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ireadwithmyears · 2 months

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How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind.

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself.

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too.

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away.

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching.

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck. “Are all I want.”

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time.

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features.

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained.

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly.

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room.

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

Echo🩷

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head.

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way.

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over.

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed.

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love.

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important.

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat.

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

Wrecker🩷

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified.

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow.

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand.

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement.

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things.

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing.

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic.

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional.

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

Crosshair🩷

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is.

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest.

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove.

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot.

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat.

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream.

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you.

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours, allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

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ghostieyanyan · 4 months

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Is it ok if I can ask for a yandere Rollo Flamme? I like the idea of Rollo because he’s already based off a yandere villain so it makes sense. And I think Rolli would like to get close to Yuu cuz they don’t have any magic so they’re seen as ‘pure’ in Rollo’s eyes. Maybe Rollo can be seen trying hard to control his urges at the fireplace or he captured MC and tried to burn them at the stake like in the movie? Your choice.

hehehe... why not just add salt to injure? what if mc has pyrophobia, a fear of fire?

~Let the fire purify you~

Yan!Rollo x Pyrophobia!Mc

Warnings: Fire, burning, kidnapping, anxiety attack, chains, gag, breakdown,

~~~

Rollo hated magic... with a passion. A passion that burned so bright that hurricanes, rainstorms, floods, and tsunami together couldn't extinguish this flame of pure hatred.

How does no one sees the danger of magic? How many lives have to be taken in the hand of magic for people to understand this is a problem? He guesses that its one of humanities sin, playing dumb, playing ignorant, until it becomes someone they care about that gets hurt. its always like that... why could people just see things through his lenses BEFORE someone got hurt...

But for now, he just has to do gods work for everyone else, until they see things his ways...

He had a plan. a plan that will solve this problem before it could get worst. The plan to get rid of magic, from one of the most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, to the student "prodigies" of that sick, sinful school, to the townsfolks of Fleur city, to every inch of Twisted wonderland.

With this crazy plan, he'll make, no, he'll force everyone to see how he sees life should be. he didnt care on who got hurt-

until-

he met Night Raven College's gem in the rock, their Perfect. When all the students were introducing themselves, when it was your turn. He swore the world stopped and he would have swore on his life that he saw wings and a halo on you. You looked, spoke, and acted like an angel. you even allow these sinful... beasts... breathe the same air as you. then you have an ACTUAL beast as a familiar. don't tell grim that.

your heart and soul must be made out of pure gold. he has to protect it at all cost. he will use his own body to shield you from magical blast and then some to keep your purity in tact. he will move mountains and redivert lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans for you. Rollo Flamme will make you into his deity that he worships.

All the students decided to split into groups and explore Fleur City, after they got changed.

to say Rollo thought you looked breathe taking in your glorious masquerade outfit was an understatement. he was about to come up to you and compliment you, maybe even starting small talk with you but a certain lizard decided to be the first to do so...

Of course that monster would be charmed by an angel like you. Evil loves to tempt with good.

no matter, he'll just have to see you another time but if he gets too busy..? He'll make time for you.

Rollo lead you into his office, you didn't mind too much because he was telling you all about the school's history and art. it is a really pretty school, it gives very romantic feelings.

when you finally made it into his office, you froze at the doorway at seeing the fire place. Rollo quickly notices and puts out the flame with a very helpful near by bucket. You were grateful that Rollo was very accommodating to your fears.

you thanked him and sat down across from him while Rollo sat in his chair.

"I'm very sorry for asking you to meet me at this ungodly hour but i just needed your input on something and if i didn't ask you, i would have had a sleepless night tossing and turning." Rollo said as he got everything on his desk organized.

"hehe, its alright. I just happen to have a restless night myself.. but i don't mind the company."

"oh my that sounds awful. what seems to be troubling you?"

"w-well.."

It was really hard to tell someone you only just recently met that you had a "bad feeling" about something and how so far, in twisted wonderland, its always comes true...

"well.. i think... maybe, its just the 'sleeping at a new place' feeling and I'm just not getting use to it. but I'm sure its fine. heh.."

"hmm.."

Rollo seemed satisfied with that answer and continues, by leaning towards you on the desk.

"i know i asked you about this before, but id like to discuss it with you more in depth... hmm?"

since Rollo put out the fire place, there was only a small lamp on the desk to shine light in the room. you kind of wished that the fire place was still lit... cause everything in this scenario was telling you to run and never look back..

"o-okay..? what would you like to know..?"

Rollo smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"as a magicless student in a full school of magical.. mages, aren't you scared they might... turn and hurt you..?"

the way he worded that made you feel more unnerved.. you trusted your friends in Night Raven College. Even the ones that did try to hurt you, they still came to your defense and help and protected you when you needed them.. you trusted them with your life and having this man tell you "you shouldn't because they can use magic" was... laughable...

"no.. because they've earn my trust and I've earn theirs..!"

"Earned..?"

Rollo's face darkened as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in.

"I'm sorry Rollo. Thank you for your hospitality but i have to go."

you start walking to the door but stopped.

"with however you feel about magic, i wont sit down and let you disrespect them just because they possess a special ability and i don't. It doesn't make them less of a person. Magic or no magic."

you walked to the door but before you could even touch the doorknob, you feel a body press against your back, pinning you against the door. you couldn't even move, much less move the door.

"I'm sorry my sweet angel~... i guess.. I'll just have to show you myself then~"

you see a quick purple blur and then tightness around your throat. Rollo was using his signature purple and gold handkerchief to strangle you! you tried to struggle. you tired to jab your elbow into his chest but his uniform was too thick for it to do any good.

You started to feel light headed then everything you saw was slowly turning black. the last thing you saw was Rollo, and the insanity in his eyes.

you had so many questions...

why you? was it because you don't have magic so you were "easy"? aren't there other people in twisted wonderland without magic? you just happened to go to a school "for" magic users so of course you'll see it a lot.

what's so bad about magic? ya it almost killed you here and there but it also almost killed either the user or other people around you.. but afterwards everything would have been fine. Plus you didn't blame the magic for those situations. you couldn't even say you blamed the user. some deserved the blame.. but not everyone..

how did you get here..? probably from your big mouth, you should have been smart when you were talking to Rollo. he was already giving you weird vibes and you just had to make it worst

you had more questions but you knew none of them would get answered..

you started to slowly open your eyes..

where are you..? what's this sound..? why cant you move..?

you slowly looked around, you remember this place... Rollo showed you, with your friends. the big bell, the bell of Solace. you noticed that you were alone though..

you looked around some more, you looked out from where you sat on the floor. it was dark out but with an orange hue... was the sun rising..? what's going on?

you went to take a step, to look out but something stopped you. a cold hand..? no..? a chain?!

if you weren't fully awake then, now you are! the chain was short, at least 2 feet long from the floor, it was attached to both your ankles. you could only go so far out.

what happened?! what's going on?!?

you started breathing heavily, tears started to form. you felt so confused, so lost. someone, anyone, please hel-

"oh my dear! you're awake."

your blood became ice, you looked up to see an uncomfortably happy Rollo.. he had a basket of breads and fruits.

"i was so worried that you'll never wake up. I'm very happy you did~"

with a heavy chest, you spoke.

"what's going on, Rollo!? Why are we here? why am i-?"

"oh within time my dear angel~ we just have to wait for those flowers to do their miracles. in the meantime, eat. you've been sleeping for a while and-"

"flowers..? what are you-...? Rollo...."

you took a deep breathe to try to settle your nerves.

"Please, Rollo... I'm scared. please tell me what's going on."

he looks at you and sighed, placing the basket down on a near by table. He then walked over to you and sat beside you, motioning you to come closer to him.

You did. you don't really have a choice right now..

"I'm making our perfect little world my love~ our paradise~"

you looked at the man like he was crazy. he was, at this point. But he continues.

"the Crimson flowers, the one that looks like fire, the flowers i shown you when you toured the city, they have the ability to take a mage's magic until they are just magicless people.. like you."

you stared at him but he kept smiling.

"magicless.. like me..?"

"yes my dear, then everyone in this world would have to understand magic is like a poisonous weed that has to be pulled out. or it'll spread to the other crops."

