mention enemies that abused them and friends who didn’t do enough to defend them. In one segment, Eric and Dylan spend more than an hour discussing their hatred for humanity and their fellow students, whom they vowed to kill. They name some of the classmates they hope to murder. A couple of times during the rants Dylan warns Eric to talk more quietly so as not to wake Eric’s parents who are sleeping upstairs.

HARRIS: We need a fucking kick start. If we have a fucking religious war — or oil — or anything. We need to get a chain reaction going here. It’s gonna be like fucking Doom man — after the bombs explode. Tick, tick, tick, tick . . . Haa! That fucking shotgun [he kisses his gun] straight out of Doom. Go ahead and change gun laws —how do you think we got ours?

The boys talk about starting a revolution of the dispossessed.

HARRIS: We’re going to kick-start a revolution.

They discuss coming back as ghosts to haunt the survivors, to “create flashbacks from what we do and drive them insane,” Eric tells the camera.

HARRIS: You guys will all die, and it will be fucking soon! I hope you get an idea of what we’re implying here. You all need to die! We need to die, too! We need to fucking kick-start the revolution here!

KLEBOLD: The most deaths in U.S. history.

HARRIS: [kisses his shotgun] Hopefully.

KLEBOLD: We’re hoping. We’re hoping. I hope we kill 250 of you. It will be the most nerve- racking 15 minutes of my life, after the bombs are set and we’re waiting to charge through the school. Seconds will be like hours. I can’t wait. I’ll be shaking like a leaf.

HARRIS: I hope people have flashbacks. [making shooting noises while aiming his shotgun] Isn’t it fun to get the respect we’re going to deserve? We don’t give a shit because we’re go- ing to die doing it.

It’s getting late; Eric looks at his watch and says it’s 1:28 am on March 15. Dylan says people will note the date and time when watching it.

KLEBOLD: [predicting his parents’ feelings of regret] If only we could have reached them sooner, or found this tape.

HARRIS: [also predicting] If only we would have searched their room. If only we would have asked the right questions. [talks about his mother being thoughtful, bringing him candy and Slim Jims] I really am sorry about all this.

KLEBOLD: They gave me my fucking life. It’s up to me what I do with it.

HARRIS: [shrugs] My parents might have made some mistakes that they weren’t really aware of.

KLEBOLD: [talks about how his parents taught him to be independent and self-reliant] I ap- preciate that.

They talk about how they want movies to be made about their story. Eric says he wants the film to have “a lot of foreshadowing and dramatic irony.” He mentions a poem he wrote where he imagined himself as a bullet.

KLEBOLD: Directors will be fighting over this story. I know we’re gonna have followers be- cause we’re so fucking God-like. We’re not exactly human —we have human bodies but we’ve evolved into one step above you, fucking human shit. We actually have fucking self-awareness.

The boys discuss whether Steven Spielberg or Quentin Tarantino should direct the film.

[info is compiled from multiple different sources: schoolshooters.info, lostmediawiki.com, acolumbinesite.com, and rearchcolumbine.com]

[parrishjeanna]

I can’t find the original post that suggested this story so I’m just going to make a new one. This story was everything I want in a relationship, good food, good company, great sex, super sweet, and romantic.

Like why can’t I find that in real life? Am I incapable of feeling like that? I’ve had sex and never felt any emotional connection to that person, even if I’m having a great time and we talk for hours. Am I broken or just haven’t found the right person. How do you even begin to find the right person because all anyone wants on dating apps is sex and since I’m a bigger woman they don’t want to date just fuck, especially men. Don’t even get me started on trying to talk to women on dating apps. Like FFS.

I don’t know maybe it’s because I’ve been in love with the same guy since I was 10 and he loves me like a sister. We were close but I’m trying to cut myself off from him because talking to him is an addiction. Do I just not want to move on because he’s unavailable so he’s safe and I can’t get my feelings hurt. I’ve have had feelings for other people and I’ve confessed those feelings as I don’t believe you should hold back, but no one has ever loved me back. Lust, yes, love, no. I don’t think I’m unworthy of lob but maybe I’m just unlovable. Just too me, too much, too annoying, too big, too excitable, too loud, too everything.

I feel like I’m constantly keeping myself in check because someone is always complaining about something I do. That’s why I love Buck and love 911 and Tommy. They love Buck for just being Buck and Tommy even finds his ramblings, nervous energy, and fumbles, adorable. I just want someone to accept me like that. Why is it so hard to find! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Anyway, thank you to the author for making me feel so many feelings. Truly loved this story.

[unsentlettersforpalestine]

Friday, April 12, 2024

To you, fellow human

What time did you get up? Did you get enough sleep? How was your morning? What did you have for breakfast? You took shower with clean water, didn't you? Did you hear some birds chirping ? The morning breeze was certainly very tranquilizing, wasn't it? You were able to do your morning routine without any hindrance, right? There might be some inconveniences during the day but overall it's been quite a good day, right?

While you are spending your day with your family, relatives, friends, coworkers, clients, neighbors, strangers, or even only by yourself, don't forget to take some time alone to express gratitude. Contemplate about all the blessings God has given to you. Realize that you are living a damn good life. Make no mistake, I am not trying to belittle your problems or the shit you've been dealing with, but trust me when I say: you're lucky. Because you really are.

You might unintentionally come up with some grievances about your life every now and then, but be brutally honest and tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how much you are grateful for your life? Five? Six? Seven? Eight? If your answer is under 5, then I am begging you, please, sit down for a couple of minutes and listen to me.

I know we all have our own problems—both major and minor. But tell me, has someone ever bombed your house? Have you ever felt afraid of being kidnapped or ruthlessly tortured or sexually assaulted or shot at? Have you ever lost a bunch of family members and relatives and neighbors and friends at the same time? Do you, by any chance, know what it feels to experience forced starvation not for a day, not for a week, but for a really long period of time? Have you ever ran out of water, electricity, and fuel for months? The answer for all these questions is a clear no, right?

You are lucky. I am lucky. We are all lucky. Because despite everything, we are living a decent life. We have all that we need (or most of what we need or whatever) and we have never gone through what Palestinians have been going through for more than 75 years. Even the biggest ordeal that we ever went through is nothing compared to what Palestinians are constantly going through.

Some of us might complain about the same/ similar menu we have on a regular basis, don't we ever realize what a luxury it is have enough foor and be able to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner every day? Palestinians are literally being starved to death by Israshit and some of them don't even have a small bag of flour to make simple bread and look at us, here we are shamelessly throwing our foods away. Palestinians feel happiest when they can get a bag of flour and a glass of drinkable water but here, we are constantly grousing over trivial matters—be it intentionally or unintentionally.

