#maybe ill actually participate this year

[robertseanleonardthinker]

the urge to start writing fanfiction but i have never written a piece of fanfiction ever and haven't written creatively outside of school projects in years 😭😭😭😭

[toxooz]

AIGHT thats the last of the goretobers workin on the next comic section now b4 i implode peace 🤘

[feeling-kinda-sad-ngl]

ok so if i stay up doing hw rn, i might be able to take a nap before school starts, nvm i have to shower too

ok so then i can just sleep after school

[strike-another-match]

my brain is broken broken i literally just had the thought that im looking forward to hearing the christmas music this year. girl its january 2nd go see a neurologist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for telling someone they're a horrible person and making them relapse?

trigger warning: self-harm, suicide(?)

so im, like many teenagers online, an avid participant of fandom spaces and my current favorite is genshin impact. if you've ever interacted with the genshin fandom you may guess where this is going but i happened to find myself liking a ship that is the big nono ship in this fandom (aka the incest ship, kaeluc) but since i mostly stick to my space and don't really interact with anyone that doesn't already have content of this ship on their account id never gotten into any hot water over it.. until recently.

this person, ill call them rick, suddenly liked a bunch of my (non-ship related) posts. normal interaction, i didn't think anything of if and moved on. (i didn't even notice at the time, but they unliked all of the posts before what happened next, i assume as they realized i was a proshipper and didn't want to associate with me.) next thing i know, the same user is in my askbox, sending me the most vile, hate filled messages i have ever seen.

ok... no biggie. i delete the asks, block them and move on with my life. but it doesn't stop. i had never in my whole life received hate online, but now for the first time ever, i had a dedicated hater, sending me anonymous asks at all times of the day. death threats, dox threats, telling me to kill myself, calling me a degenerate and all that, all with the same consistent writing style. now, one could say that maybe this wasn't rick, and maybe not even all the same person but i really feel like this is the only reasonable explanation considering i have like 6 followers and my most famous post has 3 notes. i don't think im important enough to have that many haters.

so, i did the only thing i could think to do: turned off anon asks. then the asks started coming from random throwaway accounts. ok...turned off asks. then it was dms. turned those off too. THE FUCKING COMMENT SECTIONS OF MY POSTS.

dedication isn't enough to describe this. at this point it's actually becoming distressing to me and im considering closing my whole account cause i just wanna get away from all this. im 16, i don't have the mental capacity to spend all day policing my social media because someone wants me to die for liking fictional incest.

so i very reluctantly unblock rick and send them a dm. i very gently ask if they are the person who has been sending me asks/dms/etc and if they are, if they could please stop because it's become genuinely distressing to me and i just want to be silly on a website. they block me.

alright, im now out of options. everything on my profile is blocked at this point and i don't even want to post anything else so i just kind of leave the account behind for a while. when i come back, i discover that someone HACKED into the account and defaced the whole thing (changed pfp, deleted posts etc etc) so now im genuinely bummed. i go to rick's profile and guess who has been unblocked? i ask them if they can please answer my question. they don't answer but instead tell me i deserve everything ive gotten and i should choke for all they care.

i tell them they're a terrible person and go absolutely off the rails like the dumb, upset teenager i am. i didn't say anything particularly horrible (mostly i just tell them about how awful they've made me feel over fictional shit that really doesn't matter and how i just wanted peace) but i definetely wouldn't like to receive a message like that. and rick didn't either, because they blocked me.

well, since im sure you're wondering where this comes in, here's where i kind of feel like an asshole:

i continued to stalk rick's account on a different blog (because i was bitter. ok?) and they've been posting about how they relapsed into self harm because of a message they received from a stranger and how they've been crying non-stop and this is the worst relapse they've had in years and etc etc and i just got this pit in my stomach. this person's bio says they're 15! i don't want to ever be the reason a fifteen year old is hurting themselves! i've been feeling like a piece of shit ever since (esp since i also deal with sh) and i just feel like the worse person ever. i honestly don't know if i was just acting like anyone else and this was an unfortunate consequence or if i need to go pray for god to forgive my sins or something.

aita?

What are these acronyms?

[theold-ultraviolence]

What are modern!Aemond’s favorite things about being a parent and the things he struggles with the most?

Hello my darling!! again, so sorry for the late reply. But I kinda wanted to do something different than the usual headcanons or shorter replies I've been posting lately! I really wanted to challenge the mental block I've been feeling since last year and actually write a little something, so here ya go! hope you like this and hope this answers your question!! x

Aemond hasn't slept a wink.

He's been perched on his reclining chair all night, right by Amaelia's beside. By a cruel prank whatever divine force is angry with him right now, Amaelia caught some sort of stomach bug, on the very same night that his wife had to leave for a work trip - for the first time since giving birth to Amaelia. And while this isn't, by any means, the first time his daughter has been ill, it's the first time he's had to take care of her on his own.

He's watching like a gargoyle, with his eye fixed on Amaelia's breathing, carefully monitoring her temperature every five minutes, like clockwork. He frets about waking her every time his trembling hand rests on her forehead, but, he has to make sure. And like the royal guards of the bedtime stories he reads to her, he's standing by with Tylenol and a glass of water in case her temperature flares up, and a bin in case she throws up again - ready to combat whatever might decide to hurt her next.

This, he decides, has got to be the only thing he dreads about being a parent. If this were any other problem, like bullies in school, or a scraped knee, he could take care of it. He could be storming the principal's office in no time, or scare away the bullies with one of his infamous glares; a scraped tee only takes some mending and lots of hugs afterward - maybe an indulgent treat. But these sorts of illnesses he cannot see, cannot predict how bad they'll escalate, or if they're a symptom of something worse. This is killing him. And braving it alone is killing him.

He gazes at his baby with a forlorn twinkle in his eyes, missing his wife, missing the day before this, when Amaelia was being her bubbly self, jumping up and down in bed while her mother packed for the trip.

His baby.

Amaelia is like a living poem; as Aemond observes, his heart races as his eye travels along the many paths and landmarks of her face that represent the love his wife and him share. The more she grows, the less he can tell where he ends and his wife begins, as Amaelia blooms into her own. In this very moment though, he can pinpoint certain traces and echoes of him, in the shape of her pouty lips as she sleeps; and of his wife, in the way her long eyelashes are delicately cushioned against her chubby cheeks.

This is the best part, he muses to himself. Having participated in the creation of something truly magical, and watch, as time goes by, how that magical being keeps transforming, and surprising him with things about the world that he would've deemed mundane if Amaelia hadn't brushed her strokes of magic upon them. Like when Amaelia told him that in Germany, ladybugs are referred to "Mary Beetles", which is something that his sister Helaena must have told her, but it kick-started Amaelia's fascination over them, and now, whenever she spots a ladybug in their garden, a beautiful awestruck glow paints her face. And he's absolutely certain that he sees light, actual rays of sunlight radiating from her eyes when he cradles the bug in her tiny palms.

It's magic.

And by gods, he's gonna make sure he takes care of her little bud of magic, no matter how terrifying it gets, no matter the hardships and struggles.

[jounosparticles]

this feels really odd to ask but but what do you think the hunting dogs' thoughts are about death? specifically if they die and how? cause I feel like all of them share a variation of "I will go down guns blazing and with glory"

fukuchi definitely feels it and I feel like jouno as well. they've both had rough and violent lives so I feel like they've always thought death was just right around the corner.