you just stared. you couldn't bare to keep looking at him so you turned to look at anything else..

magicless like you... no.. this isn't right. this cant happened!

Rollo thought the conversation was over and sat up to get the basket.

"Before this started, i made sure to get some food. i thought you'll be hungry so-"

"...mon...ster..."

Rollo froze. he was facing the backet and didn't turn around.

"excuse me..?"

you stood up, leaning against the wall, as best as you could. You knew your big mouth was gonna put you in a tough situation again but- what were you suppose to do?

"you, Rollo Flamme, are a monster."

he slowly turned to you, his eyes screamed murder. even if your body is shaking, from fear, from anxiety, from anger, maybe all of them at once's, but you kept your eye contact with Rollo.

You knew a comment like that will hurt him. you knew you couldn't physically harm him but you just wanted to hurt him like he planned to do the same to everyone you cared for..

the silence was deafening.

Rollo took some slow steps to you and leaned down to your level.

"take. that. back."

"no. cause i didn't say anything wrong.."

you hear Rollo take a deep breath and he quickly snaked his hand to grab the nape of your neck. you let out a gasp, from the sudden movement. he straighten his posture and brought you to his eye level.

"it's seems that those... mages.. have filled you with their poison. I'll just have to purify you myself. don't say i didn't warn you, my angel.."

he dragged you to a window and made you look outside. the entire city was filled with those flowers but... the looks of those flowers... made it look like you were in the middle of a raging firestorm. you felt your stomach drop. you felt cold shivers, and you didn't even realized that tears were falling. when you looked more, you noticed that the "fire" was slowly climbing the tower you were in.

you were about to let out a blood curdling scream but you were stopped by Rollo tying that purple handkerchief into a makeshift gag for you.

After that, he threw you, face down into the ground. Your body was shivering from fear so intensely, to the point that it feels like you lost complete control over your body. you couldn't even fight back when Rollo tied your hands together.

"i, really, am sorry for this my sweet angel~ but i have to get rid of the poison that those mages put in you... you have to be purified."

Rollo walked off and came back holding a fireplace poker. it was glowing red and you could see smoke coming off of it. where he got that, you didn't know but your attempt to get away from him was met with a wall against your back.

you felt your head spin, you were trembling to no return, the hot tears wouldn't stop, and the makeshift gag he put on you was now soak with tears, saliva, and snot.

Rollo kept walking towards you, in an agonizing slow pace.

"don't worry, my angel love~ after this, all will be forgiven~"

when he went to grab your face, he-

"MC!!"

those are.. familiar voices.. you know those voices..

"tch.. i suppose your punishment will have to wait my love. apparently, ill have to finish these pesky mages off myself."

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monachopsis-11 · 5 months

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The infantilization of having restricted eating is crazy, I get treated like a kid on a regular basis by people who were treating me normal five seconds earlier just because of my sandwich order.

I have sat at a restaurant meeting while I was a hostess where all my coworkers laughed at how plain the food on the kids menu was and how kids had no taste and they were so glad they weren’t like that anymore. At the same job people questioned my orders when I got food at the end of a shift saying it was barely even the same thing anymore and wouldn’t I like something else? If I had wanted something else I would have asked for it, you don’t need to double check and use baby voice with me I’m fully capable of deciding what I eat.

I get judgmental looks and questions from people who take my food orders in public more and more often as I get older and it’s less socially acceptable for me to say no vegetables on things without being treated like a spoiled child who’s inconveniencing them. People look at me in surprise and ask if they heard right, scoff, roll their eyes etc. on a pretty regular basis.

When I need to send back food after someone makes a mistake on my order and I can’t eat it my family acts like they’re embarrassed of me and sometimes when I’m not paying they refuse to let me. I will go hungry every time and have been made to often as well.

For years school trips and meals with other peoples families were a terrifying ordeal and still give me anxiety. I was denied desert and sometimes the meal as a whole for not eating even though I asked what was being made ahead of time so I knew if I should eat before hand or bring something else and even knowing this people ignored it and changed meal plans to try and pressure me into eating more variety.

The worst part of all of this is that I wish I could eat everything other people can but sometimes the smell or look of food I don’t like on someone else’s plate is enough to make me feel sick, the thought of putting it in my mouth for any reason is unimaginable.

And maybe the whole “they’ll eat if they’re hungry enough” thing works at a certain point but I lived off beef jerky, raisins, and half a bagel for four days on a school trip where no one bothered to accommodate my eating restrictions and I would’ve gone much longer before eating what was offered.

I had a teacher who kept me in for six recesses in a row over me not trying a bite of food we cooked in class in third grade purely because they were annoyed and took it on themself to step into something that wasn’t their business.

I regularly get guilted and called out on my unhealthy diet and it hurts because I would do anything to be able to eat more foods, I hope that maybe I will in the future, but right now it’s not an option. I’m hoping if I find a good smoothie recipe I can get more fruits and vegetables in my diet but even then I won’t ever be in a position to just eat what is served and I shouldn’t have to endure judging and being treated like a child by random strangers who have no business in what I want the food I’m paying for to have on it.

It’s valid for adults to have restricted eating too, it doesn’t make us children, and it’s not a moral failing. It’s also not anyone else’s business.

#actually autistic #autistic experiences #late diagnosed autistic #invisible disability #actuallyautistic #autism #asd #autistic community #disability #restricted eating #sensory issues #food issues

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jaemmphilia · 1 year

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★ 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 ★ || b.c

★ summary: you're pretty happy that you and chan are friend's again. it brings you back to your childhood in austrailia. your feelings for chan remain, and you're surprised to find out that he feels the same when he helps you through an anxiety attack after someone tried to attack you.

★ characters: bang chan, cannon y/n (he/him pronouns, masculine frame)

★ warnings: a little bit of sad stuff, reader has another anxiety attack, mentions of a knife, chan comforts reader and gives him a kissy, its pretty soft and sweet, let me know if i missed anything

★ word count: 2.4K (2415)

★ requested?: yeah, by a whole lot of you my god

★ binnie's thoughts: i wasn't planning on making a part 2 for this, but based on everyone's demands for part 2...i decided that it wouldn't hurt to give you guys a nice ending after i caused you all so much pain 😘

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

★ 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵! ★

You’re pretty happy these days. You’re a successful idol who has the world in the palm of his hand, and things are going smoothly for you. Your best friend is back in your life, and you truly could not be happier.

Stay and your fandom, which are referred to as Craterz, were shocked to find out that you were so close to Chan, and most of them took the news well. Of course, there were a lot of Stays who were not so happy about the news, and they liked to let you know. They thought you were going to push your “homosexual agenda” onto their precious Channie. You don’t really understand why some fans act like they know their idols personally.

There was one time when you were filming the MV for your single, “i wanna be yours,” and a few Stay banded together to buy a protest truck and posted it outside your filming location. It surprised you more than anything. You are aware of Stay and the amount of love they have for Stray Kids, but you are also aware of how many of them are a little obsessed.

You didn’t let it get to you, because it wasn’t like you were dating Chan. You guys are simply just friends, nothing more and nothing less. Although you often wish you two could be more.

Your feelings for Chan never faltered, not even for a second. Even after he got upset with you all those years ago, you never felt any different about him. Even after he shook you into an anxiety attack that landed you in the ER and several years of therapy, you would never hold that against him. He was young and in love. You had to learn and adapt without him in your life, even if it pained you every day. You had gotten so used to him always being there by your side, it often had you waking up during the night in a cold sweat.

You hate your anxiety. You don’t like how people often have to accommodate you because of your anxiety. You see it as a massive inconvenience, and you wish you didn’t have it to begin with. There were many nights growing up where you would curl up into a ball and just shake as your brain kept running and running. You had trouble sleeping, you had trouble learning how to drive, and you had trouble making new friends.

After word got out that you were “mean” to the school’s princess, Vanessa, everyone turned their back on you. They blamed you for driving Chan away to South Korea. The same people you grew up with in grade school turned their backs on you, and you had never felt so alone in a world full of people.

But that’s all behind you now. You and Chan make plans to hang out anytime you both are free. You often receive a text from one of the other members of Stray Kids, claiming that their “father” is stressed out and has locked them out of his studio.

You know it’s your job as to get Chan out of that state. Tonight is no different.

You sneak out of your apartment and pick up some take away food for the two of you. You make your way to the JYPE building and ask one of the boys to let you in. Once they let you in and you’ve said your hellos, you make your way to Chan's studio. You just let yourself in, knowing Chan more than likely has his headphones on and turned up to max volume.

You stare at Chan’s back. He’s sitting up straight, his sleeveless shirt showing off the wide expanse of his back and shoulders. You notice his skin looks so much better when he’s not being aggressively whitewashed. His natural tan skin has always been one of your favorite things about Chan, you always liked the way his skin looked under the hot Austailian sun back home. Your eyes slowly roam down his back, landing on his waist. You like his waist and hips. He’s nice and wide in all the right places, and it makes you want to hold onto him and never let go. You wonder what his hugs feel like now, considering that he’s bulked up a lot since his teenage years.

You wonder what it would feel like if he just wrapped his muscular arms around your frame, giving you a gentle squeeze that rips a soft laugh from your chest.