It's worth nothing that regardless of what our respective life looks like, we are all privileged. Because unlike Palestinians, we are living a pretty decent life. We are never living under continual brutal occupation. We are not being massacred. We are never going through a fucking genocide. We are safe. We are good, we truly are.

Just a friendly reminder that as a human being, we have a duty to bear witness, be in solidarity and support Palestinians in any shape or form. I am not asking you to ceaselessly watch harrowing pictures and videos coming out of Palestine. I am simply asking you to have some sympathy with them. Do something, anything, to help them. Use the voice that has been bestowed upon by God for you. Spread awareness. Educate yourself and the people around you about Palestinian cause. Go to the nearby protests if you can. Have uncomfortable conversations with both friends and strangers. Don't stop talking about Palestine. Always remember Palestinians in your day-to-day life. And most importantly, keep making prayer for them.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[bluebirdbaby12]

♡Jooyeon helping reader get over toxic friends♡

♡Fluff. Jooyeon x GN.Reader

☆CW: Toxic friendships. It's pretty short. Very little angst.☆

I wrote this quickly, and my collage semester just started, so I apologize if it feels rushed or if it's bad.

Masterlist

You were tired of it. Your "friends" constantly leaving you out of conversations, kicking you out of group chats just to talk about you behind your back was the last straw. You've been consistently disrespected by them. They always talk down to you, criticizing your lifestyle and your relationship, and talking about how Jooyeon deserves better. You decided to ghost them, feeling like they didn't deserve any more of your energy and time. Although you were done with them completely, it didn't stop the fact that losing your friends hurt. You had been sulking for a few days, and none of them reached out to you to ask if you were okay. In fact, you saw some of their Instagram stories of them going out, and they seemed genuinely happy and carefree. It made you wonder if you were the problem, if you deserved the disrespect. You started to doubt yourself in everything from the job you have to your relationship, wondering if you were good enough for anything. Jooyeon noticed how distant and sad you've been the past few days. Your texts have been short, and you haven't been visiting him during practice. He started to get worried, and he could tell that you were down and feeling off. He decided he would surprise you with some takeout and a movie night, showing up at your home with your favorite food and comfort movies. "I know you've been feeling down, so like the amazing boyfriend I am, I'm here to cheer you up." He says as he walks through your front door. A comforting smile on his face. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready to, but I'm always here if you need to." He reassures you, a soft expression on his face. He takes your hand and leads you to your couch, telling you to sit as he sits next to you, setting the things he brought on the table

"Now, do you want to talk about it? We can always just eat and watch movies if not." He says, his hand grabbing and squeezing yours. You sigh, trying to find the words. "I just... my friends were being assholes again. I couldn't deal with it anymore. Now I just feel like I'm all alone. I know I always complain and rant to you about it, and I know it makes you stressed. I just thought I could deal with it on my own. I'm sorry for not telling you." You start ranting, letting all of your thoughts come out as your eyes line with tears. Jooyeon hums and nods along, his hand never leaving yours. "You don't have to apologize, love. Those guys were bullies. It's good to let them go, even if it hurts for now. You're not alone. I'm here, and I always will be. Other people will come along, and we can only hope they will see how amazing you are without being jealous assholes, hmm?" He comforts you, being both comforting and truthful, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he speaks. Je leans forward, pressing a small, soft kiss to your cheek. "Don't feel bad and don't feel alone. If you do feel these things, don't keep it from me. I'm here to help you through it. Okay?" You nod. "Okay, I'll tell you next time. I love you." I lean close to him, and he takes you into his arms, holding you close to him in a tight embrace. "I love you too." He rocks from side to side. "Well, what movie is first, huh?"

[msfbgraves]

People need to stop and realize (and accept) that Cobra Kai is not written the way The Bear or Interview With the Vampire are. Those shows are actually written with skill, love, respect and rich understanding of their characters—something which CK dreadfully lacks.

The sad thing is that CK had huge potential in season 1 (minus the way Daniel was written several times because the writers hate him) to be an Emmy award winning and critically acclaimed show. But by the start of season 3, it was over.

I am not, and never have been a Johnny fan by any means, and I’m only here for Daniel, Chozen, and of course Terry (all 3 of whom are fucked up in the writing department already, especially the latter 2). Still, I will be shutting off my brain and watching it. And after it’s over, I will be resuming my Danzen and Silverusso fanfic reading.

But Nonnie, I want to complain about us not getting to have nice things! Now you mention it, was it all Netflix' fault? The dropoff in S3 is abysmal (pun intended). Or did they get, in their own words, 'so far up their ass they could see out of their own mouth'? (Also, why the crass language all the time? I could see Daniel dropping a jersey infused F-bomb once in a while, but his Mama taught him to be respectful and so did Mr. Miyagi...) I still think I am a reluctant fan of CK because there would be a balance between 'this is ludicrous' and 'this is accidently brilliant'. Who knows the last season may show us some of that but I feel like watching Game of Thrones in S5 desperately trying to convince myself it was still good, when we all know the show killed itself with the Red Wedding. The ludicrous reigns, and the brilliant? Um. Case in point: casual Youtubers are going: "Johnny and Daniel at each other's throats again? They should be over this." It's just, why can't we have nice things? If you can't tell good stories without constantly bringing in new villains you're a bad storyteller, and it feels awful when you've felt hoodwinked into something as an audience. I mean, at least Wednesday told me what it was from the first episode - bait with no respect for the characters, so I didn't have to waste my time on it. Now, though, going by the trailer, I'll have to slide off of a cliff with them because of how much I love Daniel LaRusso in spite of what they've done to him. Will I get to see Ralphie in a meaty part ever again? And where is the cutoff line? I pretend that Sherlock ended after series 2. I can't pretend that with CK because where would that leave Terry? And yet S5 is giving it too much credit! It's intermittent reinforcement with ever less reinforcement! Also all the 'teens' are nearing 30. I'm simply disappointed because sometimes you can smell that it could be better than it is if the writers weren't so blinded by their own desire to make the point that bullies deserve more empathy than victims and we should all try to be 50 year old boys with a child's understanding of what deserves status. Because an unkempt drunk who thinks of no one but himself and acts like a fifteen year old boy is superior to a family man who likes girl things, like fancy food and manners and not pissing on people's cars. And oh yeah, all people from Asia are magic. They can't simply be capable, they have to be exotic.

I think we deserve to complain about that.

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 37 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

SilverVixen: I am sure your culture is very nice.

SilverVixen: But I prefer art with more permanence than graffiti on rocks and songs sung around a fire.

MARSHAL Kotallo: So because we paint our homes instead of squares that are hung on the wall, we are inferior?

SilverVixen: I didn't say that.

DIVINER: But did you MEAN that??

SilverVixen: I just meant that I PREFER different arts than what your culture produces. I don't understand why you are making such an issue of this.

