#student protesters or else beating them

[isanyonetoknow]

Never mind I’m not going to reply to that person. If you say you think a country is currently pretty dope for taking actions against Israel and someone is like hey, just an fyi, that government is killing its own people and has severe human rights issues so please don’t idolize the government like this and your response to this is to go “yeah like I said, I’m sure it has its own issues”… like I don’t know what to say to you!

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.

However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."

It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.

"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."

Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."

"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"

"Sure, that'll do."

"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"

You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"

Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah-huh."

But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.

"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."

"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.

"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"

As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.

[little-diable]

Meant to be – Prof!Spencer Reid (smut)

I just love writing prof!fics – almost as much as I love priest!fics. Almost. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is a young professor joining the university Spencer works at. Even though he's annoyed about having to share his office with her at first, he can't help but fall for her all too quickly.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, office smut, some possessiveness/jealousy, lots of fluff

Pairing: Prof!Spencer Reid x fem!prof!reader (3k words)

“Professor Reid?” The soft voice filled his office, forcing his eyes off the paper he was currently grading. His gaze wandered over the woman's features as he curiosity studied her for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“My office hours are over, please return on Wednesday for your questions.” His eyes left hers to refocus on his papers, while expecting her to turn around and leave, urged on by the rude tone he hadn’t been able to shake. Spencer hadn’t expected anybody else to turn up this late in the afternoon, he was desperate to squeeze as much work into the remaining time he had alone in his office, already overstimulated by the mere thought of having to share his office with somebody from today on. 

“My name is (y/n), I’ll be sharing this office with you.” Once again he was forced to look at her, unable to swallow his annoyance as it began to dawn on him that she wasn’t a student.

She was pretty, by far prettier than all the pictures he had searched on the internet the second he had heard about her, about (y/n) joining his personal safe space. Why hadn’t he recognised her? Was his mind already that fed up with the pretty stranger? 

“Of course, I’m sorry.” He didn’t move as she slowly stepped into the big room, letting her eyes wander before finding her way to her space. The old wooden desk had been placed near the big window, drenching her in the light of the slowly setting sun. Spencer would crash and burn if he were forced to see this daily, a sight so ethereal he feared this was just a trick of his tired brain. 

“I’m sorry that you have to share your office with me, I can only imagine how annoying that must be for you.” He wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that he doesn’t mind sharing it with her – polite words any other colleague would have effortlessly spoken. But all Spencer could do was hum and redirect his gaze to the papers, while missing the slight hurt expression (y/n) couldn’t hide. 

……

Her heart was pounding with a faster beat, singing a tale of nervousness in her chest she couldn’t silence just yet. This wasn’t an unusual situation for her, she had taught numerous classes before, but the first class she taught at a new university always had something special to it, something (y/n) couldn’t shake. 

The students were working on the papers she had handed out a minute ago, fully engrossed by the story. She let her eyes wander, taking them all in in hopes of remembering at least a handful of them. But her thoughts were silenced the second her eyes found his. Spencer Reid was leaning against the door and with his arms crossed in front of his chest he intently studied her from his spot.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as it silently whispered to (y/n). It had been days since she had first crossed paths with him, the annoyed, closed-off man who was more handsome than she liked to admit. Ever since their first awkward run-in she hadn’t tried to make any conversations with him, she had opted to wear her headphones around him, hiding herself from the curious eyes she felt on her frame whenever she let her work swallow her. 

Neither of them dared to break their eye contact first, a silent challenge both were determined to win. (Y/n) allowed herself to take him all in, the locks perfectly framing his handsome face, the slight unfamiliar smile playing on his lips, and those twinkling eyes that seemed to follow her around whenever they crossed paths. 

“Alright, seems like our time is up, if you have any questions about your reading, please email me.” She was forced to break their staring contest first, smiling at her students who smiled back at her before leaving the room. (Y/n) couldn’t help but notice how a few of them wore overly bright smiles as they walked past Spencer, seemingly just as affected by the professor's handsome appearance, just like (y/n) was. 

Only as the last student had left the room did Spencer finally begin to move. Slowly, he walked down the stairs, moving closer to (y/n) with every passing moment. She was glued to her spot, patiently waiting for the man to break their silence, to let her hear the raspy voice that had rang in her ears for the past days. 

“That was a really interesting lecture, (y/n).” He came to a halt only a few steps away from her, keeping a slight distance between them as if he was unsure how to properly approach her. For a moment, (y/n) had to avert her gaze, she began to pack her bag with a slight smile stuck to her lips, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the nervousness flushing through her whenever he was close. 

“Thank you, Spencer, that means a lot coming from a beloved professor like you.” Her words drew a gritty laugh from him, while a slight rosy tint began to flush his cheeks. (Y/n) shouldered her bag before she began to walk up to him, wordlessly asking him to follow her up the stairs and back to their office. 

“Listen,” Spencer cleared his throat before he kept speaking, seemingly unsure how to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I am sorry about those first days, I was annoyed and quite unfriendly to you. Would you allow me to make it up to you?”

“Oh, Spencer, that is very kind of you, but I get it, I would be just as annoyed if I had to give up my personal space to share it with a stranger.” Her soft voice left him smiling, unable to look away from (y/n) while stepping back into their own little bubble, the safe haven they found in their spacey office that was filled with books and collected items. 

“Would you want to get some food with me, as an apology? We could also order in, if you want.” He plopped down on his chair the same second (y/n) did, while holding eye contact from their spots. 

“Sure, that would be lovely, thank you, Spencer.”

……

Her phone had buzzed in her pocket a few minutes ago, and even though it had ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, she was determined to get her search over with before giving into the pull. She had just finished her class and was now combing through their library, in search of new reading material, desperately trying to find her books. 

With a relieved sigh she reached for the book she had looked for these past minutes, pressing it to her side before finally giving into her heart’s silent call. (Y/n)’s hand wandered to her phone, unable to bite down her chuckles as she read Spencer’s all too simple message. 

“Thai or Italian?” 

Ever since that evening in their office, where they had ordered in and started to get to know one another properly, they had begun to form some kind of routine, ordering food at least once a week to spend their evenings together. Spending time with Spencer felt all too easy, too natural, something that made her feel more confused than she liked. 

She was about to type out her reply as she collided with somebody, forcing her eyes off her phone. Hands found her waist to stabilise her frame, keeping the young professor from losing her balance. (Y/n)’s wide eyes found a pair of brown ones, she studied the man for a second before parting her lips to apologise.

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” Her question drew a soft laugh from him. She had seen him from afar a few times, another professor she had yet to properly introduce herself to. He was a handsome man, taller than her and slightly older, and yet he had nothing on the professor she shared her office with.

“Don’t worry, are you alright though?” The man still had his hand placed on her waist, holding onto her while murmuring the question. Just as she wanted to reply, to tell him that nothing had happened, her name was called, forcing her attention towards Spencer, who was approaching the two. An unreadable expression tugged on his features as he studied her and the hand of their colleague which was still glued to her waist. 

“There you are, I was looking for you, sweetheart.” Heat flushed through her at the unfamiliar term of endearment. The second Spencer reached her side, he pulled her from the man’s grasp, straight into his arms. She could only gape up at him, torn between her confusion and the slight twinge of excitement she couldn’t shake as she took in his clear expression of jealousy.  

The man muttered something (y/n) couldn’t pick up, fully focused on Spencer and the way she fit all too perfectly into his grasp. No words were shared between them as they held eye contact, staring at one another as if it was the first time they got to take the other in. Spencer’s thumb stroked soft circles into the fabric of her shirt before he slowly – almost reluctantly – let go of her. 

“I, uhm, you didn’t reply, so I thought I’d go find before you get lost.” Spencer’s whispers drew a soft chuckle from (y/n). She couldn’t stop herself from reaching for his hand to lightly squeeze it as her smile kept growing.

“And what was that whole thing with calling me “sweetheart”?” The blush she was all too familiar with by now returned to his cheeks, while forcing his eyes from her. (Y/n) squeezed his hand again before she began to tug him down the hallway, set on finding their way back to their office.

“Don’t worry, Spence’, I quite liked it.” 

……

“You’re so quiet, what’s going on in that head of yours?” She mumbled the words as she studied Spencer. They were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the small couch placed near their bookshelves, while finishing their food. It had been almost an hour since their situation at the library, but while (y/n) had made some more jokes about the situation, Spencer had grown quiet, deep in thought. 

Spencer’s gaze flickered from his hands to her curious features. He studied her for a few seconds before he placed his plate down and fully turned towards (y/n). No words were shared between them, they were caught in a thick fog of unspoken thoughts, longings, and fears.

“Can I try something?” His husky voice was about to draw a gasp from (y/n). She could only nod her head, not daring to break out of the grasp this situation had on her. Spencer’s hand found her cheek, while his eyes were focusing on her lips. He let a few seconds pass before closing the distance between them. 

Within seconds he had pulled her into his lap, letting (y/n) straddle his thighs as their lips moved in sync. Their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests to beg one another to keep on going, to let their tongues meet while growing comfortable in the new sensation that held their souls hostage. The kiss felt all too perfect, something they had been waiting for ever since crossing paths, something they had longed for and thought of for weeks now. 

“I can’t stop thinking of the way he touched you.” Spencer murmured his words against her lips. A confused expression began to tug on her features as she patiently waited for him to keep on talking. 

“You’re mine to touch, and not his, you’ll never be.” Possessiveness dripped from his words – a possessiveness so strong, it made her feel as if they had been together for years, sharing memories neither could shake. (Y/n) couldn’t speak up, not when she felt Spencer’s hands disappear beneath the fabric of her blouse, softly stroking her sides. 

“Spencer,” she gasped his name, desperate for more, another touch – anything he’d offer to her. His lips began to find their way down her throat, sucking on spots that made her tingle with a biting heat threatening to leave its mark on her forever. (Y/n)’s hands tugged on his curls while trying to shuffle even closer, letting her core grind against his growing bulge. 

“We shouldn’t do this here.” (Y/n) could only whisper the words as his hands pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan that left Spencer at the sight made her forget every word she wanted to speak, every warning, nothing but hazy thoughts were left behind. 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t, baby.” The raspy command forced her to arch her front into his touch. She felt as if he had set her ablaze, burning for him only, a summer solstice bonfire that left her shaking and trembling in a desperate need to turn every offering into something worthy. 

“People will hear.” His hands kept moving, urged on by the desperate whines leaving (y/n). The cold air teased her now naked chest, the hardening nipples Spencer’s fingers tugged on, drawing the most sinful sounds from her parted lips. 