I don't know about the rest of them though. teruko I feel shares the thought but not as intense as the other two, and I dont know about tecchou and tachihara.

anyway. it's a neat thought to me :3

ohhh i’ve been thinking of the best way to answer this for DAYS. this analysis will be long so ill put it under a readmore.

the hunting dogs and death - analysis

overall, it is shown that they can die. i assume due to their abilities and bodily enhancements that they do not die of injuries very easily. it makes me wonder how disease hits them? partially mechanical bodies may not respond to illness as well as natural bodies would? or maybe the opposite and they can heal more so internally? anyways here's my thoughts on how each hunting dog perceives dying!!

fukuchi

i see fukuchi as fairly self-preserving up until the end. he can't die in battle because he needs to make sure the decay of angels plot carries out.

remember that he was warned of this at nine years old. he had to spend his life preparing for this. he likely grew very wary of living recklessly and became great at fighting very fast and young; i assume that's why he went through dojos to fight as a child.

under no circumstances could he die until the world was safe.

i imagine he put on a selfless face and was willing to take serious harm in order to protect the peace, but i highly doubt he was ever willing to sacrifice his life until his plan worked out.

here we see his thought process and how things need to fall into place. his participation was essential because in no other situation would fukuzawa be the one able to get access to the one order. if fukuchi had died beforehand, the war would play out as the amenogozen warning claimed.

he had to leave the world to fukuzawa, the man he could trust most before facing his own demise.

of course, at this point in the series he has been killed since that was the final goal of his plan. a noble death for a fantastic hero.

jouno

im actually a little conflicted on his perception of death. i believe jouno is willing to sacrifice his life if absolutely necessary but is probably more self-preserving than the others. i believe he likely uses his confident and slightly arrogant attitude to hide this self-preserving mindset. someone who comes off as intimidating or nonchalant during battle is more likely to throw off the enemy whereas appearing nervous or angry will make them seem vulnerable. i believe jouno also sees himself as very strategic and able to get out of situations easily if needed. he's a quick thinker from what we've seen thus far.

lets look at when he confronted fukuchi.

he starts off very confidently accepting the offer. we know this is a facade but him immediately trying to throw fukuchi off guard seems so show he's pretty confident in his next move.

but when this doesn't work, he immediately tries to flee. this is fairly unique for a fight in bsd, many characters will often fight until they either get what they wish or they're too injured to move. despite jouno having an ability that could dodge fukuchi's, he still chose to try and escape instead of continuing to fight. this is a very normal human reaction to have but not one you see as often.

and at a disturbance, he begins to panic and needs to ground himself by reassuring himself instead of fighting back. he's not willing to put his life on the line to stop a global terrorism and his own escape is seen as a victory, which i see as him being more self-preserving. this all took place before the sword was set on fire, so it wasn't as if he had that threat to escape yet.

however, there's a chance he just didn't know how to fight the amenogozen; but his ability was definitely one of the best to fight against fukuchi with.

still, he's smart and made sure to plan adequately in case he was injured in the battle against fukuchi. he wants to keep himself safe, but he's still smart enough to take precaution.

i think jouno has probably been through a lot in his life and wants to spend a while living happily, making him more afraid to die than the others. this is even shown when he took teruko being angry as a threat while fukuchi laughed over it.

(as a small note, fukuchi's line in the anime was "haha. it seems our gremlin is angry today" which makes more sense in this context).

so tldr i think jouno would only go down if absolutely necessary and otherwise is fairly self-prioritizing.

tecchou

i believe tecchou would sacrifice himself if it brings justice.

however, he seems to see himself as one responsible for judgement, so i imagine he gives every single fight his all.

regardless of him acting as judgement, it's been shown that tecchou is willing to die if he fails at his work.

here he promises that if he were to fail he would commit seppuku (killing oneself via slicing through your stomach--an honourable death for a samurai fighter (which lines up with irl tetchou coming from samurai lineage)), which is an incredibly agonizing way to die. regardless, he is fully willing to do it if it is for peace. this shows a confidence in death and commitment to his sense of justice to an extreme manner.

and when he found himself in a situation where he was in the wrong, he immediately admitted defeat and asked his opponent to kill him.

he admits defeat, says his wrongs and is willing to accept the consequences.

he even jumps to the harsh conclusion that he isn't worthy of his title as a hunting dog. the stark white in his eyes show that his mind isn't corrupted and that he is doing what he believes is proper justice. incredibly noble.

luckily he was spared-and likely learned a lot about justice not always being as black and white as things appear.

overall, tecchou is a very noble fighter and is willing to put his life on the line for justice. he doesn't seem to fear death and will embrace it if he feels it is earned or deserved.

tachihara

i have less to say about tachihara than the others. i see him as the type that will go down over what's right and that's shown during his fight with fukuchi.

he isn't willing to fear death or beg for forgiveness. he will go down if it is worthy.

we also see that he keeps a argumentative spirit towards the enemy despite the circumstances. he will put down his opponent even in the moment of death, he just has the confidence to.

this panel also shows that he's more willing to die than to be defeated. he doesn't want to harm anyone and be controlled so he tries to kill himself first.

overall, he's a strong fighter who isn't afraid to sacrifice his life for what he believes in. his orders make him who he is, and if the orders are to win he either will or he will die trying.

(of course that last part doesn't really count when he was posing as a mafioso because he couldn't blow his cover by easily surviving everything).

teruko

much like tachihara, teruko seems to be very willing to put herself on the line to keep people safe. this is shown almost immediately in her introduction.

if ordered, she is willing to die. she's incredibly dedicated to her job and would go down if it saves people.

she's willing to go to drastic measures to keep herself alive as well, destroying her eardrum and continuing to try and fight sigma despite being under the directed resonance guns (which were made to destroy people like her). she didn't run, and she did absolutely everything she could have done in order to win.

she seems to also pride herself in fighting and being hurt in battle, likely to show her resilience and ability to do whatever it takes if it saves people.

she even goes on to call the hunting dogs "society's servants" and refers to the enhancement surgeries as "searing order into their own bodies."

this immense dedication makes me strongly believe that she would have no problem sacrificing herself if it is for the best. she killed fukuchi despite really caring for him, so i can see her being willing to put herself into that situation as well.

tysm for the question!!!!! this was super fun to read through the scenes again and try to piece together a logical guess on them all.

[skaldish]

Oh my god I just had a horrible realization. It's a really personal one so please bear with me but I need to share it because…Idk, maybe it's not just me.

But I realized. I didn't actually grow up being a part of any culture. I grew up with seeing culture around me, and sometimes participating in culture temporarily, but I was not raised with a cultural identity of any sort whatsoever.

I identify as an American only because I live in the US, not because I'm acculturated American. I only have the cultural senses I have because it just so happened to be what I was surrounded by.

None of the stories told to me, none of the food I ate, and nothing I wore, were used to convey "This is who we are as people" by my family or community. Stories were just for entertainment, food was just for eating, and clothes were just whatever I liked wearing from the department store. These things weren't, in any way, identity, outside of things I could use to express my own personal identity if I wanted to.

Fuck, I wasn't even given the cultural knowledge associated with the class I was raised in. No leadership skills, no business sense, nothing.

"But what about religion?" No religion either. My family has culturally Catholic leanings, but it's residual and unrecognized.

"What about being white?" The fact that I can't describe what "being white" even means—beyond how I've heard it described—goes to show you my expertise in the matter.

"What about subcultures?" I only know how to participate in subcultures as either a spectator or as a guest. No culture has ever identified me as belonging to it, despite welcoming my participation, and I can't consider myself part of cultures if they don't claim me.

In terms of my cultural identity, I'm completely blank. It's like I have no name.

I write all this because I was thinking about why some Scandinavians would be upset at me using "Heathen" (as well as bigger questions of cultural appropriation in general) and came to this realization.