ADMIN [Zo]: Maybe because you were complaining that there were no "true artists" left.

SilverVixen: You're taking that out of context.

Icarus: This is why it is best not to engage with primitives.

SilverVixen: You have machine coolant cables in your face.

Icarus: Sacrifices had to be made for the objective.

HIMBO: YOU PEOPLE WOULD BE LESS UPTIGHT IF YOU HAD A BEER.

DIVINER: Yeah!

HIMBO: I WAS TALKING TO YOU TOO.

DIVINER: Hey!!

ADMIN [Zo]: I don't drink.

Icarus: I have better things to do than impair my reasoning.

SilverVixen: I prefer wine. Besides, my nanotech prevents me from becoming drunk.

HIMBO: YOU ARE ALL MONSTERS.

FlameHairSavior: What did I just walk into?

DIVINER: Aloy! You're back?

FlameHairSavior: No, I'm still in Tenakth territory. What's happening?

MARSHAL Kotallo: You mentioned earlier you were helping Chaplain Dekka. That led to a discussion about Tenakth culture.

FlameHairSavior: At which point you made the mistake of letting the old people talk.

Icarus: Excuse me?

HIMBO: HA!

FlameHairSavior: You're literally three times my age, I get to call you old.

DIVINER: Wait, you're sixty??

Icarus: Yes. How did you think I had learned and accomplished so much?

DIVINER: That's really not what I meant...

HIMBO: YEAH, SERIOUSLY, YOU LOOK GOOD FOR YOUR AGE.

ADMIN [Zo]: Stress ages you. I imagine a complete lack of a conscience would make for a very relaxing life.

Icarus: Hilarious.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Regardless, Tilda asked about our art, and then disparaged our art.

SilverVixen: You are deliberately misinterpreting my position.

FlameHairSavior: Look, Tilda, if you want to make fun of the Tenakth, stick with their food. Everybody makes fun of their food.

SilverVixen: Dare I ask?

DIVINER: The Tenakth don't know that there's any food besides meat!!

MARSHAL Kotallo: We DO eat fruits and vegetables. Our young soldiers simply complain about it constantly.

SilverVixen: Seems some things never change.

FlameHairSavior: My point is, some things are sore spots. Don't poke a culture in the places they consider important.

ADMIN [Zo]: And how many times did you mock Nora beliefs?

FlameHairSavior: I'm their saint or whatever, I get some privileges.

SilverVixen: I might not know the Nora beliefs, but I would be very surprised if that was an enumerated privilege.

DIVINER: She might be their first saint! That means she gets to make it up as she goes along!

HIMBO: THE SUN-KINGS CAN'T DO AS MUCH BECAUSE THEY'VE GOT TOO MUCH TRADITION BEHIND THEM. THEY WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO TAKE HALF THE TRIBE TO A FORBIDDEN LAND TO FIGHT FOR PEOPLE THEY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW.

SilverVixen: Ah, yes, the incident around MINVERVA's tower. I read about that.

ADMIN [Zo]: Aloy, did you accomplish your goals in Tenakth territory?

FlameHairSavior: Yeah. Chaplain Dekka was having some trouble with a family member who had joined Regalla's rebels.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Dekka? Truly? I assume she asked you to extract them.

FlameHairSavior: Actually, he had already defected. Before I killed Regalla, I think, though I didn't ask for too many details. Anyway, he came to warn them of an attack, they didn't believe him and threw him in a cage.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Did you help him win the ritual combat, or prove that the attack was real?

FlameHairSavior: The attack. We prevented it, everything is forgiven, blah blah.

FlameHairSavior: They might have had a feast to celebrate. I don't know, I left.

DIVINER: [MinionDanceParty.gif]

HIMBO: WHAT ARE THOSE YELLOW THINGS?

SilverVixen: I suppose that's one advantage of the end of the world. You don't know what Minions are.

MARSHAL Kotallo: We are familiar with the concept of minions.

DIVINER: Not like these!!

DIVINER: There was ajkgsfjnk

FlameHairSavior: Alva?

FlameHairSavior: Alva??

ADMIN [Zo]: Tilda just walked very briskly into Alva's room. They're arguing about something.

DIVINER: Okay... I'm not going to tell you about Minions.

SilverVixen: Thank you.

FlameHairSavior: That's

FlameHairSavior: Fine. Whatever.

FlameHairSavior: Tilda. There was something I wanted to speak to you about.

SilverVixen: Oh?

FlameHairSavior: I was trying to retrieve some lost soldiers, and found them in a small valley in sight of the Zenith base.

SilverVixen: All right?

FlameHairSavior: The valley was filled with machines. Far more than normal.

FlameHairSavior: Turns out the Zeniths had put down some beacons and tasked an AI to attract machines there as a cheap security force.

SilverVixen: Ah. That sounds like Erik's work. Cheap and effective, with minimal chance of backfiring in his face.

FlameHairSavior: That all you have to say?

SilverVixen: I didn't know about it, if that's what you mean. I couldn't have warned you.

ADMIN [Zo]: You don't care that your people are displacing the native population, causing damage to the area, and making our mission harder in the process?

SilverVixen: No.

Icarus: Aloy is always like this, and it seems her allies are the same. She expects you to volunteer everything that could be possibly relevant, including things you could not possibly have known.

SilverVixen: That sounds exhausting.

Icarus: It truly is.

FlameHairSavior: Or maybe I just want you to show some basic empathy and compassion for those around you.

Icarus: Ah yes, that.

Icarus: That's worse.

HIMBO: YOU TWO DEFINITELY NEED ALE.

MARSHAL Kotallo: I do not believe there is enough alcohol in all the Clanlands to fix these two.

Icarus: Still not interested.

SilverVixen: Still immune to intoxication.

HIMBO: WELL, THEN I'M OUT OF IDEAS.

Icarus: Then you are back in familiar territory.

Chapter 37 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Roommates Au

Yamato could handle a lot of things.

He happily put up with Kakashi constantly bullying him and even accepted that Gai would wake up every morning at five am just to go for a run.

Five of his precious plants had been lost over the years because Kakashi’s dog’s kept eating them, and still Yamato kept his calm.

The living space was too good to give up over small things that he could handle, but Yamato had finally reached his limit.

“I’m moving out,” he declared in the middle of breakfast one morning, causing Kakashi and Gai to stop what they were doing and stare at him. “There’s a nice apartment just down the street that’s available. I can still come over for game nights every sunday, but I think it’s time for me to move on.”

Kakashi stood beside the coffee machine, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Beside him, Gai stood with his coffee mug in hand and a concerned look on his face.

“Have we done something to upset you, Yamato?” Gai asked while Kakashi began chewing his toast so slow that Yamato wondered if he’d taken tips from Ningame on how to enjoy his food longer.