“And? Let them hear how good I’ll be fucking you.” The words seemed to do something to (y/n) - they forced her hands to move from his hair down his front to slowly undo his trousers. Both knew that there was no way out of this, they were high on the feelings the other pushed through them, desperate for the highs they could already feel creeping closer without being properly touched.  

“How can you be so sure you’ll satisfy me enough?” She was riling him up, teasing him in a desperate attempt to forgo any foreplay to be filled by him, needing to feel Spencer buried deep inside of her. They held eye contact for a second as she finally managed to free his cock, twitching in her grasp as if he felt the same exciting heat burning deep inside of him. 

Spencer didn’t speak another word as he pushed her off his lap to murmur a raspy “Undress”. He stared at her as (y/n) pulled out of her jeans, with her soaked panties following a second later. Her skin was prickling, unsure how to act around the man who was now seeing her completely naked for the first time. 

They kept looking at one another while Spencer fisted his cock, giving himself a few pumps before a smirk tugged on his lips. With his hand finding the back of her head, he pulled her in for a teeth-clashing kiss – a kiss so desperate (y/n) feared he’d rob her of her last breath. 

“Turn around, chest down on the couch.” Slowly, (y/n) turned around to follow his command, only to feel him behind her a few moments later. She heard Spencer shuffle around and rip open a condom, before she felt his slender fingers at her aching heat. A loud moan managed to break through her at the feeling of his digits brushing through her slit, collecting drops of her arousal to spread it on her pulsing bundle. 

(Y/n) had to claw her fingernails into the fabric of the couch to ground herself, to let go of a few deep breaths – all while Spencer slowly pulled his fingers away to push his cock towards her entrance. With one hand placed on her waist, he held onto (y/n) while slowly pushing into her – a sensation so strong, it pulled raspy moans from the both of them. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” (Y/n) could only let go of a sob at his praises. She had her eyes squeezed shut, knuckles turning a few shades lighter from the strong grip she had on the couch. Spencer pulled out of her, only to fuck into her with more force, letting his hips meet her behind with every thrust. 

This was neither sweet nor was it slow, it was a desperate fuck, an attempt to get rid of the tension lingering between them, the longings neither of them had managed to shake ever since meeting for the first time. It was a perfect chase that now ended with both of them tumbling to their knees, losing all grip on reality, while being fucked into oblivion. 

“Spencer, fuck, you feel so good.” Tears dripped from her eyes while the words broke through her – words that filled Spencer with pride. His smirk began to widen as her moans grew louder, rumbling through their office like a song both played on repeat.

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, baby.” Her fingers blindly followed his command, she circled her pulsing bundle to push herself closer and closer towards the edge, high on the sensation that began to thump through her veins. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) tried to keep another moan from leaving her, very well knowing that anybody could burst into their office any second now, a risk neither of them should take. And yet they couldn’t care, not when he was buried deep inside of her and about to fuck her through her high. 

(Y/n) began to tremble as her orgasm climbed up her limbs, momentarily robbing her of her sight as black spots appeared in her vision. Spencer kept fucking her from behind, more ferocious with every thrust to chase his own high, set on following her down the edge. Their moans got tangled, ringing in their ears as if fireworks went off in the distance to support them through this long awaited moment. 

Spencer came with a groan of her name, he clung to her as they both rode out their highs with racing hearts and quivering limbs. Heavy pants left them, filling the room with every breath spluttering from their lips. 

“That was,” the rest of her sentence was left hanging in the air. Spencer slowly pulled out of her, he tossed the condom away before finding his way back to her. A slow kiss was shared between them, with his hand cupping her cheek, and hers resting on his shoulders. 

“Perfect, like it was meant to be.”

[darkbluekies]

Hey blue! How are you? I just wanted to say that i LOVE your OC Hedwig. When could we get more of her please? (Oh and i'm not forcing you to write about her right away ofc, take your time!!<33)

Let her burn

Female!yandere x reader

Summary: someone is trying to take you from Hedwig, and she will not allow it, she will watch them burn.

Warnings: basically assault, reader blaming themselves, arson, public humiliation, hitmen, bully mentality, fake friends

Word count: 3.4k

The sun is out for once and everyone in school — even the ones you would classify as allergic to the sun — is outside in the school yard. You and Hedwig’s group of popular rats have occupied one of the tables with benches. You're sitting on the bench and Hedwig right above you on the table with her face turned upwards, eyes closed. The others talk about parties they're invited to, what they're going to buy with the money they've made, what clothes look good and what makes them nauseous — extra points if the clothes already exist on a person in a fifteen meter radius.

You stand up. Hedwig turns down her head and looks at you through her sunglasses.

“I'll go buy a juice from the vending machine”, you say. “The sun makes me thirsty.”

She's about to grab her handbag and join you, but you shake your head.

“You can stay, I'll be back in a minute”, you say.

“Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly. 

You nod and turn to walk before she has a chance to protest. You need to get away from Hedwig and her friends' constant shittalk. You've never heard Hedwig join in on their degrading teasing, but she has her own reasons for you wanting some minutes to yourself. Reasons that others are jealous of you for. 

You walk into the school and breathe out, run your hand through your hair. Deciding that if you don't want Hedwog to suspect that you ditched her and her friends because of their presence, you make your way through the empty corridors to the vending machine and take out the wallet that Hedwig gifted you. You pop a few coins into the slot and hover your finger over the juice option.

“Y/N”, a voice says.

You turn your head to one of the girls that hang out in Hedwig’s group, Noelle. She's in the cheerleading team — captain, even, if you're not mistaken — and is always judging the other girls on the team. You hear about it at lunch every single day. Confused, you look at her. What could she want you? She has never wanted to speak with you before, always pretended that you don’t exist … or at least that’s what you thought. 

“Uhm … hi”, you say and glance behind you, to see if someone else had sent her. 

“‘Uhm … hi’”, she chuckles, taking a step forward. “Is that the best you can do after all the time we’ve spent together? You act if this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Technically it is. You’ve never tried to speak to me before.”

“And you’ve never tried to speak with me either, not only my fault.”

You turn around and press the right button for the juice and watch it fall down from its shelf. You can hear Noelle move closer behind you and you’re not sure why your heart skips a beat, and why you’re suddenly on high alert. Maybe it has something to do with the students who have hurt you because of your relationship with Hedwig, or maybe the fact that you know how Noelle acts. You’ve never liked her. 

“You know … if Hedwig hadn’t been so quick to snatch you, I’d given you a shot”, she says, suddenly too close to you for your liking. 

You can’t help but be … surprised? 

“Really?” you question before you have time to stop yourself. 

“Of course”, Noelle says as if it was obvious and that you were stupid for not recognizing it, making you feel stupid.  

“I uh … didn’t know.”

Noelle scoffs out a laugh and you want nothing more than to leave, but you don’t want to be impolite to her, don’t want to give her a reason to talk bad about you … but you have a feeling that’s going to be inevitable. You squeeze the juice packet like a stressball. 

“We should go back out”, you say and try to walk past her, but she grabs your arm. 

“I won’t get to talk to you while we’re out there”, she complaints. “Hedwig’s so fucking insecure. She can’t even let you talk to anyone else without becoming jealous.”

You’ve never been this uncomfortable before. You’re frozen in place, confused on what to do. Noelle is Hedwig’s friend and you don’t want to upset her, but you don’t wish to conversate with her any longer. 

You only manage to mutter one excuse that actually lets you go. “I have to pee.”

“Two deciliters of sugar …”, Hedwig reads aloud and grabs the sugar package. “Should we do a little more? Just in case? I don’t want the pie to become bitter.”

“Why would it be bitter?” you question from the other side of the kitchen aisle. 

Hedwig looks up from the deciliter cup she’s holding, looking clueless. “Rhubarb is bitter, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t think the pie will be bitter.”

“Let’s just add a little more … just in case.”

Your eyes glue onto the trees outside the window, replaying today’s events. You haven’t told Hedwig about yours and Noelle’s conversation, not sure if you should. Hedwig can’t stand knowing that other people could have an interest in you, and she can’t let things go easily. If you tell her this, that could be harmless, she might go around dreading it for weeks … which will go out on you too. But it feels wrong to keep it to yourself. Noelle basically hit on you … shouldn’t you let your girlfriend know? But what if Hedwig thinks that you liked having Noelle basically hit on you? What if she becomes mad at you? 

“Sweetheart?”

You flinch and look up. Hedwig’s looking at you with worried eyes from across the kitchen aisle. 

“You aren’t listening”, she says quietly and lets go of the whisk. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No”, you say and shake your head. “I’m just tired. My head hurts.”

You lower your head to avoid looking at her. You feel dirty, somehow, as if you have betrayed her even though you didn’t want to talk to Noelle. Besides, you didn’t do anything, right? Why can’t you look her in the eye? 

Hedwig walks around the kitchen aisle and cups your cheeks in her hands, directing it up to her. She runs one of her hands through your hair. 

“My poor girl/boy”, she coos with a pout. “Do you want something? A cup of tea?”

You nod. Hedwig smiles and lets you go. She walks over to the marble kitchen counter and turns on the kettle. You’re presented with a cup of breakfast tea just a few minutes later. Hedwig hugs you from behind and kisses your cheek before leaning her chin on your shoulder. 

“You will get some rhubarb pie soon, okay?” she says. 

You nod. Hedwig continues to whisk things together as you watch and slowly sip your tea. A message notification pops up on your phone, from an instagram profile you recognize. You don’t follow it, because you’re not allowed to follow anyone else but Hedwig and your family, but you see who does. The profile picture is taken on school grounds, in the cheerleading uniform. 

“meet me tmr in the music room at 11 i wanna tell you something”

You stare at your screen, feeling your body go numb. 

“Y/N!” 

You flinch again and look up to meet Hedwig’s eyes. They’re burning with rage and worry. 

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” she asks and frowns. “I’m talking to you.”

“I’m sorry”, you reply. “What did you say?”

“Can you open the oven?”

You get up from your chair and walks over to the oven, grabbing the handle. 

“Be really careful”, Hedwig says. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself.”

You open the oven, but your hand lingers for too long, burning the side of it. You shriek and jump back, clutching it with your other hand. 

“Oh, my Gosh, Y/N!” Hedwig exclaims and rushes the pie into the oven. “I told you to be careful!”

She closes the oven and hurries to wash your hand under a stream of cold water. 

“What is with you today?” she asks worriedly. “You’re not yourself.”

“I’m just tired”, you lie. 

“Is that all? Really?”

“And my head hurts. I told you.”

“Y/N-”

“I just need to rest.”

Hedwig sighs and pulls you with her to the bathroom where you’re sat down on the toilet seat while she looks for bandaids. You feel oh, so guilty. Hedwig takes care of your hand and gives it a soft kiss. She looks you in the eye in a way that makes your stomach twist. You want to tell her about her friend, but you can’t predict the outcome. 