“Y/N? Hellooo, is anyone home?” you hear Chan’s voice calling to you. You shake your head, realizing that you got caught staring at him. You feel your ears get warm with embarrassment as you smile softly at him.

Chan chuckles, slipping off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck. “You must’ve been thinking about something super important, huh?” he says, raising his arms to stretch, and his shirt rides up, showing the lower half of his stomach. You try not to stare at the light trail of hair going from his belly button down to the waistband on his underwear.

“Yeah, just thinking about having to film the MV for my title track,” you say, setting the food on the couch and then sitting down, “I’m a little nervous, it’s going to be totally different from my single.”

Chan nods and starts rummaging through the bag, already knowing that you ordered his favorite, “Yeah, I know the feeling. Filming jitters will always come and go, so don’t stress too much.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a sarcastic laugh bubbling in your chest. “You’re telling the wrong person to not stress. Stressing out is my superpower, Channie.”

Chan flashes you a smile as he shovels some food into his mouth, chewing before he talks again, “You’re right, I forget about your anxiety. You take medication for it, don’t you?”

You nod while grabbing your own food out of the bag, and you turn your attention back to Chan, “Yeah, I take it every day with food, but there’s times where the meds don’t feel like they’re working.” you explain as Chan takes in your words.

He’s familiar with anxiety. He may not know what it’s like to live with it, but Han and Felix often struggle with it. There’s been countless times where he’s had to try and calm them down before a show or interview.

“That’s gotta suck, mate. I admire you for sticking it out, though. You’re a strong guy, Y/N.” Chan says.

You look down at your food, trying to hide the goofy smile on your face. Chan admires you? Yeah, your heart is doing backflips in your chest cavity. You feel those pesky butterflies having a rave in your stomach, and you mentally curse at them to calm down.

“Thanks, Chan. That means a lot to me, really.” you say as you look at him, the two of you sharing smiles as you both chow down and talk until the early morning. You just so happen to miss the look on Chan’s face as he steals glances at you.

A few days later, you’re with your filming team at an abandoned location outside of Seoul. You are a little spooked by the location, but your manager reassured you that it’s totally safe. You don’t believe a word he says, so you have your phone ready to call Chan the second things start getting wild.

You’re sipping on some coffee, watching a playback of the scene you just shot. You’re impressed by your acting skills and you consider what it’d be like to star in a drama. You’re a little spaced out when you feel someone grab your arm. Your eyes go wide, thinking that a ghost has you.

You quickly realize that it’s not a ghost. It’s a human. And she has a good grip on you, and you notice something shiny and silver in her small hand. A knife. You panic as you try to get out of her grip all while dodging her attempts to stab you. You know you could easily overpower her, but your body feels like jelly. The staff around you try to pry the woman off of you, and you keep struggling as your body shakes with fear. The woman is yelling at you, and you catch Chan’s name a few times as she screams at you.

Of course. She’s a Stay who doesn’t like you just because you’re close to Chan. You think this is ridiculous, and you’re so scared for your life right now. The bodyguards get her off of you and they drag her away as she continues to threaten your life. You quickly get into your car, your driver asking if you want him to take you home, and you just simply tell him to take you to Chan. You don’t have time to worry about the shakiness in your voice, you’re more worried about trying to even out your breathing. You’re struggling to catch your breath, and your chest is beginning to burn. You feel lightheaded, your vision blurry with tears.

Once you arrive at JYPE, you don’t even bother letting Chan know that you were there. You just make a beeline to his studio, ignoring the various voices of the younger members calling out to you. You open the door and close it behind you, and the dam finally breaks. You slide down the door, bringing your shaky legs up to your chin. Tears are falling from your eyes like rapid waterfalls and Chan finally senses the body of another person in his studio. Chan had thought it was Jisung coming in to bother him, but Jisung would’ve been much, much louder.

He swivels around in his chair, his eyes widening as he looks at you. Curled in on yourself, your entire body shaking as you gasp for air. He takes off his headphones and jumps into action. He carefully makes his way to your side, his hand placed on your shoulder, his touch feather-light. He licks his lips, trying to find the right words to say.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, Bubs. You’re ok now, just breathe.” Chan’s voice is quiet and gentle. You freeze up a little when he uses your childhood nickname. He hasn’t called you that in years. No one else is allowed to address you by that name besides him.

You lift your head up and you lock eyes with him. He gives you a gentle smile, and you feel at ease for once. Your senses are filled with him, he feels and smells like home. You feel his large hand in your hair, carefully stroking the dyed tresses as he speaks to you. You focus on Chan’s voice, your body’s shakes reducing quickly. The tears have stopped, and your chest doesn’t burn as badly now that you can breathe.

“There you go, Bubs. Channie’s here for you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here.” He says, and it makes your heart hurt. He’s being so genuine, his touch and his voice lulling you into a state of peace.

The anxiety you once felt take over you leaves your entire being, the feeling being replaced by Chan. You’re in such a fragile state, your brain is so foggy. Neither you nor Chan have time to react before you both are locking lips on the floor.

The kiss isn’t anything crazy, just your lips molding together like a puzzle, the both of you closing your eyes as you kiss softly.

Kissing Chan is exactly how you dreamt it would be. His lips aren’t smooth, but they’re lightly chapped. His lips taste like peppermint chapstick, the cool burn feels nice on your own lips. You feel his hand cup your cheek as he leans in more, the kiss becoming more desperate. You feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and you don’t hesitate to part your lips for him. You feel his tongue rub against your own, the two of you swapping saliva.

Chan’s eyes shoot open as he realizes what he just did. He immediately feels guilty, what kind of person kisses their friend when they’re in such a fragile state of mind? He moves out of your space, making you frown.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, looking shameful.

You shake your head and reach out for him. Your throat hurts, but you have to let him know that you wanted him to keep kissing you. “Channie, I wanted you to kiss me. Hell, I’ve wanted you to kiss me ever since we were like, thirteen.” You confess, the desperation is clear in your tone.

Chan is surprised. You’ve liked him for that long? He has to admit, ever since the two of you became friends again, he often finds himself thinking about you. And not as a friend. He knows he’s attracted to you, the way you grew into a very attractive young man makes his brain go fuzzy.

He can’t help but feel like he took advantage of you while you were in such a fragile state of mind. But he can tell that you’re not upset with him just by the way you’re holding his hand so tightly, as if you’re afraid that he’ll disappear if you let go.

“Channie, don’t let me get my hopes up, I can’t go through heartbreak like that again.” You look up at him, your bottom lip being toyed by your teeth. “If you don’t like me like that, tell me now so I can move on.”

Chan takes a few seconds to think. He decides to take a chance, not really caring about the potential backlash of it all. Fuck it, he says to himself. He surges forward and captures your lips once again.

You end up staying the night with him at the Stray Kids dorms. The both of you have a serious adult conversation about starting a relationship. You decide to keep it between you two, not wanting word to get out. You offered to tell the rest of the boys, but Chan decided to wait a while for that. You agreed, just happy that he accepts your feelings.

You spent the night cuddled up close to him, your heart full of love for him, your brain plagued with thoughts of him and your future together. All you can hope for is a happy life with him by your side.

#binnies req #bang chan x reader #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #male reader #skz x reader

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pjisskullourful · 6 months

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in honour of this happening at my gig(its for me, save your breath telling me it aint cos it is! they were in the same building as me. damithan supremacy is fucking real) imma post a little overdue something

my rainbow family halloween fic never came together, i had a cute idea but sometimes the fic dont fic. but yall can have the first 1k+ of what i did write, which includes a little secret i've been keeping from yall for the throuples future. please enjoy, i wish october had been nicer to me so i could have gotten this fic finished for yall

With nothing but Britney Spears to hear as you styled the long blonde wig, it almost felt like old times. You were reminded of spending a huge chunk of your paycheck on new wigs and spending practically every Saturday night at a live music venue, standing for hours in the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You remembered the extra concentration that had been put into styling the wig that you wore to surprise your boyfriends with your debut (and only) performance in drag.

The illusion of nostalgia was being routinely interrupted by your baby bump getting in your way. At thirty-three weeks pregnant, your movements had to be adjusted from the typical. That kept you from getting entirely lost in memories, along with the blinking baby monitor set up on your desk.

This wasn’t your first time working on this wig, you had been at it with the hairspray and curling iron many times during the course of this month. And it was almost perfect, almost ready to go atop Damiano’s head to complete his Lestat costume. For this year’s iteration of Victoria and René's famous Halloween parties, your boyfriends were dressing to match one another. They were channelling the leads from 1994’s Interview with the Vampire, with Ethan taking on Brad Pitt’s Louis.

You were going as one of their victims, with prosthetic, gory wounds ready to be glued to your body. The 1800’s dance-style dress you planned to wear would accommodate your tummy, as well as fitting the theme since you had gone at it with scissors and dark red paint.

You were interrupted from your work by the sound of your family returning home. Damiano, Ethan and the three kids were back from their excursion to a local pumpkin patch. You unplugged the curling iron, leaving it on the heat-resistant pad before easing yourself onto your feet. You collected the baby monitor before leaving the room, ready for the moment when Bowie awoke from his nap.

When you got downstairs you followed the voices of Ethan and Marsha, finding them in the family room. They were standing at the crafting table, which was currently dominated by the largest real-life pumpkin you had ever seen - it appeared to be three times the size of your head.

“You don’t think his name is Patrick?” He was asking of your daughter.