“You got naked together,” he answered without pause, sighing when Kakashi began to choke on his food. “Twice.”

Furrowing his brows, Gai opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, though, Kakashi finished finished his bite of toast. “You weren’t complaining the first time around.” He commented, earning himself a glare from Yamato. “What? You asked us to keep it down and we did.”

“You did,” Yamato agreed, thankful he hadn’t been forced to hear the two of them the next time he walked into the room. “But then you decided round two was going to be in the kitchen.”

A fact he had been unlucky enough to discover as he walked in with a bowl of salad in hand and a desire to eat so strong that he hadn’t even stopped to check if anyone else was in the room.

A mistake he would never repeat.

“If you’re holding that against us, what about the couch incident?”

Yamato shivered at the reminder. He hadn’t intended to end up naked on the couch with Iruka, and he certainly hadn’t planned on his friends walking in on him while Iruka was blowing him.

Still, that didn’t feel like a sufficient reason for them to defile the kitchen the way they had. They ate there for goodness sakes.

Yamato wasn’t fond of having to worry about what had been on the counter he was cutting food on.

“It’s for the best.”

“You’re not leaving.” Kakashi declared with far too much confidence for Yamato’s liking.

“I am.”

“Nope,” stuffing his toast back into his mouth, Kakashi continued chewing on it while he retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket.

With a few quick taps on his phone screen he smiled triumphantly as Yamato’s ring tone rang through the air. The sweet sound of ‘return policy’ by Lady A alerting him to a new text message.

“Your choice in ring tones is… interesting,” Gai snickered while Yamato dug his phone out of his pocket. “Do you have a special ring tone for everyone?”

“Just the jerk I call Senpai,” Yamato grumbled under his breath. Opening up his messages he gave Kakashi’s newest text a quick read and narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Kakashi dared. “You know what I’m capable of. Think it over and decide for yourself if I’d follow through.”

He would.

Kakashi was the kind of ass hole who always followed through with his threats. He would make up for any emotional damage afterwards by paying for dinner, or letting Yamato yell at him for three hours, but he always did what he said he would.

“I hate you..”

“You love me,” Kakashi corrected him. “And you love that fact that I’m going to get you some sound proof walls.”

His ears perked up at the sound of that. “Is that a promise?”

“It is,” Kakashi confirmed. “It’s good for everyone’s sanity. You don’t want to hear us.”

“I would prefer not to, yes.”

“And i would rather not hear Iruks screaming your name the next time you have him over.”

“Senpai!”

“He is a bit of a screamer,” Gai hummed. “I remmember when I had him over-“

“Please, do not finish that sentence,” dropping his phone down onto the table, Yamato slouched in his chair. “I’m never going to escape this place am I?”

“Not until the day you die.” Kakashi confirmed with a smile that made Yamato wants to punch him in the face.

[twotales]

Pigeons

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Characters: Rodney McKay, Radek Zelenka

Pairing: Rodney McKay/Radek Zelenka

Rating: G

Word Count: 848

Tags: Old Age, Established Relationship, Fluff, Bickering, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, Pigeons

Summary: Just taking the daily walk to the park.

Notes: This fic is inspired by this tumblr post. More notes and translations at the end.

Read On AO3

Rodney pulled on his boots and tied them snugly, his back and knees creaking as he stood. He put his coat on, his arthritic fingers fumbling with the buttons.

"You never bought me a single coat without buttons. I swear you've been trying to kill me since we met."

"You are delusional. I have done nothing but support your arrogant ass for fifty years."

A lopsided smile grew across Rodney's face as he pulled a toque over his white hair.

"Forty-seven. And if by “support” you mean “follow me around like a lost duckling.” Then yes, you did." He lifted his chin. "Let’s be honest here, you imprinted on me and I just couldn't shake you off."

He could see the man looking at him from over the top of his glasses. “If I didn't love you," he said. “Už bych tě vyhodil z okna.” His eyes gleamed. “I když myslím, že ještě není pozdě.”

Rodney's smile broadened as he picked up his satchel, checking to make sure he had everything. "You know I can understand all that now, and I am one hundred percent sure your mother wouldn't be too happy to hear you threaten me with defenestration."

"Mm, yes, I am regretting past decisions." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "The first of which is introducing you to my mother."

Rodney swung the bag over his shoulder and opened the door. He grimaced as the harsh wind hit his face. "Jesus, you just had to love somewhere cold, huh?"

"No one said you must live here Rodney."

Rodney locked the door and rubbed his arms before starting the daily walk. "Are you kidding? If I’d left you to your own devices you would have blown up half of Europe."

"I am not the one who goes around destroying things." His lips tilted up, "I do seem to recall someone blowing up 5/6th of a solar system though." He held his palm out. "Is it possible that you know of this person?"

"Oh c'mon, that was forever ago." Rodney threw his hands up, "Could we all just move on already?"

"Maybe one could move on if one was not being constantly told he would destroy one's homeland if left to his own devices."

"Fine," Rodney turned into the park and rolled his eyes. "I'll stop telling you that."

His brows lifted, "And you promise this?"

Rodney was all teeth. "Never."

"Well, then I will never move on."

Rodney's lips trembled. "I wish that were true."

He sat on their usual bench and put the satchel next to him. He pulled out his lunchbox and a sack. He opened the lid and took out his sandwich. He snorted as the inevitable birds came off their perches to be closer to the food.

"How could you love these things?"

"Do not even start. They are beautiful creatures."

"More like rats with wings." Rodney said while chewing.

“Oh, “rat’s with wings,” he says." He throws a hand up. "Bah! They are nothing like some rat." He pointed into his palm." They are docile and affectionate creatures who have contributed more to civilization than any other species of bird." He held said finger up, "They can be trained to tell the difference between Bach and Stravinsky you know.” He gesticulated wildly, “But of course, people complain about them, call them rats. We are the ones that brought them here! And yet we forget and treat them like nothing. But they remember even if we don’t. They are intelligent animals who do not fear us because we domesticated them.”

Rodney opened the sack and sifted his hand through the small seeds."I love it when you get wound up."

He knew that man would pull back, eyes lighting up, a dimple-popping smile spreading over his face because Rodney didn’t say such things often and the thing was he loved it when Rodney got wound up too. It was just how they were, how they would always be. Rodney threw a handful of birdseed and watched the birds peck and coo.

He could see the man on the bench smiling down at them, holding his hand out to pet one, the backs of his fingers rubbing gently up its neck. "Jsi můj oblíbenec."

"That is disgusting," Rodney said fondly.

He scowled. "Rodney, they are less disgusting than humans."

"Yeah, well, I don't like those either."

Rodney smiled as he said it. He could see the man chuckling at him, eyes crinkling on the sides as they closed lightly.