For the record…I don't consider myself Heathen because I identify as part of Scandinavian culture. That would be absurd. I use "Heathen" because I accidentally befriended a Heathen god. Loki hid his identity from me for years, and I was very upset when when he finally told me who he was—I felt like he betrayed me, and also like I was going insane, because my worldview prior to that did not support the existence of gods.

I dug deep into learning about Norse paganism because I knew understanding Loki within his cultural context was vital to understanding who he is. The reason I started digging around in Scandinavian culture directly, though, was because—surprise!—nothing we have published in the US actually has this context.

…I'm embarrassed to admit I wasn't aware "cultural appropriation" describes a situation where one person walks into another person's culture and says, "Yes, this is my home now," like a cuckoo taking over another bird's nest. I always thought it was a function of mishandling a culture—using it in ways that was careless and ill-informed—but no, it's taking away other peoples' identities in the name of playing dress-up for yourself.

"You're robbing me of myself for your own stupid aesthetic desires!" That's how I imagine it must feel.

It disgusts me to think that's how my actions may have looked.

[mugentakeda]

opinion on Iroh living in Ba Sing Se in the comics ? :3c *bats eyelashes at Iroh meta mutual*

personally I get the political reasoning for it (he very much was well known for participating violently in the war so it'd be a pretty awkward way to start peace talks and such) but like... as an Iroh + Zuko codependency truther... hmn...

though he DOES come to the FN later in the comics to help Zuko out so its like.. did you leave him because you were terrified of making things worse ? were you convinced he didn't need you anymore and so lumbered off to BSS in self-imposed exile certain that you'd be a burden to his personal growth ? or did he just underestimate the distance .. forgot Zuko wouldn't be able to hop on a Bison all the time to visit him... driving me Krazy.

honestly. i think a horrific combination of all of these could work simultaneously. like theres political merit but also iroh might also personally somehow think him being away from zuko will benefit zuko (as if zuko didnt miraculously managing to undo his lifetime of Bad Things in less than like. A year. entirely through various methods of suffering. things that would take grown men their whole life and then some to undo, if even that. And hes like 16 and now hes a monarch and hes gonna be busting his ass everyday for the rest of his life until hes too old to stand up straight). and that yeah hed also underestimate how much being a world away from zuko actually sucks

because something i lovee highlighting in my art of them is that iroh doesnt just love his nephew, he likes his nephew. hes fond of his nephews crankiness, the hovering, the theatrics, the shouting and stomping, the awkwardness and thoughtfulness. there are probably days where iroh just cant work up the typical jovial customer service and diplomacy energy and just broods in the jasmine dragon because he keeps accidentally brewing enough tea for two, cooking enough dinner for two, calling through the house for his nephew and then remembering hes stuck cooped in the caldera, having screaming matches with his councilmen over how to deal with shit iroh and his brother and their forefathers did to scar the world not even before lunch time.

so its like. a combo of the Grand Lotus in iroh who focuses on the political merit and worldly benefits of him being in bss, the shitty ill in the dome codependent Uncle iroh who mopes over not having his prickly ass barnacle of a nephew looming over his shoulder and glaring at people all the time, the Bad At Emotions And Communicating guy in iroh that gets so ashamed of what hes willing to put his own kid through for the sake of the world that he doesnt know if he even has the stomach to visit the caldera and look his nephew in the eye as he drowns under mountains of stress dealing with irohs baggage, etc etc.

and there are also probably things zuko doesnt know about and iroh isnt sure if hed ever have the strength to tell zuko about. at the beginning of zukos joke banishment, the white lotus had been like well if you do decide to take the throne once we figure out how to take down ozai youll need an heir and if your nephew is as good deep down as you claim then maybe mold him to align with us so when you step down he could at the very least be a puppet ruler so we can ensure he doesnt start another war. and then that plan just got adjusted slightly and expanded upon once the avatar wasnt a fairy tale anymore. it hurts worse now after they had reconciled before the comet because now zuko looks at him with a loving, trusting, praising look, despite how little iroh believes he really deserves it. and worst of all he doubts theres anything he could really do to convince zuko that he doesnt deserve that because iroh would bet anything that zuko genuinely thinks hed deserve it if iroh decided he didnt want anything to do with zuko.

hes like doing these weird gymnastics where he pushes these hoity toity white lotus beliefs onto zuko despite barely even abiding by them himself , and then also knowing he doesnt deserve the blind adoration zuko has been showering him in lately. its like iroh takes all his conflicting emotions and opinions, puts them in a blender, drinks it, and then throws it all back up. i doubt theres anyway to conclude his thought process in a paragraph or less basically.

like i know a lot of people agree leaving zuko for bss retirement era is stupid and i agree but also consider the angst potential and also the white lotus is stupid and iroh is stupid and zuko isnt stupid but he also thinks iroh hung the sun and stars so its more sad on his part than anything because he cant even escape getting the short end of the stick with IROH and doesnt even know it. and it will probably stay that way. Lol!!!!!

[golden28s]

it's december and christmas is coming so i wanted to share some of my gallavich christmas headcanons 🎄

and maybe maybe ill write some ficlets based on some of them

- mickey didn't like or understand christmas at all but ian slowly started to "push" him to participate in some stuff like decorating the tree, making dinner for christmas eve, putting some cute lights on their balcony, etc

- mickey pretended he didn't care about decorating the tree at first but ian found him at midnight changing decorations claiming ian did it wrong and had no taste, ian smiled and kissed his forehead.

- ian gets kinda sad during christmas, he still kinda misses his mum and every time mickey notices he's getting sad or he's not having a good day, he makes special plans that day. normally is going on a walk and see the lights, going to christmas markets and buy cute, original decorations for their tree and other times is just them in the fireplace, hot chocolate and one of ian's fav christmas movie that mickey forces himself to like.

- they celebrate new year's eve with the gallaghers but ian and mickey always sneak out and have their own private countdown and kiss at midnight. mickey calls him softie and kisses him again.

- they open their presents together and their rule is to not buy nothing too expensive and mickey is too good at that because he remembers ian's interests and likes too well so he always buys stuff that is useful or can be homemade, and it warms ian's heart every single christmas.

- ian insisted on starting different traditions at their first christmas together as a married couple because he knew mickey didn't have good memories of christmas during his childhood. he even made some of those childhood christmas dreams come true.

- once they have kids they're gonna be really annoying about christmas and ian will want family pictures with matching outfits.

-mickey will absolutely start to dress as santa claus after that one christmas where their kids almost caught them organizing the presents under the tree

-before the kids, they had morning sex the morning of the new year and ian always made a joke about that and mickey laughed and then proceed to deny that he laughed.

-mickey actually likes christmas sweaters

-finally, when mandy is in town ian, mickey and the gallaghers have a secret santa that ian and mickey absolutely use to be embarrassing, shameless and in love and make it everyone's problem.

[liesmyth]

wait so is it implied that john NEVER participated in the canaan house orgies or love affairs and the reason dios apate took so long to plan was the seduction? or did he, and he just never came, so it was actually just 500 years of edging?

We are left with room for imagination! :) I think we're supposed to take it as "he didn't participate" because of the way he tells Harrow about "watching" six lyctors get entangled in ill-advised love affairs + Augustine's "you were always so damn careful"

But like. It's never spelled out! Maybe it WAS 500 years of edging.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay I had a THOUGHT about Early Bird. Or specifically, what happens after it.

Because Diavolo's still out there, still has his stand arrow/s. And Giorno either doesn't exist, or he's much older than in canon. Possibly even in a position where he can be much more effective in either combatting or infiltrating Passione.