“You would tell me if there was something going on … wouldn’t you?” she asks slowly. 

You can’t bring yourself to answer. If you open your mouth, your voice will fail you. Instead, you choke back your words and give her a small nod. It looks like she wants to say something, tell you that she doesn’t believe you, but keeps quiet. 

She curls up closely in your arms that night. If you try to remove your arms, she’s quick to pull them back, as if she’s assuring herself that you’re still here — with her. She’s always curled up in your arms at night, with her head on your chest, but tonight her embrace feels even tighter. 

The days go by. Noelle seem to pop up whenever you’re alone, which has made you stay closer to Hedwig than usual. She doesn’t seem to mind it. She holds your hand while talking to someone else, nuzzles up in class, always keeping close. But she looks at you in a way you can’t understand, as if she’s waiting for you to say something, impatient yet scared of what’s to come. 

And one day, when you’re walking to the bathroom, you hear her voice again. 

“Stop ignoring me”, Noelle says angrily. 

You turn around to look at her and gulp. Why do you feel so small? Why does she scare you?

“I’m not ignoring you”, you say exhaustedly. “I just don’t want to talk to you. We have nothing to discuss. Why do you keep on insisting?”

“Because I know that I’m a much better girlfriend than Hedwig could ever be. I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Okay? But I don’t want you-”

“You don’t seem happy with Hedwig anyway.”

You flinch. “That has nothing to do with you, so please just let it be. I want to be left alone. Things will be weird in the group if you continue with this.”

“I'm not the one making it weird, if you just accepted to talk with me then-”

“You don't want to talk about anything, though? You just want me to break up with Hedwig! I’m going back now. Move”

Suddenly everything feels too fast. Noelle grabs you and pushes you up against the wall. You yelp and try to push her off, but her cheerleading activities have built her muscles that overpower you. For a moment, you’re absolutely terrified. Before she has the chance to do anything, however, she's ripped off of you and thrown to the side. Shocked, you look to the side, seeing your girlfriend walk in front of you — which, if anything, makes you even more shocked. You have never been happier for Hedwig’s clingy behavior.

“No, get your fucking hands off of them!” she exclaims jarringly and gives Noelle a harsh push to make sure that she gets farther away from you. “Back off! Are you out of your mind?! Who do you think you are, touching my boyfriend/girlfriend? Absolutely insane! Have you no fucking manners?”

She takes up her phone in her shaking hands, about to call her father.

“I regret ever befriending you, oh my God”, she spits. “I will make sure you pay for this-”

“No, wait, Hedwig”, Noelle pleads, suddenly pathetically aware of what she’s done. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh, so now you’re sorry, huh?” She looks up from her phone, shooting lightening at the other girl. “Not when you texted my girlfriend/boyfriend behind my back? Or when you demanded them to break up with me? But now that you’re caught you’re sorry?! You absolute scum.”

She had seen the messages? You lower your eyes, feeling that horrible shame creep back. 

“I don’t ever want to see you near them again”, Hedwig spits. “Trust me, I will let everyone know what you’ve tried to do. Believe me.”

“I won’t do it again”, Noelle says quickly. “Hedwig, please, come on-”

Hedwig grabs your hand tightly and pushes past her. 

“Move”, she demands darkly and drags you out into the sunlight. 

Hedwig doesn’t let you go until she has pulled you far away from all the other students, until you’re hiding by the canteen delivery entrance. Hedwig is shaking from head to toe, her hands trembling too much to navigate her phone. She sobs harshly, tapping the screen violently until she throws it against the ground with a scream. You flinch. 

“H-Hedwig …”, you say hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”

Hedwig’s eyes dart at you in disbelief, offended that you even thought that any of this oculd be your fault. 

“N-No, Y/N-”, she sobs, choking on her own tears. She grabs your hands before rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“How did you … know?”

Hedwig wipes her runny nose with the sleeve of her school uniform and hiccups through sobs. “W-When you were sleeping I went into your phone, because I thought that you were acting strange and—and I saw her messages. And when I saw that she went after you to the bathroom I had a feeling that she would—would do something. I’m going to make her pay. I’m going to ruin her life.”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

Hedwig shakes her head firmly. She hugs you tightly, hiding her face into your shoulder. You’re unsure what to do, but eventually place your arms around her. 

“I w-want to go home”, she sobs. “I don’t feel well.”

And you do. 

Hedwig sits down on her bed, clutching her phone in her hand. You can’t catch her attention, even though you try to call out her name. 

“Hedwig, what are you doing?” you ask for the fifth time. 

Finally, she looks up from her phone. 

“I’m telling everyone in the groupchat”, she says. “I promised that everyone will know what Noelle did.”

With Hedwig’s contacts, soon the entire school will know, you think. 

“She made a mistake”, you say. “A very idiotic mistake, but is it really worth this?”

“She was a friend”, Hedwig spat. “She knows very well that you and I are dating and she decides to just … disregard that? No, she deserves it all.”

You can feel the air in the room get switched with something poisonous. You can’t breathe. 

“I think I should go home”, you say and get up from the armchair. 

Hedwig’s head flinches up towards you. 

“No!” she gasps. “Please don’t go!”

She lets go of the phone, sprints up from the bed and hugs you. 

“Please stay”, she begs weakly. “Please.”

“I can’t take more of this silence.”

“I-I’ll put on a movie! You can watch whatever you want, just please stay here. Don’t go.”

You’re soon cuddled up in bed with Hedwig having her arms around yours, still tapping away on her phone in silence. 

The very next day when you come to school, everything seem to have changed. People are looking at the two of you and you can tell, by the pitiful looks in their eyes, that they know what happened yesterday. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you feel like you’re in the wrong and that everyone else think so too. 

You meet up with Hedwig’s friend group who immediately tells her how they've always thought that there was something off with Noelle and how disgusting she is. Yesterday, they all loved her. And suddenly they have felt off about her for so long? You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

You look at Hedwig in disbelief. Do you hear this?

Her eyes twitched. Oh yeah. 

Her grip on your hand tightens. 

While you’re talking, you see how Noelle enters the school yard. She has dark circles under her eyes and looks … small. You almost feel bad for her. The group gives her nasty looks. 

You don’t see the small ‘I-told-you-so’ smile on Hedwig’s face. She drinks it all in, sunbathes in her misery. But it’s not enough. She has humiliated her in front of the entire school and ruined her reputation … but it’s not enough. The sight of her makes Hedwig’s blood boil. She wants her gone, removed out of her sight. Wants her dead. 

She had promised herself not to do it again, but she can’t let Noelle come and go like this. What if she somehow manages to fix her life and reputation? What if she starts a new school and no one knows about what she’s done and starts to like her? She has to disappear. 

Hedwig looks at you and sighs. You are worth it.

“I have to go to the bathroom”, she whispers. “Can you come with me?”

You nod. While Hedwig goes into the bathroom, she takes up her phone and calls the number she has hidden away behind a contact name called ‘Abbe’s Bakery’. She holds the phone to her ear. But this contact is neither named Abbe or owns a bakery. 

“Hedwig, it was a long time ago”, a male voice says on the other side of the line. “Why do you suddenly need me again?”

“My relationship is threatened again”, she says in a hushed tone. “I need to get rid of the threat. You have to help me.”

“Sure, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to burn her in.”

That night when you’re sleeping soundly beside her, she crawls out of bed, making sure not to wake you. Oh, God, if she wakes you … she wouldn't forgive herself. You look absolutely gorgeous when sleeping. No soul in the world is allowed to disturb your peaceful slumber. Hedwig wants nothing more than to cuddle up beside you, hold you tightly in her arms and drift away to another dimension, but she has to make sure the girl pays for what she did.

“I'll be back soon”, Hedwig whispers, knowing full well that you can't hear her. “I will make sure nothing ever happens to you. You will never have to worry as long as I am here.”

She kisses your forehead as softly as she possibly can to not wake you up. She tucks you in and sneaks out of her room. Her heart swells with adoration for you. It only makes her more certain. She has to do this — for you. For your safety. And for her own sanity.

Hedwig wears a black hoodie, pulls the hood over her head and makes sure that none of her hair will be visible and quietly makes her way out of the mansion and runs past the gates. She doesn't take a car or scooter, scared that any security cameras in the city will catch her registration. She runs through the night, not wanting to miss the show. The only thing keeping her company is the sound of her own breathing and her shoes hitting the asphalt underneath her. 

She arrives just in time. Red, yellow and orange flames has started to lick at the house on the other side of the road and is quickly embracing it. The flames climb higher, reaching for the moon. Hedwig can hear screams from inside, hears glass being broken … and all she does is smile. She revels in the sight. 

You deserve it, Hedwig thinks. You should never have tried to take my partner from me. 

She decides to leave before neighbors and firefighters start to come running. It’s with a smile that Hedwig returns to her room and takes you in her arms. You whimper in your sleep and she’s quick to hush and stroke your hair. 

“Don’t wake up, it’s okay”, she whispers and kisses your cheek. “Everything is okay now, you’re safe. You’re okay.”

She smiles widely. Everything is okay now. 

[privateanxieties]

these final hours

Summary: When your job becomes too overwhelming, Frank decides enough is enough. A brief conversation reveals that things run deeper than he thought.

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

His verdict comes down one Sunday evening, breaking you from the melancholic stupor you're well into traversing.

"Alright, that's it."

There's a part of you that wants to protest immediately. It's always the first one to make itself known, because it's the one that feels the most fear. No, you cannot just quit your job, no matter the toll it's taking on you. No matter how many people tell you it's making you fade. No matter how little you stand to gain from keeping it up. Because if you do, then - then -

"Don't look at me like that. I said that's enough. You ain't going tomorrow."

There is, however, another part of you: the one that could cry out in sheer relief just by being presented with an out.

You don't even know what it is, exactly. Everyone has to work who was not born fortunate. People have much harder jobs than you do, and they get paid even less. So many struggle to make ends meet. You have neither the long, nor the short straw. The work is completely average, though perhaps below your capabilities. Definitely below your studies - God knows you're not justifying any of those student loans, save for maybe lots of jobs requiring some kind of degree these days. No, you can't quite grasp where all this melancholia with regard to your job originates.

When you really look at your situation, you have to abstain from getting carried away by overwhelming disappointment over how unjustified all this grief seems. Things could be a hell of a lot worse. People go through things at work that render them suicidal, and here you are, on a Sunday night, sad that you have to wake up for your commute.

"Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me. Alright? Can't handle seein' you like this. Nothin's worth it, you hear me? Ain't a goddamn thing in this world worth what this shit does to you."