Rodney finished his sandwich and sighed, wiping the crumbs off toward the group of happy birds. His throat tightened as he zeroed in on one with a bar wing pattern. Two perfectly symmetrical solid black stripes across each one. He spread a pile of seeds next to it. His hand moved slowly, making sure the bird was aware of his intent. He gently ran the back of his fingers up its iridescent green and purple neck. The pigeon cooed happily as tears welled up in his eyes.

"You would have been Radek's favorite."

As always, I would like to thank @all-mighty-yaoiyuri ​ The Czech who checks my Czech. (ᕗ-^▿^)ᕗ ❤

More Notes:

Not going to lie, I cried several times while writing this, like, I am talking bawling my eyes out crying. And just so everyone knows, Radek died of old age, he did not suffer in any way and got to spend the rest of his life contributing to science and bickering with the man he loved the most.

Translations:

Už bych tě vyhodil z okna: I'd throw you out the window.

I když myslím, že ještě není pozdě: Although, I don't think it's too late.

Jsi můj oblíbenec: You're my favorite.

[kierancampire]

For the first time the girls upset me so much i had to just shut myself away from them for a bit. They do kinda annoy me a bit in the kitchen, like, if i am in the kitchen they'll scream at me cause they want to go on the counter and endlessly jump/attempt to jump up there, and no matter how much i remove them or tell them no, they both do it endlessly the entire time I'm in the kitchen. And cause i was prepping some pork today which is intensive anyway and would mean i couldn't touch them, i already was thinking of shutting them out of the kitchen anyway

But while i was in the shower, they jumped onto the counter then climbed behind my sink to get to the window, and i dunno if while up there someone walked by and scared them, if a cactus hurt them and they freaked out, or if they began fighting, but eitherway, yeah, they knocked over 2 of my plants, completely destroyed one cactus, and spilt soil everywhere in my kitchen

Okay one thing i wanna say after something Jayne said, i might complain about things the girls do but it doesn't mean i want to get rid of them, and i know they are kittens, kittens do these things, it's what i signed up for. But I'm just venting frustrations, that's all, i can't stress that enough, i can handle them, i adore them both, i wanted this, i play with them all the time, it just me venting when they do frustrating things. But yes, i saw this and they both came into the kitchen with me, and i just had to pick them up and shut them out as i just couldn't be around them for a moment. I hate being angry at them, i hate shutting them away from me, i hate that they didn't mean it but I'm still mad, and i hate that it's made me mad. But i have spent over 3 weeks telling them not to get onto the counter, and this was partially why, so it's frustrating it happened

I honestly cannot wait until Coraline *hopefully* reaches the age where she listens a bit, as I've not spoken about it, but there has been at least 2-3 instances every single day where Coraline does something, i tell her no, she doesn't stop trying to do the thing, then we're just stuck in that loop until she gives up or moves onto something else. Like, words online don't get across how literally constant it is, and how it is literally every day, i love her but it's like she's constantly trying to hurt herself intentionally and me saying no makes her want to do it more. And I'm not saying she did this, as Ember coulda done it, but over 3 weeks of telling Coraline off and her literally never listening not only is grinding, but i hate that i just am constantly telling her off as it makes me feel like a dick, but as always, it's for her safety and that's what makes it so frustrating when she refuses to listen

Like, i have had Roxy who could be bad with food, but Coraline is on another level. If i told Roxy no once, she listened, but take yesterday for instance, i set Coraline down 4 times and even genuinely raised my voice at her in anger, she stopped for literally less than 30 seconds before going for my food again. And again, Roxy would just sit in one place and try to swipe it, but Coraline? She literally circles my plate, she jumps to jump over my arm and onto my plate, she climbs on me to try from a higher vantage. So like, not only am i constantly setting her on the floor repeatedly and telling her no repeatedly while eating, but my arm literally ends up hurting from holding it up for so long and moving it around so much as Coraline circles mey plate, climbs me, and tries jumping over me to reach my food. Nothing i do gets her to stop, we do this repeatedly yet she doesn't give up, and she is just so much worse with it than any animal i have had before. Again, just through words it is hard to get across just how bad it is, then there will be at least one other instance that day, usually 2, of Coraline trying to take her own life or destroy things, that you also have to do that same cycle with, every single time, every single day. I play with them all the time, they play with each other all the time, have loads of toys, stimulation, i just don't get why Coraline is this bad and Ember isn't

[retrosun]

Free Food

Sherlock Holmes: a name I’ve been hearing constantly. The question I have is why does he receive all the praise in the world? Surely there is a real detective more worthy of praise. It’s always been odd to me how we praise fictional characters but often forget to celebrate the true heroes. At this exact moment I’m standing in front of a newspaper stand in which all the tabloids are using my name as synonymous with his. I can assure you I am no Sherlock Holmes. I am no super sleuth who can look at a crime scene and automatically know the answer. If I’m being completely honest I’m not even a detective; I’m a bumbling idiot who just happened to solve a crime. 

It all started a few days back, probably a week at this point. I left my apartment and headed for work, as usual. I’m 19, fresh out of high-school straight into the workforce. I work at this small office building, nothing special, I do on-call translations. It's not great money but it keeps me alive. Anyways as I was headed down the street I came across a flier for an art gallery. Nothing struck me as odd about the flier; I’ve never been big on art so I just assumed it was some small local artist. The flier said free admission as well as complimentary appetizers. 

It was later that day after I finished work when I went to the gallery. Before I tell you the next part of the story I must first preface with the fact that I know almost nothing about art so at the time I assumed everything was normal. I entered the gallery. It was a sleek white building, everything was clean and polished exactly how I imagined a gallery would look. When I entered they made me sign some sort of waiver, I honestly still don’t know what that was. I had thought it was standard procedure but looking back—it probably wasn’t. The first thing I noticed when I entered was that the place was rather empty aside from a few people who I could only assume were the artists standing near different exhibits. But the gallery had just opened so I thought maybe I was just early. 

Shortly after my arrival a few more patrons arrived which certainly helped to calm my mind. The thing that kept me on edge was the art. All of the art was these horrific gory monstrosities. Paintings of people dying, their bodies mutilated and torn, sculptures of deformed figures and most disturbing the realistic sculptures of organs. I’m not too sure if they really were sculptures. I’ve never considered myself a squeamish individual but this gallery really got to me. The quiet pitter patter of blood dripping, the bones snapped at odd angles, and the deformed faces… all of it made my stomach turn.  As I walked around I passed by the artists but not once did I see any of them move. None of them talked anymore or walked around, I’m not even sure if they blinked. They all just stood there with these huge smiles on their faces. It was one of those smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. The disingenuine creepy kind. 