“No, that’s the name of the starfishies.” She replied, speaking as if this rule of hers was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right, well maybe this is a girl, a girl named Paula.”

She looked at the giant vegetable with her eyes narrowed, carefully studying it with this new information. Ultimately, she decided her dad was speaking the truth and nodded her head. “Paula the pumpkin.”

“That’s the most Paula-looking pumpkin I’ve ever seen.” You contributed your opinion as you walked closer to them.

“Hi Mama. Do you like the pumpkin Cosmo picked? I helped.” She said, perked up with pride.

“You guys did an amazing job.” You said. “You don’t need to keep that heavy jacket on now that you’re inside, Miss Thing.”

She fumbled with the combination of zipper and buttons on her winter coat. But she succeeded without assistance and pulled the garment off, handing it to you straight away.

“How about you go check if Papa needs any help making lunch?” Ethan suggested.

She left for the kitchen and you turned to look at your boyfriend, a displeased look on your face when you began to speak. “You got the smallest one they had, eh?”

“The kids picked it. What was I supposed to do- tell them that they picked wrong?” He asked.

“You’re supposed to redirect them.” You said. “Come on, we talked about this and we all agreed- no more pumpkins bigger than Moe. They’re gonna drive us nuts, asking every day for it to be moved around the veranda, or from the front veranda to the back, then the opposite.”

“I know, but you should have seen how excited he was, he was planning out all the cool things he would have space to add. I didn’t have the heart to stifle his creativity.” He said, clearly trying to win you over with his sweetness.

“You let my children run wild, Ethan.” You attempted to maintain your stern tone.

The expression on his face changed as he switched to the tactic of distracting you. “You smell like hairspray, have you been working on the wig again? I would love to see the progress.”

“Yeah, I bet you would.” You said sarcastically.

Before he could continue his facade, everything was interrupted by your son’s crying coming through the speaker you held. Bowie had woken up, providing Ethan with a great distraction.

He grabbed the baby monitor before you had a chance to react. “I’ve got him.” Swiftly he was disappearing out of the room and up the staircase.

You gave the large pumpkin another look. You were glad that this year you had an excuse to count you out of the three kids' consistent redecorating ideas. It got very tedious trying to keep up with them deciding, then re-evaluating the perfect spot for the heavy decoration.

By the time Ethan came into the kitchen with Bowie the toddler had stopped crying. You were sitting with the rest of your kids along the island, everyone enjoying their own serving of scrambled eggs. Damiano was making sure each child had the drink they wanted.

“He’s okay.” Ethan said of Bowie, who was looking around the room with bright eyes. “He just wanted us to know that he’s awake.” Ethan tapped him on his tiny nose.

The kids had been told that their crafting would begin once lunch was finished, prompting them to start asking as soon as Sylvia’s plate was cleared. They were made to wait until everybody was done, with Ethan the last one eating. He purposefully took smaller and slower bites, earning him theatrical groans from the three eldest.

Damiano took care of tidying up, leaving you and Ethan to get the various crafts prepared. For Cosmo’s pumpkin carving, Ethan laid some sheets from the newspaper onto the floor. The twins were easy to organise, they would be taking their textas to print-outs of pumpkins to be hung up in the windows. You picked out the pots of face-paint that had been purchased for you to help Bowie turn your pregnant belly into a festive pumpkin. You had some old towels on hand for the mess that was certainly coming your way.

He eagerly took one of the paintbrushes that you offered, once you were seated somewhat-comfortably on the floor. Your son turned away from you, uninterested in what you were doing at present. Wobbly steps took him over to where his siblings were gathered, around and on top of the newspaper in anticipation of Ethan bringing the pumpkin over.

“Hey Dada, what’s my star sign?” Cosmo asked, the horoscope section catching his eye.

Once Ethan answered this, the girls wanted to know theirs. This led to Ethan reading out the two horoscopes, which were peppered with words the kids didn’t understand, his explanations slowing the whole process down. Sylvia got bored first, leaving for the table where all of the colouring supplies were set up.

He and Cosmo were still drawing out their ideas on the pumpkin when Damiano came into the room. You were using a marker to create a guide for the painting on your skin while Bowie gave each of the brushes careful check-overs (some of the handles required a taste test). The twins were making the most progress, their markers quickly moving across the pages, their focus secured. Damiano checked that you didn’t need any assistance before stationing himself with the girls.

You wiped the handles of one of the brushes on the towel before dipping it into the orange paint. “Are you ready to paint, baby Bowie?”

He raised his brush into the air. “Pah.”

“Uh-huh.” You said. “You wanna help Mama paint this section, right here in the centre of her belly?”

He had a serious look on his face as he scooted closer to you, apparently ready to concentrate on the craft. You handed your brush to him and he took a long look at the thick orange liquid on the bristles. You feared that he would touch it to his face, or worse, try to eat it.

But he proved his skills, applying the bristles to the taut skin of your tummy. The paint felt slimy on your skin as he worked the brush up-and-down, seeming to understand that this was somewhat similar to when he painted at his baby easel. You were unbothered when some of his brush strokes partially went over your outline of an eye.

“Wow, that looks so good already.” You enthused.

He nodded his head as he accepted from you the alternate brush dipped in paint. “Good.”

He wasn’t the most gentle as he made contact with your skin, applying the paint over on your side. There was a method to how he worked, spreading the orange further across your tummy. There had been many attempts at trying to get him excited over the fact that you were growing a brand new baby in there. It was hard to tell how much he absorbed this information, but what you really cared about was that he was enjoying decorating your large belly.

“Okay, now push with your elbow until the blade of the knife goes all the way in.” Ethan instructed as he held his hand over Cosmo’s on the serrated knife.

Cosmo wore a look of great concentration, his brow furrowed as he sucked on his upper lip. He moved the knife carefully, pushing until more than the pointed tip disappeared into the real pumpkin. Ethan held the vegetable steady with his other hand as Cosmo kept working the knife in.

While colouring with the twins, Damiano had found a doll-sized cowboy hat. It was quite common to come across misplaced pieces of toys around your home, so he didn’t bother to question it. He balanced the tiny hat on the tip of his index finger, absentmindedly keeping it elevated.

This caught Bowie’s eye, taking his attention away from painting. He got to his feet and you had just enough time to take the messy brush off of him before he wandered away. He went directly over to his dad, reaching for his arm.

“Hey, little man.” Damiano enthusiastically greeted him.

“Hat.” Bowie said.

“Oh, is this yours?” Damiano asked, offering the small hat to him. “Are you a cowboy?” Damiano placed the miniature accessory atop Bowie’s head, towards the centre where it could be somewhat steady. Immediately he was giggling, not needing to see his reflection to find this funny. “It looks really terrific on you. It must be your hat because it suits you so well.”

Bowie whipped around to face you, the hat slipping off of his hair in the process. Damiano quickly remedied this, holding Bowie still with a hand on his shoulder until the hat was back in place.

#damithan is more real than the moon landing #damithan supremacy #rainbow family headcanons #avida would have this photo as her lockscreen

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rastrbl · 11 months

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pavitr headcannons !

don’t know his canon birthday, but i see pav as a sag sun, cancer moon, pisces rising, sag mercury, libra venus, and cancer mars

he really loves astrology but he uses vedic astrology instead of tropical

everytime he feels like he’s made a new friend or feels comfortable with someone, he IMMEDIATELY asks for the birth chart

he really loves video games, especially sonic

his fave character is amy :)

hobie and pavitr play any and every decision based game ever made (life is strange, until dawn, undertale, etc.)

gwen and pav have a minecraft world where they allow NO ONE else to hop into (they’re very territorial over this)

they build like these extravagant houses from the ground up

literally they built a skyscraper from the ground up in creative ?!

aside from this one server, pavitr mainly plays in survival with gayatri, miles, and hobie whenever he feels up to it

aside from the classics he grew up with, he really likes kpop and indie music

his ults are itzy, twice, and nct dream convince me otherwise

he doesn’t really listen to many soloists, but likes chungha, taemin, and sunmi

has definitely learned the wannabe choreo and flaunts that he can do the ryujin shoulder move CONSTANTLY 😭😭😭

it’ll be mid conversation and he just starts doing the shoulder move

outside of kpop though, he really likes clairo, alex sloane, hojean, niki, the nbhd, conan gray, hemlocke springs, and other artists in this soundscape

he gets so excited when he finds south asian indie artists

his love language is definitely acts of service and physical touch

this shows through a lot with the amount of times he’s cooked his cultural foods and baked pastries for the people in his life

he loves seeing people’s satisfaction after eating his food

gwen has definitely said some of his dishes were too spicy tho 😭😭

he accommodates her by making a smaller, less spicy dish for her whenever he cooks for gwen

aside from chai, he’s really good at making different teas and coffee

lattes, americanos, macchiatos, green tea, chamomile, you name it, pav can make it !

because of this, he’s been dubbed the group’s chef and barista

miles LOVES whenever pavitr decides to crash in his dimension because of his chai and green tea specifically

another way pavitr shows his love is by playing with peoples hair

if you let him, he’s just always trying to braid hair or just combing through it with his fingers

or with people with afro textured hair like miles, he’s always putting it in cornrows after he watched many tutorials on it

playing with gayatri’s hair is always the most relaxing to him tho

speaking of him and gayatri, they’re like couple of the year to his friend group in the spider society

“y’all are so cute, it’s kind of gross”

“but you and miles aren’t gross?”

“pav, we aren’t a couple”

“with the way y’all stare at each other, might as well be”

him and gayatri love going on dates where they’re in nature

picnics, hiking trails, wherever

if it’s a rainy day, they love watching studio ghibli movies or playing video games together

he still hasn’t mustered up the courage to tell gayatri he’s spiderman

sometimes his spiderman duties makes him miss plans with gayatri and he sometimes feels really terrible about it

he makes it up to her by baking her favorite pastries and doing her favorite things with her :)

he also likes making bracelets, necklaces, and rings for her

he got into jewelry making because of hobie teaching him

when him and miles get closer, he starts putting all the drawings miles gives him on his wall