Frank's hand on your knee makes you immediately tense up. It's instantaneous sensory overload from a simple touch and you can't explain it. It bothers you that you can't explain because it's another thing that's wrong with you. Another overreaction to an inoffensive event.

Before you can move away or even just barely take a breath, the warmth of his skin disappears. You hate the relief that washes over you. Who feels better when someone they love stops being affectionate? You, apparently. Always against the grain.

"You know I'm not making you do anything. Yeah? Need to hear that you know that."

A nod is what you manage, but eye contact has yet to happen. You theorize that if it were to happen, if you were to see him in this moment of wild vulnerability, you'd probably want to run from him and all else in the world.

"You don't have shit to prove to anyone. You included. Can't try to beat yourself into a mold if that mold's just gonna take away all the best parts of you."

Your chest rattles, and you try to keep your breath from becoming a pained gasp.

"You know, just 'cause I read doesn't mean I'm good with words. That's all you. But I'll say whatever I gotta say to get through. I ain't losin' the woman I love to a fucking job. And I sure as shit ain't letting her believe she's gotta do what the world says she's gotta do. Break herself as many times as she has to just to get approval. Can't do shit with approval, I'll tell you that."

Against all odds, words tumble out of you like a knocked over pot of crayons. Sharpness everywhere.

"I fail at - at everything. I haven't done one thing right my whole life. I quit everything I start. Everything - Frank, I can't st-"

An involuntary sob rips straight from your heart.

"I can't stand myself. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of my days not belonging to me. I'm tired of getting nowhere. I'm tired of not having any good reason to be like this. Every day I have to know, I have to wake up and go to sleep and never stop knowing that I am the way that I am. And I wish something would just happen so I don't have to keep-"

It stops. The flow of words you've never said out loud, even to yourself, stops dead. The silence floods the remaining space without delay but it, too, does so fruitlessly.

Frank has heard enough. Enough to know exactly what you've sworn you would protect him from.

"Will you look at me?"

The softest plea. You don't think you've ever witnessed it.

"Need to see it. Yeah? I need to see it in your eyes, what you just said. And then we'll figure it out. But I need to know, sweetheart. Because if I gotta protect you from your own mind, Imma be honest with you - I need different gear."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but not completely unsuccessful. Mostly you just know that Frank means every word. And you know, as your gaze meets his at last, that the part of you that always resists outside help has lost some strength. You're not too far gone to be able to admit that your thoughts have been getting bleaker. It's a newness that scares even you, who's been down this path before. Somewhere, it seems a turn arrived that even you weren't aware you'd taken.

But Frank is nothing if not relentless. There is no road he won't track you down on and no path inaccessible to someone of his determination. You can see it in his eyes, along with the subtlest glimmer. You're making him worry, and when Frank worries, he plans. Ten, maybe twenty steps ahead - which is why he locks away your phone with his guns for the night. It's safe to say you won't have an alarm for tomorrow, and the relief that fact brings isn't unaccompanied by guilt. Frank soothes it with promises and his unique brand of realism - you'll get through everything together, as long as you're honest. No more hiding, no more detours.

You're not sure how good you'll be at it, and when you voice the thought to him, Frank doubles down as he pulls the covers back from the bed and you both slip under them.

"You know what being good at therapy looks like?"

You hum your curiosity.

"Not needing relief anymore. Promise to let me know when we get there. Yeah?"

You press your fragile promise into the skin of his cheek, tucking your head below his chin and wrapping as much of your body around him as possible and, for the first time in weeks, drifting off instead of fighting to sleep.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: just a short piece that I hope brings you some comfort if you need it.

[burst-of-iridescent]

not to beat the "sokka's misogyny" disk horse even further into the ground, but while i agree with the take that sokka being sexist logically doesn't make sense, i would go further to say that the water tribes themselves being sexist is both illogical and thematically contradictory.

the flaws of each nation in atla have always been linked to their element, and specifically what those elements represent. fire is the element of power; power, left unchecked, leads to imperialism and authoritarianism. earth is the element of substance and stability; stability, prioritized too highly, creates and justifies the rigid class system and rampant corruption of ba sing se. air is the element of freedom; freedom, taken too far, becomes irresponsibility and abandonment.

meanwhile, water is the element of change... therefore the water tribes cling to antiquated ideas about gender roles instead of adapting with the times (especially when the times involve a fucking war going on).

not only is this unrealistic, it also breaks the thematic pattern of the nations' flaws being virtues taken to extremes, and how this dovetails into the show's overall message about the importance of balance. if we're keeping with the pattern of virtue and vice being two sides of the same coin, then the flaw of the water tribes has to be related to change. and here is where some of the (badly executed) ideas in the comics and legend of korra could have come into play: change, left uncontrolled, can lead to progress... but at the cost of tradition and spirituality.

(imagine a nwt cut off from the world and forced to rely solely on itself, ingenuity and creativity flourishing out of sheer, desperate need. imagine a nwt where waterbending is nothing more than a tool, used to build and defend and maintain a fortress always at risk, its spiritual origins slowly lost to time. imagine a nwt more military than community, whose architecture and technology far exceed anything the world has ever seen, who look down upon their less advanced sister tribe, and see no need for the avatar - after all, where was he when they had no one but themselves for the last 100 years?

when warned that the fire nation is coming, they show no fear; they have held strong on their own for the last century, bolstered by their weapons and wits, and will continue to do so. you need the spirits, aang implores, and is met with derision, for there is no place for spirits in a society always chasing more, greater, better. the spirits have not helped us before, avatar. why would they now? we are all we need.

when the moon spirit falls, unprotected and forgotten in an abandoned, rundown spirit oasis - so do they.)

not only would this fit better thematically, it would also ensure that the nwt's flaw plays a role in its own downfall. where the fire nation's warmongering resulted in the poverty and suffering of its own people, and the earth kingdom's corruption led - at least in part - to the fall of ba sing se, the misogyny of the water tribes is never shown to negatively impact them in any way. the north isn't defeated by the fire nation because they relegated half the population to healing. the south doesn't suffer raids or lose their waterbenders because they (supposedly) didn't let women fight. this lack of narrative punishment means that - outside of a few girlboss moments for katara - the sexism of the nwt isn't significant to the overall story whatsoever.

furthermore, while the ba sing se arc last almosts half a season, and the fire nation's actions drive the entire show, this supposed systemic oppression of women shows up for one episode in the first season before disappearing entirely. pakku is reminded of his lost love, magically turns into a feminist, and somehow the entire tribe follows suit? no one else protests, not even the other students or the chief?

and yet, though there are still no female waterbenders other than katara, or agency for kanna in her relationship, or any indication that women stopped being forcibly betrothed - the entire issue is simply swept under the rug and never brought up ever again in the show. i understand this was a children's cartoon made in 2005, and that even having female characters openly speak about and challenge misogyny was a radical feat for the time and genre, but the reality of patriarchy is that it's structural, sustained and immensely difficult to resist - if the show was going to depict that resistance, it should have done so with greater depth and nuance, as it did for many of the other difficult topics it tackled.

ultimately, handwaving misogyny away like it never existed is far more disrespectful to katara's character, her fight against injustice, and the girls who saw themselves in her, than simply toning it down or removing it could ever be.

[drdemonprince]

to the anon who sent me the message that took them 4 hours to draft.

I think your experience both with organizing and disability has probably provoked you to rethink the entire concept of "success" as our culture has defined it, even if you feel yourself still longing for some of the comfort and ease that capitalistic success can seemingly provide (or that we are conditioned to believe it can provide). im not sure what to say that can match the effort your put into your message, in fact i am galled by the fact that i know that i can't match that effort. i don't know how to make sense of the fact that a person who is finding it incredibly difficult to remain connected and engaged during this time, due to disability, has decided that i was worth that level of effort when they don't have the energy to message people they know. i don't think i am worth that effort. but i also respect that mired in all that you're mired in, it's a meaningful gesture toward engagement and connection to even bother writing such a message. i just think in a lot of ways i am a misplaced target for it, because i am a ridiculously privileged and publicly exposed individual who receives dozens of heartfelt messages that he doesnt find the time to respond to every single day. i think if anything that i've written rubs you the wrong way you'd be right to approach it with cynicism. because what the fuck do i know, banging around on my laptop every day and getting paid for it. how dare i lecture anybody about not unlearning capitalism adequately enough. i am one of capitalisms little milking cows. a massive publishing company makes a weekly profit off of me, off the byproduct of the worst years of my life and my worst traumas, as well as the meaning i've made from the scholarship of others.

i'm so enraged for you that you got a debilitating case of COVID (after several other cases) on an encampment, and that now the community you foster at that encampment is not there for you. i am disgusted at how more seasoned activists and organizations have regarded student protestors as disposable this entire year, selling them out to the cops, cutting bad deals with campus administration, and sending them to yellow and red risk level actions without adequate communication and getting them kettled and beat, or else nullifying their efforts with mealy-mouthed talk about keeping things peaceful. i see so many toothless, neoliberal protests happening here, ones that serve only as fundraisers for massive nonprofit orgs, and i also see literal teenagers being dragged right into paddy wagons by the likes of the PSL or the RCP while the Dems deride them and dance to Brat tracks, not even pretending to care the way they unconvincingly did in say 2020.

It's all making me terribly cynical, wondering where we are headed and whether i can or should encourage people who are younger, stronger, more energetic, more pliable, and more vulnerable to me to give up all that they've got for a cause when it's likely gonna be chewed up and spit out and not met in effort by anyone else. i am mournful of the fact that even i can't match that effort. every time i get a message from a friend or acquaintance who is going through some new awful traumatizing event i want to just curl up and disappear, because i can't even keep up with sending compassionate messages to all of them, let alone actually showing the fuck up and doing anything for them. and so sometimes i slip into the disaffected, blunted feeling that once led me as a younger man into libertarianism, thinking that all i can or should do is look after my own wellbeing, and fuck everybody else. and obviously that is a horrible path that is not by any means moral and certainly didn't help me anyway. it felt like we were on the brink of a great paradigm shift of some kind, a collapse of these evil systems, and now it feels like all of that is as far away as it's ever been, and that there aren't enough people with class consciousness and care for one another to make it happen.

i don't know. i think we all have to abandon our dreams of success, of comfort, of saving the world, the fantasies of everything being fine. i think we need to look to our immediate surroundings and our communities. i think we need to ask for help a whole hell of a lot more than any of us are doing, and to recognize that that is a form of helping. i think we need to get small. and remember we are weak animals. and stop thinking there is anything special or chosen about us. and to remember that nature can often be very cruel and that there is nothing we are owed. disabled people already know this of course, we know life isn't fair. we try to do what we can and yet we wake up feeling even less capable the next day, and it knows no logic and the universe remains indifferent to it. but there are people around us who can care, when we ask them to. and ways that we can just be there alongside one another in the muck of it all. not even necessarily making things better. certainly not being a savior and making the pain go away. maybe just sitting in the muck together.

all of which is to say, i am feeling stuck and overwhelmed and useless myself, anon, and i dont have any more answers than you. but thanks for messaging. im sorry people have taking advantage of you. including in my opinion lots of other activists. looking after yourself and not letting people guilt you doesn't mean turning into a conservative. the kind of anarchy that i am embracing right now is one that goes beyond linear change, beyond making meaning, beyond any idealistic visions of the future, beyond even fighting for some kind of symbolic survival. it's just being. none of it has to mean anything, none of it has to be headed anywhere. it just is. there is plenty for you to be bitter about.