Basically what I'm trying to say is 20-something Giorno Giovanna kinda taking Bucciarati's role as inspirational surrogate parent.

ailing you managed to rummage around my brain and pull out an idea I thought I'd forgotten about

so doing the math, Jotaro would be around 31 in Canon Part 5, and he was 6 in Early Bird Part 3. Giorno was born about 3 years before Canon Part 3, which if we have that be the same here leads to a....... shockingly only 3 year age gap

now, of course there's also room to mess around with when Part 5 happens since if you wanna get really technical, Dio wouldn't have been able to be given the arrows by Enyaba since she wouldn't have been able to buy them off Doppio at this time, but that's a little too gritty for me so let's just shuffle things around instead and just say it all works out by shoving Doppio's trip back a few years

anyways back with Giorno, an old idea I had more or less has Giorno...... with the kiddos as well. I KNOW, THIS IS TECHNICALLY A PRETTY LATE ADDITION TO THE AU BUT HEAR ME OUT:

Dio of course has Jotaro already planned out to be his successor. There's a whole multilayered scheme going on here with loads of irony and revenge and what not, and he doesn't want to give that up. It's just too perfect.

However, Dio has also learned from his mistakes and knows he shouldn't put all his eggs in one basket. After all, given the fact he doesn't have Pucci this time, he is currently without a back up plan

enter: one Haruno Shiobana

this is also where Dio's interactions with the kids get more....... complicated. Because Haruno is the spare so to speak........ but at the same time he's pretty well cared for. Arguably better than the other kids, simply because of the fact he's new. Unlike the other kids, he doesn't need to be convinced of anything. This life and Dio is all he's known, he doesn't need to worry about Haruno trying to escape since....... well, why would he try

not to mention, Haruno's too young to participate in any kind of training, and again he's the spare. He shouldn't have to be trained since if everything goes to plan, he won't be needed as a successor. Maybe he could be a powerful underling one day if his Stand is strong enough, but Jotaro is supposed to be the future leader.

so honestly....... Jotaro's the only one who ever actually interacted with Giorno. He's kept separate from most of the other kids, but of course Dio wanted his heir to meet his possible second. And their interactions were about as interesting as a 3 year old and an ill 6 year old could be.

(who knows, maybe Haruno's mother is here as well? Of course, this does raise the question of whether or not she'd take Haruno with her when she inevitably flees the mansion, but for the sake of the AU let's say she does)

but when they're free.......... this is when things get a bit fun :)

because well....... given their ages, the two honestly don't remember each other super well. Haruno hardly remembers any of his time in the mansion at all, and Jotaro's memories are foggy from time and sickness. Kakyoin might know of Haruno's existence from their talks, but admittedly the toddler's importance wasn't NEARLY as much in his mind as compared to being rescued and getting Jotaro to a hospital

by the time Kakyoin's able to tell Holly and Joseph, Haruno's long gone

Italy I'd imagine isn't too different. Sure there's of course the differing dynamics between Giorno and the team given the fact he's 28 (and now the oldest member of the team by a landslide, Abbacchio being the closest at 21) but plot wise? There's definitely the question of do we play it straight or get creative with it which........ okay let's be real we're most likely gonna go the creative route jrdbvjdrbvs

I'm definitely very interested in how Koichi little quest goes down and how Giorno will deal with his chasing, and ofc how Jotaro will fall into things here

Polnareff definitely will make things interesting, since he's of course very related to Events All Those Years Ago and would likely be aware of the fact that Dio son who went missing that fateful night

there's a lot of room to Get Funky With It :)

also I'm just. Rotating Jotaro and Giorno's childhoods. How the mansion was the best and safest Giorno had ever been, and had he grown up there he honestly probably wouldn't have had that bad of a life, at least in comparison to his mother's neglect and step-father's abuse.

but that being in stark contrast to Jotaro's own experience. How the mansion was literal hell. How he was stolen away from his life and family and very nearly died, scared and alone.

how Dio managed to be Giorno's savior and Jotaro's nightmare

how Holly's rescue was Jotaro's saving grace and the thing that shattered any hope of Giorno's good future

how these two are family, both by blood and by the man who attempted to raise and shape them

[eagle-eyes-sideblog]

That Medical Anomaly

Summary

An AU where the reader is the subject of a secretive experiment that leaves them the perfect Player... among other things.

Possible triggering themes for this AU/story include medical trauma, descriptions of chronic illness, ableism, depression, and death. If I've handled anything insensitively, please let me know.

A more 'formal' introduction, along with rambling about my thought process, under the cut.

Self Aware MadCom belongs to @saltymongoose. The concept is really interesting to me, even aside from the xreader stuff (although it's definitely also that lmao). So I thought I might explore that a bit with a concept that's already been floating around my head for a bit. The world that the reader is from is deliberately left a bit vague, but it's sort of magical realism. Most relevant to this AU: there are things like doctors and computers existing alongside curses and other magical ailments.

Also, this doesn't really include much MadCom or SAMAU... Well, no interactions with the characters, anyways. It's mostly just an introduction to my ideas for this AU, so it describes more of what your life was like beforehand and how you found the series. Do also note that I've never played either M:PN game, so there might be some inaccuracies.