he’s very sentimental with all the things his friends gives him

#pavitr prabhakar #pavitr headcanons #spiderverse pavitr #atsv pavitr #hobie brown #atsv hobie #gwen stacy #atsv gwen #gayatri mantra #atsv gayatri #miles morales #atsv miles #atsv headcanons #Spotify

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therhythmafterthesummer · 7 months

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I have pack logistics questions so pardon me if this is nerdy but I’m a certified lore whore. Also it’s long…just like Channie’s..nose😊

1) for camping/pack runs, if there a general meal planned established then do select members go shopping? Does cooking responsibility switch each time or does it stay pretty consistent?Or is it kinda all for yourself bring your own food(even if everyone ends up sharing?

2) does the entire pack take off ever every single full moon? Do some of them get special accommodations if it happens during the week? Do any of the boys get a bit moody if their partner can’t join them for midweek runs?

3) does the pack as a consensus on the best season to run on or is it individual? If so what?

4) do packs in this universe have anything to physically show/establish them as being apart of a certain pack? Easily I think like a ring or necklace, little more permanent would be like a tattoo.

5) do you think the pack would struggle once/if the moved into individual homes? Like I can’t see them living across town from each other, but I can imagine living that close for that long and then not smelling or sensing all your mates might be jarring to a wolf.

5) wolves have a LOT of pride. Is Chan’s response stronger than anyone else’s (besides a mate’s) when one of his packmates are disrespected or hurt? Think like if he heard someone calling Min a “halfbreed/mutt” or picking/threatening jisung or Felix because they are male omegas. How quick is his wolf to violence in those cases?

6) Do they jokingly call the extra rooms where they can ride out ruts and heats “horny jail”

7) Do the pack parents keep maybe like a rough schedule (or specific if the individual is comfortable sharing it)of cycles for everyone that way they could predict when tempers might be higher?

8) besides others they are romantically involved with, do the wolves think about themselves as packmates in a “this is my friend” way or a “this is my sibling way”? For our humans, since they don’t have a wolf in their brain do they truly feel part of the pack? Like when they really soak in the moment with all of them do they think “I love my pack” or do they think “I love my friends/siblings”?

-🥝( I probably should have split this into multiple asks)

never apologise for this!! i love these questions skjdfhsjkdf

they try to plan what they're gonna eat on their days there. so, yes. they'll make a list of items and a few of the pack members will go to the grocery store to get the items (it's usually jeongin + autumn + changbin, but they might rotate every once in a while if the three of them aren't up for it). sometimes they prepare the meals and take them already ready just to re-heat, other times they just take the groceries and cook there. if they cook beforehand, tasks are split between households. if they cook during the trip, it's usually felix cooking, but others help frequently because he refuses to cook alone for that many people (not like other pack members would let him anyway kfjhskjf).

they always go together. i think Chris might be able to count the times they didn't with one hand (runs are very VERY important for werewolves, so missing one can get them a bit... cranky). for those that work in a supernatural environment (like Jisung), they probably just need to submit some paperwork at the beginning f the year with the nights they need and they always get them approved since it's a necessity. for those working in human spaces, they either call in sick or try to get days off. those with partners, they sulk if their partner can't come for one reason or another (Chris is the king of sulking whenever he has to spend a full moon without pretty nowadays. hell, even if it's just going out for a run and it's not a full moon, he'll sulk lol).

it's all personal preference. if i had to decide fave seasons for each ones: winter = chris, seungmin | autumn: changbin, ginger, jisung | summer = felix, jeongin | spring = minho, hyunjin (as usual, this is subject to change, it's just what i think at this present time lol).

some packs do (i like to think Moss' does. i just haven't decided what they have yet). Chris' doesn't, mostly because none of them has felt the need to have anything.

they would. i think it'll feel unnatural to not be close to each other, so moving too far away is just not an option. it's in their nature to live together and ensure everyone's well fed and taken care of (whatever this last bit entitles...). for Chris' pack, if they move out of their current den and into houses, i'm sure they'll only do it if they find adjacent houses. like, they literally need to be right next to each other/in front of each other or they won't move. it'd probably feel a bit weird at first since they're not in the same space, but i'm sure they'll get used to it eventually. but yeah, the closer together the houses are, the better.

it honestly depends. i feel like Chris particularly is heavily influenced by the moon cycle. depending on the phase of the moon he can either react very violently or very logically. he always tries to go the logical route because, you know, he's their Leader and he has to act all collected. but... yeah, i'm sure he's gotten in a few fights in his life over things like these lol. it can get pretty ugly if the full moon's close.

i love this actually. so, yes. yes they do.

of course. not only to be aware of mood changes, but also to make sure they're more or less available in case they're needed to help with anything (like getting them supplies and whatnot).

i think it goes beyond "this is my friend" and "this is my sibling". it's a type of bond that it's not easily explained, it's just... they're just pack members. and yes, humans that fully integrate into the pack feel this way, too. i suppose there could be humans that don't integrate completely, so they'd be more on the "these are my friends for life" kinda mindset, but it's not the case for Chris' pack. pretty and kitten are fully integrated into the dynamic.

hope these answers make sense, i'm super sleepy ksjdfhskjdf

#🥝 anon #ask #wereroomies ask #wereroomies headcanons

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3terna15unshin3 · 1 year

Text

Then Because She Goes

Cry, I will love you, love you, love you

★ Chapter 13 of 15, 3498 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: angst, descriptions of grief and depression

<< 12

18 September, 2019

Matty was right. Everything was okay. Until it wasn’t, and Este got the call.

She dropped everything to catch a plane to London. A train would be too slow. She had to be with her family. The two weeks she spent there felt like some of the longest weeks of her life.

There wasn’t a moment that the universe let her mind rest—it was a constant buzz of anger, sadness, release. She was mad that bad things happened to good people. Sad that there was so little time left. And eventually, two Mondays later, it happened. Este thought that when it did, her emotions would peak and then she’d be on the comedown—slowly, she guessed. But it wasn’t. Every day felt like the worst of what was to come. And the worst kept coming.

The clothes draped on her body remained the same for too long. Even their musty stench that grew as time passed couldn’t inspire her to change, so Cate had to force her out of them. She’d been helpful through those horrid weeks, constantly checking up on her best friend, even coming down to London a couple of times to take Este’s mind off of things and attempt to bring her back down to earth.

Two days after the dreaded Monday, they came back home to Manchester to grab some more of their things. Enough to last them through the weekend and however long Este felt she would need to stay. Work was a worry, but it didn’t matter to her as much as it probably should have.

After helping her flatmate pack another bag and essentially petting her head to sleep, Cate considered how intensely Este’s life had been put on hold to make room for her grief. There was no time to make new memories when she was all consumed with trying to cling to the ones with Florencia. Este was terrified of the reality that one day she’d struggle to remember them as brightly as they once were.

Cate thought about the increasing number displayed in the red notification bubble at the corner of her Messages app, and the people waiting to hear from her. The plans Este must have had, and their inevitable rain-checks. That’s when Matty came to mind. She decided that sending him a text would aid in planning their accommodations back in London, in case of some small chance that he’d have time to be there for the rites.

Matty Healy (famous)

Yesterday at 20:50 PM

hey. i thought i’d let you know that the funeral is on saturday morning. wasn’t sure if este invited you out but i know she’d want you there

i also have no idea where in the world you even are rn

so if you can’t make it then don’t worry

Today at 06:04 AM

Funeral????

I haven’t heard from her since this past Saturday

What’s going on

oh my god. she didn’t tell you

i’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that it isn’t coming from este but her nan passed away on monday.

Shit

I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry

Can I ask what happened?

she’s been in remission for a couple of years, but in mid august ish she got super sick again. everything happened really fast and there weren’t any treatment options.

so at the beginning of september este went down to stay with josé in the house. the whole family went. they at least got to be with each other for her last couple of weeks

Is she still there in London or are u guys in Manchester

she just arrived back to the flat to pick up more of her stuff and figure out her leave from work and stuff with sam

we’re staying the night but heading back tomorrow. wake is on friday morning and the funeral the next day

Was just trying to figure out if somehow I could make it but I’m in Auckland

Would take days on a plane and we have a bunch of Australian shows coming up

I don’t think theres a way

it’s ok matty. she’ll understand

sorry for loading this all on you out of nowhere

No, thank you for telling me

Please let me know if there’s something I can do. Even from all the way out here

Anything

Today at 11:29 AM

i will

but also, just as a heads up, este really is not in a good place. she’s in good hands, so you dont have to worry or anything, but maybe just wait for her to reach out first before saying anything. hopefully you can understand why i ask that of you

hope your shows in australia go well x

Of course I understand x

Thank you Cate

Matty’s heart broke for Este and her family when he read the texts sitting in his notifications after his long plane journey out to New Zealand. In the car ride over to the hotel, Hann took note of how unusually his mouth was pressed into a flat line as he furiously typed away on his phone, eventually asking him what was up.

“Cate’s just told me that Este’s nan just passed.” he explained, “She was just super vague at the start about a funeral and I haven’t heard from Este at all, so I panicked,”

“Did you think she was inviting you to Este’s funeral?”

“Dunno, really. ‘Funeral’ is just a scary word.” Matty continued typing as Cate’s responses came through.

“Shit. Sorry, mate.” said George, giving his condolences. “How old was she?”

“75. Cate’s saying it was cancer.” As he read more texts, the further it was explained.