[thebestpumkin]

- title - happy birthday, katsuki!

- pairing - katsuki bakugo x reader

- word count - 683

- summary - it's your boyfriend's birthday!

- tw - reader is referred to as dollface, food mentions, reader refers to bakugo as handsome, lmk if there are any to add!

- other notes - established relationship, birthday things, this is set once the students are in the dorms, im pushing my soft bakugo agenda sorry guys

- a/n at the bottom!

He's getting ready for his morning run when he hears three tentative knocks at his door.

He's surprised someone else is up so early on a Saturday. He takes a glance at the clock resting on his nightstand - 6:43 AM. He always went out for his run at 6:45 to make it back at 7, at least on weekends - of course, everything was pushed an hour back on weekdays so he'd have time to get ready. He furrows his brows but opens the door regardless.

As soon as Katsuki Bakugo sees you, he softens.

"Dollface?" He whispered. It was always sweet how he tried not to use his regular volume with you. He always tried to sound soft. "What are you doing...here...?" His eyes drifted downwards to where you had your hands held up in offering. Offering him...a cake. His gaze snapped back up to meet your eyes, only to find you looking away bashfully. He smiled and stepped aside so you could come in.

You set the cake down on his desk and sat down on the edge of his bed while he closed the door quietly behind you. He joined you where you sat. "What's all this for, huh? D'you realize how early it is?" He's just teasing you now. You smile and nod. "For your birthday, handsome. Happy birthday, Katsuki." He nearly melted at just how sweet you are. You'd been the first to text him at midnight, and now here you were, getting up far earlier than usual on a weekend to be the first to celebrate. He didn't know what he did to have you, but he certainly wasn't complaining. "You make it for me?" He spoke, nodding at the cake standing proudly on his desk. You nodded and he swore he just wanted to kiss you silly right there.

"It's early," He comments again. "Don't you usually get up way later on weekends?" You just shrug. "When did you have time to make the cake? We all had dinner together last night..." You beamed up at him. "After dinner. Way after. After we all finished cleaning up and everyone was back in their rooms, I got started. Ah, right, I got you a few things, but I couldn't carry them and the cake at the same time. They're in my room, if you want me to go get them?" He shakes his head. "Get them later. Stay with me a while, yeah?" He couldn't care less that he was supposed to be on a run right now. This was more important. You were more important, schedule be damned.

"You want some cake?" You offer. "Later. 'M not too hungry now. How about we go out for breakfast n' come back to eat some?" You raise your brows. "You aren't gonna offer any for our class?" He scoffs, looking incredulous. "Huh? It's my birthday, isn't it? Not theirs. I don't wanna share with those damn nerds. You made it for me. Not them." He explains, sounding like he wasn't gonna take any argument against it. You sigh resignedly, having already expected this; you made a second cake for the rest of the class to share, stored in the fridge.

A few beats of silence passed before he scooped you into his arms swiftly. He ignored your attempts to stifle your laughter and pleads to be let down. He knew you didn't mean it. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I have an idea. You give me a kiss for every birthday you've missed until now." He smirked. "And you stay the morning with me. That'll be enough of a gift." "But I spent good money on them!" You protested with a laugh. He shook his head playfully and brought you down to lay in his bed with him. He decided you putting your head on his chest and relaxing in his arms was the ideal birthday celebration. He decided that ending up falling asleep together before breakfast was a gift. He decided you were a gift. You just had to be.

pumkin speaks: idk abt the ending but i didnt exactly know what else to do...but hey! i wrote a something! i deserve a pat on the back frfr. i wrote this kinda quick yesterday after i realized today was his birthday so yeah. also yes im still working on getting an idea for that chuuya fic and starting the yuji fic 😭 itll be done eventually...anyways though, happy birthday bakugo‼️‼️ thats kind of all i have soo...bye!

likes, reblogs, requests, and feedback are vv appreciated! divider credits go to r0se-designs. thanks for reading, have a nice day!

[soon-palestine]

On the morning of Monday 29 July, a contingent of Israel’s military police – the agency responsible for policing the security forces – showed up at Sde Teiman, an Israeli military base in the Negev Desert that now serves as a prison camp for Palestinians from the Gaza Strip. The military police had come to arrest nine of the soldiers – apparently all reservists – who serve at the camp. They were wanted for their involvement in the gang rape of a prisoner who was subsequently taken to the camp’s infirmary with severe rectal injuries.

(Normally I would add something about innocent until proven guilty, but on those exceedingly rare occasions when the Israeli authorities arrest an Israeli in uniform for offences against Palestinians, this can be considered incontrovertible proof they are guilty as sin). The soldiers resisted arrest, and a stand-off between them and the military police contingent erupted.

Almost immediately, Israeli politicians took to the airwaves to denounce the arrest operation, proclaiming the rapists to be heroes – precisely because they had gang-raped a Palestinian prisoner – and called upon their supporters to flood Sde Teiman to prevent the soldiers from being taken into custody.

After protracted negotiations the soldiers agreed to be led away by the military police and were transported to the Beit Lid detention facility near Tulkarm in the northern West Bank.

But no sooner had the military police and their detainees left than a mob broke into the prison camp to protest the arrests. Not just any mob, but one that included government ministers, members of parliament, soldiers in uniform, and various others.

Later that day similar scenes were repeated at the Beit Lid prison. Although breaking into or out of a prison is considered a serious violation of the law, thus far not a single individual has been arrested.

The Sde Teiman prison camp has elements of both Abu Ghraib, the US torture center in Iraq, and a Gestapo interrogation center.

Among the documented abuses, based on testimonies of both former prisoners and prison staff, are torture, including electric shocks, severe beatings, and various forms of disorientation; severe malnutrition and dehydration; amputations after the very prolonged use of zip-ties that have been deliberately tightened to block circulation to hands and feet; denial of basic medical care; denial of toilet facilities; surgeries without anaesthetic; surgeries performed by unqualified medical students to gain experience; and very much else.

You may have read the highly credible accounts emanating from Sde Teiman or seen images/videos of former prisoners incarcerated there. Several dozen Palestinians have been killed at the camp, through torture or denial of basic needs. It bears recollection that the war crime of torture is considered a legal practice in Israel, and has been confirmed as such by its supreme court, most notably in 1987.

Secondly, Israel considers Palestinians to be unlawful combatants who are not entitled to the protections offered by customary law on such matters.

And additionally, Israel’s most senior leaders have engaged in a systematic campaign of demonization and dehumanization of Palestinians, and of those suspected of membership in Hamas in particular, which amounts to a license to torture, rape, and kill. The arrested soldiers were essentially told to do as they please with Palestinians and assured that, per standard practice, there would be no consequences of any sort.

At one level one can therefore understand the astonished response of the rapists when told they would be arrested for conduct that has been officially sanctioned on a systematic basis.

The case also reflects deeper changes within Israel. Its military has, to put it mildly, admittedly never had a reputation for discipline, but it functioned as the central institution of Israeli state and society. Israel has on this basis been described as an army with a state rather than a state with a military. But that is beginning to change.

As Geoffrey Aronson has argued, recent years have seen the emergence of a new class of Israeli politicians, most notably National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, who in contrast to many of their predecessors did not enter and succeed in politics on the strength of a military career, but rather built successful careers through opposition to and delegitimization of Israel’s security establishment. Their preferred armed force is not a regular army, but rather militias and mobs of brownshirts. And that’s what we saw on 29 July.

It’s not so much a turning point as visible evidence that the process is alive, well, and rapidly gaining momentum. That it should burst onto the scene in defense of gang rape should therefore not come as a particular surprise.

There are many other notable elements to this issue, not least of which would be the observation that every accusation is a confession. Another would be that Government ministers and members of parliament rank somewhat higher in the pecking order than falsely-accused UNRWA staff.

Yet one angle that is particularly interesting has to do with Israel’s concerns about sustaining its impunity with respect to its dealings with the Palestinian people.

As @reider has pointed out, Israel’s Chief of Staff, Herzi Halevi, in his condemnation of the riots asserted that military police investigations are essential to protect Israeli soldiers “at home and abroad”.

“Abroad”, @reider points out, “obviously meaning The Hague” where the International Criminal Court (ICC) and International Court of Justice (ICJ) are based.

Thanks to efforts initiated by the United Kingdom, which argued that the ICC should only prosecute Palestinians, the Court is now permitting multiple challenges to its jurisdiction over Israeli crimes perpetrated in the occupied Palestinian territories.

A particularly specious set of arguments has been put forth by Germany, arguably the most experienced state when it comes to the crimes enumerated in the Rome Statute.

One of Berlin’s arguments is that the ICC should not pursue arrest warrants until Israel has completed the commission of its crimes against the Palestinian people and considers its business concluded.

The other argument concerns “complementarity”, the principle according to which the ICC can and will only pursue prosecutions where national judiciaries fail to conduct such procedures themselves

In its paeans to Israel’s judiciary, Berlin conveniently neglects that every independent study of Israel’s judiciary with respect to crimes committed by Israelis against Palestinians has concluded that the primary role of this apparatus has been to enable, legitimize, and whitewash the crimes concerned. Even were this not the case, the way ICC complementarity works is that the national judiciary would have to credibly investigate and, if appropriate, prosecute and convict the same individuals for the same crimes they stand accused of by ICC.

In other words, Germany’s desperately furious efforts to defend that other genocidal regime will prove of little use to Netanyahu and Gallant.

But Halevi, a representative of Israel’s traditional military elite – let’s call him an Israeli Prussian – sees the writing on the wall, and he and his fellow officers don’t want to share Netanyahu and Gallant’s fate. So they are creating an argument for complementarity.

In a rational society Halevi would be hailed for his foresight and criticized for waiting so long to act.

But a society where government ministers, members of parliament, uniformed soldiers, and a mob of brownshirts riot at two separate locations on a single day in defense of gang rape cannot be considered rational.

END

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 4

Prompt: O65 - you dont think that was just lemonade in your glass do you?