The other patrons didn’t seem bugged by any of this so it seemed to me that it was all part of the exhibit. The food was just okay but it was free so I wasn’t going to complain. Despite the glaring red flags the gallery seemed normal I didn’t notice anything that seemed like it wasn’t planned. All of the creepy aspects must have been part of the gallery theme. That's what I kept telling myself at least until I got lost in the gallery. The gallery was supposed to be open for around 3 hours this night only, which seemed like plenty of time to me since I had gotten there just as it opened. After wandering for a while I checked my watch only to discover that 3 hours had already passed. 

I looked and started heading towards the exit but I quickly discovered that I'd wandered much farther than I thought possible. It seems almost insane that I didn’t notice the time and the lack of people. I’ve never been incredibly observant but I had never missed anything so obvious before. I stumbled around for a while following one wall hoping that eventually it would lead me to an exit. No such luck. I found myself at a dead end and as I turned around, the lights shut off. Which meant that I’d officially overstayed my welcome. I picked up my phone to call the police. Of course I wouldn’t be so lucky as it turns out I had no service. I guess it’s my fault for getting the cheapest provider. At this point I decided wandering is my best bet if I can find a door that was left unlocked then I’m home free. 

As I walked, nothing seemed familiar. You’d think I ought to have seen some of the art seeing as I was here for 3 hours but for the life of me I can’t remember seeing any of this art. This art felt more… personal like the faces were begging for help. Now maybe this wouldn’t have struck me as odd if the building didn’t look so small from the outside. I walked up the left side and entered through the front so I saw the entire building. After the fact I went back and checked and it was exactly as I imagined. There was no possible way the building could have accommodated a hallway so intimidating. 

I could have sworn that some of the heart sculptures pulsed, that some of the eye paintings blinked at me. That room was alive and none of that art was real: that I’m sure of. But of course to you this must seem like the ramblings of a mad man. You must think that finding all those dead bodies shook me so deeply that I can no longer form proper thoughts. That my mind made up these stories just to help this situation make sense, and maybe it did. Maybe I never did go to this art exhibit. All my subsequent research shows that it never existed in the first place. But one thing I can assure you is that I’ve never been more certain that something is real than the moment I met Annabel. 

Annabel Walker, the missing girl I happened to stumble upon, my so-called claim to fame. My story doesn’t play well with the one they run in the papers. In the papers they say I happened upon a locked door where I heard a scream. When I went to open the door the kidnappers panicked and killed themselves. Inside I found Annabel, rescuing her and saving the day. Of course, that's not what happened. She was there in the museum. Deep in one of the corners curled up in a little ball. Annabel was the girl I met at the entrance: the one who made me sign a waiver.  

I approached her as she was the first human I had seen in hours, my only hope of salvation. I went over and tapped her on her shoulder. She turned around and stared at me with the same eerie smile as the artists. Without a word her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist and her smile grew. Her hand was cold, an unnatural cold, as if all the blood had been drained from her body leaving nothing but an empty husk. She stands up and begins to tug me along, at this point I’m at a loss and following her seems like my only option. I mean my choices were to either follow her or wander around like a chicken who lost its head.

Not a word was exchanged as we traveled deeper and deeper into this hellscape, no light could be seen, I could hardly make out the path ahead of us. All I could see were dark stains covering the walls and floor. It was probably blood but in my delirious state I convinced myself that it was paint, we were in a museum after all. If it wasn’t paint then my shoes were certainly stained in blood and that was not a reality I was keen on facing. We traveled deeper and deeper with no end in sight. At some point I thought that maybe I ought to run, but when I tried to pull away her grip was unyielding. 

It was then we arrived at the room, the room where the report says I found Annabel. 

The room where… 

I’m sorry I need a moment. 

I just.. 

The room, that room… Annabel stopped outside and released my hand. She wrenched the door open and went inside. When I tried to follow I found the door swiftly locked. So I just stood there and I waited, and waited, and waited. I sat there for almost an hour. It was as if I expected something to happen, maybe for her to come out and take me home, or for me to wake up from this nightmare. If only I were to be so lucky. The room was silent, I pressed my ear up against the door hoping to hear something. But all I got was silence, not even the sound of Annabel moving about. I thought maybe she had escaped through another door leaving me to die. 

After a moment of having my ear to the door I felt it give way and swing open. you’ve all seen the image… It's been everywhere in the photo of the crime scene. Six men all massacred, their bodies mutilated and twisted beyond any natural state. It was so horrendous that I simply couldn’t tear my eyes away, and in the center of all the chaos sat Annabel Walker covered head to toe in blood. 

Sat by her side were paint brushes and tools for sculpting. I made direct eye contact with her as she lifted a paint brush and began painting in their blood. She painted a big smile right across the center of the room. It was then I had the sickening realization that their bodies look like the sculptures in the exhibit, that this room was  like an installment in the museum. 

I sat there stunned for a few minutes watching her create her depraved art, twisting and turning their bodies, ripping out organs. She operated with such ease, as if she’d done this hundreds of times before. The sound was the worst part, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. The image may fade but the sound, that horrible squelching sound, the crunch of bones, the wet noise of her traipsing around in blood. 

Once I gathered my bearings I saw that my phone was back online and I called the police. They arrived a few minutes later, of course by then Annabel had sat down and began to cry. I was too stunned to say anything, not as if they would have believed me.  Although you must think I’m insane. You must be wondering, how could a girl as small as Annabel do such a thing? I have the same question. I know what I saw and I know what she did. Every interview I’ve been forced to do with her makes my entire being squirm. Seeing her face, having to sit next to her and act like a hero, I despise every second of it. The only thing that still bothers me is the fact that she left me alive. I’d rather not question a blessing. 

This interview took place a week before Aliester Prince was found dead in his London apartment. 

[leclerc-s]

i did something bad - part five

PRE-SEASON SHENANIGANS + THE BAHRAIN VICTORY

masterlist//previous//next

PRE-SEASON TESTING 2024

redbullracing smiles and joy all around as pre-season testing begins in a few days!

tagged: maxverstappen1, teaganhorner, charles_leclerc

view all comments

username the trio we needed

username LET'S GO!!!

username i've never been more excited for an f1 season than i am right now

username charles is glowing, he looks happier than ever.

teaganhorner why is charles sitting like that?

↳ charles_leclerc must you bully me all the time?

↳ maxverstappen1 bullying is her love language, ask christian.

↳ charles_leclerc i'm just supposed to walk up to christian and ask, 'hey does your daughter love to bully you?'