All that being said... enjoy!

~~~

You, along with several others, were the subject of an experiment when you were a teenager. It was so secretive, you were never even given the details of why it had been conducted. That, or you had forgotten, given that one of the major side effects of the experiment was memory loss.

The experiment itself was something about deliberately letting specific kinds of contagions into the subject's body. You knew a few of them were fungal, and many were magical in some way, although they were different for every experiment.

Apparently if they chose the right infections for the right subject and 'balanced' them properly with the individual's immune system... they would stabilize. This led to the subject gaining supernatural abilities based on whatever magical infections they had.

Of course, most of the subjects weren't so lucky. The various infections would usually just take their courses; often the combinations would very quickly kill the subject. Those that survived were left with permanent problems ranging from aphasia to compromised immune systems to seizures.

You were their star subject, the one better off than all the rest. The staff made sure to remind you of that every time you complained about anything. "Be grateful," they told you. "At least you can still speak. At least you're still recovering. At least you're still alive." They never said it out loud, but you heard the implication. All of this is only happening because of us.

Bullshit. You were only 'better off' because of sheer dumb luck. Had they succeeded? Maybe. But their idea of success didn't even take you into account.

And their idea of success still left you with problems. Yes, you have sharper senses now, and you can draw energy from more than just food. But you're face-blind, and your hands and feet are numb, and you sometimes hurt so badly that you can't walk.

Not to mention how unethical the experiment itself was. They didn't even study people who already had these conditions; they deliberately induced them. Hell, one of your roommates was six years old! Why they let her participate still bothered you today.

...But it wasn't all bad. You cherished the friends you'd made there, even if you'd lost contact with most of them.

Not just your fellow patients, either. Most of the staff were... annoying at the very least. But a few seemed to actually have your best interests in mind. For example, your favorite nurse, Max, recommended an animated series that might help take your mind off of things when you were in the depths of depression.

You very quickly fell in love with Madness Combat. The simple graphics, where characters were denoted by outfit and style rather than facial features, seemed perfect for you. You grew to adore Hank, Deimos, Sanford, Tricky, and every other character, getting invested in their fights even when nothing else made you happy.

And the episodes were just plain fun to watch. Even when you had issues with your memory, the fight scenes interested you more than enough to make up for it. The community, too, seemed to welcome you, and you came to cherish the friends you made there.

Not only that, but you found a little game on Newgrounds. Although your numb hands made it hard to play, it really did capture the things that made you adore Madcom to begin with. Your favorite nurse approved too; after all, it was an exercise in hand-eye coordination!

Naturally, you were beyond thrilled when Project Nexus came out. By that point, you'd already left the facility. And your memory had recovered enough to get well and truly obsessed with the lore.

You smiled, picking the Tourist difficulty and sitting back to watch the intro cinematic. This was going to be fun.

(Unbeknownst to you, it would also be much, much more than you bargained for.)

[cheeriecherrymain]

Springtime On The Moor [Chapter 3]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort Proofread: No lol Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes @feeiry Chapter Summary: You and Viktor finally have an actual conversation with each other, revealing family secrets and deciding what to do about your future together.

You watch as the maid exits the room quickly, straightening her apron as she goes. Part of you feels bad for demanding she control her temper in the way you did - you could have spoken less harshly, you think, and tried to reason with her.

Instead of insinuating that she owed you respect because you’re her employer.

Your father had always taught you to be kind to the working class, growing up. Explained to you that no one person was inherently worth more than another, and that everyone was just trying to make their way through life and do the best they could.

Maybe she was just having a bad day, you think, slouching back into your chair, worry beginning to creep up in the back of your mind.

What would Viktor think of you, after such a show?

Would he think you a temperamental woman? Too fiery and loud to make a good wife? Would he think you were overbearing, or classist? Or would he-

“Why did you redirect her anger like that?” Viktor asks. His voice is thankfully quiet, and you can’t detect any kind of malice or ill intent. He just sounds curious.

You peek up at him from behind your lashes, and push yourself to sit up straighter.

“I’m your wife,” you explain softly. “Matters of the home fall onto my shoulders. That includes…asking the staff to be kinder.”

You watch as his features pinch together ever so slightly, drawing into the faintest frown you’ve ever seen. The corners of his lips quirked downwards, pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t aware our duties varied based on gender,” he admits. “I thought marriage was meant to be a partnership?”

You’re well and truly shocked by his assumption.

Nothing in his posture says he’s being facetious or dishonest, so…what kind of rock has your husband been living under, to not understand the most basic of social systems? Even those who didn’t participate in the kinds of interpersonal games that you did, were still aware of how unions worked.

Understood what kinds of roles everyone was meant to play.

There were, of course, some special exceptions. Your father, for example: a widower of many years, now. He hadn’t grown up knowing all the work it took to run a home. Your mother had shared everything with him, all her decisions and the goings on of the day - he had been forced to play the role of both parents to you and your siblings.

But that was a very special circumstance.

Your husband, on the other hand, just seemed…oblivious.

“Viktor,” you begin, somewhat hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed without offending him in some manner. “Did your parents never teach you about any of this? About what to expect from a marriage?”

You try your best to stay as outwardly kind as you can, knowing that one small slip in tone or posture could push him away from you, and cause him to clam up. He already seemed so reserved and unwilling to socialize, and you don’t want to undo whatever progress you may have made.

But despite your best efforts, you still watch as discomfort makes its way into his expression. The slight tense of his shoulders, and the way in which he so casually avoids eye contact.

“I just want to know where I should start explaining, that’s all,” you tell him, honestly. “You’re not going to face any judgment from me, not for this, and least of all for not knowing something in general.”

You’re still, as his gaze travels over you. Looking for any sign of deceit, anything that might hint to him that you’re trying to set him up for…for something unpleasant.

A joke, you wonder, or maybe just to ridicule him in general?

You would never.

But he doesn’t know that.

Finally, he relaxes in the slightest, mirroring your form to slouch back in his seat.

“You’re aware that I’m adopted, yes?” he asks, and when you give a brief nod of confirmation, he continues. “I am the youngest of six, and I don’t share blood with any of my siblings. When my parents were no longer able to have children of their own, they plucked me out of an orphanage in an attempt to raise one last baby.”

You can feel the surprise stretch across your face, loud and prominent. Had he really been taken in so young? With how your father had spoken of him, and described him as a boy, you’d assumed that he’d been brought home around nine or ten.

But as an infant?

Where did he learn his mannerisms, then?

“We -meaning my siblings and myself- had all assumed that I wouldn’t end up with any kind of claim to the family fortune,” he explains, chewing on the edge of his thumb nail. “Even from a young age, they would not pass up a chance to remind me of my place - I was the outsider, and I had no business trying to continue our parents’ legacy.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. 

“But you share a surname, don’t you?” you wonder.

Viktor nods to your question.

“We do,” he confirms. “But that hardly matters. Not when the purity of the bloodline is in question.”

Your heart sinks slightly, knowing he must have felt incredibly lonely growing up. Having a family, and being loved by his parents, but otherwise ostracized by the people his own age. Never being allowed to expect the same treatment as his siblings, as if his background made him somehow less.

You watch as he reaches for a bottle of wine that’s been set out on the table, reading the label for a brief moment before uncorking it with a soft pop.

He fills his glass a little more than you would consider polite, but then, you couldn’t really fault him for it, could you? Especially not when he gestures towards your own goblet at the last minute, as if he’s just remembered that you might like some, too.

He’s trying.

You slide the glass towards him, and wave him off when you’ve got a sufficient amount of red nectar - a little more than you’d usually indulge in, but with dinner on the way and a heavy conversation in your midst, you feel as though you’re entitled to it.

“At least,” he finally resumes, swirling the wine around in his cup, “that was what I had thought.”