AO3 or read below:

The volume in the great hall had reached a clamorous level; the buzzing din and the blood pounding in Ginny's ears, mingled until she was sure the noise was going to drown her.

She tried to catch her breath; her Quidditch robes were suddenly too tight, making her efforts pointless. The sea of students surrounding her was nothing more than a blurred, faceless mass.

A touch on her hand, so light she shouldn't have been able to feel at all, brought her surroundings sharply into focus.

“You need to eat,” Harry said quietly.

Wordlessly, Ginny nodded. She kept her eyes on her plate in front of her, refusing to let them wander to the Ravenclaw table at the opposite side of Hufflepuff. The toast Harry had placed in front of her was swimming in butter. It felt dry as cardboard as it protested its journey down her throat.

She reached for her glass, swallowing a mouthful of sugary-sweet lemonade that did nothing to ease the dryness.

“There's no need to be nervous,” Harry said, using the same quiet tone that Hermione was directing at Ron across the table. Words that were only meant for one person. “If you lose, everyone will blame me… Everyone should blame me.”

His words sparked a fire within her that had been dangerously close to dwindling out a moment before. Ginny looked up sharply from her crumb-covered plate. “We're not going to lose!”

“Right,” Harry agreed at once, one corner of his mouth twitching, threatening a smile as his eyes met Ginny's. “So there's nothing to worry about, is there?”

She felt one side of her own mouth tick up. “Who said I was worried?”

Harry's smile bloomed fully, and the sight did more to ease her nerves than any encouraging words would ever be able to. His smiles had been frustratingly infrequent since the incident with Malfoy; every one that Ginny had managed to coax out of him felt like a victory all of its own. She suspected this one was for her benefit.

“The only thing you should be worried about is how you’re going to deal with your horde of admirers once you win the cup for Gryffindor.”

Ginny's laughter escaped her without her permission, as did the words she spoke next, “and will you be among them?”

Harry took a bite of his crumpet in a very obvious attempt to delay answering. His eyes flicked across the table to Ron, who was too busy listening to whatever soft words of encouragement Hermione was whispering to him to pay attention to what Ginny and Harry were doing.

He swallowed the crumpet. “I'll be the Head of the Ginny Weasley Fan Club.”

It was probably indecent to smile as widely as she currently was in the face of the biggest match of her life.

“Well,” she said, now breathless for entirely different reasons. “Given that my win is a foregone conclusion, I hope you're ready to take the responsibilities that come with your new position very seriously.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but his gaze was steady, unwavering where it met Ginny's. “The season will be over; I'll have plenty of spare time to dedicate to it.”

“You don't have to convince me.” She laughed again, despite the way her stomach was twisting itself into knots. “The job is yours, if you want it.”

Their eyes remained fixed on one another. If the students around them had been faceless to her before, it was like there was no one there at all anymore; like they were the only two people left in the world.

“I'm just letting you know,” Harry said quietly, no longer smiling. “In case anyone else was interested in the position.”

Ginny's voice dropped to barely a whisper. “No one else is being considered.”

A beat of silence stretched on for what could have been eternity for all she knew. Harry didn't look away. She wasn't sure she would be capable of doing so even if she'd wanted to. Whatever this thing was that had been building between them was teetering dangerously close to a precipice and she was about to fall–

“Ginny!”

Dean's voice broke the spell that had fallen over them with jarring abruptness. Harry blinked, and then his attention turned to the half-eaten crumpet on his plate.

Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, Ginny turned in the direction her name had been called from.

“Are you ready to go down?” Dean asked.

Ginny didn't need to turn back to Harry to know he'd tensed beside her.

“You go ahead,” Ginny said smoothly. “I’ve still got some toast left.”

“You can eat on the way,” Harry said quickly. “You should probably take the others down before they get too deep in their own heads.”

She hesitated, wanting to protest the suggestion of leaving Harry up here, alone, while the rest of them went down to the pitch, yet knowing his logic was sound. Ginny's eye met Katie's further down the table, a short nod was enough to instruct her to gather the rest of the team and begin ushering them out of the hall.

Hermione's hand wrapped gently around Ron's forearm, guiding him from the table. Harry stood, and Ginny followed him, wishing she could recapture the moment they’d been so forcefully removed from.

“You've successfully boosted my confidence,” she said as they made their way towards the door. “Consider your Captain duties fulfilled.”

“That wasn't me,” Harry said with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. “You don't think that was just lemonade in your glass, do you?”

“That little trick won't work twice,” Ginny assured him, unable to summon her own smile now their moment of separation was here.

It didn't matter, she promised herself, forcing a grin despite her mouth's reluctance, the match – and Harry's detention – would be over soon, and once she had the cup, everything would fall into place.

[gallavichthings]

It's time!

How would you all like 21 22 fics on the 21st 22nd of December?

The Gallavich Masquerade Ball 2023 is now open! Grab a glass of champagne or anything else you'd prefer, some hors d'oeuvres, and choose your (first) dance partner for the night!

You can check all the fics in our AO3 collection or on this post, after the cut. A list of all authors with links to their profiles is also included. This post is pinned so you can check it whenever you want.

And here's the link for the form where you can put your guesses. It's only one form for all the fics, so please wait to submit your guesses only after you've read them all.

Here's the updated point system:

Points for readers: Correct guess on first choice: 5 points. Correct guess on second choice: 2 points. Incorrect guess: lose 1 point. (Please note that you only lose 1 point per story, even if you guess incorrectly on both choices.)

Points for writers: If someone correctly guesses your fic (regardless of in the first or second choice): 1 point. If someone wrongfully guesses your fic: 3 points.

Leaving kudos and comments is allowed and appreciated! Writers are also allowed to answer, but it's up to them whether to already do it or wait until everyone's identity is revealed so as not to give anything away accidentally. Oh, and if you want to post something about the fics here on Tumblr but can't tag them, I can serve as buffer for now lol.

Oh, and the surprise? The winners will get some great fanart, courtesy of the talented @doshiart! Isn't that awesome?! 🥂

Cheers!

Keep reading to get a list of all the fics with their summaries and word count, as well as a list of all the authors, with links to their AO3 profiles.

FICS:

AITA?  (2,072)

AITA? My new clients (29M and 31M) threatened me and I want to fire them. I know that’s not official therapist speak. TLDR; I want to encourage them to have healthier boundaries and find a new therapist, but until then, what do I do?

Attitude adjustment (4,483)

Post-canon Ian and Mickey figure out some relationship issues. That includes insults, (play-)fighting, more insults, and orgasms. Or: Mickey is having an attitude. Thank god Ian knows exactly what to do.

Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red (1,838)

Ian poses in a life drawing class. A straight forward job, if not for the guy with the blue eyes who can't stop staring at him.

Carnival (3,136)

Ian and Mickey spend the evening at a carnival... "Ian locked the car’s door, and put his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, as they walked towards the carnival. He had brought the leaflet home a few days ago, wiggling the colorful sketch of a carousel and the outdated font under Mickey’s nose with some hopeful glee. Mickey had protested for habit sake, but had caved in pretty easily..."

Five Dates with Brad f*cking Pitt (4,269)

Sometimes things may not be what they seem. Especially when there are assholes around who add fuel to the fire just for the sake of a fucking joke.

Groceries (2,260)

A routine trip to the store turns into a trip down memory lane.

The Guardians (4,879)

3,000 years ago, they had to join forces to defeat an evil sorcerer. Now, the sorcerer was back, and more powerful than ever. Could they defeat him for good?

i'll find a new place to be from (5,947)

They stand in silence for a couple beats, unspoken words lingering above their heads. The cig in his hand has long burned out and Ian resists the temptation to light up another, and another. He feels his mouth open, and close, then open again–but nothing comes out. Time’s up. "See you inside, Red," Mickey finally says before pushing the door open, and Ian remembers how to breathe.

Infused Attraction (3,434)

Mickey has to receive Iron infusions. Ian is a student nurse who is assisting the other nurses with the infusion. Mickey is interested in the redhead. Ian is seemingly interested in him too. Let's see how it goes!

Italy (I Trust And Love You) (3,183)

"Ian closed his eyes and ran a hand through his damp hair. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath, as if to steal himself for some monumental task, and walked off down the sidewalk. The rain made quick work of drenching him. Ian didn’t seem to notice. In the dirt beneath the tree, drawn in crude blocky letters made with the toe of his boot: I + M." OR A story mostly told through Debbie's eyes during world war two, as she worries for all her brothers, but particularly the one sent home much before the rest.

Jump To Recipe (5,977)

Hiring Mickey Milkovich - Freelance Photographer to shoot the photos for his food blog was the best move Ian’s ever made. Mickey’s a fantastic shot, plus he’s committed to the success of Ian’s blog. (He’s fucking hot, too. But that’s just an added bonus.) And the best thing about him, is that in all the ways he’s professional behind the camera, he’s refreshingly unprofessional to Ian’s face. Which means when he comes around, Ian always knows he’s in for a good laugh, intriguing conversation, and an ego boost - Mickey never shy about how much he loves Ian’s food when they dig in after the shoot. Ian’s made chocolate lava cake today. But when extra time leads to their at-home appointment going way off script - Mickey wanting to update Ian’s headshots, but with a twist - who will the spicier photos leave wanting more, the “housewife army” from his blog’s comment section, or Ian and Mickey?

A Lot (4,245)

What could have happened if Ian had told Mickey that he was worried about going to Mexico with him?

The man in the van (2,141)

“Suppose I should thank you for the compliment then,” Ian teases, smirking a little. The guy snorts. “Don’t mention it, Red. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He proceeds to shamelessly check Ian out again, licking the corner of his mouth as he does. or Ian Gallagher wouldn't mind some excitement in his life. Enter one Mickey Milkovich, ready to oblige.

ole red (5,596)

Mickey is out of prison and walking the straight and narrow with help of his cheering section, P.O. Larry . It’s hard being tough in a pastel polo and dad shorts. Old Army is just a paycheck until he meets the assistant manager, Ian. Finally he figures out Ian was Mandy’s Ian from their teen years. Mickey is attracted to the redhead but is still closeted. Ian responds to Mickey lashing out by revealing he knows Mickey’s secret. Mickey decides to be brave and the reward , huge 😈

The Reason to Exist (4,851)

lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: can you stop stealing my loot lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: this team only needs 1 sharpshooter anyway 😐 mm1234567890 [18:23]: shut up u f** lieutenantcolonel [18:23]: WHAT

Red Hot (4,364)

Ian's workday has been shitty... but his afternoon might just be very different. Thanks to his favorite nephew and a certain mouthy and opinionated stall owner at the winter farmer's market.