↳ maxverstappen1 yeah pretty much

there was a shift in energy in charles since he’d signed with red bull, everyone could see it. charles looked happier and like he held less weight on his shoulders. it had been an adjustment for everyone, not just charles, they had all been used to checo and his energy. they worked well together, the monegasque had even brought coffee for everyone on his first day. he told max it was to make a good impression on everyone, but they all knew the charming man simply had to smile and give them puppy eyes and they’d all be enamored by him.

there was no doubt everyone missed checo, but charles filled the checo-sized hole in the team nicely. he worked great with max and he got along with everyone on the team. it also helped that the monegasque spent many nights with engineers and mechanics helping with the car’s development.

max constantly complained about everyone preferring charles over him. teagan and christian simply laughed at him, telling him that it was simply charles’s personality to have everyone like him. max huffed but he knew it was true, he never thought he would like charles after their shared inchident or austria 2019, but somehow he did. charles leclerc was, in max's words, like mold, he grew on you after some time.

of course it was difficult for charles to get used to the way things ran with red bull. here he was allowed to speak up whenever he didn't like something and people would actually listen to him. with ferrari is was different, if he spoke up they never listened, it was refreshing to be surrounded by people who would listen to him and his opinions. no one at the red bull factory knew how bad it had been until they sat together for lunch one day.

it was christian who had started conversation with charles, "so, charles, how are you liking it here? any problems so far?"

charles smiled, "everyone here is a good listener. it's refreshing to have people listen to you. and no, no problems. unless you count that time max forced a red bull down my throat."

"i didn't force it," max muttered, "i just find it weird that you now work for red bull yet won't drink one."

"i prefer coffee," charles rebutted, "seb tried that one time too, it did not end well."

checo laughed, he had joined them for lunch that particular day, "i believe this was the day you were seen running after him with a water bottle?" charles nodded, "we both got in trouble for causing a scene. it was worth it."

"did people not listen to you before?" questioned teagan, while pushing her food to the side.

"non," the monegasque answered, "only sometimes. most of the time they listened to me when it was convenient for carlos. there was also all the times i took the blame for their mistakes. it was instructed by pr to not make them look bad."

"well, we take driver opinions seriously here," christian told him, "because we are not the ones driving the car, you are. it's important to have your opinion otherwise how will we know if the car is underperforming?"

"we won't blame you for team errors on or off track here. we know when to take the blame," teagan reassured, "ferrari is too stuck in the past, that is why it hasn't won a driver or constructors championship since kimi."

"i understand, but i like it here. i hope i am not making anyone's job to hard."

"i think i've had the hardest job," teagan said. christian turned to look at his daughter, "and what job is that?"

"getting charles to stop speaking italian," she joked causing laughs to erupt from everyone at the table.

location: monaco

daniel ricciardo CHECO! YOU WERE IN MONACO AND MILTON KEYNES TO VISIT BUT YOU DIDN'T COME SEE ME?

checo perez i'm sorry? we only grabbed lunch, both times.

daniel ricciardo ONLY LUNCH? THIS IS FUCKING BETRAYAL!

teagan horner you snooze you lose ricciardo

daniel ricciardo I WILL TELL EVERYONE WHO YOU’RE DATING HORNER! DON'T TRY ME!

checo perez we can grab dinner?

pierre gasly RED BULL SQUAD DINNER!

liam lawson squad is such an old person word to use. we use fam now.

teagan horner liam, don’t. pierre will actually take it seriously.

teagan horner BRING KIKA AND LILY!! I KNOW THEY’RE IN TOWN YOU MUPPETS!!

teaganhorner when the plans make it out of the groupchat

tagged: maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, lilymhe, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, liamlawson30, yukitsunoda0511, schecoperez

view all comments

📍teaganhorner not tagging the boyfriend because you people are detectives and i want my soft launching to continue. i haven't had this much fun since max and i started up those dating rumors.

username this is such a weird group to grab dinner together. like i understand most of them but pierre and alex?

↳ username former red bull drivers plus they’re all friends

landonorris and i wasn’t invited because?

↳ teaganhorner because it was a red bull/former red bull dinner. you are neither.

↳ landonorris just say you don’t like me and i’ll understand

↳ pierregasly she said you were annoying

schecoperez it was nice to see you guys again!

↳ teaganhorner we miss you already! come pack please.

aussiegrit take a look at this sebastianvettel, i guess we just weren’t invited?

↳ alex_albon you’re both in the groupchat? you saw our plans?

↳ charles_leclerc neither of you are in monaco

username THERE’S A RED BULL GROUP CHAT?

↳ username THAT’S SO ICONIC! I WOULD SELL MY RIGHT KIDNEY TO BE APART OF IT

lilymhe i would like everyone to know that the baseball cap picture is from the morning after.

↳ username the morning after? girl what were you people doing?

↳ teaganhorner we may have thrown a second going away party for checo that was just us

↳ aussiegrit and we weren’t invited? wow.

↳ danielricciardo again, you and seb aren’t even in monaco.

BAHRAIN 2024

redbullracing IL PREDESTINATO EMERGES VICTORIOUS IN BAHRAIN! IT'S A RED BULL 1-2 TO KICK OFF THE SEASON!

view all comments

username LET'S FUCKING GO!!!

username i have come to the realization that i wasn't a ferrari fan, i was a charles and seb fan. with seb no longer on the grid, i am back to my roots, a red bull fan. LET'S GO CHARLES!!

username WE'RE BREAKING THE MONACO CURSE THIS YEAR!!

username i haven't been this excited for an f1 season since 2016

username genuine question as a new f1 fan, why is everyone saying it's so unlike max to let charles overtake him. it seemed like a thing teammates would do. also, what the fuck was up with ferrari? they looked like they were trying to punt the red bull's like a fucking football.

↳ username we're just speculating but it seems like carlos and giovinazzi were given team orders to crash into charles. this is based on how they were acting. opening lap giovinazzi ends up behind charles somehow and turns into him. charles got lucky and was able to get away from him. as for carlos, he did the same as his teammate only this time it was from behind, and charles almost lost control of the car. there's a radio moment where charles calls him dickhead.

↳ username as for the max thing, brazil 2022 is a good example of why max's behavior was so strange to everyone this week. however team strategy may have prioritized max, charles was running in 2nd for most of the time. however, when ferrari's strategy became clear they prioritized charles and put max on defense. a red bull 1-2 was better than 1 podium and a dnf, because the way it was looking, ferrari wanted to dnf charles.

¡leclerc-s speaks! i am by no means a race engineer so i have no fucking clue how race strategies but i live in delusion. this is my fanfic and things work the way i say they work because this so much fun. i worry about the actual facts if it ever becomes my job (it won’t) also i fucking suck at photoshop so any pictures of charles winning will probably be of max or checo so let’s just ignore that. or i’ll probably use charles pictures so we can just imagine he’s in a red bull suit.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[pen-observing]

Hi! If you will have any inspiration about this

What do you think would be little things that brothers would bring you as courting you? As like birds or penguins with rocks and sticks?