He takes a sip, and reclines back in his chair again.

“We were of the mind that my brothers would take over the business when my parents either passed or retired, and my sisters would run the estate once they were married,” he goes on. “We assumed that I would be permitted to stay in the manor as long as I pleased, as part of the inheritance conditions. All of us were happy with that outcome. The business has never been in any of my interests.”

He takes another mouthful of drink, his expression pulling into one of frustration.

“Imagine my surprise, upon finding out that my parents willed everything to me.”

He doesn’t sound angry about the situation he’d been given - not really. Fed up, perhaps, and like he had never expected his life could go the way it has.

It makes you sad, the more you think about it. Imagining your husband as a little boy, tormented by the people who he was meant to call family, never allowed to believe that he could be more than their words, or achieve anything. Not even allowed to dream.

And now, forced to marry someone he didn’t know - someone he probably had no desire to know.

“I’m…sure your brothers and sisters were not so pleased?” you suggest, earning dry laugh from your husband.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” he scoffs. “They were outraged. Even when I told them that I had no idea I was in the will - told them that I would be happy to hand over everything they’d been previously promised! All I wanted was a place I could continue working.”

You finally take a sip of the wine in your hand, listening intently to the sweet aftertaste of cherry.

“But there was no reasoning with them,” he laments, his tone growing somber. “They were scorned, and they blamed me. I knew that if I gave them anything, they…would have taken everything. I would have lost years of work - my home, any semblance of a future. Even now, they still…”

Your eyes remain trained on him, following as he stoops forward to lean his elbows on the table, pressing the tips of his fingers into his temples to rub slow circles. 

A very well-practiced motion, you realize.

“My siblings have done everything in their power to drive my life into ruin. I have never been one to care for my social reputation, but…the rumours. Their threats, scaring away most of the staff employed by the estate.”

He finally looks over to you, his eyes wide with a forlorn sense of sadness.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the garden. There’s no one in town who is willing to risk their social life to care for it, so it’s fallen to ruin. I would do it myself, but…” He gestures down towards his leg - out of your line of sight, but you know that he’s pointing towards the shiny metal brace that you’ve never seen him out of.

Of course he’d love the place he’d grown up. Of course he’d want to take care of it. You’re furious with yourself for ever thinking he might have just been a careless man, unconcerned with what other people thought of him.

In truth, he cares quite a bit.

And how frustrating it must be, you think, to see something so beloved falling to ruin around you, unable to do anything to stop it. To have people actively working against you, counting and praying on your downfall.

You quietly drum your fingers on the table.

You can feel Viktor’s eyes on you, questioning and curious - and you can tell that he knows you’re thinking. 

“Has your business been impacted by any of this?” you ask.

Suddenly enough that he hesitates a moment before replying.

“The family business has taken a loss-”

“No, no,” you interrupt with a wave, taking another sip of wine. “I mean your business. The deal you have with Mr. Talis. HexTech, if I’m correct?”

His jaw slackens when you reveal that you know about that. And in truth, it had required quite a bit of digging around and asking questions: you’d been far too curious about the mysterious man who’d appeared out of the darkness to ask for your hand.

He was difficult to find a trace of, you know, always careful to cover up his tracks and make sure no one saw his face or knew his name.

You would have thought him shady, were the HexTech company not so well-known.

“…not thus far, I don’t think,” Viktor finally replies.” My participation in our projects is not typically brought up when speaking to sponsors - Jayce does all the networking, and we do the rest together.”

You drum your fingers on the table some more.

“Your siblings will try, then,” you tell him, bluntly.

Worry falls over him when he figures out what you’re implying: that the people he once called family were ruthless in their endeavors, and would stop at nothing to see him brought to his knees. That they would be willing to ruin anyone’s lives to do it.

Even when they discovered his association and partnership with Mr.Talis, they would simply seek to tear him down, too.

“They have been successful in bringing you to ruin thus far,” you tell him, “No one wants to work for you, save the select few you have employed - but nowhere near enough people to keep up with the work that a house demands. Your estate is in shambles, and your name is so tarnished that the people I considered close friends didn’t show up to our wedding.”

He peers over at you, guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, and you cut him off with a wave.

“Don’t be,” you sigh, taking another sip of your drink. “I will admit that I was upset about it yesterday, but…knowing that very little of your reputation has been your choice has calmed me down a bit.”

You smile at him, sweet yet mischievous.

“I’ve a proposition for you, husband. Something that will benefit both of us.”

Viktor raises a brow, intrigued, and gestures for you to continue.

Your smirk widens.

“I suggest revenge.”

His face falls a fraction, but before he can say anything, you speak over him.

“I’m not suggesting bodily harm. I’m not suggesting any kind of like-minded retaliation, either,” you promise, easing some of his tension. “ I’m well versed in social politics. Quite frankly, I find it entertaining and invigorating - and I enjoy getting to dress up on special occasions. It wouldn’t take a lot of prodding among my typical circle to get your name bouncing around.”

You take the last mouthful of your wine, and set the goblet down on the table.

“ A couple of kind words here and there. Everyone knows that you…lack social prowess, so any word of mine would be considered an absolute truth. I’m your wife, after all - and I’m meant to know you in ways that are far more intimate than your siblings ever would.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets in his seat at your choice of words, nor the way pink begins to blossom across the tops of his cheeks. His awkwardness is honestly quite charming, in your opinion, if not slightly frustrating.

Frustrating, because how easily does he manage to catch your interest.

“All I’d have to do would be to let slip a few things that directly contradict the rumours spreading around, to the right people,” you finish, proudly knitting your fingers together to set them in your lap.

Unsurprisingly, though, Viktor seems unconvinced.

“Do you really think that all the damage done is so easy to fix?” he wonders, almost incredulous. “Talk to a couple of your friends and let them gossip?”

“No,” you admit. “I don’t. But we don’t need to convince anyone, Viktor. We just need to make them doubt. Doubt your siblings, doubt what they’ve heard. Once people start questioning, they’ll be willing to look a little closer, and be a little closer.”

Finally, finally, he seems to understand what you’re saying.

“What would make someone angrier than thriving, despite their attempts to assure otherwise?” you ask, of no one in particular.

Your husband smiles then, and not just a small quirk of the lip. A genuine smile, laden fully with the same sort of mischief that you have. A giddy, almost playful edge to it, and…something you can’t quite decipher. A sense of longing, perhaps - hope?

“You’ve thought this out very thoroughly,” he says, “and yet you’ve only been here a day.”

“Well, it’s not just your life anymore, now is it?” you tell him, matter-of-factly. “It’s our life. Our name, our home, our reputation. And neither of us deserve to be treated so poorly.”

There’s more you want to say to him - more conversation to be had about how to improve your lives and where to start, how to fix the garden. Your entire plan, really, as unfinished as it is.

Were it not for the servants’ door flinging open, startling the two of you away from each other.

The kitchen staff begin pouring in with dishes of food, setting them out around the table so you might choose what you’d like to eat - much of it which you’d never seen before, spices you’d never smelled, colours you’d never eaten.

Viktor promises you later that you’ll speak on the matter tomorrow, after you’ve both had some time to rest - claiming he still had some work he’d yet to finish that evening, and that he didn’t want to be late on its completion.

You’ve half a mind to ask him to stay with you: to ask him to spend the night with you, as a husband was meant to - even if it just meant sleeping together in the same bed. But with his beliefs and general awkwardness…you know even suggesting something like that would make him retreat back into his shell.

You’ll just have to work on refining your plans for the manor, and hope they would be enough to impress him.

[sincerelylivvv]

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe is at a total loss when he finds out you're sick; the thought of losing you was once something he constantly avoided, but now is the only thing on his mind

warnings: reader is dying, some language, mentions of religion

wordcount: 2,796

a/n: based on the song 'pray' by sam smith. it's not specified exactly what the reader is dying from, but yknow, she is dying. feel free to leave some feedback! if possible, i may write a another part. if you have any requests, send them in! and super sorry if this is hard for anyone to read, if you are uncomfortable, please do not feel the need to continue reading. If you would like to be tagged in any future fics, just let me know. I love all of you