A Salute Before We Sink (4,601)

The world will end tomorrow. Ian's only chance at survival is to earn a spot in an underground bunker. One man stands in his way.

Snowballs and Sneaking Out (2,441)

Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.

So drunk on you (3,878)

"Then Mickey launches himself into quite a detailed account of the previous evening and there goes Ian’s sanity. He’s learned over the months to hone his selective hearing. That is, he’s not tuning Mickey out completely but he’s trained his brain to gloss over the facts that fall under the TMI category and focus on the highlights. Again, for the sake of his sanity. Because the thing is, he’s so gone on Mickey it’s actually embarrassing. And he’s been gone pretty much from the very beginning." Just another friends-to-lovers story.

Span the Distance, Bridge the Border (4,988)

Ian and Mickey are happy, living on the West Side and adjusting to life as husbands in their new apartment. Things are going well, really well, until one day Mickey’s brothers show up. And God only knows what they could possibly want.

weight of the world (3,360)

Mickey thought he was fucked for life and that he’d never see his mom again. Turns out he was wrong about both of those things.

Wonderful- a Gallavich Christmas Mini-fic (5,030)

In which Mickey learns the reason for the season or How the Mick gained Christmas.

AUTHORS:

Blodeuwedd

Calli_Writes

Captain_Jowl

energie_vie

Gallabitch73

gallawitch

Gembu

GrandSelfMythology

IanGalagher

JuliaKay

lingy910y

MissSnowwhitepink

mmmichyyy

My_Brain_Melted

NotHereNJ

Rayrayor

sam_writes_fics

Suzy_Queue

sweet_perversion

Sweetbee78

whatthebodygraspsnot

whatyouandihave

[ordowrites]

tender moment with kaeya

cw: mdni mentioned. self indulgent. fluff. mutual pining. kinda self shippy. gn!reader. short but i love him.

there are times where you'll be at his apartment, food cooking and an idle but interesting conversation is going - when he'll take you by surprise by pulling at your waist and gets you flushed close to him.

"care to dance, my dove?"

and despite your startled protests, he teaches you to waltz in his small kitchen - a stupid smile on your face as he looks at you as if he's seen the sun for the first time in his life. as he twirls you, a small part of you worries about the food burning but it disappears when you're close again.

'I love you,' is what you want to say - it's on your lips, you taste it on your tongue but each step makes it harder. if you said these words, would he laugh and reject you?

and a few short moments later, the impromptu dance is over and he's serving you both breakfast. you take whatever you can get from him - thriving in every second.

there is a moment that catches you by surprise. he kisses you on the cheek after, coffee stains his breath but it's perfect. he's perfect.

(you love him, you think)

"see you tonight?" a pause. "your footing needs work."

"then i'll see you tonight."

"until then, i suppose." but he lingers for a moment - staring, wondering. you smile. "yes?"

"nothing. have a wonderful day." there are words that haunt his apartment. you hold his words in your hands, study them and conclude nothing.

but when he pulls you close to him again that night - looking at you like you are the sun and the moon and thw stars - your heart skips a beat.

(maybe he loves you back, you hope.)

dinner will be ready in an hour.

step by step - kaeya leads you, twirls, holds you close - too close - and briefly, when the invisible music stops, your lips touch.

"a good student." he praises.

"a great teacher." you answer and he fumbles. shies away. kaeya is terrible at accepting compliments. "thank you, kaeya."

nothing else has to be said but he's smiling all night - until the two of you fall asleep on the couch together and him clinging to you.

(you think there's something there)

[ultimateshixiongfuckertournament]

Noncanonicals Tournament Round 1, Match 7

Match 7 is between John 'Jack' Seward from Dracula (shizun/mentor: Abraham van Helsing) and Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars (shizun/mentor: Qui-Gon Jinn)

Propaganda under the cut! (Warning: Propaganda may include spoilers about the characters and their media)

John 'Jack' Seward:

Actual quotes from the letter in which John Seward introduce Van Helsing:

"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world. [...]

Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy."

I feel like this speaks for itself tbqh.

Also, here's Van Helsing's answer to Seward's offscreen summons:

"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it is to you that I come.[...]"

The Gangrene Incident is never explained beyond this. Just. Jack sucked Van Helsing canon and real

Rest assured that they are like this from here to the end of the novel

--

See above; also, let's remember the fact that Jackie can apparently do a bang up Dutch accent to give full bodied performances mimicking his professor. Van H also implies that he and Jack are blood-married.

--

Even though they are mentor/student, Van Helsing strongly believes Jack is his equal in many ways and confides in him just for emotional stability. Stereotypically the mentor pushes the student outside of his comfort zone, but it is Jack who introduces the professor to everyone else in the story. Van Helsing tells another character that Jack helps alleviate his loneliness. He writes his "in case I die" memos to Jack specifically, because there is no one else who would understand him better.

Oh also Van Helsing has a running theme of barging into Jack's room unannounced, waking him up gently from his sleep, invading his personal space with little protest.

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

None submitted

[sonarspace]

twin xl, suguru geto

a/n: sad so here’s this :D i kinda just rambled so i hope it makes sense. part 2?? kinda warnings: angst? blood. death. depression? hidden inventory arc au. not proofread. wc: 1k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 you squeeze yourself between the wall and the mattress of his twin xl bed when he’s too tired to come meet you. the twin xl bed filled with memories of you two. your first kiss. your first touches. your first love confession. hard for you to let go even after years.

you knew suguru struggled to leave his room. struggled to do much of anything after riko amani’s death. her last moments keep replaying in his head. her smiling face quickly fading and on the floor in a pool of blood.

he wakes up with a scream, gasping for oxygen. he yelps when he hears you mumble a quiet “suguru”. your hand searching for his in the pool of sheets. he lets you weave your fingers together as you tug him to lay down next to you again. he turns on his side to look at you. the early morning, dark but bright enough that you could see each other’s expressions.

your other hand moves over his chest. his heart beating fast under your fingers. “hey,” you whisper meeting his eyes. they held so much pain. that moment was swallowing him whole. losing amani and then finding out he almost lost his best friend. going in that room and seeing those people clap and cheer over a little girl’s death.

it made him sick to his stomach. he ran to the bathroom to empty out his stomach, not much in there anyway. he barely ate. the taste of curses stronger than anything else. you followed behind, holding up his hair for him. no matter how many times he told you that he was fine or he wanted to be alone you didn’t budge. you forced yourself into this phase of his life. couldn’t allow him to lose himself to this grief.

you’ve seen it happen before. with your dad. when your mom passed away. latching onto him to keep him grounded to reality instead of the past. he was really grateful that you were around when he couldn’t bare to be around anyone else.

he sat there on the bathroom tiles, too tired to move. you wet a cloth and lower yourself in front of him, wiping his mouth. “you don’t have to this,” he tells you seriously. you ignore him and continue cleaning up his face and hands.

you tug his hand so he could follow you into the shower and he obliges. doesn’t have it in him to protest. you make him sit on a stool as you grab the shower head and start washing his hair. careful to follow his routine, you massage his scalp. in that moment he lets out a deep exhale. he felt a relief of some sort.

he stands up and pulls off his shirt, a silent request to wash his body as well. you take a loofah and he passes you, your cocoa butter scented body wash. a smile ghosts his lips when you lather him up with it. wanting to be close to you but not knowing how to ask for it. you leave a kiss above his heart. a silent promise.

you both walk out of a shower, him in nothing but his shorts and you in drenched clothes. you strip yourself quickly and grab two towels for the both of you. wrapping one around him first to keep him warm. you both walk out of the bathroom marking the wooden floorboards with wet footprints.

a few years from now, students will walk in your room (this room) and wonder who’s footprints those are. you’d tell them the story of you and your suguru’s youth. telling them about his serious yet goofy personality. his kind and caring heart. filled with love. the way he deserved to be remembered. a sadness taking over you as you miss him.

you open his closet filled some of your clothes. he grabs one of your oversized sweatshirts and pulls it on. he tries to smile at you “is this okay?” he asks. “yeah, it’s okay.” you smile back.

you ask him to grab the two of you breakfast from the kitchen as you stay behind and quickly clean his room. he comes back with two glasses of orange juice and some custard filled dorayaki.

you both sit on the carpet by his bed and eat your breakfast. the sun shinning brightly through the window now. he looks behind you at the two picture frames. one of him, gojo and shoko together. and one of you beside them. his girl.

he grabs your hand as you grab his empty plate to keep it aside. “i’m sorry i’ve been such a pain in the ass. thank you so much for taking care of me,” he expresses his gratitude. “don’t be silly suguru, of course i’d take care of you.” you furrow your eyebrows at him. “i’ll get better,” he promises you. “i know you will, suguru.” he kisses you then. one kiss. thank you. two kisses. i love you. three kisses. i promise.

however his promises are out of the window when he sees haibara lying on the metal table. his body lifeless. nanami sitting behind him in distress. how many more of them had to die for the sake of humans who didn’t even care. he’s sent on a mission to a village later. he commits a massacre. he calls you then.

“what did you do suguru,” you ask him tears filing your eyes in disbelief. “i did what i thought was right,” his voice gets louder. “even your parents?” you yelled. “they can’t be an exception.” he replies calmly. your hands clench and unclench at your sides when you spot the little girls shaking in fear of what might happen to them. he blocks your view quickly moving in front of you. “do you not understand why i’m doing this?” he asks you sincerely. you shake your head. “it’s for us. baby. for us.” he cups your cheek.

“i don’t want this suguru,” you tell him. “i just wanted you to get better. i didn’t ask for this.” you push his hand away. he’s taken aback at the gesture. “i have to do this.” he murmurs. “you don’t suguru.” you plead him. he knew you wouldn’t understand but he had to try and explain it to you anyway. he kisses you hard then. “i love you.” he whispers. followed by one more kiss. goodbye.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[cursedonyx]

Hello, sorry to bother you, but I've had a little brainrot idea for hogwarts legacy for a hot minute, but I don't have the time to sit down and write it. The idea is that mc has a baby or toddler little sibling (male or female), and since they're both orphans, mc has to raise their siblings while in hogwarts and dealing with all the events of the game. And then the absolutely shocked faces and storylines of the people around them seeing mc beat goblins with a baby strapped to their back. Sorry if it's unrealistic, but I had to raise my neice and nephew practically by myself at 15 so I would love to see it happen in game.

Hi, what an interesting concept! I decided to do this Reactions style as it seemed it would be easier to fit in all the characters I could think of – hope you like it!

Asks are open ~ send me anything ✨

Sebastian Sallow: It was certainly a shock to see the new student march through the Great Hall later than everyone else, the rumours already circling about their arrival. Even more surprising was the fact that this fifth-year had a… a baby of all things strapped to their back! Was it theirs? Were they a teenage parent? Was it a cousin, a sibling, or some waif they’d picked up along the way?