“The nan with the gallbladder?” Ross asked, a contained amusement sitting on his face as he brought up the story he shared when the guys had first met Este and Cate.

Matty threw him a grimace. “Yes, Ross. I’m sure she had a gallbladder. But if you mean the one who was my nurse after I got mine removed, then also yes.” Despite how inappropriate his joke seemed, Matty was glad the mood lifted when it gained a couple bittersweet chuckles from the rest of the guys. “Este never told me about any of it, so I’m just a bit shocked,”

He’d been frozen with grief before, so he didn’t blame her for not saying anything. Letting her heal was necessary—and his feelings couldn’t matter less in this situation. Plus, the idea of sending a message was too scary. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, or want to overstep. So Cate suggesting he let Este come to him first helped him with the internal dilemma.

She almost regretted reaching out to Matty after discovering that Este hadn’t told him about Florencia. It felt like crossing a boundary; like something that should have been shared on her accord instead of by her best friend over text. To clear her conscience, Cate confessed what she had done as they sat on the train back to London the next day.

“Hey,” she started, to break the silence and grab Este’s attention. Her sad eyes looked up to acknowledge the conversation and her curious eyebrows raised.

“Yesterday I was thinking about where I’d be staying this weekend and if there would be enough room at your grandparents’ house. Which I know you said there would be—but it just had me thinking about everyone who may need accommodations for coming in from out of town—and I thought of Matty. Which in retrospect, was stupid in the first place, since his literal house is in London. Impulsively I just sent him a text without even asking you first, and I feel really guilty for intruding, especially since he let me know that you hadn’t told him or anything. So I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking in the moment, I just—“

A reassuring and gentle hand was felt on Cate’s forearm. It was Este’s, as if to say, ‘It’s okay’. She gave a soft smile and Cate showed one similarly, still holding her breath from the anticipation of what reaction the fact she revealed may conjure.

All she did was swipe away Cate’s auburn hair before leaning her head on her shoulder—where the hair once sat—so that the weight wouldn’t pull on it, sighing quietly. Este didn’t feel strongly about anything at that moment, letting the clunky sounds of the train and the presence of her best friend envelop her numbness.

It wasn’t an active decision to keep Matty uninformed. It was probably due to her refusing to believe it would ever come to the point of relevance. That if she didn’t admit that Florencia was sick again, then the gut-wrenching inevitability couldn’t be real life. And once it was—as much as Este craved the comfort she knew he’d provide her—she couldn’t be rational. It was an all-consuming paralysis.

The air in the house was heavy. Endless paperwork screamed for attention from the dining room table, so her parents and granddad were busy dealing with that; not saying much to the two girls as they entered. A touch on the small of Este’s back was given by José, who didn’t usually use his words to show his love for her anyway. The warmth from where his hand brushed against her lingered for a couple of long seconds.

Before Cate and Este reached the spare room they’d be sharing for the weekend, her mother stopped them.

“You should look at the flowers on the counter, E. They’re beautiful.” said Percy.

Setting her bags down, Este agreed and stepped back out to the kitchen. The bouquet that came into her view was huge. They had received flowers from a couple of people since Monday, mostly dainty and affordable and easy to look at. But this one took her by surprise; its full shape made up of the most colourful foliage she could imagine. Her Lola would have loved it.

You could sense Florencia’s kookiness from the loud and maximalist decor throughout her house. Este acquired the hoarding habits from her. She could recall a couple of times her nan commented on how boring she found pre-made bunches from the supermarket, and how she wished she could combine every different type of bouquet to have one that actually interested her. If someone told Este that her grandmother picked the flowers sitting on the counter in front of her, she’d believe them.

“Wow, they are beautiful.” She mumbled, about to ask her family if they knew who had sent them.

But, a note card stuck out of the top. Este flipped it open.

‘For Este-

Life is just as precious and beautiful as it is unfair. I am so sorry it has been unfair to you. I feel both lucky to have even briefly known Florencia, and also terrible that I can’t be there to support you. Thinking of your family always.

All my love

Matty x’

Her shaky hand grabbed the card and slipped it into the pocket of her sweats for safekeeping—her question now answered. One day she would be able to accept how thoughtful his words were, and even send him a message to say thank you. But that day wasn’t today.

23 September, 2019

Sam knew he had to hire another employee at Greenhouse to make up for Este’s absences.

Over the years, there had been many occasions where time off was needed by either her or Oliver or even the owner himself; so there were a few solutions they’d usually jump to. A couple of close friends of the store had been kept on the store’s payroll to jump in when needed. But, Sam had a feeling that he’d be in need of something more. Meeting Este when she was a mere nineteen years old, he was aware of the tightly knit family she possessed—and he had never seen her in the state she was in now. This was clearly world-shifting for her.

She tried to insist on coming back to work that Monday morning, only a week to the day of her grandmother’s passing. Sam could hear the quiet quiver in her voice when they spoke on the phone, already in the process of sorting through CVs and inviting potential hires for interviews. Not with the intent to replace Este, but to ensure she could take the full time she needed off without the pressure of letting the business down. Of course, he refused to make her travel all the way back to Manchester and firmly encouraged her to stay with her family for as long as she wished to.

So, Este stayed in London—for much longer than she expected to. Weeks went by and she was still there. Her mum and dad were forced to leave not long after the weekend of the funeral; on account of some dodgy conversation with their bosses about time off. It didn’t feel right to leave José alone in the house. Este felt his sorrow through their silence. They slept under the same roof every night, both shutting their eyes to be able to see the sparkling memories of Florencia that were painted on the inside of their eyelids.

She did a lot of sleeping, for that very reason. And randomly got really good at Scrabble. Her and her granddad had played a couple of times which sparked her interest, but it soon spiralled into Este playing against computers through an app on her phone for most hours of the day. She thought to herself, After this game I’ll get up and do something else. But she never got up and she never did anything else.

Her vocabulary expanded. Este even considered ordering a Scrabble dictionary off of Amazon. She paid for Prime, so it could even come tomorrow. It’s okay, she reassured, It’ll wear off. I won’t sit here and play Scrabble until the end of time.

But what if I do? she feared.

Percy came to visit quite frequently. To both make sure her father and daughter were holding up, all alone in London, and to feel closer to Florencia. The house still smelled like her. Sometimes, she’d have to remind Este to go out and buy groceries after seeing that they were running low; or convince José to pay his bills on time. He had a hard time remembering what day it was.

She brought Dano with her whenever she was over. It helped spike Este’s mood, though temporarily. Her voice would reach its excited high pitch when she heard his paws tap on the hardwood floor and shower him in the only love she had left in her.

Este liked letting her family’s golden retriever up onto her bed, even though the fur that he left behind sometimes made her sneeze in the middle of the night. She liked how warm he was and that the in-and-out of his breathing helped punctuate her thoughts.

One night, she took a break from resting her face against him and gave Cate a call. She was nice enough to come back from Manchester a couple of times to bring more of Este’s belongings from their flat, helping to make the spare room feel more like her own. Cate saw her grief for what it was and gave Este the rigidity that others were scared to. The words she had trouble saying to herself felt easier to believe when her best friend was on the receiving line. Gently petting Dano’s coat, her voice escaped with a tremble.

She talked about how after seeing a trailer for a film called The Farewell (that was coincidentally about a sick grandmother) on the telly a couple of days ago, she hadn’t turned it on since. How she thought rereading Little Women might comfort her, but then she reached the part where Beth dies and couldn’t finish it. How she dreamt of her Lola every night.

But alas, the ponderous energy of the air around her lifted slightly. And when Cate hung up, after both girls lost track of time and realised the late hour, Este leaned back down onto Dano like he was her pillow, surprised to find his fur all wet with her tears.

29 October, 2019

Following the release of the third single for Notes On A Conditional Form, Frail State of Mind, Matty and the rest of the band had a couple of weeks off before playing Pitchfork Music Festival in Paris. Though they were still busy writing, the time away from performing left Matty thinking about Este more often. Sure, he was sort of always thinking of her; but it felt elevated during their first long break since he’d last heard from her.

He had sent a couple of texts to Cate to make sure she was alright, but never felt entitled to know more than just that. So, he was shocked to see messages waiting for him, from Este. The sheer anticipation made his thumb shake as it clicked to open it.

E ★

Today at 18:11 PM

I know this is more than a month overdue, but thank you for the flowers and sweet message. They were the most beautiful we’d received. The whole family loved them, and I’m sure my nan would have too

Pls don’t feel bad about not coming in for the funeral. I remembered that you’d be too far and that’s ok. It’s me that should be sorry for not letting u know what was going on. You deserved to know. But I’d be lying if I said i was doing better. Things are still really hard

I hope u can believe me when i say that I really do appreciate you Matty. I know you would be there for me if I let you in. But im sort of struggling to let anyone in rn.

Sorry for spamming you, I will text soon x

Este theres nothing you should be apologising for

Losing my nan was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through

I’m never more than a text away, just remember that xx

Congrats on the new song too, you can imagine I relate to it a bit. Lol

After those few messages, Matty stopped hearing from her. They gave him a bit of hope, so Este’s radio silence hurt him a little bit more the second time around. He gave up reaching out after just over a month of no responses. Once in a while he would send a text to Cate, just to snuff his fear of something worse going on, and she assured him that she was alive. Not necessarily ‘good’, but alive. Matty guessed that it was a sufficient response and eventually stopped pestering.