Thank you 💜

sjdaj this was fun! i did have an image of lucifer bringing feathers as a meme in my mind for a sec

what the brothers bring you while courting you/wanting to impress you:

Lucifer:

He is what many would consider to be a classic idea of a man. Tall, dark, handsome with refined taste. Because of this he tries to be refined in what he brings you as well. Why should you two not share such traits?

Lucifer because of this relies on the extravagant, classic choices. Most of all – jewelry.

Rings, necklaces, bracelets – everything he sees while out on an errand that catches his eye.

He also tries to match some items with you. He has a golden pen, why shouldn’t you have one as well?

However, one thing that gets in his way is that: no matter how strong his impulse to buy or obtain rare jewels is – he cannot always give them to you.

He overthinks it.

‘if I give them two rings two weeks in a row, would that be too much? Would they then spend money to buy an outfit that matches it? Would the gifts lose their meaning if I don’t space them out? If I continue to give them so many gifts, they would feel responsible to return them so they would spend more money on me and we both know that I am the one who has more money so--’

All these thoughts come to him. Sometimes Lucifer even thinks that your pride would be hurt if he gives you jewels so often.

He tries not to go overboard but he knows that there is a whole desk drawer of little boxes just waiting for the right time to go to you.

Mammon:

No matter how much Mammon may chase gold and sparkles – he is no Lucifer and there is no way that he can just rely on jewels.

Sure, on very special occasions he manages to surprise you with them and that does make it more meaningful.

Mammon puts aside everything else and actually gets a job whenever your birthday is close.

So what else could be bring you?

He is well aware of how birds bring branches or rocks – how sometimes they even spend so much time flying high above and continuously dropping walnuts for others on the road until they crack. His approach is similar.

When you have issues or need to open something – he always offers himself.

It is a bit silly but being there for someone counts.

Besides this – every trinket that he sees somehow ends up in your room

Plushies, fun masks, nail polish that matches his, a leaf that fell in his hair while he was sleeping under a tree and dreamt of you.

He also brings postcards, magazines, photos you might enjoy.

Once he brought you a heart shaped stone and bragged about how his keen eye managed to observe it in the clean river!

Something in every corner of your room will be adjacent to him.

“What if I brought you branches?” “What?” “Nothing!”

He just wanted to ask!

Leviathan:

Lucifer is impulsive in buying just one thing, Levi, however, is impulsive all around.

And that impulsivity goes in many directions.

He is able to use and calculate all his Akuzon points to make sure that you get 10 products instead of just 1.

He takes it very, very seriously.

Sometimes he buys you way too many snacks, other times he orders 5 costumes

Often his courting relies on the thought; what if we shared this!

His mind says that the more you have in common the better match you are.

This is why he brings matching keychains or slippers or even computer backgrounds and mousepads.

He still knows that ‘matching’ does not fully count but it really warms his heart when he sees that you are willing to share and indulge in those small things that would not really matter to others.

It gives him a confidence boost and reassures him that you are in fact open to him.

However, something still has to be yours alone.

Yours alone, from his hands and he needs to make sure of that.

Levi does bring you pearls like penguins do.

And he did in fact spend a long time underwater making sure he brings the best ones.

Just... never show him the video that trended of a female penguin cheating on her partner in the human world.

Satan:

Satan, no matter how much he tries to deny it, is in many ways similar to Lucifer.

He might dress the way he does but he tries to be a classic gentleman in this regard.

He does bring jewelry too – however he never brings it without a deeper, more profound reason.

‘so what if this ring is rare? What does it matter to them? Nothing.’

He has to hear you say it is very pretty to give it to you.

The necklace needs to remind him of your eyes or he is not buying it at all.

Because of this – he is very picky so few gifts are of this nature.

What else does he bring?

Satan writes you notes all the time.

Sometimes they are there to remind you of water or meals, other times they are short quotes.

In fact, he brings you annotated books; lines that remind him of you; quotes of feelings he knows thanks to you.

He brings you parts of himself and looks for parts of you in everything.

This is his idea of courting.

And don’t be surprised to get letters (wax made by him) under your door even if you live close by.

Asmodeus:

Unlike the others, Asmo has no problems with giving you whatever his own impulse says to.

Why should he hide these 2 perfumes that he bought thinking of you and wait for 3 weeks to present them to you?

No, do it right then and there because your heart felt the love or do not do it at all!

Because of this, his impulse costs a lot. Only second to Lucifer.

Asmo wants to give you luxurious things but he knows that jewelry alone can get boring rather fast and is limited by time and fashion and practicality etc.

So he gives you luxury in everything.

New lines of fragrance are yours as well as his, new skin care products that few humans can buy just show up at your door.

Does he also give you framed photos of him? Yes

Does he give you best silk? Also yes.

Why should the two of you not enjoy these things? You deserve it after all.

Still, Asmo is very sentimental too.

He gifts you photo albums of things that make him feel so. Memories of trips and walks; of sleepovers and quiet nights as well.

Yes, luxury is there but this small pretty pen is cheap and has hearts on it! He simply has to give it to you!

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub knows the ‘proper’, ‘correct’ or expected ways to court someone.

He knows what gifts others give and why.

But, all of that seems slightly...like vanity or showing off to him.

It just wouldn’t feel right to give you a framed work of art or color stones that glimmer if it does not really awake something.

His gifts are as gentle as him.

Yes, food is the most obvious choice but he really does worry if you are eating well because humans are fragile.

Flowers that he sees in shops or on walks.

While once walking with Luke he saw some and said how pretty they would look on you. Luke taught him to make flower crowns for that reason.

Most of his gifts are handmade.

He wants to help you on his own no matter what.

The most consistent gifts however are those that you said you needed.

Doesn’t matter when you said it or how, maybe it was just a passing thought, but he remembers and he gets them for you.

Belphegor:

it wouldn’t be wrong to say that he manages to mix up all of these ways and refuses to settle down on just one type.

This is because he is similar to Beel.

Beel gives you thinks you said you needed; Belphie gives you those you did not even notice.

He is constantly observing you and being as smart as he is – nothing escapes him.

You don’t have to complain how you grew bored of your boots or how annoying those headphones are.

He just notices it and gives you new ones.

Sometimes he looks at you during a party in Diavolo’s castle and things that a necklace is missing and would actually be useful in the future as well; so, he buys it.

Books for assignments you are not aware you will need next year find their way to your table. Yes, it is a year but he is a published Devildom scholar so trust him with this.

Paintings, matching rings with stars, a keychain of some small alien from a human TV show etc.

He treads the lines of outlandish with luxury and simple.

Seeing you surprised no matter what because you never mentioned these things always brings him joy.

a/n: how tf do you spell jewelry is it this or jewellery or i hate his word pls

[absolutelyfizzing]

angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.  

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.