Sebastian learns quickly enough the new student’s baby is in fact their sibling, and is always with them. Even in class. And when Professor Hecat suggests they duel, MC doesn’t even think about unstrapping the infant from their shoulders, despite Hecat’s protestations. He’d go easy on them, for the sake of the baby.

That was his mistake. MC proved to be a formidable opponent, kicking his arse seven ways to Sunday without even breaking a sweat as the baby watched curiously from over their shoulder and the rest of the class cheered them on. And as the weeks and months went by, the baby joined them in their adventures, merely shrieking with glee as MC dived and rolled out of the way of goblin attacks and clapping their hands as MC torched inferi, as if it was all some sort of game. Sebastian made sure to be extra careful in protecting MC, for the baby’s sake. Just the baby. Of course it was. It had nothing to do with the fact he admired MC more than perhaps even his own parents.

Ominis Gaunt: Ominis has never liked children, especially babies. They’re noisy, smelly, sticky, and he’s convinced if he holds one, it’ll throw up on him. It takes him a moment or ten to warm up to MC and even longer to warm up to MC’s baby, especially when he catches both of them coming out of the Undercroft, smelling like Confringo. Even so, he reins in his temper as he scolds MC, not wanting to upset the baby and cause a ruckus at this time of night. He can’t help but be concerned for the little one as MC accepts their tongue-lashing with humility and skulks away. Casting Confringo around a child surely isn’t a good idea.

His concern grows when he’s foraging for ingredients along the edge of the Forbidden Forest one day and hears MC and the baby go into the Forest itself, whistling happily as the baby burbles on their shoulders. He follows, wondering if they know how dangerous it is and planning to keep them safe from a distance when a spider attacks. MC dispatches it with ease before he can even aim his wand. He rushes over, intending to scold them again, only to find MC nonchalantly passing the baby a severed spider leg to play with. The baby promptly hits Ominis about the head with it and screams with laughter.

He smiles, and begins to spend more time with the toughest pair of people he thinks he’s ever met.

Garreth Weasley – Potions class is where he has the most fun, even though his experiments tend to cause fires, explosions, extra limbs and the occasional change of hair colour, all of which result in detention. That was until MC showed up to class with their sibling in tow, the little mite grasping handfuls of their hair as they brewed their potions. Damn it all, he’d really wanted to try adding doxy eggs to his brew to see what happened. He couldn’t do that with a baby in the classroom. He didn’t mind singeing his fellow students, that was the risk they all took as wizards and witches around such volatile concoctions, and if he was going to be the best potioneer the world had ever seen, well…

But he couldn’t risk hurting a baby. He loved babies. They were cute and fat with pudgy tummies and made adorable little faces with their great big eyes and drooling mouths, fascinated by everything around them.

So Garreth started behaving. He saved his experiments for outside the classroom, and though it occasionally still landed him in detention, it certainly granted him more free time, and he began to appreciate the finer rules of potion-making, leading his experiments to become more successful as time went by. He changed his cauldron station to one next to MC once Sharp determined he wouldn’t be a health hazard, and got to know them both a little better. He was stunned by all MC had been through, raising such a precious little bean all by themselves. Every time they shared a class, he had a cake or two to share, a bit of homework he’d already written for them, offering to go to Hogsmeade on their behalf to get anything they needed. Maybe one day, if MC was willing, he could be another parental figure in this cute little thing’s life. He’d always wanted a big, happy family.

Leander Prewett – There’s not much Leander really understands, though he tries very hard to pretend otherwise. One of the big things he just doesn’t get are babies. He’s never been around them, and after noticing MC has their baby with them all the time, he’s not overly keen on getting too involved and doing or saying something stupid that would make him look like an idiot.

But one day, the baby has been grizzling all day long, with MC walking them up and down all through the castle, trying to settle them, but the baby’s just not having it. He spots them coming out of the main doors to where he’s trying to get a little flying practice in, and they seem to be making a beeline for him. Merlin, if there was ever a time for someone to grace him with flight skills, it was now. He attempts to kick off from the ground and merely ends up turning head over heels four or five times before tumbling to the ground with a yelp.

Wincing, he looks up, expecting people to be laughing at him. Someone certainly is, the high-pitched, free laughter soaring over their heads. Glowering a little, he stands up and tries to preserve a little of his dignity, turning to see MC beside him, bouncing the baby in their arms. The baby is no longer grizzling, but is laughing helplessly, waving its fat little fists in glee.

MC thanks him earnestly for making her little sibling laugh, and offers to buy him a butterbeer for his trouble. On the way, Leander makes sure whenever the little one looks like it might start crying to take a pratfall or walk into a low-hanging tree branch, grinning as each time makes the baby scream with laughter.

As they talk, he learns about all MC has gone through, and his admiration for them goes through the roof. He makes sure to seek them out daily to fall down the stairs or do a silly dance to get the baby laughing. It makes MC laugh too, and he loves the way they smile when he does it.

Amit Thakkar – Amit steals up to the astronomy tower one evening to get in an extra few hours of stargazing, hoping his diligence to the subject will ingratiate him with the notoriously cold Professor Shah. But when he gets there, he sees MC leaning on the railing, dandling their sibling on their hip, pointing up at the celestial heavens and murmuring some twee nonsense about the twinkly dots. He goes quietly to his telescope, trying not to disturb them, when he overhears MC talk about the stars being the souls of those departed, and how ‘mummy and daddy are up there.’

It just about breaks his heart. He’d read about tragedy, of course, it was a staple in many of his adventure books, but learning that one of his fellow students had suffered something that made him cry when he read about made-up people enduring it, well. He leaves his telescope and moves over, leaning on the railing as well and speaking in a soft voice about the cosmos, pointing out the stars and naming them until MC lays a hand on his arm.

The baby has gone to sleep, soothed by his voice. MC thanks him, telling him the baby has been having trouble sleeping since their parents died, they both have, in fact. The baby stirs, and Amit pulls out one of his favourite books and a blanket, wrapping them both up in it and settling down nearby, reading to them both until they fall asleep.

It becomes a regular thing, and Amit smiles every time he looks up from the pages to see them cuddled up together, holding each other and sound asleep. It's nice to feel useful, and he appreciates being able to do some small thing for them when they’ve already been through so much.

Natsai Onai – While initially anxious about asking for MC’s help in dealing with Rookwood and Harlow, Natsai soon learns how capable MC is from her fellow students. When they go to rescue Highwing, Natsai almost begs her to leave their sibling in the castle, but MC refuses. Not only does the baby seem to understand the danger they are in and keeps quiet, but it seems to actually enjoy it when MC Depulso’s an arrogant Ashwinder off the edge of a tower, chuckling heartily. The baby shrieks with joy as they fly on their rescued Hippogriffs, waving their hands in the air as MC and Natsai whoop and cheer. The baby really feels like a member of the team, even though it didn’t actually do anything, sort of like a mascot.

Natsai’s fears for the baby decrease with every adventure and MC proves time and time again they’re not just a hell of a warrior, but a damn good parental figure too. She delights in the quieter moments they share, often begging MC to let her look after the baby to give MC a much deserved break. Though initially reluctant, MC agrees for a few hours one evening, saying they needs to speak with Sebastian and Ominis. They return, looking a little tired and somewhat stressed (can she blame them after hanging out with a Gaunt?), and happily takes the little one back, thanking Natsai for her help. She lets Natty look after the little one more often, and Natsai teaches them both some nursery rhymes from Matabeleland.

Poppy Sweeting – To Poppy, MC having a baby is no skin off her nose. It's almost like having a pet that’s going to be able to talk one day and clean up its own poop. Bonus! But right now, like all baby beasts, this one is adorable and she takes every moment she can to spend time with MC and their sibling, fussing over them both and insisting she cuts up their dinner for them, even if they’re in different houses.

When Poppy asks MC for help with the poachers, it’s not a decision she’s made lightly. She knows how vulnerable babies are, even baby dragons, and to bring a baby into a poacher den could signal trouble for everyone. MC insists on their sibling coming with them, and Poppy needs the help. Poppy soon learns she didn’t need to worry, watching MC absolutely decimate the poachers without breaking a sweat, the baby on her shoulders waving their own little hand as if they were casting spells as well, going ‘wheeeeeeee’ when MC rolls out of the way of a hex, and burbling happily when the dragoness stares them down.

Poppy makes a point to introduce MC and the little one to some safer beasts, enjoying a cup of tea with MC as they watch the baby roll around with the Poffle of Puffskeins Professor Howin has in the pens by the Beasts classroom. She makes a point to join Natsai when babysitting.

Professor Sharp – While initially concerned about there being a baby in his class (with Garreth, FFS) he soon learns MC is more than capable of being a responsible carer, and his admiration for them grows as he watches them soldier on with classwork, homework, babywork and, if the rumours are to be believed, their rather dangerous extra-curriculars. He makes sure to slip some Soothing Solution into MC’s bag for those difficult nights, and lets the baby chew on his auror badge the few times MC lands detention with him. He won’t give them any leeway to be a cheeky little shit in his classes, baby or no. Besides, it’s nice to watch them grow up.

Professor Garlick – She’s alarmed when MC marches into her class, baby in tow, worried the baby will be eaten by a venomous tentacula or Chinese chomping cabbage, but her concern vanishes when MC proves to have the awareness of five highly-caffeinated people, keeping the baby safe during her classes. She offers to help where she can, and MC gratefully accepts dummies with essence of dittany on them to soothe the baby’s teething.

Professor Black – Most people are convinced he doesn’t even know what a baby is, despite the fact he’s got five children. He’s aloof most of the time, barely paying anyone any attention, least of all MC and the baby. But after a particularly trying day when the baby just wouldn’t settle, MC watches with apprehension as Black strides towards them, scowling. Expecting a scolding (and a detention for the attitude they prepare to give back in return) MC is surprised when Black holds out a tiny plush doll in the shape of a kneazle without a word, then stalks off like he didn’t just give their sibling a teddy.

Professor Fig – Having seen all MC can do, even with a baby on their back at all times, he can’t help but admire them, though he desperately wishes they didn’t have to do so much alone. As such, he takes on the role of not just mentor, but father and grandfather figure to the pair. When things get too tough, he happily encourages MC to take a nap in his office, rocking the baby to sleep as MC snoozes on the sofa, cooking for the three of them and making sure to help MC with their homework. Towards the middle of the year, MC bursts into his office, holding the little one aloft.

“Say it again, baby!” MC cries.

The baby grins, chewing its own pudgy fist. Around a mouthful of their own hand, they speak their first word.

“Fig,” they say.

It’s the proudest moment of his life.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.