It felt odd to mix the song he wrote about her in the studio while they weren’t even in contact. With it only running for a couple of seconds more than two minutes, they didn’t spend an overwhelming amount of time on it. But, as Matty listened back to his buried vocals that sang the lyrics he wrote about Este and their short bursts of memories between dragging months apart, he couldn’t help but yearn for her.

He liked that the song was so short, and that the lyrics were hard to pick apart. It felt like a little moment. The final line, ‘Will you stay or wait?’ repeated through Matty’s head as they perfected the song’s shoe-gazey production, booming in his chest through its painful relevance.

When they reached America for their final leg of tour that year, her name was sketched into Matty’s ear whenever they performed I Couldn’t Be More In Love. But what about these feelings I’ve got, he thought—too literally.

He would meet a fan that had a dimple and would think of her. Or one that had a septum piercing. And think of her if he ever drove past a small book shop.

Then, inevitably, Matty could feel the brightest element of his life slowly dim to darkness—fading into a fleeting moment of his past. But the memory stayed, along with a small glimmer of hope. And he knew he’d be at her feet the minute Este wanted him there again.

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#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #tbsg

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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Gilded Book Quote Rp Meme

book by Marissa Meyer- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“I suppose spite can be a weapon, too.”

“Absolutely. My favorite, in fact. Well. Other than a sword. Because who doesn’t love a sword?”

“Judging by your weaponry, I suspect you spend a great deal of time dueling and competing in target practice.”

“I may not have fully considered the repercussions.”

“I’m just wondering if you plan to stand there gawking at me all night?

“The boundary between truth and fiction felt thinner every day.”

“No, I’m not a witch. And I didn’t summon you. I was just sitting here, crying, contemplating my own demise, thank you muchly.”

“The world was full of small enchantments, when one was willing to look for them.”

“How can you not? It’s your story?”

“Not every story has a happy ending. Life isn’t like that, you know.”

“I don’t think a shred of civility is unwarranted.”

“The superstitions of humans are so often the result of ignorance and ill-placed blame.”

“Suit yourself. After all, why he accommodating when one can be difficult?”

“Not every story is willing to reveal itself right away. Some of them are bashful.”

“Books are meant to be shared.”

“You only needed to say please. If you’re concerned with etiquette, that might be a good place to start.”

“I find that only mildly comforting.”

“That was one thing she loved about children. They were always surprising her.”

“But I prefer natural charm over vanity and brute strength.”

“It would appear that you’re trying to be aggravating, but that is my talent, I’ll have you know.”

“A mortal in your realm. I’ve been paying attention.”

“He was just one more jewel in her crown of guilt. One more person she'd failed.”

“Unrequited love sounds awful.”

“Once my pupil, always my pupil,”

“this bargain is binding and unbreakable, and I fully expect you to stay alive long enough to fulfill your end of it. Do you understand me?”

“Despite your apparent disdain for this poetry, I think you’re a romantic.”

“I will gladly take awful over indifferent. Not every story has a happy ending. Life isn’t like that, you know.”

You say those words like they’re bad things. But when it comes to the age-old art of storytelling, you need darkness to appreciate the light.”

“Well, you might be a little in love with your own brilliance.”

“I’m just wondering if you plan to stand there gawking at me all night?”

“If you’re suggesting I take a nap instead, I’ll gladly comply.”

“Your jokes. Your…pranks. You wield laughter like a weapon, a protection against your awful circumstances. I think you’re trying to create lightness where there is so much dark.”

“I feel so close to you both. Shall we embrace?”

“Would it hurt to ask politely?”

“You are very persuasive.”

“You’ll do it? You’ll accept that offer?”

“You win. I’ve decided to help you.”

“Absolutely horrid, but only a romantic would think so.”

“Of course not. But you still haven’t told me how, exactly, you plan to help me.”

“But that was nearly an entire year away. An entire year to dream up delectable, fanciful tales to awe and frighten the little goslings who were forced to attend this soulless school. Poor things.”

"This may come as a surprise to you, madam, but your opinion is not required.”

“ Please. Do this for me one more time and I’ll give you…“I’ll give you my firstborn child!”

“I’m fine, Papa. Not kidnapped, not ferried away by some ghoul. After all, who would want me, really?”

“Would you care to hear a story?”

“I’m sure you’re fond of me, but to ask for my hand in marriage? I’m quite flattered, but we barely—

“Exactly. I always like hearing a story when I work. Or…in my case, making one up. Time slips away and before you know it, you’re finished. And all the while, you’ve been transported somewhere vibrant and exciting and wonderful.”

“But she had heard, and told enough stories to know that it was never wise to ignore the summons of a magical creature.”

“My magic won’t work without a payment of some sort. It isn’t my rule, but there it is. You’ll have to give me something.”

“All of my favorite stories are about love, and I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what it would be like, and wishing…”

“It was mostly gloom and death and darkness.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m saving your life.”

“Sometimes superstitions are all that we have been given by the gods in order to make sense of our world. Superstitions…and stories.”

“Now, that’s the sort of education that might come in handy someday,”

“you’re in my way. Please and thank you.”

“You aren’t dead yet. That’s a distinct advantage over just about everyone else in this castle.”

“Any ghoul would be blasted lucky to have you.”

"Selfish child. You are already a blight on this community, and now you will bring wickedness upon us!"

Her wandering mind getting her into trouble yet again.”

“Fairy tales have happy endings! The prince is supposed to save the princess. Kill the Erlking and the huntress, then they both ride on home to their awaiting family and are celebrated by all the land. Happily. Forever! What is this…this rubbish, what with the king stabbing his sister, the prince getting mauled by his hounds… I can’t remember all too many stories, but I’m certain that this is the absolute worst I’ve ever heard.”

“What child could resist the allure of such magic? The images of fae creatures dancing on toadstools and water sprites bathing in brooks and songbirds with glowing feathers alighting on the branches overhead.”

My job is to prepare you for adulthood.”

“Your stories, I think they’re sort of like spinning, too. Because it’s like you’re making something beautiful out of nothing.”

“I’m done telling tales. Starting today, you’ll get nothing but boring news and the most trivial of facts. For example, did you know that playing three particular notes on the hackbrett will summon a demon?”

“ That tale did not sparkle,”

“ But there are two sides to every story. The hero and the villain. The dark and the light. The blessing and the curse. And what the miller had not understood is that the god of stories is also the god of lies.

A trickster god.”

“Lately, all her stories had featured haunted ruins and nightmare monsters and heartless kings. Burning hounds and a stolen princess.”

Is the little human afraid of the beasts?”

“I will not let you toil here forever. And until that day comes, I promise, I will tell you the happiest of stories to take your minds away from all of this. Where the heroes are victorious. The villains vanquished. Where everyone who is just and kind and brave is granted a perfect finale.”

“All these miraculous beasts,

“Would that I could spin straw into gold. It’d be far more useful than this…spinning nothing but silly stories.”

A real witch—not the way some petty people use the word to describe an unlikable woman with a haggard appearance, though she was that, too.”

“ The true beginning was in the before times, when monsters roamed freely outside the veil that now separates them from mortals, and demons sometimes fell in love.”

“I’m already dead.”

“gold has caused as many problems as it has ever solved.”

“Cats don’t get much notice, but a toad? Could cause all sorts of trouble at the next feast.”

“If she wasn't beholden to the truth of what had happened under the full moon, then she would have no qualms about embellishing it.”

“You couldn’t have told him you could spin gold from silk, or even wool?”

“ When she talked, she could hardly keep herself from telling the most outlandish tales, as though her tongue could not tell the difference between truth and falsehoods. She began to trade in stories and lies herself, and while the other children delighted in her tales—so full of whimsy and enchantment—the elders knew better.”

“One can only go around kidnapping people and butchering magical creatures for so many centuries before it gets tiresome.”

“ The child was forever marked with untrustworthy eyes—pitch black irises, each overlaid by a golden wheel with eight tiny golden spikes. The wheel of fate and fortune, which, if you are wise, you know is the greatest deception of all. Such a peculiar gaze ensured that all who saw her would know she had been touched by old magic.”

“She was not dead. She was not a ghost, like the children, like the rest of the king’s servants. But what did that make her? Tired, she thought. She felt so very tired. Yet restless, too.”

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2stepadmiral · 1 year

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So, I saw a watch mojo video saying (apparently jokingly) that Darth Vader might appear in some form on the Mandalorian, and to be honest, I not only could see it happening, I’d actually be kind of surprised if it didn’t.

I mean, logically, Mandalore is a historically defiant world that the Empire definitely had trouble controlling. By the time of Yavin, the Mandalorians were fighting a civil war to try and kick the Empire and any sympathizers off world, and they eventually decided to just glass the whole planet. The planet definitely had Palpatine’s personal attention to some degree. And Mandalorians are skilled enough warriors that a skilled Mando is a genuine challenge, if not threat, to all but the most skilled and powerful Jedi; in a galaxy short on Jedi to kill, Mandalorians would probably be the next best thing for Vader to fight. It’s also probable that Anakin spent the Clone War quietly eager to fight Mandos and jealous that Obi Wan and Ahsoka kept getting caught up with their fights, and Vader might want to fight Mandos to try and put himself further from Anakin. It makes sense that Vader would have been involved in the Night of a Thousand Tears.

Like, I can see Vader spending years waiting for an excuse to go at the Mandos. Every time Palpatine calls him on Mustafar, he’s inwardly like, “please be Kenobi or the Mandalorians, please be Kenobi or the Mandalorians, please be Kenobi or the Mandalorians, just once, please be Kenobi or the Mandalorians.” And when it finally is the Mandalorians after the Saxons are beaten and Mandalore is in open revolt, he’s just like, “KRIFFING FINALLY I GET TO KILL SOME MANDOS, I’M COMING TO CORUSCANT.” And Palpatine is like, “wait, no, Gideon’s already there,” and Vader’s all, “I’M COMING TO VODE AN THOSE BESKAR BASTARDS, KRIFF YEAH, LOTS OF SOMEONES GOOD TO KILL.”

Hell, I could see Palpatine deliberately holding Gideon back from starting the massacre until Vader could get there. Vader’s in the Imperial Palace, all, “please, please, please, PLEASE let me go fight the Mandalorians,” and Palpatine’s all, “it’s kinda overkill to send Vader after the Mando’ade if we’re already bombing the planet,” and Gideon’s on live hologram call, just staying quiet, trying not to get Skype strangled.

Vader: come on, you wouldn’t let me track down Kenobi, and there’s no one else good to fight right now, lemme at ‘em, lemme at ‘em!

Palpatine: ALRIGHT, fine, you can go fight Mandalorians! Just shut up and get there, you’ve thrown off Gideon’s timetable big time with this whole thing.

Vader, inwardly: oh boy, oh boy, imma fight ten at a time, then twelve at a time, then I’ll take like four or five, just to take a breather, I don’t want to overtax myself. And then Imma fight twelve again, and then…

Vader outwardly: Yes, my master.

Gideon, internally: please don’t kill me.

And that is the story of how Vader was the one who took the darksaber from Bo Katan, let her live to see Mandalore burn as a form of torment to her for her defiance, and gave the darksaber to Gideon (who was just relieved not to get executed for having to throw off his plan to accommodate Vader and figured the saber was a bonus) because if he kept it, no new Mand’alor would ever rise, and Vader secretly hoped one would because putting down the Mandalorian uprising was the most fun he’d had in years and he couldn’t wait to do it again.

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coochiequeens · 8 months

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"Like many people who go through surrogacy, Cathy said it was not a choice; it was their only option." While I feel bad for what Cathy went through surrogacy was NOT her only option. Adoption is also possible.

By Kate McDonald

As a bill that seeks to regulate aspects of surrogacy goes before cabinet, Prime Time spoke to families who have used international surrogates.

"My house was silent. When you have a stillborn baby, your house is silent." Cathy Wheatley was seven months pregnant when she had a spontaneous uterine rupture. Her daughter, who she named Helen, died at birth and Cathy found out she could not carry any more pregnancies. "I lost my little girl," Cathy said. Despite their devastating loss, Cathy and her husband Keith Wheatley, from Co Wicklow, were determined to have their family.

Like many people who go through surrogacy, Cathy said it was not a choice; it was their only option."When a doctor mentions surrogacy, your first reaction is, people like me don't do that. You know what I mean? Like, we're just ordinary, everyday people on a farm in Wicklow. "But when they looked into it, they found that there were Irish couples doing it.

"You have to be very careful to make sure that you do all your research so that you know that you're doing the best that you possibly can for your babies, but also for your surrogate, because without your surrogate, you wouldn't have your babies," Cathy said.

The Wheatleys decided to go to a clinic in Ukraine, where they met Ivanna, who would eventually carry and give birth to their twins Ted and Elsie.

"It's the biggest thing in the world to give your babies to somebody to carry and to mind until they can give them back to you," Cathy said.

"I love those kids but I don't love them as my own; those are different feelings. Like it’s my nephew or cousins, not like my son or my daughter," Ivanna said.

Ivanna told Prime Time she became a surrogate mother after the birth of her second son.

"That is something I wanted to do because I love helping people, I love the feeling of being pregnant and I thought why, why don’t I help?" Ivanna said.

Cathy and Keith Wheatley remortgaged their house to front the cost. They paid just under €40,000 to their clinic in Ukraine, of which €14,000 was compensation for their surrogate Ivanna.

"I’m pregnant for nine months. I don’t work. But I have two kids. And my kids have basic needs" Ivanna said.

"They needed food, they needed education, they need dresses – everything that a normal kid needs. If I am surrogate, I am pregnant, I can’t work. It’s not like you are getting a lot of money with that - not like you decide 'I need money’ so I’ll go and get a baby for somebody. [It’s] not like many people think it is."

With legal fees, flights and accommodation, their total spend was €70,000.

"They don’t pay you for being pregnant in Ukraine, they compensate for your time," Ivanna said.

The Wheatleys and Ivanna developed a deep relationship and kept in touch after the twins’ birth.

When Russia invaded Ukraine two years ago, the Wheatleys brought Ivanna and her children to live with them in Ireland.

"If we talk about what happened in my country now, they came and they saved my life and they saved the life of my kids because four years ago I gave life to their kids," Ivanna said.

Brian and Kathy Egan had always planned to have four children. But after having her first son, Harry, Kathy had six miscarriages and she said she knew a larger family wasn't to be.

"It obviously gets harder every time to pick yourself up after it and try again. But we still felt very strongly that we'd be able to do this."

Kathy had no issue getting pregnant but couldn’t sustain the pregnancies. After another two miscarriages, the Egans began to consider surrogacy.

"Because it's new to you, you're second-guessing everything, you really want to make sure you have the right information. It's going to be the right clinic, the right surrogate, and everything is right in every way," Brian said.

Kathy and Brian Egan

The cost of surrogacy in the US and Canada ruled that region out for them, so they began looking elsewhere. They decided to go with a clinic in Lviv, Ukraine.

"Within a month, we were matched with a surrogate who matched my blood type, and we went ahead. But unfortunately, at the 20-week scan, we discovered there was a fatal fetal abnormality within the heart."

That first surrogate pregnancy ended in miscarriage, but the Egans then found a second surrogate.

"We did Zoom or Skype calls with Mariana, our surrogate. Her first response after every checkup was, 'now, can we tell Kathy & Brian?'"

"She's a very strong lady and quite business-like too. She was in no doubt that this was helping us both," Brian said.

Baby Luke arrived in May 2019 while Brian, Kathy and big brother Harry were at home in Kilkenny. They travelled through the night to get to Lviv.

"You cannot get there quick enough. You'd swim there," Kathy said.

"He was tiny. He was four weeks early, but he looked like Harry looked when he was born. So, I knew straight away which one to walk over to."

"You feel like, you know, you've been talking to him for months and praying and hoping to meet him, but it's like no other feeling," Kathy said.

The entire process cost the Egans about €100,000, they said.

Two years later, in June 2021, the family were stunned when Brian was diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer.

"I didn't know what to say, really. That ‘cancer’ word anyway, you're all over the place," Brian said.

Eleven days after he was diagnosed, Brian’s prostate was removed. The surgery was a success, but his next blood test indicated the cancer had spread.

"At that stage I genuinely felt I didn't have long left. I was looking at Luke, he was two, didn't know if he was going, I was going to see him being three."

Brian received radiotherapy treatment and is still getting hormone treatment, which he says is going well.

However, due to the lack of regulation around the legal status for parents of children born through surrogacy, the Egans were left in a precarious situation.

Current Irish legislation does not cover legal issues that arise in surrogacy. The legal status and rights of all people involved are covered by the laws dealing with non-surrogate births.

This means the surrogate mother, who gives birth to the child, is the child's legal mother under Irish law. In the Egan’s case, Kathy is not Luke’s legal parent, although genetically he is her son as he was born using Kathy’s egg and Brian’s sperm.

"We just realised, if I pass away prematurely, Luke is effectively an orphan of the state." said Brian. "Kathy is just his legal guardian. He would not have a parent, he has different rights to Harry."

Brian and Kathy decided to take a case to the High Court, saying the State had failed to recognise Kathy as Luke’s mother.

The Egans were in court in April but have recently paused their action after hearing assurances that long-promised surrogacy legislation will be brought before the Oireachtas soon.

Under proposed terms of the Health (Assisted Human Reproduction) Bill 2022, parents of children born through surrogacy will be recognised as legal parents, if they meet certain criteria in the jurisdiction in which the surrogacy is intended to take place, and also the criteria to be specified in the Irish legislation.

Senator Mary Seery Kearney and her husband Dave tried to have a baby via IVF.

"We did 13 rounds.... I was pregnant on five occasions...unfortunately, they all resulted in a miscarriage," she said.

"We're a very close couple, but it's a very, very stressful experience. All my life... I wanted to be a mother. I wanted my own child," she said.

Mary initially thought that surrogacy was for well-off people: "My view was Elton John did surrogacy, really rich people did surrogacy. We were ordinary people, already indebted from all of the IVFs we had done."

When she began researching, she initially relied on Google. She said the most impressive website she found was for a clinic in Kyiv.

"We flew over, we gave them €12,000 upfront, and nothing came of that," she said.

Senator Mary Seery Kearney

After that experience in Ukraine, Senator Seery Kearney and her husband found a clinic in India and a surrogate who would carry their child.

"We were so grateful to this woman, and I also felt a huge responsibility for her," Mary said.

They said they sent gifts every couple of weeks and engaged with the surrogate mother all the way through. When the pregnancy reached the 20-week mark, they allowed themselves to hope it would be a success.

"I have to say, right up until the moment we stood outside the theatre, I didn't really believe. I believed that something was going to go wrong. Because you, you carry that trauma into the experience," she said.

But when they were called inside they knew it was real.

"I literally ran, I screamed and ran, 'this is my little girl,' handed into my arms," she said.

Now advocating in the Oireachtas for changes to made to Irish surrogacy legislation, Mary thinks 'goodwill' payments should be made to the surrogate to cover their costs during the pregnancy, but does not agree with commercial surrogacy: in which an agency takes a fee and passes on a portion of it to the surrogate.

"Throughout the process you have doctors paid, clinicians paid, you have the travel agent's paid, you have the lawyers paid.

"The only person that isn't entitled to any goodwill gesture at all is the person who's giving birth, who's carrying the pregnancy and giving birth. And that there is no reason why a goodwill payment could not be made to that surrogate," she says.

#Ireland #Surrogacy is not an only option #Adopt #Don't rent out a women and buy a kid #Irish couples had no trouble finding kids to adopt when the government and catholic church ran the Magdalen laundries #Irish couples exploiting Ukrainian women #At least the Wheatleys looked after the surrogate mother and her kids after the war broke out #Many other purchasing parents just grad the kid and don't look back at the woman #And how she's recovering from pregnancy and childbirth in a warzone #Health (Assisted Human Reproduction) Bill 2022 #Why are Irish parents using surrogates if the laws don't recognize both parents?#Don't they stop and think about what will happen to the kid in the event if a tragedy?#13 rounds of IVF? When there are so many kids to adopt?

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