I'm young and I'm foolish, I've made bad decisions I block out the news, turn my back on religion Don't have no degree, I'm somewhat naïve I've made it this far on my own

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to being alone. He learned at a young age that you can't depend on anyone fully; there's always someone wishing ill on you and then waiting to kick you when you're at a low point. Through the years, he's turned to not-so-healthy habits to cope with how shitty his life was. He was young, careless, stupid. But he figured how much shittier can his life actually get? He dropped out of college, his family hated him and even his friends grew to have a certain distaste for him.

He remembers how his family used to attend church on Sunday mornings. When he was a kid, he'd be in a different section of the church with others close to his age. They'd participate in whatever activity was going on at the time and through the couple hours they were there, would be given snacks to keep them from going hungry.

Through all of the poor decisions he's made, he was still content with himself. He made it this far on his own and knew he could go farther if he pushed himself enough. He never was the kind of person that would back down from a challenge. His now? To become someone his father could say he was proud of. Or at least a person that didn't cause distaste within his toxic family.

He thought heavily about leaving the island, thinking a new start would be good for him. A different place with different faces; people who know nothing of him than what he let them know. He could go back to college or maybe start a job straight off the bat, which may be a better option for him due to the circumstances he finds himself in. He doesn't have much money, no one to confide in, and no certain direction to go in.

Until he met you. You were the daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman. Your dad first started out small, starting a mediocre landscaping business, and eventually had the opportunity to go to college. After majoring in both business and communications and secured a job on Wall Street. He then went on to start a chain of five-star hotels located throughout the country, and eventually sold his landscaping business. He met your mom after she applied to work at one of the hotels and the rest is history.

He met you at a party. You and your parents were on vacation and staying in the house your dad bought as a gift for your mom. He remembers how excited and at ease you were, with a cup of the spiked juice in your hand. Your hips were swaying along to the beat of the music, laughs tearing out of your throat in utter joy; and he was captivated as soon as he saw you.

He wished he could say he was the one to go up to you, but that wasn't how it turned out. You and your friends had been walking towards the drinks, which just so happened to be close to where he was standing, and in a complete accident, you knocked his drink out of his hand when walking by him.

"Shit! I am so, so sorry about that," you rush apologetically. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and God everything is kinda swaying right now. I can go grab you another drink-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." He smiles. "Accidents happen. And you look a little past the point of tipsy. No offense."

The laugh that tore out of your throat made his stomach flutter; it was beautiful and graceful and everything he was the exact opposite of. "Trust me; none taken," you grin back.

But lately, that shit ain't been gettin' me higher I lift up my head and the world is on fire There's dread in my heart and fear in my bones And I just don't know what to say

That moment on the beach was the moment he knew he wanted you; forever and always. It was the start of a beautiful and bountiful relationship, which he was by no means accustomed to. He was used to short-lived relationships, more so hookups, so this was all to him.

You caught on to that pretty early on, as hard as Rafe tried with you, he fell a little short sometimes. But he did try really hard, there were just those few key tells he had that made you contemplate whether he had ever been in anything serious before. And eventually, it was brought up in conversation, and just like you had thought, he had never done anything like this before. Not that it bothered you; relationships weren't easy, especially if you were new to them, but you were patient with the boy.

Though he had bad trust issues, he grew to learn how to open up with you. You were there for him no matter what; always so kind and understanding with everything he talked to you about. It was strange for him, unfamiliar. But he was grateful nonetheless.

The day he found out the news hit him like a train. And though he thought he knew what panic attacks were, which maybe he did, he never had one as bad as this. His vision became very narrow with black spots clouding his eyes every now and then, and the world around him was both moving too fast and too slow all at the same time.

It hurt you to tell him, but it hurt him even more knowing there was nothing he could do to help. All you've done for him, and he would never have the chance to give back to you.

You tried your best to stop the sniffles that came from you, desperate to hide the sadness that was written on your face. Your hands cradled his, warm and soft over ones that were rough and brittle, and you gently pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do, Rafe?" Your voice was quiet and calm, and Rafe sat shocked at how you could be so relaxed.

"How are you so…so at ease when you're-" His voice breaks, sobs quickly pouring out from him.

"Oh, Rafe." You maneuver to sit on his lap, thighs on either side of his, and your head now lying on top of his own as his tears wet the sweatshirt you're wearing.

His clammy hands cling to every inch of you, desperate to hold on to you for as long as he could. Maybe if he held you long enough, you wouldn't leave. The both of you would carry on as if you wouldn't be gone in a few months, and the pair of you would do what he dreamed of doing with you.

But that wasn't the case, you would be gone, and a part of him with you. He wondered what he did to have such heartache brought on him, to have the only good thing in his life taken from him and would be forced to move on as if you weren't gone. As if he was still whole.

"It'll be okay, Rafe."

Maybe I'll pray, pray Maybe I'll pray I have never believed in you, no But I'm gonna pray

Rafe never would have thought he'd be back in the church he grew up in. But he thought if there was a God, maybe He would have some empathy and listen. The both of you started going together in the beginning; it took you off guard when he asked you about going, but again, you wanted nothing but to support him. Eventually, you got too sick to go. So, two then became one.

He never prayed so hard. In fact, he never prayed at all. Even when he was forced to go as a child, he never prayed. But he wanted to keep you here and all to himself. He knew it was selfish, but he came to the decision that he never was one for selflessness.

It was after a Sunday service that he thought he'd stop by to see you. Stepping out of his truck, he approaches the door to your house with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. First, he heard your dog bark, little Daisy, and then he was met with the warm eyes of your mother.

"Rafe!" The woman exclaims, joy radiating from her body. "Come in, come in," She ushers him inside. "How've you been? Y/F/N told me you were thinking about working for the company."

Rafe nods, "Yeah, we've been talking about it. I guess it'll…I don't know, depend on how I am after-" He stops and the woman in front of him flashes a sad, knowing look.

"Of course," She agrees. "No rush at all. There will always be a place for you. You have my word." She gently pats his shoulder, and all is quiet for a few moments before she makes a 'tsk' sound. "Well, Y/N is in her room, for now. She's been asking to go on a walk around the garden for a while. Maybe you could join us," She proposes.

"Yeah of course," Rafe smiles. "Mind if I go see her?"

Rafe's brow cringes and his shoulders drop. "Yeah," He mumbles. 'I know the feeling,' he thinks.

"Well, best not to keep her waiting." Your mom motions to the steps.

You had been staring out the windows of your room when you heard the light knock on your door, and before you could even speak, Rafe pokes his head into the room. "Mind if I come in?" He grins.

Your tired face lights up upon seeing him, and with rapid nods of your head, Rafe makes his way over to you.

"Pretty flowers," You comment. "Who're they for?"

"A pretty girl," Rafe answers and lands a swift kiss on the crown of your head. He pulls away and smirks cheekily at you. He then bows his head once more and begins peppering light kisses over your face, basking in the giggles that flew from your mouth.

Eventually, he presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling away once more, sitting down the flowers he once held on the nightstand beside the hospital bed your father had put in your room.

He sighs as he sits down in the chair beside you. "How you doing, sweet girl?"

You do your best to shrug, "I'm doing good. A little tired." You try to smile, but Rafe is quick to notice the twinge of pain that briefly crossed your face.

His eyes dance across your face; your color has dulled slightly, and your eyes are heavy and defeated. "I'm sorry," He finally says. "Your mother told me about your walk today, though. That's something to look forward to." He's fast to change the subject, not wanting to think about how bad you're doing and how broken he is at the sight of you. He hates seeing you in such a state; a girl who was once so full of love and life and everything pure in the world was now lying sick in a bed.

You grin a little, "Yeah, I'm excited. I've been dying to get out of this bed." You then wince at your words, "Yikes, bad joke," you attempt to laugh it off upon seeing the flash of pain across your boyfriend's face. "Well, um will you be joining us?"

Rafe chuckles, grabbing onto your hand and rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. "Wouldn't miss it."

I'm not a saint, I'm more of a sinner I don't wanna lose, but I fear for the winners When I tried to explain, the words ran away That's why I am stood here today

Rafe knew he wasn't that great of a person; not one anyone would go out on a limb to save, but he still had a sliver of hope that some miracle would save him from the nightmare you and he were facing.

Every night and every Sunday morning, he gave his best shot at asking, begging, God to save you. He always talked about knowing he didn't deserve such a huge ask, but that you, at the very least, deserved something better than this. He would include all the plans he still had with you; proposing and getting married, having kids, spending the holidays with you, but above all, growing old with you.

He hoped that his plea would at least sway someone enough to pull through will a miracle; he had even stated a few times that he would be more than willing to take your place. Just as long as you stay and you're happy.

His pleas of hope and desperation are the only reason he's always stood firm in that church that he hated so much There wasn't enough money in the world to make him go to church, but that was before he met you. And it was sure as hell before the revelation that he was gonna lose you one day and there was nothing he could do about it.

Won't you call me? Can we have a one-on-one, please? Let's talk about freedom Everyone prays in the end Everyone prays in the end

Rafe was beyond angry.

He recently found out from your father that you were only getting worse, and the doctor that had been taking care of you revealed that there wasn't anything more that could really be done

So all that time he spent praying for you? He got nothing out of it.

Sometimes, he thought that it was kind of funny how he once begged his father for things, most small, but never got it, and then had to beg and plead with someone else for your well-being and still didn't get anything.

The most recent night he saw you was the worst. You looked bad before, but now? You looked terrible. Your face began sinking in, arms and body became smaller due to you not eating much. And even when you did, you threw most of it up.

You hardly talked now. You were always somewhat quiet but still knew how to have a loud, breathtaking presence. That wasn't the case anymore, though; you were hardly ever awake, on account of you not having much energy, and when you were, you wouldn't say much. Usually just a quiet 'hi' and then would look out your window.

It killed Rafe to see you in such a state. To not be able to have a conversation like he used to. But he learned that while you may not be willing or able to talk, you still enjoyed listening to him. He told you all about the apartment he was able to get, with the help of the job your father gave him, and how he got a dog he named 'Posie', and even brought in pictures of her to show you. She was an older King Cavalier Charles Spaniel, and almost completely deaf, but he loved her, and so did you. Sometimes, he'd even bring her over for a playdate with Daisy, which always brought a brighter look to your face.

He didn't know what particularly triggered it, but he finally, completely and utterly, broke down. On the floor of his bedroom, heavy breaths and thick tears fell all too quickly. It was the type of crying that went from loud, heart-wrenching sounds to nothing at all. And with all the strength he could muster up, he begged, unknowingly for the last time, for someone to help you. This time, not specifying who, just someone bigger to help the sickness that still plagued you.

'Just a fucking one-on-one, please', He thought over and over again. The mantra was recounted in his head for what felt like forever, until he eventually fell asleep.

That was until he picked up the phone call, in which your mother finally told him you had gotten better, only to finish with the words, 'she passed during the night…in her sleep. I'm so sorry, Rafe.'

tagged: @scenesofobx @casualcloddeputyherring @x-lulu

[quodekash]

PART 2 OF DANGEROUS ROMANCE EP4 COMMENTARY BC I HAVE TOO MANY THOUGHTS AND RAN OUT OF SCREENSHOTS

because of them, im now gonna start sobbing every time someone throws a peace sign at me

HELL YES

IM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

YUOU DID SO GOOD KANG

I KNEW YPU COULD DO IT

AIUOGHKJERPODHFKN

NOOOOOOO

FRICK

my boy is having many thoughts. none of them good.

I can hear his crisis and him blaming himself because now he thinks it's his fault that sailom's gonna get beat up, and he's sad for himself that he doesn't have a reason to spend time with sailom anymore, and now his grandma's gonna be disappointed in him for failing something, and there's definitely some thoughts in the mix there about his dad and the bike he bought him and kang is so certain he doesn't deserve the bike, I could go on but I wont because I would like to finish this episode before the sun rises and currently that doesnt seem all too likely

well DUH

YOU COULD SEE IT FROM MARS (and now im thinking about soundwin. frick.)

tell him

tellllll himmmmmm

tell him he lent the umbrella to youuuuu

and you've treasured it forever perhaps?

OMG HE'S TELLING HIM???

DUDE THEYRE ACTUALLY LISTENING TO ME SO MUCH THIS EPISODE THIS IS SO RARE

chances are either the bus or Kang's car is gonna show up before he'll get it out, bUT ONCE AGAIN, LET ME BASK IN THIS RARE MOMENT OF GLORY AND POWER

BOOM

CALLED IT

I know it's super cliche and everyone probably saw that coming but I dont care, im gonna let myself feel almighty powerful

I just. I will never understand why they dont just like quickly tell the person before leaving. or like yell at him while getting on the bus. OR EVEN text him while on the bus, immediately after getting on. that's what id do, cos if I dont tell them right then and there, I guarantee you I will forget to ever tell them, and then it'll keep me up at night for ages but never at a moment where I actually think about telling them, and then three or four years later ill finally tell them and it'll be so insignificant by then but it doesnt matter because I FINALLY TOLD THEM THE THING

I really hope he remembers to give at least one of those umbrellas back to kang

mans is not waterproof, he needs an umbrella

respect for auto just went down down prices are down

crypto? seriously honey?

IT'S SO CHEESY

IT'S SO CLICHE

AND IM CRYING ABOUT IT BECAUSE SOMEHOW I BOTH IRONICALLY AND UNIRONICALLY LOVE CHEESY AND CLICHE MOMENTS WITH ALL MY FRIKIN SOUL

EW

SPORTS

I hate sports days so much

thankfully id always be allowed to just not go to school instead of being forced to participate in athletics and swimming carnivals and cross country and stuff, and I will be forever grateful to my parents for that

they're in love btw

just in case anyone forgot

I didn't forget

I can't forget about them

my brain wont allow it

IT'S JUST

ITS JUST SO SWEET

I THINK IM GOING INSANE, THEY HATE EACH OTHER AND WANT TO KILL EACH OTHER SO BADLY THAT IT'S LITERALLY ROMANTIC

THIS IS PINING

HE IS PINING

PL E A SE CAN THEY KISS

NAWA'S HEAD TILT????? LIKE THEYRE LITERALLY ABOUT TO KISS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU

two things to say here

one: view, please marry me

two: kang and sailom definitely have the same responsibilities

just KISS

I can't deal with the longing stares anymore

im like 80% certain they wont kiss this episode but I so badly want them to

NOOOO THEYRE NOT IN THE SAME GROUP THINGY

....but (hehe butt)

...maybe

...perhaps

I think kang might pull some strings to end up in the same department as sailom? maybe??

IM DYING, THERE'S A MARC AND A PAVIN (which sounded like pawin)

THEY GAVE UP THINKING OF NAMES FOR THE RANDOM CLASSMATES

ooooo he is listening to their conversationnnnnn

AND THEYRE GONNA INTERACT IN A FRIKIN BATHROOM??? I SWEAR, EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW IS SOUNDWIN CODED, IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU

5ER6CYVTGUOBHIOVTRC6DE5S4E57RCVYUBHUVTRDS3GTFD46F7GY8H

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY

THEYRE JUST SO

HE'S SO GOUERGJND

LMAO YOU IDIOT

(we're getting so many cheesy cliches right after each other and I am so here for it, I love this so much)

now kiss

OH

OH THIS IS THIS PART???? DAMN

he needs money to pay off his debts, so... he's gonna take a job offer from the guy he pays his debts to? feels kinda pointless, right?

also in this series, pepper reminds me of tor, specifically in midnight museum, so part of my mind thinks hes gonna offer him a job at the museum

LMAO

'MYNAME6969'

I WANT TO KNOW WHO PUT THAT IN THERE AND GIVE THEM A HIGH FIVE BECAUSE THATS FRIKIN HILARIOUS, WHOEVER SNUCK THAT IN THERE

IM DYING I LOVE THAT SO MUCH

as someone who sprained an ankle a little over a month ago, I have some points to make

namely: saifah is right. the first 72 hours are the most important, as long as you're resting it, keeping it elevated, icing it, compressing it, you'll be all good to walk on it in no time. after that, you need to make sure you're still taking care of it, like by wearing a compression sock all the time, and not walking on it too much if it starts hurting, stuff like that. that's the part I didnt do. I took care of it for three days, then kept walking on it like nothing happened, and it's still really painful sometimes, it never properly healed, but like it's fine im surviving

OH I DO NOT LIKE THIS, I DO NOT LIKE THIS AT ALL

HE'S SO OLD

ICKY I FEEL ICKY

there's nothing wrong with the work he's doing, it's just the fact that he's still a kid and thats a 50 year old man

on another note, I ran out of bloody images AGAIN

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, ITS NEARLY 2AM. IVE BEEN WATCHING FOR NEARLY 2 AND A HALF HOURS AND IM NOT EVEN THREE QUARTERS THROUGH THE EPISODE, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME