#world peace if all family members died

[mephilver]

cosmo and wanda i wish everybody who ever so much as looked in the kitchen while i was in there died

[fexicoded]

+

[storiesfromgaza]

A message to everyone :

Ever since I began this blog and continuously shared its content, I never asked any of you to follow me, share these posts, or use the Blaze feature to promote them. I've been entirely absorbed in writing articles and translating stories and posts from the people of Gaza without concerning myself with whether they will reach a broad audience or not. My initial goal was to reach any number of individuals, even if it was just one person, in the hope of increasing their awareness. That would have been sufficient for me.

But today, particularly after the recent news confirming the complete shutdown of the internet, electricity, and communications in Gaza, along with the isolation imposed by the Israeli occupation and the brutal and savage bombings happening now as I write these lines, I want everyone to share what's happening. Not just on Tumblr but everywhere you can. Share on WhatsApp, Twitter, Instagram, and for those who are proficient in Russian, share on platforms like VK. If you know Korean, share in Naver cafes. Share with your family, your loved ones, and those you meet on the street. Let everyone know about the monstrous massacres the occupation is committing against Palestinian civilians, teenage girls and young women who have become widows due to the bombings, young children whose lives were forcibly taken from them while they clung to life, and the elderly who hoped for a longer life or a peaceful death beside their children and families, but the occupation robbed them of this, making the old man witness the deaths of all his family members, his children, and his grandchildren, and then he dies alone, hoping to join them.

O People, humans, whether you are Muslims, Christians, Jews, or followers of any religion, my message is for those of you who have humanity, whatever your identity may be. Your silence today means you are participating in an extermination worse than what Hitler did to the Jews, even worse than the victims of all the world wars combined. At that time, there weren't sufficient means of communication, so everyone's excuse was that they couldn't do anything except publish in newspapers. But today, in our current era, there are many available options. So, what's your excuse now?

Your silence and inaction are permission for them to continue their slaughter and the extraction of souls from their bodies. Let everyone do whatever is within their power, and all of us should know that we can do a lot. Edit: I've created a Telegram channel for us and posted all the articles and stories that have been published here, so you can easily share them with everyone. Join it through the following link: https://t.me/storiesfromgaza

Edit²: we now have an Instagram account, which we created to make it easier for everyone to share the stories and articles published here. Some of them have already been shared with beautiful designs, and we are in the process of posting the remaining articles after formatting and finalizing the designs. I had to use my personal account because when I created an account with the name "Stories From Gaza," Instagram suspended the account immediately, even before I could change the profile picture or post anything! Account username: @amrshater

Your interaction on Instagram will greatly help in spreading the stories and articles to the Instagram audience https://www.instagram.com/amrshater/

[reginaldqueribundus]

the Sarek family is hilarious to me because you have so much drama in one place. there have got to be at least 3 like, holo-documentaries or whatever about them. how could you not?

you have Sarek, the patriarch: one of the UFP's top diplomats, who knocks up a Vulcan princess then goes “hrm I am ambassador to Earth therefore I should marry a human” and he does, upsetting all sorts of the worst kinds of people on his home planet and causing racist hate groups to try to blow him and his family up multiple times, and seems honestly more put out by his son joining Starfleet than his other son becoming Vulcan Moriarty

Amanda, the matriarch: an accomplished educator and quite possibly the only well-adjusted member of the family, but when her son Spock shows up on her doorstep after growing a beard, having a mental breakdown and apparently murdering several medical staff she still shrugs and hides him in the family mausoleum

Sybok: Amanda's stepson from the aforementioned princess fling, who becomes an antiestablishment criminal mastermind with an edgelord fake name, hooks up with a hot space pirate, finds religion, starts a cult, takes an entire colonial government hostage sparking a diplomatic incident involving three galactic superpowers, and hijacks a Starfleet ship to the galactic core to find the Vulcan Garden of Eden, where he dies fighting god in hand-to-hand combat

Michael, a traumatized human girl Sarek brings home from a work trip, who joins Starfleet, becomes their first-ever mutineer, goes to prison, saves the Federation from a war most people think is her fault and gets “killed” in a highly classified, very suspicious incident involving an experimental starship and a series of red lights that appeared across the galaxy like a divine omen (oh, and returns 900 years later to solve the dilithium crisis, kill the head of the Emerald Chain and save two entire star systems including her siblings' homeworld)

and last but not least Sarek & Amanda's one-of-a-kind hybrid baby. Spock, who gets accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, tells them to go fuck themselves when they're racist about it, runs off to Starfleet instead, gets so famous his arranged marriage falls apart resulting in him publicly strangling his own captain to death except not really, steals the Federation flagship twice, invents time travel, saves the entire planet Earth, dies and comes back to life, goes into his dad's line of work and achieves peace with the freaking Klingons as his opening act, then after a long successful career suddenly dips to go do extremely dangerous underground activism on one of the most paranoid authoritarian worlds in the galaxy to unify the Romulans & Vulcans who've hated each other for over a thousand years — and he isn't around to see it but it eventually works. then he fucks off with the VSA's high-speed prototype ship full of the most dangerous substance known to science and gets sucked into a black hole of his own creation, never to be seen again. and this is just the stuff that's public knowledge!

then you dig into the novels where Sarek's ancestor basically makes out with Zefram Cochrane 5 seconds after meeting him and Amanda tells the press her husband has a huge cock

I love them

[applesauce42069]

so if people didn't hear what happened in calgary, essentially:

yes, that is a nazi salute. yes, that is the leader of Iran.

what is not visible in this photo is the pro-palestine protestors he was standing with. in the videos that circulated, you can see a blonde woman in a keffiyeh walk up to him, say something, and then walk away. there are people with keffiyehs and pro-palestine signs all around him.

they are the people who concern me the most. they claim to be pro palestine, pro justice and peace and equality. a man, standing in their protest, did a nazi salute, and none of them stopped him.

i'm a jew and the descendant of holocaust survivors and victims. if someone did a nazi salute in my vicinity and it was safe to do so, i would go bat shit on them.

so why did no one stop him?

i feel like is is emblematic of how antisemitism spreads among pro-palestine leftists. they don't set out to be antisemitic. they don't want to be antisemitic because its wrong to be prejudiced. but the antisemitism begins to slip through the cracks. they usually don't know enough about jewish people, jewish history, or antisemitism in general to counter it. the effect is slow, but damning. eventually these antisemitic symbols lose their meaning, become less important. so even in the face of something this overt, people don't stop it.

all i can say is that its truly disgusting that people turned the very real, longstanding oppression of palestinians by the israeli state into an excuse to spread violent, hateful, and harmful rhetoric at the expense of jewish people around the world.

and i would also like to say: my grandmother grew up in communist poland, raised by a holocaust survivor mother who had lost her own mother and sisters, likely to the nazi death squads east of Poland, the Einsatzgruppen, as they were trying to flee. Her father may have never met her, having died in the polish people's army around the same time she was born. all her life she wanted to come to canada, because it was safe and bountiful. she brought her family here, and i've always felt lucky for it. now we have people throwing up nazi salutes in our streets to celebrate the attempted bombing of our family members.

antisemitism is a plague.

[celestica-1988]

Some other Tokyo Revengers characters headcanon. There will be SPOILERS.

When Mikey left the Sano household he brought with him his towel and some pics of the people he lost. Almost every night when he's curled up in his towel ready to sleep he watches the pics and cries. Yes, even when he's in bonten.

Draken biggest regret is not confessing his feelings to Emma. So when he gets up and goes to bed he always says "I love you" to her pic on the wall.

Baji is so scared of his mother tears because when she cries she turns in a really strong opponent. She's the female version of the blue ogre.

Chifuyu thought that his mother hated Peke J till one day when he got home from school and found the two sleeping together snuggling.

Takemichi finds some notes of his past self in which he's confused about being friends with people he doesn't even remember he knew and lately being involved in a gang. Past Takemichi is afraid he's going insane so our Takemichi writes te a note in which he explains everything. Not surprisingly past Takemichi is even more confused and thinks he need a therapist.

Kazutora is proud of his tattoo. He just wish people in Japan wouldn't be so scared of tattoos because sometimes is tired of hide it with turtlenecks.

Takuya likes to watch wrestling.

Yamagishi dream is that his delinquent encyclopedia would be published one day.

Akkun dies his hair red by himself as a training to be an hairdresser.

Mitsuya is very good at karaoke, he likes to sing rock songs.

Hakkai is the first and more hardcore shipper of Mitsuya x Yuzuha. He really wants Taka-chan to be a part of his family.

Sometimes Taiju babysits Mana and Luna. One time they asked him to watch IT (the 90s version) with them since Takanii forbid them to watch such a scary horror movie, Taiju accepted but not much longer the movie started Mana and Luna started to cry and Taiju did his best to comfort them (he said he would punch any clowns that goes close to them or something similar). In the end the little ones fell asleep in his arms and Taiju had to live for a week with the Mitsuya because Mana and Luna felt safe only near to him. Needless to say an angry Mitsuya scolded Taiju.

When Pahchin gets released all the Toman members throw a party for him. He was sad Mikey was not there though.

When Yasuda confessed to Pehyan he malfunctioned and froze for a solid 15 minutes.

Angry thought for a while that he would be a nurse when he will be an adult. He changes his mind after seeing Nahoya smiling with his eyes wide in delight while eating the ramen that he prepared. Since then Angry wants to be a ramen chef.

Smiley once stole Angry favorite stuffed animal, Souya got so upset that accidentally unleashed the blue ogree. Since then Nahoya always politely asks to Souya if he can borrow one of his plushies.

Mucho goes to punk rock concerts, one time he brought Sanzu with him, but it wasn't a good idea. Sanzu beated almost all the people in the venue.

Sanzu ends up regretting killing Mucho, he misses the older brother he was for him. Especially when he feels lonely and he realizes he has got nobody to talk to.

When Kisaki reaches the afterlife Baji punches him in the face so hard that for a moment he was sure he would come back in the world of the livings.

Hanma likes to play shooting games at the arcade, but when he loses he usually punches the machine.

Kokonoi lives in a traditional house when he's in bonten. There are a lot of candles, lanterns and things that make it a cozy place. Only Miley is admitted in his house and only for urgent matters. The house is his sanctuary to find inner peace after dealing with his crazy coworkers.

Inui likes goth girls more because they understand and appreciate his hobbies.

When Izana listens to Queen the whole neighborhood listens to Queen.

Kakucho learned to cook from Mochi.

Mochi hates creeps who harass women and always beat them down to a pulp. Harassing a woman is not an honorable behavior for a man!

Shion always fails tests of courage since when he was a kid. He believes in ghosts and he's afraid of them.

Rindou panicked when Ran slept for a whole day, he thought he was dead or in a coma. That's when he realized how important Ran is to him. When Ran woke up he cried for joy and ran to buy a mont blanc for his brother.

Ran cut his hair because he was tired of Sanzu calling him Wednesday or Annabelle.

Never insult someone because they are not fully Japanese in front of South, he will punch the living shit out of you. Since he's also a mixed race person he hates when people are bullied for that reason.

Wakasa saved a stray cat once and let the kitten live with him. Now when he doesn't wanna hang out with Takeomi he said he's busy... Busy cuddling his cat that he treasures so much because it help him avoid unnecessary social situations. And because... Who doesn't love a cat?

Benkei likes to built copies of castles in miniature. It relaxes him cause it takes great concentration and ability to do that in the right way.

Takeomi gossips like an old lady with his coworkers (may God help them)

Shinichiro cried the first time he watched Titanic, it's one of his favorite movies.

Yuzuha meets with Emma and Senju every month to talk about how hard it is dealing with problematic brothers.

Hinata is a fan of Avril Lavigne and sometimes she dreams of touring around the world playing the songs she wrote. Unluckily she can't sing but she has got some alternative fashion clothes.

Emma talks and sleeps with the plushie Draken gave to her. She calls him Kenken.

Senju goes often to Harajuku to take inspiration for her outfits.

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! General Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

🌟 Yandere! General is very controlling and likes order. He has a specific way of doing things and doesn’t like seeing things out of line. Will be very demanding and forceful things don’t go his way.

🌟 Yandere! General who is insanely scary when pissed off. He basically triggers everyone’s fight or flight response no matter who they are. Can easily break every bone in someone’s body if he really wanted to or was pissed off enough.

🌟 Yandere! General has many scars on his body due to his many battles in war. He enjoys it when you run your fingers down on them. His battle scars are extremely thick and run all over his body. They symbolize his strength and resilience.

🌟 Yandere! General would write the world's most romantic letter to you everyday while he’s out at war. He feels guilty for leaving you alone and wants to finish the battle as quickly as possible just to get back to you. Every minute apart from you is torture and would always carry a picture of you in his uniform chest pocket.

🌟 Yandere! General gives you the juiciest French kisses when leaves or returns from war. He expresses his emotions mostly through action and rarely verbally expresses himself. Will also bring back jewels and clothes for you once he gets back.

🌟 Yandere! General met you at a banquet hosted by a member of the royal family. You were an aristocrat and he couldn’t help but be enthralled by you once you introduced yourself to him. He spent the entire night by your side getting to know you and currying your favor.

🌟 Yandere! General on the next day is meeting with your parents to demand for your hand in marriage. They most likely will say yes due to his high social standing and his incredible wealth. However, if they say no he won’t hesitate to kill your parents or use any form of intimidation to make it happen. Would kill a suitor he’s most threatened by and chop their head off. Then mail them to other suitors as a warning sign for them to stay away from you.

🌟 Yandere! General would betray his country and kill all the royal family members in a heartbeat if you wanted him to. Although he has a cold exterior and aggressive way of dealing with you, your wants are what he chooses to prioritize. Don’t ask too much out of him all the time though, if he feels as if your being to demanding he may spank you.

🌟 Yandere! General is incredibly hard to run away from. If you somehow manage to do so, he’ll use his position to scour the entire world until he gets his hands on you again. When he manages to do so, he’ll permanently break your legs and disabling you. This would cause you to rely on him for everything and he lives for that. You can scorn him all you want but in his mind you deserved it.

🌟 Yandere! General grew up as an only child. His mother died when he was young due to a sickness and was left with his father. Killed his father with his own bare hands which caused rumors to swell that he is a savage. Nobody knows why he did it but no one is willing to ask why due to their fear of him.

🌟 Yandere! General was forced to join the army as a child soldier in order to survive and make a living. Climbed up the ranks and is now the most respected man in the military. Over time he’s hardened a lot and the sight of blood does not bother him, in fact it excites him. The thrill of a dangerous battle gets his adrenaline going and wanting to smash someone’s brains in.

🌟 Yandere! General loves it when you read a book to him while he cuddles with you. It’s the peaceful times that he yearns for the most. Being out in war all the time and having to fight battles since a young age really traumatized him. A change in scenery is really like a breath of fresh air. He can only really feel at serenity when you’re in his arms.

🌟 Yandere! General has a very unique and strange sense of humor. He likes to make a lot of pun jokes which most of the time leave the room just silent. Thinks that he is extremely hilarious and gets proud of his jokes. When he tells a joke to you, you usually just ignore him but he will keep repeating that joke until he gets a reaction out of you. Usually it’s a pity laugh or a really tiny awkward chuckle.

🌟 Yandere! General keeps weapons hidden from you. Does not trust you enough to handle them and doesn’t like you holding them. Why would you need them when he can protect you himself? Won’t allow you to learn how to properly use weapons because he believes that it isn’t needed with him around.

🌟 Yandere! General is very strict with you. He doesn’t like seeing you do things that he deems as “out of line” such as escaping. Has a daily routine that he likes for you to follow and won’t hesitate to demoralize you if you don’t. Although he can be very mean to you at times that doesn’t mean he’ll allow others to do the same. If he ever sees a maid bullying you, he’d gladly hang them in the middle of the city for everyone to see.

🌟 Yandere! General has so much power that at times, not even the royal family can stop him. He’s very influential and the only thing they can do is look at him in horror. Many successors in line for the crown will try to curry his favor in order to stabilize their position as the next ruler. His say is the most powerful out of all the noblemen combined. Absolutely no one can compete with him.

🌟 Yandere! General is very tall and extremely muscular all around. He’s the most well built person you’ll ever meet. His boobs are probably bigger than yours. Is as hard as a rock, if you ever tried to punch him you’re fist would probably break and is easily one of the most strongest people in the world.

🌟 Yandere! General isn’t as book smart as he’d like to be. It’s not surprising because for most of his childhood he’s been in the military. Most of his learning came from trying to understand important documents and make sense of them as a child. He loves to learn though and is willing to learn your native language if you have one.

🌟 Yandere! General has a lot of pent up stress due to paperwork he needs to complete. He lives to put you on his lap while he does his work in his office. Having you there just gives him delight and encourages him to complete his work faster. These days are very slow days to him and time just seems to drag on.

🌟 Yandere! General makes sure that you’re well taken care of and loves putting collars or chokers on you, it's just another sign that you belong to him. Don’t ever try resisting him because it just never goes too well for you. Just give up there’s nothing you can do.

Pt. 2

[kannra21]

Contrary to popular belief, Gojo Satoru was never in a relationship. And he was fairly awkward to say the least. Sure, girls had a crush on him and he was chased all around the block, but he never truly attempted to make a move so it never worked out. Because of his job and because of who he was- the honored one, brought a veil of loneliness in his life and misfortune to people who associated with him. He never really knew how to deal with girls- joking and teasing was his way to go, but that only brought him rejection and girls would often shift their feelings to Suguru. His youth flew before his very eyes and he's 30 now. All of his friends died mostly and he's still taking care of the kids. At least he has a goal to maintain and raise a powerful generation of young sorcerers. It still doesn't take away from the fact that he's a lonely 30yo man. He could deny it as much as he wanted to, but it pained him.

Because of the staff shortage, Tokyo high was in dire need of new recruits, and that's where you came into the picture. A foreigner yet so oddly familiar, the girl next door, acquainted with the sorcery and sacrifice that came with it. Your serious expression and tired eyes told him everything, there was no need for words. He understood quite well, he could relate to you and find solace in the fact that someone shares his burdens now that he's not so completely alone anymore. You're so young, so pretty and yet so damaged by the world that it makes him feel overprotective of you. He wants to give you peace the way nobody ever did for him. But that's ok, he's the strongest after all. You're smiling under your breath, you're a sorcerer as much as he is. He's supposed to do his job and not care too much about what's going to happen to you on missions. The truth is- he didn't want to lose another person again.

So he took you out everywhere, one day it was Tokyo's famous coffee shop, the other was a prestigious high end restaurant. You realize he's rich, still, you didn't want to take advantage of him. He insists, he wants to spend time with you. He wants to know you better, ever went as far as escort you to dorms to take a look at your room. You tell him you're not the glitz and glam type of girl and that you're ok with the normie stuff. And he liked you more for it. So you had room hangouts, small coffee dates and arcade games. Sometimes it makes him cry when he remembers that he used to do all those things with Suguru and Shoko before. You felt nostalgic too, your childhood was basically ripped from your hands and there was nothing you could do about it except reminisce. But you were adults now and lingering on the past was useless. Only thing you could do was move forward.

Satoru doesn't like to talk about himself much, you noticed. But that's ok. It's probably a dark story, not much different from yours. You already knew of the Gojo clan and their connection to Michizane Sugawara. All his family members are dead, you didn't know why but that's probably what happens when you're a well known name in this dark sorcery world. Everyone goes for your head, especially the higher ups. Which is ironic considering they're supposed to be associates. Maybe he is the strongest but this was a thankless job. And sometimes it seemed like everything was put up against him. Not you though.

At first you were plainly colleagues, nothing special. Then friends. Then the lingering touches started to feel more frequent than usual. Then he kissed you for the first time- it was when he opened up and how he's wishing for more positive things, something that could potentially lighten up his world. He doesn't want to be alone and he doesn't want to feel like life just flashed before him. He wants to make an impact, even if it meant making you happy, because you were enough to him. And you felt the same way. This love didn't feel like fire, a burning spark of the moment- hurried and tasteless. It felt like a deep sea of calmness and assurance- you could be yourselves with each other, you didn't have to pretend anything. Because being each other's safe space was enough.

Funny, Tokyo high needed new recruits again since you were on maternity leave and no matter how long they awaited your return, you never quite seemed to come back to work. Satoru is laughing because they're blaming him for everything and he can't deny it because it's the truth. He has a beautiful wife and beautiful babies to come home to and the best part- you don't have to be exposed to the dangerous sorcery world anymore. The kids were lively and annoying but god did they remind you of him. They preferred you more though. You're laughing and Gojo is pouting because it's not his fault that he's away from home all the time. He's missing you so much. But, of course, they're sleeping with him when you're away doing your face routine before bed. You return to your room and see them huddled in Gojo's arms. It's adorable and you get emotional again.

Please don't die Satoru. His missions were getting dangerous by the week and seeing his smiley face on the doors hugging your kids was everything you could hope for. You begged him to change jobs but he doesn't want to listen. He claims that he's responsible for the imbalance of the world and therefore he should be the one keeping everyone safe. He's stricken with guilt. Or maybe it's his hero complex that makes him so rebellious to authority and, in this case, his wife. But he'd rather die a honorable death than be taken out by something embarrassing such as old age or sickness. You're begging him to think of the kids and he does, he's thinking about them every single day. Their safety is his top priority, so is yours. And you're scared, you really are. You love him so much. You wish things could be easier, but it's ok. As long as you have each other's backs it didn't matter. You can overcome any obstacles together. He's not alone, he has a family now.

[tainsan]

misfits VIII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: verbal and physical abuse, anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of blood

⇥ word count: 11.1k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive situations, please read with care. this chapter is very angsty.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“Wait backtrack, you have known them for years?” Jisung questions, extremely confused by the story you are telling him. Jisung's touch on your back provides a faint sense of comfort amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs you. His hand moves in a soothing rhythm, gliding up and down your trembling spine. The sobs that wrack your body become a symphony of sorrow, echoing through the air, and intertwining with Jisung's soft touch. With each tremor that courses through you, he maintains a steady presence, a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. His touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture.

Sniffling, you answer, “Yes, they were that group I was with in high school, the ones who I got friendly with just before my mom died,” you explain, best you can with tears falling down your face and your voice shaking in your throat.

“Huh? You said they died?” Jisung asks, confused by the sudden confession from you, your words not making sense in his head that the eight you used to love were alive.

“I knew it wasn’t true.” 

“But if the police said they died, then surely it would be true?” 

“I never heard it from the police, I heard it from a guy who claimed to be a family member of ‘captain’. Who is apparently Hongjoong, I guess? It never made any sense, there was no proof, only this stranger’s word.”

“That makes more sense,” Jisung admits, nodding at the information before he realises something, “that’s likely why they changed their name from KQ Fellaz and ‘faked’ their death, so they could have a fresh start.”

“I suppose so, they wanted to start anew,” you conclude, trying to find any excuse or reason for them to have lied to you.

“That’s probably why they didn't tell you then.” Jisung raises his hand to rest on your head, patting it gently in an attempt to comfort you, yet all it does is remind you of all the times Wooyoung or San would do it to you, making your eyes sting even more than before.

“But why would they hide from me? I was their friend, they said I was one of them. How could they lie to me?” 

“I am sure they had their reasons. You likely weren’t that close to them back then.” 

As your gaze meets Jisung's, a profound realisation settles within you. In order for him to truly grasp the gravity of the situation and provide the support you need; you understand that it is necessary to lay bare the entirety of your journey. With a resolute breath, you begin recounting everything, from the very first moment you crossed paths with them to the heart-wrenching instant when they departed from your life. Every memory, every cherished moment, to the painful goodbye.

It all began in the middle of your Senior year in high school.

-

“Okay, class please pay attention we have a new student.” Your homeroom teacher announces, yet you pay zero interest to the familiar lady talking at the front of the classroom, simply continuing to draw in the sketch book you brought from home. 

Immersed in the classroom setting, you find peace and concentration with a single wired headphone nestled in your ear. As the sounds of commotion and chatter from your surroundings gradually fade away, your attention becomes laser-focused on the small details of your immediate environment. The rhythmic strokes of your pencil on paper create a soothing melody, harmonising with the gentle hum of music seeping into your left ear, creating a personalised soundtrack to your inner world.

Positioned near the back of the classroom, you find yourself beside an open window, inviting the outside world to merge with you. The autumn breeze delicately sweeps through the window, gracefully brushing against your skin and delicately tousling your hair. The serene atmosphere in the air instils a deep sense of tranquillity, infusing your being with an irrefutable sense of ease and contentment.

Momentarily shifting your gaze outside, you are captivated by the sight before you. The warm wind, with its tender touch, continues to playfully tickle your face as if inviting you to fully embrace the present moment. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with the crisp and refreshing scent of fall, a refreshing reminder of the beauty and change that accompanies this season. 

“Could I sit here, please?” a soft voice speaks out from your right, if you were even an inch to the left, you would have not heard the boy, who seems to be looking at the chair on which your bag resides. Locking your gaze upon the boy standing before you, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you, and you mentally berate yourself for your sluggishness in comprehending his inquiry. A rush of frustration washes over you as you silently curse your own slowness, your mind now grasping the meaning behind his words. With a mere nod, you hastily seize the bag lying on the nearby surface and hastily tuck it away beneath your own chair, your movements reflecting your urgency. Turning your attention back to your sketchbook, you purposefully avoid glancing at the boy who wordlessly settles into the seat beside you.

Despite the absence of spoken words, you sense an adamant intensity radiating from the boy to your left. Internally, you let out a groan, fully aware that you must address this unfamiliar stranger and request that he mind his business. Tentatively, you direct your gaze towards him, annoyed you have to speak despite, yet before you can utter a single syllable, you are captivated by the sight that unfolds before you.

The boy's face beams with an adorable smile that engulfs his entire face, rendering you momentarily speechless. This unexpected display of pure charm effectively silences your intended retort, leaving your lips tightly sealed.

“I like your drawing.” His voice is incredibly soft and serene, yet the smile on his face speaks thousands of more words. The boy's unexpected compliment catches you off guard, causing a rush of warmth to surge through your cheeks, the telltale sign of an invading blush spreading down your neck. Your expression betrays a mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as you struggle to process this unfamiliar gesture of kindness. In that brief moment, you find yourself momentarily taken aback, incredulous that such a genuinely kind individual exists within the confines of this school.

Observing the boy attentively, you notice a complete lack of any hint of teasing or mockery behind his eyes, further deepening your astonishment. A flicker of uncertainty twinkles within you as you realise that he is carefully examining the paper before you, his gaze fixated on the meticulously crafted sketch of the mesmerising person you encountered during your morning journey to the classroom. A momentary sense of insecurity flits through your mind, as you worry that he will spot every small detail and flaw etched within the artwork. Left momentarily speechless, you can only offer another nod in response, silently conveying your gratitude without the need for words. Exhaustion from the past few days weighs heavily upon you, especially the funeral, leaves you unable to form words. You aren’t sure if it’s from the grief or the exhaustion. 

Returning your focus to the sanctuary of your sketchbook, you resume the gentle strokes of your pencil upon the textured paper, desperately trying to capture and preserve the exact essence of the enigmatic person you encountered earlier. Each deliberate movement of your hand serves as an attempt to etch their features into your memory, ensuring that no captivating detail eludes your artistic rendition.

“I’m, uh… Hwa, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy called ‘Hwa’ speaks out, his voice is still quiet and you’re somewhat glad that he’s so soft-spoken, not wanting to deal with loud and obnoxious people right now. Once more, your eyes drift towards the right, where the boy sits with an endearing smile that effortlessly melts a fragment of your heart. Despite the warmth elicited by his expression, you find yourself limited to another nod as your sole means of communication. This time, your gesture conveys a silent acknowledgement, silently reciprocating his unspoken sentiment of "nice to meet you too." Without delay, you pivot back to your artwork, realising that this marks the third time you have redirected your attention in the span of a mere five minutes.

Hwa, perceptive in nature, detects your unwillingness to engage in conversation and graciously accepts your silent response. His smile remains untouched as he shifts his focus towards the front of the classroom, where your teacher begins recounting events from your weekend. While he respects your preference for silence, a sense of curiosity lingers within him, compelling him to wonder why someone as captivatingly beautiful as you would choose to remain in the shadows of social isolation.

From that crucial moment onward, it became apparent that Hwa had undertaken some sort of personal mission to forge a friendship with you. Each morning, he would approach you, eager to share anecdotes about his day, all about his close circle of seven friends, and his positive experiences in the new school. Puzzled by his unwavering interest in your life, you couldn't fathom why he found you intriguing, and it began to grate on your nerves. Despite your initial annoyance, you gradually learned that he had recently relocated from his father's home and was now residing with his mother, who he seems to prefer much more than his old man. He would go on and on about how his father was a horrible man, someone who he is very glad to not have in his life. From this information, you find yourself relating to Hwa and you almost feel grateful for his honesty and for the way he trusts you to relay this information. 

As days turned into weeks, then months, Hwa's relentless efforts to elicit conversation and draw you out of your shell continued persistently. Initially, his persistence irritated you, but over time, his endearing gestures and genuinely kind manner began to chip away at your defences. Though your interactions remained devoid of spoken words, you found yourself gradually warming up to him, unable to resist the charm of his sweet antics. Each day, you maintained your steadfast silence, wordlessly lending an ear to his stories and offering the occasional nod to assure him of your attentive presence.

Hwa, driven by an unquenchable desire to hear your voice and witness your active participation in conversations, incessantly peppered you with questions. He longed for the day when your voice would join him in harmonious dialogue, surpassing the limitations of mere nods and smiles.

On a particular day, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon as you make your way home from school, the hour growing later than usual. A detour had become necessary as you sought out one of your teachers, embarking on a conversation regarding an assignment that you had fallen behind on. This particular instructor, well-informed about your personal home situation, swiftly understood the situation and granted you some much-needed leeway, even extending the offer of utilising an empty classroom for writing, while she occupied herself with grading tests. This teacher you trusted fully, her being the only person you speak with verbally. She understands why you are fewer with your words, not prying you ever.  Grateful for the understanding and opportunity, you had seized the chance to make much-needed progress on your assignment.

As you traverse the familiar path home, the ambient noise of your surroundings blends with the music resonating through your headphones, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. Engrossed in your auditory world, a distant voice manages to penetrate the barrier, capturing your attention. Swiftly turning your head, you catch sight of Hwa, jogging towards you with an infectious smile illuminating his face. The sun, in its gradual inclination, casts a warm glow upon his features, accentuating his sincere enthusiasm as he closes the distance between you. 

“___.” He yells, excited to see you outside of school. When he reaches you, he is panting slightly and you realise he must have sprinted pretty far to catch up with you. Giving him a confused look, you wonder why he is near this area, never have seen him come this way before. Luckily, after months, Hwa has become accustomed to your familiar actions and wordless antics, being able to recognise what your different movements and expressions indicate. Your feelings for the man have developed immensely and you find yourself becoming extremely fond of the guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that the more you get to know him, the more you realise how handsome he is. 

“What are you doing here?” Hwa questions, walking next to you as you continue to head towards your house. 

“Going home.” You mutter your voice nothing above a whisper, you are shocked yourself by the words coming out of your mouth. You suddenly wonder why it is that you can suddenly speak freely around Hwa. 

Immediately, Hwa’s eyes open hugely upon hearing you talk for the first time, he stops walking next to you, his mouth hanging wide open widely. Looking back at him, you giggle at his dramatic reaction, before speaking again.

“What?’’ You say, your body turning fully towards him, walking backwards, and scanning over his every reaction.

Quickly, the male bounds towards you, the smile resuming as he makes his way to you, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“So, what did I do to deserve the ___ to finally speak to me,” Hwa asks, his voice giddy as he skips next to you. 

“I don’t know, I feel safe around you...” You admit, trailing off and becoming slightly insecure about the way your voice sounds. Hwa seems to notice the turmoil of thoughts running through your head and instantly pauses your walking by grabbing your hand lightly, pulling you to look up at his warm eyes.

“You have a nice voice, please keep on speaking.” His voice is soft and peaceful, like usual, but at this moment, it sounds like music to your ears. Feeling your cheeks getting warm, you turn to look away, continuing your walk home. The both of you turn back to moving forwards and you realise you didn’t reciprocate the question Hwa had asked.

“Why are you here?” You ask, curious as to why Hwa would be in this area, never having seen him before around here.

“Ah, I’m seeing my friends, we are meeting at that abandoned warehouse just around the corner from here. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret hideout.” The male explains a small chuckle leaving his throat as he turns to you to put out his pinkie finger. Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is pointing his pinkie finger at you.

“Pinkie promise that you won’t tell anyone.” For a moment he looks incredibly serious, and you wonder as to why he is so stern about the hideout of his friends. It makes you feel soft that here, an eighteen-year-old boy is so seriously making you pinkie promise something. The innocence of the action has you smiling widely, your heart melting.

“Okay, okay.” You reluctantly say, linking your pinkie with his, the both of you letting out gentle laughs. It is quiet for a while as the two of you continue on your way to your separate destinations when Hwa suddenly asks you a question.

“Would you perhaps like to come with me?” The tall male asks, hoping to spend some time with you outside of school, especially since now you are finally fully conversing with him.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you worry as to what would happen if you don’t show up on time home, worrying as to how your father would react. However, you realise tonight he should be out with some of his friends, drinking and knowing he will be out until the early hours of the morning. Today, it seems as if luck is in your favour. Not having any friends, it seems somewhat beautiful that Hwa invited you along to hang out with his friend group. From what you have heard from him, the group is very close and doesn’t usually spend time with outsiders. Yet at the same time, you have heard about how kind and fun they are, which makes it extremely easy to decide.

“I’d love that.” 

So, you met the rest of the boys, and it was almost alien how quickly you hit it off with all of them.

“So, you must be the pretty girl who never speaks.” A cute boy with light purple hair speaks out and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you realise Hwa has talked about you to his friends, even calling you pretty. Feeling your body start to get hot, Hwa places a hand on your shoulder in an effort to let you know that it’s okay and his friend is just teasing. 

A jolt of surprise courses through you as your eyes land on a face that feels oddly familiar, instantly triggering a spark of recognition. It dawns on you that this is the very same male figure you had been sketching on the day you first encountered Hwa. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as the realisation hits home, leaving you acutely aware that Hwa must have noticed you discreetly capturing his friend's portrait. Yet, to your immense relief, Hwa remains tight-lipped about the situation, his mischievous wink the only acknowledgement he offers in response to your stunned expression upon seeing the familiar face.

As you meet each friend individually, a remarkable sense of astonishment washes over you when you realise how effortlessly you connect with the boys. It's as if you're engaging in conversations with Hwa himself, the connection and company flowing naturally between you. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of new acquaintances, you find comfort in only observing their banter, occasionally opting for quiet observation rather than actively participating in the verbal exchange. 

Watching them interact and revel in their shared friendship fills you with inexplicable joy, for it is a feeling you had longed for—an authentic sense of belonging among friends. The ease with which you seamlessly fit into their circle surprises you, and it's not ignored by boys either, they immediately grow fond of you. They sense the immediate connection, as if destiny had intended for you to be a part of their lives all along. 

This remarkable harmony that you effortlessly slot into makes it a natural progression for the boys to invite you to join them in their hangouts. The invitation comes easily as if it were given that you should be included, reinforcing the notion that you have found a place among them—a group of friends who accept and appreciate you just as you are.

There is a pure glow from each of them, yet you notice the blank, pained expressions and feelings on their faces, and it feels as if you are looking in the mirror and it is as if they can understand and relate deeply to who you are without needing to utter a single word.

Many days after this you find yourself spending more and more time with the group, finding yourself loving each of them the way you have grown to love Hwa. Turning up the music and dancing was your favourite part of your hangouts, watching as they all chanted to songs and moved to the beat. It made you feel some sense of belonging, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Writing and singing to songs was one of the very things you loved most about the hang outs, every time they start a verse having to say the words “fix on”, or finishing it with “passion, young, fever”. The very words starting to feel as if they are engraved in your mind. 

One peculiar aspect that strikes you is the fact that none of the boys have ever shared their actual names with you. Instead, they refer to each other solely by their unique and endearing nicknames. Yet, strangely enough, this detail doesn't bother you in the slightest. The absence of birth names becomes inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What truly matters is the profound contentment you feel, having finally discovered a group of individuals with whom you can fully be yourself with. 

In their presence, you experience a rare sense of comfort, as if you've known them for a lifetime. Walls crumble, masks fade away, and you can simply exist as your authentic self. The love and acceptance that enters the air create a seemingly unbreakable bond. The absence of formal introductions and conventional names becomes a trivial detail, dwarfed by the depth of connection and genuine affection that binds you together. As your relationships with each of the boys deepened, an unexpected shift occurred within your heart, surpassing the boundaries of familial affection, and evolving into a profound form of liking. You were well aware of the impropriety of harbouring such feelings for all eight of them, understanding that it was highly unlikely any of them reciprocated those same emotions. Yet, you couldn't help but acknowledge that your heart seemed to act independently, beyond the constraints of reason.

What made matters even more complex was the knowledge that two of the boys were nursing shattered hearts, their pain etched deeply upon their souls due to a girl you had never met and who, in all likelihood, you had no chance against. The stories that circulated among the group painted a picture of a messy and agonising heartbreak that had left them both broken in its wake. Despite the overwhelming depth of your feelings for them, you made a conscious decision to suppress your own desires, opting instead to provide solace and support as they navigated their heartache. Every time you witnessed their tears, mourning over the faceless girl who had captivated their hearts, an ache resonated within your own chest. It was an ache born from unrequited emotions, an emotional reminder of the distance that separated you from the love they sought. Nonetheless, you steeled yourself, pushing those yearnings aside, focusing on being the shoulder to lean on, the one who offered unwavering support and understanding during their darkest hours. It was a choice fuelled by selflessness and a desire to ease their suffering, even if it meant struggling with your own unspoken longing.

-

The warehouse was an unusual sanctuary for you, a place of solitude amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its towering shelves of empty boxes and the faint scent of cardboard, rust and moss, it offered a kind of comfort you couldn't find elsewhere. It was where you escaped to when you needed a break from the world.

Today, you arrived early, finishing school ahead of schedule due to a teacher falling ill. Alone in the vast expanse of the warehouse, you found peace in the quiet, engrossed in the pages of a book. The soft rustling of paper and the distant hum of the outside world being the only noise surrounding you. 

As you turned another page, lost in the world of words, a sudden, screeching noise sliced through the calm. Startled, you look up just in time to see the massive metal door at the far end of the warehouse creaking open, a thin beam of sunlight piercing the dim interior.

The sudden blast of light makes you squint, shielding your eyes with one hand as you try to discern who or what had interrupted your solitude. Your heart raced slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution welling within you. The warehouse wasn't a frequented place, and the unexpected visitor had piqued your interest.

Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside, rising from your makeshift reading spot. As your eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, you made out the silhouette of a person framed by the open door.

Recognition washed over you like a gentle wave, replacing your initial unease with a sense of relief and surprise. The person at the door was someone you hadn't expected to see in this unlikely place.

“Oh sorry ___, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Yeo’s voice reaches your ears and you see his cute face pop around the corner as your eyes get used to the sudden flash. 

“Tiny is here?” The man you know as Woo follows behind Yeo with a wide smile on his face. 

“What are you doing here so early?” He jumps up to you and lays on the couch, nuzzling his head onto your lap, the action sending a rush of butterflies into your body. 

“I finished early, sorry for not letting you guys know I was coming.” You apologise, feeling bashful for intruding in their personal space without their knowledge. 

“It’s okay, you are always welcome here.” Yeo smiles as he says quietly and makes his way over to you and Woo on the couch.

Smiling back at him, you observe as he pushes Woo’s legs to the side before sitting at the other end of the couch. 

“So what are you doing here?” Woo asked from underneath you. 

“Oh I just needed some peace to read my book, this is the only place I actually feel calm.” 

“I also have that.” Yeo exclaims, a bigger smile on his face, “when we are here it feels like the outside world doesn’t even matter.” 

“Exactly.” You smile at him, his relatable statement causing your chest to swell for some odd reason.

“I’m going to sleep, school was far too much today.” Woo's announcement about his exhaustion draws a soft giggle from you, a gentle sound that fills the room with a sense of warmth. He snuggles further into your lap, seeking comfort after a long day. His actions create an intimate moment that's both endearing and heartwarming.

The soft giggle that escapes your throat is like music to the ears of the two men beside you.

“Where do you guys go to school? I’ve never seen you at mine.” 

“Oh we go to the one just around the corner, only Hwa goes to your school.”

“I see.”

Gazing down at Woo nestled in your lap, a fond smile graces your lips. Your feelings for him have also grown deep, and his flirtatious nature has become both endearing and exhilarating, adding a touch of excitement to your interactions. His playful personality has woven a unique bond between you, one that's filled with affection and a sense of familiarity.

With a tender touch, you reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from Woo's face, your fingers gentle and caring. The small gesture elicits a soft grin from him, a silent acknowledgment that your action made him feel delighted.

Turning your attention to Yeo, you find yourself captivated by the subtle details that make him unique. His gaze, focused on the two of you together, holds a certain warmth and depth. 

Yeo and yourself engage in a quiet conversation, and you find yourself relishing this rare opportunity to connect with him on a personal level. In the larger group, he often keeps to himself, a quiet presence in the midst of the lively discussions. It's exciting to finally have a one-on-one conversation with him, a chance to peel back the layers and get to know the person behind the reserved exterior.

The hour or so that you spend chatting is a revelation. You discover a shared interest in books, a passion that he's clearly enthusiastic about. Yeo's eyes light up as he shares recommendations from his personal reading choices, and you're captivated by the depth of his knowledge and his love for literature.

As the conversation flows, you delve into the world of books, exchanging thoughts on favourite authors, genres, and memorable reads. The exchange of recommendations feels like a treasure trove of new adventures waiting to be explored. It's a conversation that transcends the boundaries of the room and opens a door to a shared passion that you both cherish. In this moment you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu, as if you have been in this position before, or have yet to be in this situation.

During this intimate moment, you realise that beneath Yeo's quiet demeanour lies a wealth of knowledge and a genuine enthusiasm for the things he loves. The connection you share through your shared interest in books is a testament to the richness of human connection and the beauty of discovering common ground with someone you might not have expected. It's a reminder that there's always more to uncover about the people around you, and that even the quietest among us can hold hidden depths waiting to be explored. 

-

Immersed in the creative haven of your bedroom, you find comfort in the rhythmic strokes of your pencil against the textured paper. For the past week, you have poured your heart and soul into a meticulously crafted drawing of your eight friends, their features coming to life with each delicate line and shading. It has become your labour of love, a tribute to the cherished connections you've formed with each of them. As melodic tunes echo through the room from a speaker perched on your desk, the dulcet melodies provide a gentle backdrop to your artistic activities. The song, suggested by Woo himself, serves as a bridge, connecting your creative energy with the vibrations of the soundscape. You find yourself instinctively bobbing your head in time to the rhythm, your body swaying with harmony.

However, the tranquillity is abruptly shattered as the front door slams shut, the unexpected noise jolting you from your reverie. Your heart skips a beat, a surge of both dismay and fear coursing through your veins. The unmistakable thudding of footsteps echoes up the stairs, sending a shiver down your spine. It is your father's arrival, a presence that always harbours an air of tension and unpredictability.

With nimble urgency, you reach over to the speaker and swiftly silence the music, plunging the room into a weighted silence. The absence of melodies only amplifies the unease that lingers in the air, adding an oppressive weight to the atmosphere. Your sanctuary, once filled with the joyous sounds of music, is now stifled by the solemn hush that envelops it.

A palpable tension fills the room as you desperately hope for a stroke of luck, silently pleading for your father to bypass your closed door, his footsteps continuing down the hall to his own room. In the stillness of the moment, you remain frozen, your very breath restrained in anticipation.

But, as fate would have it, luck turns a deaf ear to your silent wishes. The door creaks open, swinging inward with a reluctant motion, revealing the formidable figure of your father standing on the threshold. His presence alone fills the room with an air of trepidation, his imposing stature and crossed arms creating an impenetrable barrier that demands attention.

Struggling to maintain his balance, you notice the slight wobble in his stance, a sign of the tumultuous emotions that brew within him. His arms remain tightly folded over his chest; a physical shield that matches the sternness etched onto his face. The weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding, seems to pierce through the silence, weighing heavily upon the room and those within it. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety coalesces within you, causing your heart to race in your chest. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as if any attempt at conversation might trigger an unexpected tempest. You hold your breath, awaiting the next move, your entire being poised on a precipice of hesitation. 

“What are you doing?” He questions, his voice slurred and unclear.

“Drawing,” With a sense of urgency, you respond hastily, your words chosen carefully to minimise any potential escalation. The desire to avoid the volatile whirlwind of his unpredictable moods propels you to seek a rapid conclusion to the interaction, hoping that your brief responses will prevent the conversation from lingering any longer than necessary. The burdensome weight of the situation and the fatigue that grips your spirit urge you to retreat, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous presence of your father. You are caught off guard by your father's presence and the disconcerting aura surrounding him, you find yourself yearning for a swift end to the interaction. Your own emotions, a mix of weariness and apprehension, compel you to seek an expedited resolution. The weight of his unpredictable and volatile emotions, amplified by the telltale signs of his consumption of alcohol, looms heavily in the room, intensifying your desire to disengage from the conversation.

“When are your exams?” The man asks as he stumbles into your room, clearly fumbling around on his feet, unable to find balance on his feet, very clearly a side effect of the heavy consumption of alcohol.

“Next month.” 

A wave of unease washes over you as your father's brow furrows once more, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. The subtle creases on his forehead deepen, forming a stark contrast against the lines of tension etched upon his face. At that moment, your heart sinks, a heavy weight settling in the pit of your stomach. The intensity of his displeasure, evident in the way his features contort, sends a surge of apprehension through your veins. Your own emotions waver on a cliff, poised between a desire to appease and a need to protect yourself from the potential fallout. As his annoyance penetrates the room, you brace yourself for what may come next, keenly aware of the precarious nature of your current situation. 

“Then you should be studying.” He booms, his voice echoing off the walls of your small bedroom. 

“I was going to study when I finish this.” 

“Do not back talk to me.” The sound of your father's voice reverberates through the room, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Avoiding direct eye contact, you shift your gaze downwards, unable to bear the intensity of his drunken rage. The urge to roll your eyes at his exaggerated and unjustified behaviour becomes nearly irresistible, as you struggle to comprehend why he is directing his anger at you for such a trivial matter. A sense of exasperation builds within you, fuelled by the stark contrast between the magnitude of his reaction and the insignificance of the situation at hand. The weight of his misplaced frustration leaves you bewildered, questioning the logic behind his anger. It feels like an unwarranted attack on your being, leaving you grappling with a mix of resentment and confusion. Yet, mindful of the volatile nature of the situation, you tamp down your instinctive response. Instead, you silently navigate the treacherous waters, attempting to maintain composure and seeking a swift resolution to this senseless confrontation.

“I’m sorry.” In a desperate attempt to defuse the escalating tension, you respond, your words laced with a mix of pleading and a longing for tranquillity. Your desire to return to the serene solace of your artistic endeavours intensifies, fuelling your efforts to restore a sense of calm. However, your heart lurches upward, lodging itself in your throat, as your father takes a step closer, intruding upon your personal space. A shiver snakes its way down your spine as his hand reaches out, settling heavily on the back of your neck. The weight of his touch feels oppressive, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that engulfs you. 

Fear dances within your veins, mingling with a sense of vulnerability. The boundaries that should protect you have been violated, leaving you acutely aware of your powerlessness at this moment. Your instinctive longing for escape intensifies, urging you to seek refuge from this dangerous environment and the touch that sends chills down your spine.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” Your father's whispered words cut through the air, a chilling undertone accompanying them, as his nails dig into the delicate skin of your neck. The sharp pain shoots through your body, an unwelcome reminder of the power imbalance in this unsettling encounter. Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a mixture of pain and anxiety churns within your chest, constricting your throat. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, intensifying the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that envelopes you. The weight of his grip and the raw discomfort that courses through your body serves as a stark reminder of the control he applies, amplifying the helplessness that grips your being. You yearn for release from this distressing moment, desperately seeking an escape from his oppressive presence and the escalating pain that continues to coil around you.

A lump forms in your throat, constricting your voice as you manage to summon a weak response, uttering a subdued, "Yes, Dad." The weight of fear and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, making it difficult to find the strength to speak or express yourself fully. 

The knowledge of past experiences with your father looms in your mind, serving as a reminder of the potential consequences that could follow even the slightest provocation. The disparity between the magnitude of his reaction and the seemingly insignificant trigger leaves you confused, the fear of setting off his anger further stifling your genuine thoughts and feelings. The urge to voice your true thoughts, to stand up for yourself, simmers within, but the fear that accompanies it serves as a heavy muzzle, silencing the words you long to say. In this suffocating atmosphere, you decide to bite your tongue, for now, choosing self-preservation over the risk of inciting his explosive rage. 

“What is this shit?” Your father's voice cuts through the air with a biting edge, his disdain is evident as he questions the worth of your drawing. His harsh gaze fixated upon the paper on your desk, the discarded pencil serving as a silent witness to his disapproval.

“Just something I’m working on.” In an attempt to diffuse the situation, you reply with a hint of defensiveness, your words laced with an eagerness for him to cease his interrogation and retreat from your sanctuary. The desperate plea for him to leave you be, to preserve the sanctity of your safe space, hangs heavily in the air between you.

As he snatches the sketchbook from the desk, your nerves intensify, your pulse quickening as his scrutinising eyes peruse the paper. The tension in the room becomes almost suffocating, amplifying your anxiety to new heights.

“Who is this?” His bitter and slurred voice reverberates, the words barely coherent. 

Fear floods your veins, and knowing the truth would lead to misunderstanding and potential danger. Hastily, you weave a web of lies, your words rushed and unsteady, hoping to divert his attention away from the genuine connection you share with the boys.

The man's anger escalates, his words morphing into a piercing yell that reverberates within the confines of the room. The intensity of his outburst pierces your ears, each syllable hammering into your consciousness. The weight of his disdain for your artistic talent lands heavily upon your heart, his belittlement serving as a painful reminder of the limitations he imposes upon your aspirations. 

Panic grips you as your father's hand inches closer to the paper, and a sense of dread fills every fibre of your being as you realise his malicious intentions. Frantically, you reach out in a futile attempt to stop him, but your efforts prove futile as he ruthlessly rips the page from the book, tearing it down the middle. Tears well up in your eyes as a profound sense of disappointment and pain courses through your body, your hard work treated with callous disregard, tossed aside as if it were nothing. With a surge of determination, you rise from your chair, driven by an instinct to protect what remains of your creation. However, your resistance is met with ruthless force as your father forcefully pushes your body, causing you to crash onto the floor, the impact jolting through your hip and radiating pain throughout your entire being. The anguish of your shattered artwork pales in comparison to the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon you at this moment.

As you lie on the floor, a broken mess of tears and anguish, your father's rage reaches new heights. He towers over you, his face contorted with anger, grabbing the back of your head painfully once again. The proximity of his enraged face leaves you trembling, his piercing scream reverberating through your ears, assaulting your senses with an intensity that feels unbearable. In this horrifying moment, you are forced to confront the painful reality of his control, the overwhelming weight of his anger eclipsing any semblance of safety or peace. 

“If I ever see you sketching again, I will not be as forgiving.” Spit flies from your father’s mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol, making you even more disgusted. Tears fall freely from your eyes as you try to maintain your composure, so as to not enrage the man even further. Your father continues his words, “Clean this mess up. I’m going to sleep.” 

With an abrupt exit, the man stumbles out of your room, his unsteady footsteps resounding on the wooden floor, echoing the turmoil that lingers in his wake. You can only surmise that he retreats to his own bedroom, likely collapsing onto the bed in a drunken slumber. The abruptness of his departure offers a temporary respite, but the emotional scars and residual fear remain, haunting the air within your room. Weeping silently, your trembling hands pressed against your face, you struggle to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threaten to overcome you. In the midst of your despair, you survey the scattered remnants of your destroyed drawing, yearning for a miracle that would restore it to its former glory. Each torn piece becomes a painful reminder of the shattered gift intended for your only friends.

With shaky resolve, you begin the arduous task of collecting the fragmented remnants, moving them from the floor to the bin next to your desk. Each movement brings fresh waves of tears, your heart aching at the irreparable loss of the heartfelt gesture. The realisation that the memento meant to convey your appreciation and friendship now lies in ruins only amplifies your sense of devastation. As you meticulously dispose of the torn pieces, your tears fall even harder, tracing a sorrowful path down your cheeks. The weight of the ruined gift presses upon your soul, a profound sense of loss mingling with the lingering pain of the recent encounter. In this moment of vulnerability, you find solace in your tears, allowing yourself to grieve the destruction of your artistic expression and the shattered connection it represented.

As the silence envelops the house, you breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the man who instils such terror within you is finally lost in the depths of sleep. Drawing strength back into your trembling legs, you hastily slip on your shoes, a desperate urgency compelling you to escape the confines of the place you dread most. 

Stealthily, you navigate the familiar hallways, your movements shrouded in silence, driven by an intense need to distance yourself from the haunting presence that lingers within those walls. The weight of your fear propels you forward, guiding your steps towards an uncertain destination.

In your frantic search for solace, you find yourself stumbling upon the empty warehouse, its vast expanse providing a sense of respite and comfort that you yearn for. Though devoid of human presence, you know deep within your soul that the very atmosphere within this cavernous space will envelop you, granting a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you.

Stepping into the familiar warehouse, the sound of the large metal doors scraping against the concrete floor reverberates through the cavernous space, creating a symphony of echoes that dance along the walls. The rhythmic noise seems to announce your entrance as if beckoning invisible spectators to witness your raw vulnerability. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness, the absence of your friends accentuates the solitude that envelops you, amplifying the bittersweet comfort of this cherished sanctuary.

Staggering towards the worn-out couch, its faded fabric hinting at the countless memories shared upon its cushions, you allow your body to collapse into its familiar embrace. The soft cushions yield beneath your weight, conforming to the contours of your tired form. You lay down sideways, finding comfort in the familiar haven that holds so many cherished moments. The tears flow freely from your eyes, tracing glistening paths down your cheeks, as if the very fabric of the pillow beneath your head absorbs the weight of your sorrow. Every sob that escapes your trembling lips reverberates within the expansive metal room, each one a witness to the depth of your pain. The echoes reverberate through the space, intertwining with the ethereal remnants of laughter and friendship that have painted the walls with a subtle warmth. The traumatic event that has left you bruised and broken resonates within the vastness of the room, its hollowness a haunting backdrop to your vulnerability.

Time becomes a fluid concept as you lose yourself in the catharsis of your tears. The exhaustion weighs upon you like an invisible burden, the weight of the world pressing down upon your weary shoulders. Each sob drains your energy, leaving your eyelids heavy and your body craving a respite from the relentless ache. Gradually, the exhaustion takes hold, its grasp tightening around your consciousness. The drowsiness seeps into every fibre of your being, your mind and body surrendering to the lullaby of weariness. As the golden rays of the setting sun filter through the cracks in the metal walls, casting an ethereal glow upon your tear-stained face, sleep claims you, offering a temporary escape from the harsh realities that haunt your waking hours.

As the coils of sleep begin to loosen their grip on your consciousness, you are jolted awake by the sensation of being gently shaken. Blinking groggily, you try to push away from the source of the disturbance, a low groan escaping your lips. To your surprise, the sound is met with a soft chuckle, a deep voice calling your name with tenderness. A hand comes to rest on your head, its touch gentle and soothing, patting you in a comforting rhythm.

Startled, your heart skips a beat, your body tensing at the unexpected touch. The fear of encountering your father floods your mind, sending waves of anxiety coursing through your veins. In a swift motion, you sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, your eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the warehouse. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, and when it does, you realise that you are still in the familiar confines of the warehouse, resting on the worn-out couch. The realisation washes over you, relief mingling with lingering fearfulness.

Peering around, you notice that darkness has descended upon the space, replacing the golden hues of the setting sun with a blanket of shadow. It dawns on you that you must have been asleep for several hours, the passage of time slipping by unnoticed as fatigue overcomes you. Your gaze then falls upon the source of your awakening, the boy known as 'Yu,' crouched on the floor before the couch. His soft grin illuminates his features, his dishevelled brown hair partially hiding his eyes, his cheeks adorned with a gentle blush. 

“Are you okay? What are you doing sleeping here?” Yu asks, looking you tenderly in your eyes, causing your heart to flip in circles.

“I needed to get away from some stuff.” You answer truthfully, not being able to find the strength to lie to the boy in front of you. 

As Yu's concerned gaze meets yours, the worry etched on his face, the smile that had adorned his features fades away. The depth of your distress is evident to him, and he can sense the heaviness that weighs upon your weary soul. It's as if he can see through the facade you wear, peering into the depths of your eyes to witness the pain and exhaustion that lies within. 

At this moment, any trace of anger or frustration that had accompanied him to the warehouse dissipates entirely, replaced by a newfound tenderness and empathy. He is drawn to you, compelled to offer comfort and relief in the face of your evident struggle. Moving closer, his larger hand finds its way to rest gently atop yours, a gesture that sends a cascade of butterflies fluttering within your stomach. The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin, offering a respite from the coldness that had entered the warehouse. It's a simple act, but it carries a profound weight, communicating a silent message of support and understanding. In this shared moment of vulnerability, you feel a glimmer of hope and connection, as if a lifeline has been extended to you in the midst of your despair. 

“What happened, Tiny?” 

The nickname was bestowed upon you by the boys when you first joined their group, a playful teasing inspired by the absolute height difference between you and Yu. It quickly became a term of endearment that all eight adopted, using it to address you with affectionate familiarity. However, at this moment, as Yu's tenderness envelopes you, the meaning behind the nickname takes on a new layer of complexity, evoking emotions that elude your grasp. It's an unfamiliar sensation for Yu to display such genuine care towards you, considering his infatuation with another girl that has kept him at a distance. Yet, at this moment, you can't help but yearn for his tender presence to be a constant, for him to act as if no other girl holds his attention. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, torn between the desire to keep this fragile connection intact and the fear of revealing the recent traumatic events that unfolded hours ago, uncertain of how Yu would react. 

Your attention shifts to where your hands meet, and your heart lurches at the sight of gashes and blood staining Yu's knuckles. Concern overtakes you, the worry carved upon your features as you contemplate the cause of his injuries. Questions buzz in your mind, begging to be asked, but the fear of intruding upon his personal struggles holds you back. The realisation that pain has marked his hands, mirroring the pain that has scarred your own being, intensifies your sense of worry and empathy.

In this delicate moment, a silent exchange of emotions hangs in the air, unspoken words lingering between you. The weight of unspoken truths and shared vulnerabilities creates a bond that is both fragile and powerful, leaving you uncertain of what course of action to take next. 

“What happened to your hand?” you inquire, pulling his hand into your lap, and observing the wounds on his pretty hands.

Peering up at Yu, concern etched across your features, his heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It's a feeling he struggles to decipher, a gentle tug that seems to pull at the depths of his being. His eyes lock with yours, and at that moment, time seems to stand still as he finds himself captivated by the curiosity and vulnerability reflected in your gaze. There's a tenderness in Yu's eyes, an almost loving quality as he studies your appearance. His gaze lingers on your swollen eyes, evidence of the tears you've shed and the burden you've carried. The worry radiates from him, manifesting as a protective instinct that seeks to shield you from further pain. It's a sentiment that surprises even him, the depth of his concern far surpassing the bounds of friendship.

In this silent exchange, a subtle shift occurs within Yu, as if the barriers he had carefully constructed around his emotions begin to crumble. The walls he had built to guard his heart start to crack, allowing a glimmer of something deeper to emerge. Though he may not fully understand the extent of his own feelings, the way his gaze lingers on you with tenderness and compassion speaks volumes.

In this moment, a connection forms, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. It's as if a silent agreement is forged, promising support and comfort amidst the challenges you both face. The weight of unspoken words and shared empathy fills the space between you, laying the foundation for something more profound and transformative. 

“Have you been crying?” His voice is gentle and calming, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable by the inquiry, wishing for you to answer.

“Why is your hand hurt?” you retort, his hand still resting in your lap, you trying to wipe away stray pieces of dirt in the cuts. Your hand lingers atop Yu's, a gentle touch that he usually guards against, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he allows you to maintain the contact. It's a rare occurrence for him to let others freely touch him, his personal boundaries carefully shielded. Yet, at this moment, he feels a sense of comfort and acceptance in your touch, as if a barrier he didn't know existed has been effortlessly breached.

The surprise intensifies as he realises that he enjoys the sensation of your hand resting upon his, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of connection that he hadn't anticipated. There's a certain serenity in your presence, a quiet assurance that draws him in, inviting him to let down his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable. His gaze remains fixated on you, his attention solely focused on your interaction. The world around him seems to fade into the background as he becomes absorbed in this shared moment, his own emotions swirling within. It's unfamiliar territory, one he hadn't expected to find himself in, yet he can't deny the pull that you exert upon him, the magnetic force of your presence.

In this newfound vulnerability, Yu begins to question his own reservations and the walls he has built around himself. Your touch, your unwavering attention, opens up a space where he can explore and discover a different side of himself, one that embraces connection and allows himself to be seen. Hands remaining touching, a silent understanding passes between you, unspoken words painting the canvas of this intimate moment. The depth of your connection holds the promise of something extraordinary, an exploration of emotions and possibilities that neither of you could have foreseen.

“I asked first.” Yu teases, trying to lift the mood, wanting to see the smile he has grown to adore appear on your features.

“I don’t want to bother you.” You reply, your voice shaky and quiet, answering truthfully, not sure if he would be able to handle the information you so desperately need to disclose to someone. 

“You never bother me,” As Yu contemplates his next move, a surge of courage courses through him. Without hesitation, he uses the hand that rests in your lap, gently interlocking his fingers with yours. He takes care to avoid smudging his dried blood on you or your clothes, a subtle gesture of consideration that doesn't go unnoticed.

The unexpected act of affection catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. Heat rises to your cheeks, a blush betraying the fluttering emotions that swirl within you. You meet Yu's gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that resonates deeply. A small smile graces his lips, a wordless reassurance that speaks volumes. In this simple gesture, he communicates a willingness to bridge the gap between you, to traverse the uncertain territory of shared vulnerability. It's a brave step forward, an offering of trust and a declaration of his sudden growing feelings.

“It’s okay, ___.” Yu whispers, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as his words become more serious, “You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you decide maybe it is okay to confide in one person. 

“It’s my dad.” You admit, looking down at the hand that Yu has gripped gently in his own, his fingers wrapped around your smaller hand. Yu gives you a puzzled look, not sure what your father could have done to make you so upset. Noticing his confused expression, you continue speaking, “It is dumb, but I was working on this drawing, and he came in drunk out of his mind and started yelling at me for not studying,”

“Hold on, he was drunk?” Yu questions, starting to feel anger build up in his body.

“Yeah, but when is he not.” You attempt to joke, yet the look on Yu’s face doesn’t look amused, causing you to sigh gently, “he ripped up the drawing in front of my face and said if he ever sees me drawing again, he ‘won’t be as forgiving’, whatever that means,” you mumble, the weight of vulnerability settling upon you, you become highly aware of the depth of the information you have just shared. 

A sense of unease and apprehension begins to gnaw at your insides, uncertain of how Yu will react to this newfound revelation. The silence that follows is deafening, and you can't help but lift your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes.

What you see takes you by surprise, an expression of absolute disbelief etched across Yu's features. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find the words to respond. The moment hangs suspended in time, the tension thickening the air between you. Questions swirl in your mind, uncertainty threatening to unravel the fragile connection that has been forged. Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over the vulnerability you have exposed. You find yourself questioning the wisdom of sharing such intimate feelings, fearing the potential repercussions it may have on your friendship. In this charged moment, the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for Yu's reaction. The uncertainty weighs heavily upon you, your heart pounding in your chest as you anxiously await his response.

Preparing to question the impact of your confession on Yu, your words catch in your throat, suspended by the sudden movement of his embrace. In a swift motion, he pulls you towards him, enveloping your body in a tight hug that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your head is gently guided to rest in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. His hand finds its place on the back of your head, his fingers tenderly stroking your hair with a soothing rhythm. Yu's sensitivity to your tense form prompts a fleeting hesitation within him, a flicker of uncertainty about having crossed a boundary or making you uncomfortable. But when he feels your entire body relax and melt into his embrace, a surge of emotions courses through him. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, swelling with a feeling akin to absolute adoration. It's a moment of defencelessness and connection that surpasses words, forging a bond between you that almost feels unbreakable.

In response to his comforting presence, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace. Nestling into the curve of his neck, you revel in the sensation of being held, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you in the present moment. Yu adjusts his position, rising to sit on his knees and drawing himself even closer to your body. Your chests align, rising and falling in synchrony, as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens around you, afraid that you might vanish from his embrace.

In this intimate cocoon, it becomes clear that you weren't the only one in need of a hug. The mutual longing for comfort and reassurance binds you together, transcending the complexities of your individual experiences. In this tender moment of shared vulnerability, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence, the solace of a genuine connection, and the promise of healing.

Basking in the comfort of Yu's embrace, time seems to suspend, creating a sanctuary where worries and troubles momentarily fade away. However, your heart sinks when you feel him slowly pull away, a pang of disappointment seeping through your being. Yet, his hand continues to stroke the back of your head, his touch lingering, serving as a reminder of the tenderness you experienced.

Meeting his gaze, locking eyes with him, and at that moment, the connection between you deepens. It's as if the world around you dims, leaving only the intensity of his brown eyes that seem to hold a universe of emotions. Every fibre of your being is drawn to him, falling deeper into a feeling you've been trying to resist. 

A hint of reluctance lingers in Yu's actions as he clears his throat, a signal that the intimate moment must come to an end. He slowly removes himself from your embrace, settling back into his previous position. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on you, unyielding and intense, as if he's afraid to look away, afraid to lose the connection that has formed. You find yourself lost in his gaze, a swirl of feelings and unspoken words passing between you. There's a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that something profound has transpired between you. It's a delicate dance of emotions, a dance that neither of you can fully comprehend but are unwilling to let go.

In this halted moment, the air crackles with anticipation, as if the next words spoken could alter the course of your relationship forever. The intensity in Yu's eyes speaks volumes, a testament to the depth of the bond that has formed between you. 

“If something like this happens again, please let me know,” Yu says, breaking the silence, his voice serious, needing to protect you from whatever your father could possibly do in the future.

A meek smile graces your lips, an expression of gratitude that conveys more than words ever could. Deep within, you carry the weight of unspoken pain and secrets, understanding that some experiences are difficult to share, especially the ones involving your father. You appreciate Yu's offer of support, even though you know you can't burden him with the full extent of what you've endured.

In this moment of silent acknowledgement, you convey a deep sense of gratitude for his presence, for the solace he has unknowingly offered. It's a silent understanding that goes beyond words, a recognition of the unspoken connection between you. Despite the barriers that may exist, you find solace in knowing that there is someone who cares, someone willing to extend a helping hand.

“Now your turn.” You exclaim, causing Yu to give you a confused look, “Your hand. What happened?”

Yu lets out a sound of realisation, his expression matching it. Looking down at the gashes in his hands, Yu makes an expression similar to embarrassment. 

“I got in a fight,” Yu explains, his cheeks heating up, realising you might be disappointed in him.

“Another? Why now?” You question, your voice is soft and caring, making him realise you aren’t upset at him, just worried, making his heart warm slightly, despite the war and heartbreak going throughout his entire body.

“The girl that Yeo and I used to like… she has said some stuff, some stuff that isn’t true. It’s tearing us apart, all of us.” Yu’s voice is shaky, and you can tell he is deeply affected by the circumstances.

Immediately, your interest is piqued, and concern envelops your being, you can't help but wonder what could have been said by the girl to have such a profound impact on Yu and the entire group. The realisation that her words have caused a collective breakdown weighs heavily on your mind, triggering a surge of curiosity and a deeper level of concern. Thoughts whirl through your head, seeking answers and understanding. What could she have revealed that shattered their spirits? What truths or revelations could have struck a chord so deeply? You can't help but ponder the significance of her words and the implications they hold for your friends and their emotional well-being.

In the midst of your thoughts, a mix of emotions floods your being, concern, empathy, and a deep desire to alleviate their pain. The bond between you and the group becomes even more heartrending, a reminder of the connection of your lives and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity. 

“What did she say?” You question, your hand coming to rest on his like he did earlier.

“She said we laid our hands on her, we hurt her, physically, sexually. But I swear on everything, I have never put my hands on her, on anyone. None of us have, we have only ever acted in self-defence. I don’t know why all of a sudden, she is making up these stories. It is tearing us apart. Every single person believes her, they are coming after us, with their fists. Someone tried to come at Captain and I with a baseball bat, and it’s terrifying us, we don’t know what to do.”

“Wait what?” Your voice trembles with a mixture of shock and disbelief as you contemplate why this girl would suddenly feel the need to falsely accuse the boys you have grown so close to. In the time you've spent with them, you have come to know each of them as kind-hearted individuals, devoid of aggression or abusive tendencies. Your experiences with them have left a deep imprint, and you find it unfathomable to believe that any of them would ever lay a hand on someone, especially a woman.

The weight of this accusation hangs heavily in the air, and you struggle to reconcile the image of your friends with the words that have been spoken. It feels like a betrayal, not just to them but to the bond you have formed, as your faith in their character and integrity is steadfast. The disbelief fuels a surge of protectiveness and a fierce desire to defend them against these baseless accusations.

When Yu raises his gaze to meet yours, the shimmering tears threatening to escape, your heart aches with empathy and compassion. The vulnerability etched across his face mirrors your own inner turmoil, as you share a profound connection and a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. At that moment, your heart breaks for him and for the rest of the group, as you witness the weight of their pain and the unjust burden they must bear.

“I don’t know why this is happening, or why she said it was all of us. Only Yeo and I have spent time with her, she has never even met the boys. Plus, we haven’t seen her in over two months, she said it happened last month. It makes no sense.”

“Yu, if it’s not true then you do not have to worry about anything. It will get sorted, okay? You are innocent.” All you can do is bring the man into your arms once again, this time letting him weep into your shoulder, his body limp against yours. It breaks your heart to see him so vulnerable, so broken because of deadly rumours.

“We will get this sorted, Yu. I promise.”

------

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[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: language, typical mafia themes, men talking, a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

When your father died, you only had time to fit all the stages of grief into one brief episode of momentary shock, then your thoughts revolved solely around the future of the Family. Besides your mother and younger sister, you had to take care of business. And even though you understood the rules of the dark world you grew up in, no one had ever explained to you what decisions you should make to prevent the empire your father had created from crumbling. 

The warm rays of the setting sun were breaking through between the gravestones. You had to admit that the sun made everything a little better. Ironically, everything around you seemed to be coming to life; the greening grass, the budding leaves on the trees, the birds singing somewhere in the background. Even the slight rain didn't seem so bothersome when the sun was warming your skin and there was a crisp spring breeze in the air. 

You couldn’t focus on the ceremony, your thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. You were unable to ignore the fact that, as the minutes passed, your high heels were being swallowed up more and more by the mud. In all this sense of loss, which you had never experienced before, you felt sorry for a pair of shoes, even though you had hundreds of them. So instead of letting your emotions take over, you began to list some of the funeral attendees you managed to recognise.

You spotted some members of the Rumlow Family. Despite the generally accepted rule of temporary peace and immunity for any funeral, the sight of Rumlow Senior and his son made you a little uncomfortable. You knew that their presence in any other situation would have meant trouble. For as long as you could remember, your Families had lived in discord, and even if there had not yet been a major clash, their company carried the echo of a bomb ticking somewhere nearby.

A few rows away were representatives of the Russian mafia – Melina Vostokova, who stood at the head of the group, and Natasha Romanoff. 

You also saw Tony Stark – the biggest manufacturer of weapons, which your father helped distribute mainly on the black market. Tony himself claimed that he was not a gangster, but the truth was that he took the side that benefited him the most. No wonder he was the richest man in the United States. Or at least as far as you were aware.

Even state attorney Alexander Pierce showed up, which struck you as highly risky and simply stupid, but perhaps it was all about some twisted way of paying respect to a worthy rival. On the other hand – no matter how absurd it was – you wouldn't be surprised if it was John Walker, Pierce's nephew, who persuaded his uncle to attend the funeral. Walker had been looking for an opportunity to approach you for a long time; even now he was staring at you with a strange longing and an inappropriate dreaminess spreading across his face. You felt your skin itch as he stared at you like that, so you decided to look away in case John got the idea to take the initiative.

As discreetly as before, you looked a little further away. You weren't surprised by the presence of Timothy Barnes, the head of the Barnes Family, which not only lived in peace with yours; there were times when the paths of your Families would cross, so Timothy and your father occasionally visited each other to discuss the best strategy of action together. 

It was the company of his nephew that surprised you. Mainly because the presence of Bucky Barnes was an unusual occurrence – a few years ago he simply disappeared and no one really knew what was going on with him at the time. 

With much longer hair and a broader chest, he looked a little different than when you last saw him. And when you watched him from where you were standing you realised that he was staring at some indefinable point, and the hostility beaming from his eyes made you shudder; even if it wasn't directed at you.

You followed his gaze, wanting to know the poor man who had earned Bucky Barnes' cold, piercing stare, and you met Walker's eyes again. As John looked at you, Bucky observed him intently. 

You stayed close to your mother, but did not directly accompany her when condolences and respects were paid. Right next to you stood Michael – your father's trusted advisor and confidant.

“Look at that... How desperate they are,” he said quietly, leaning towards you. “Waiting to take over everything your father worked for.”

You blinked a few times, suddenly awakened by the interest in the man's words. You were, after all, supposed to somehow take care of all this, and what Michael had said complicated matters a lot. You didn't know how you could not only control the money, the power in the Family, the influence, the connections and the territories, but also keep it from the mentioned takeover. You were getting more and more confused.

“How would they do it..?” you asked hesitantly. 

“By marriage, certainly. Nobody wants a war,” Michael replied. Almost choking, you held your breath, an unpleasant knot, burning with anxiety, was tied in your stomach. “But don't worry about it,” he added calmly. “I'll try to get some suitable offer.”

Nibbling nervously on your lower lip, you glanced at your mother. You wished you had been a little more selfish and a lot more cruel – maybe then you would have focused completely on yourself. “Make sure they'll be safe. Mom and Suzie.”

Michael nodded obediently and walked away, leaving you alone with the impression that he had already begun searching for a candidate. But before that feeling could poison your consciousness completely, your mind picked up someone's presence. So you looked in front of you and, still confused by the subject brought up by Michael, fixed your gaze on Bucky Barnes, as it turned out. You frowned slightly, not quite sure why he was standing before you. In addition, alone; his uncle was talking to your mother.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that made you believe his words. 

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, but with proper politeness. For some unknown reason, you wanted to move. Perhaps you intended to shake Bucky's hand, or perhaps you just needed to change position. Whatever that was, you shifted, but one of your shoes refused to come off the ground. “Oh, this fucking mud…” you whimpered in helplessness rather than irritation.

Bucky immediately came to the rescue in this unusually absurd situation; he crouched down, and you felt the fingers of his warm hand wrap around your bare ankle. Aware that you wouldn't be able to free yourself from this ridiculous trap – at least not when your companion was throwing himself at your feet – you had to let Bucky handle it. Losing more control of your own legs, you leaned forward and involuntarily rested your hands on Bucky's shoulders. He didn't react; didn't frown, didn't give you an angry or confused look, didn't comment in any way. And you were really grateful to him for that, because you already had enough embarrassment. Though you couldn't complain about it at the moment – the unsolicited warmth spilling inside your stomach drowned out the rest of the emotions. 

Bucky tightened his grip around your ankle even harder – although you couldn't call the sensation painful or at least uncomfortable – and pulled it upwards in a firm motion, freeing your heel from the muddy ground.

“You alright?” He asked, and you hurriedly nodded in response.

You were too busy setting your foot in some safer place to remember to move away from Bucky. So once he straightened up, your hands were still on his shoulders. But he didn't do anything about it this time either. In the most literal sense, Bucky Barnes let you find support in him. As soon as you realised this, you immediately took your hands away and nervously smoothed your dress, only to have them occupied by something other than Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky clasped his hands together in front of him, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. You couldn't look him in the eyes any longer; especially as his stare was somehow overwhelming. He nodded as if he were someone at your service, and you – too embarrassed by the event from a moment ago, stunned by the sudden, unexpected contact with Bucky Barnes and simply dazed by the atmosphere of the funeral – timidly followed him with your gaze until he disappeared into the crowd. 

Even though he vanished from your sight, you could still feel his burning touch around your ankle.

It was late. Far too late for any social gatherings, but Michael announced briefly that you were expecting guests. He seemed to be in such a hurry that you didn't want to waste time on getting ready either. You had only had time to comb your hair when a maid sent by Michael peeked into your bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to the fact that you were only wearing a short satin nightgown. All you could think about was Michael's nervousness; you wondered what it could have meant and how bad a situation you were possibly in. 

As you left the bedroom, you wrapped yourself tightly in the robe that was part of the set - just as short and satiny as your pyjamas. Before you had completely made it downstairs, you noticed two men not far from the front door. The prevailing coldness indicated that they had only just entered. You hesitantly stepped down from the last stair and headed forward. Recognising Timothy and Bucky Barnes, you immediately stopped. In your first instinct of learned politeness, you tried to give proper attention to the older one, but you couldn't help the way that every molecule in your body, pushed by natural curiosity, was drawn to Timothy's nephew.

Unlike his uncle, Bucky was not wearing a long coat but a leather jacket. Exposed to the pouring rain outside, it glistened in places. You raised your gaze to look at his damp hair, but before you got there, you noticed that he was watching you too. At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

“Gentlemen,” Michael said. An obvious tension in his voice reminded you that something was wrong. “Please.” He leaned meaningfully towards the dining room. “Miss Y/N should be here in a moment.”

“She already is,” Timothy shared his observation, a sly smile stretching out his mouth. Michael only then noticed your presence.

A silver tray with a couple bottles of alcohol – the only acceptable treat at this hour and on this occasion - was placed on the long dining table, along with glasses. 

You adjusted your robe precautiously and took a seat, facing your guests. Michael sat right next to you, completing the impression of the formation of two camps separated by a table.

“I'm beginning to hear rumors that Brock Rumlow has made you an offer,” Timothy spoke, the expression on his face indicated that he wasn't surprised in any way.

“An offer..?” You repeated, holding back the urge to give Michael a disapproving look. He should have told you. 

“On your hand in marriage, of course.” 

‘Marriage’ combined with ‘Brock Rumlow’ made a mixture so disturbing and explosive that you felt the blast in your gut. As if someone kicked you in the stomach. You should have guessed what the ‘offer’ meant, on the other hand you hoped Michael would mention it as soon as it came up. But you didn't expect Rumlow to make a move so quickly.

“This worry does not concern you, I am afraid,” Michael claimed.

Timothy leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a slightly dismissive look. “We had a good relationship. Freddie and I. We advised each other on many occasions so that our decisions wouldn't endanger our Families,” he said. “So yes, this worry does concern us. And I'm curious to see what you decide.”

You glanced surreptitiously at Bucky, as if you needed reassurance that he was still sitting there, but you sensed he was around even without that. He held his eyes on you as you watched him with evident confusion, then reached for one of the bottles standing nearby. He took a quick look at the label, then poured some of the rusty-red liquid into a glass and slid it over to you. Did he think you needed alcohol to process what you were about to hear?

“Brock Rumlow isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” Michael said calmly. “You know how powerful the Rumlow Family is. And making peace with such a strong enemy would make our business, as well as yours, easier. I suppose I don't have to explain it to you.”

“Do you think this is what Freddie would want for his daughter?” Timothy asked.

“Freddie got himself killed,” Michael snapped, the atmosphere at the table became even thicker. “And as for his daughter, he didn't prepare her properly. He was a fool if he thought it would never happen.” 

There was silence. You looked down at the glass wrapped tightly by your fingers, and finally decided to raise it to your lips. It wasn't the nasty, bitter taste of the drink that bothered you, but the thought of your future. You were pretty sure that your fate had already been decided. 

“If you make an agreement with Rumlow, sooner or later he will violate, if not break, all its points,” Bucky spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. “He made the offer less than twenty-four hours after the funeral,” he pointed out. “Not to mention he only showed up to steer you towards positive consideration,” he said casually, and you thought that such diplomacy was clashing with his wet leather jacket and stubble. 

“James…” Michael sighed.

It seemed, however, that Bucky was not going to let go. “You know what this deal is about,” he continued with a strange, surprising resolve, as if the matter affected him personally. “Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?” he sneered. 

“You know surprisingly much about these agreements.” Michael no longer concealed his irritation. 

“I can marry Brock,” you finally spoke up, and this time they all looked at you. Michael was relieved, Timothy concerned in some way, and Bucky appeared to be a little lost since you seemed to ignore everything he just said. “It’s not like I have to live with him. Right..?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked angrily at Michael. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I haven't had a chance. You admitted yourself that they were quick to make an offer,” Michael defended himself. Bending under the pressure Bucky was putting on him, Michael looked at you nervously. “Rumlow Senior has the right to claim an heir who will take over both of the Families in the future. In this case… it is possible that you will have to live with Brock after all.”

These words flooded your mind, almost making you dizzy. You grabbed your glass again and poured the rest of the alcohol down your throat to fight the nausea. 

“Well…” Lips pursed, you took a deep breath through your nose. “This complicates things… a little.”

“I will arrange a meeting and everything will be clear,” Michael said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “We are not sure what they think about all this. No matter what is said about Brock,” he glanced at Bucky not accidentally. “we should meet with him.”

“Great,” Bucky snorted. “I’ll be there.”

“Excuse me..?”

“Since our decisions affect our Families…” Bucky recalled his uncle's earlier words. “It’s obvious that Y/N doesn't know enough about arranged marriages, so I’ll be there. As an adviser.” He shrugged. “You are more than happy to team up with the Rumlows, and I will try to cool that enthusiasm.” He tilted his head, smiling insincerely. 

“If that's how you see it, it's more a case for your uncle,” Michael protested.

They both looked at Timothy, and his lips stretched slowly in a mysterious grin.

“I believe Buck can handle it,” he said. 

The meeting was over. You decided to accompany Michael to see the guests off.

Michael walked beside Timothy, who was walking to his car; they were discussing something that didn't exactly reach your ears, but you didn't feel the need to know. You weren't concerned that they were discussing your future - you doubted they felt like it after the conversation at the table.

“Bucky?” You started in a soft tone. Bucky, who had just left your house with the intention of joining Timothy, stopped and looked at you. You walked down a few steps and stood on the stone path, right in front of him.

He swept his gaze over you again, starting from your bare feet, through your exposed legs, to the delicate material of your nightgown. His stare didn't make you sick as the thought of Brock did. 

Bucky took a step towards you, and the scent of fresh laundry, mint and wet forest hit you. You stepped back, so he did it again until you were standing under the canopy that protected you from the rain.

“Do you always have to get some poor girl out of trouble?” You squinted, but couldn't help an amused smile forming on your lips.

“No. Just you.” He shrugged, slipping his hands in the jacket pockets. “I don’t want you to get cold. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to get cold.” You nodded. “Just like you didn’t want me to drown in the mud. And now you don’t want me to marry Brock,” you pointed out, raising your eyebrows. “Why? Because Michael is right; joining our Families together would be the best option. You don’t want that?”

“The best option?” he repeated. “For everyone except you?”

You smiled softly in response – you didn’t feel like thinking about that again. “So? What’s the reason?”

Bucky looked away for a second, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

You watched him expectantly, finally raised your eyebrows in theatrical disbelief and both of you laughed briefly. No matter how curious you were about the real reason, you decided not to badger him.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Walker?” Bucky asked playfully, frowning.

“Walker? John Walker..?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Why?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. You can be sure he’ll make an offer, too.”

You wanted to laugh at his words, but the truth was Bucky could be right. And the thought of that made you more exhausted than you already were. “What about you?” you asked casually. You didn't beg for anything, you didn't offer anything. You were just curious. “You're not part of this?”

For a split second you witnessed him tense up. He clenched his hands, only to relax them immediately afterwards – just like his jaw muscles. You didn't understand the source of this reaction, but you didn't even think about it; it was like a brief flash that you didn't have time to think about properly.

“I may have my heart in the right place, but I'm not a guy you marry,” he said. “Steve is. I can put in a good word for you if you want,” he added jokingly, making you smirk. “Get back inside, Y/N,” Bucky commanded softly as he began to leave, taking a couple steps backwards. 

You rolled your eyes, and he turned his back to you, then got in the car, leaving you with that burning feeling again. This time it wasn't just limited to your ankle, but your whole body.

[the-eeveekins]

I love G-Witch's ending. While I do wish the journey had been longer, that we had gotten more time with the characters and the world, I would not change that destination. I still want it to end with Suletta saving her family at Quiet Zero.

"It's too happy, no one died!" I actually love this! Gundam has 45 years of bittersweet and occasionally downer endings. We can have one ending that is almost unambiguously a happy one. People always talk about finding non-violent solutions, about solving problems peacefully. And in a Gundam first, Suletta does that. She solves a violent situation with non-violence, and just this once, everybody lived!

"That was accomplished with bullshit space magic though!" Look, setting aside the fact that Bullshit Space Magic has been a part of Gundam since the original (and is often MORE bullshit in UC), this show is called The Witch From Mercury. If there was any Gundam series where Bullshit Space Magic saving the day and solving the problem is thematically appropriate and should not be an issue, it's this one.

"The bad guys lived and escaped jail!" I'm fine with this, especially since every good character survived too. And it's not like they didn't suffer any consequences. Miorine dissvolved the Benerit Group. Their empire is gone, along with their wealth and power. They may be free (for now), but they're definitely miserable. With Shaddiq's help, Miorine exposed the SAL's crimes, and considering the precarious position they were in previously, it's likely there was a major shake-up. The power structures in space were completely shaken up and changed, and much of it's power was transferred to Earth.

"What about Shaddiq?" Look, I definitely understand the contextual issues with Shaddiq being the only martyr. But in the show itself, Shaddiq accomplished his goals. He got to see the Benerit Group dissolved and their assets placed in the hands of Earthian companies, all without further violence. He secured the freedom of the women working for them, and importantly, they all now work for Miorine in her efforts to improve Earth and make reparations for Spacians. And as a last gift and blessing to Miorine and her new family, he took the fall for Quiet Zero while he was at it. Shaddiq may be imprisoned unlike the former BG members, but unlike them, he is a happy and satisfied man.

It's rare for the main characters in Gundam to enact massive, systemic change for the better, especially permanently. Amuro, Kamille and Judau did not change the world in any significant fashion. Their world was still mired in conflict after their reapective conflicts, to the point that Amuro dies in a later conflict and Judau gets so sick of things not changing for the better that he abandons Earth and later the solar system. Yet there is a lot of criticism that Suletta & Miorine didn’t solve all of Ad Stella's problems, that they did their part and peaced out. But their part was destroying the immediate threat of Gundams and Quiet Zero, they dismantled the Benerit Group power structure and put it in the hands of Earth and they exposed the SAL. They made huge changes to the world and they didn't stop. Miorine is still using her company to make amends for the BG's crimes and improve the lives of Earthians. Suletta has built a school on Mercury and is now building one on Earth. Even if they're not going to be fighting on the front lines, they're still fighting to make their world a better place.

That's not to say the ending is perfect. I don't think Nika should have spent 3 years in jail because of a guilty conscience and because Martin is a snitch. I don't think you should ruin the thematics of Suletta facing down and battling Quiet Zero by herself, but the part of me who loves to see giant robots fight wishes there could have been a way to involve the Demi-Barding, Pharact and Schwarzette in more action during the end. If not at QZ, then earlier in the series.

I personally believe a lot of the criticism of the ending boils down to preference, and people not preferring how G-Witch chose to end things, rather than those things being objectively bad. I think a lot of fans struggle to accept that G-Witch was trying to do something smaller, something different, and they still can't let go of wanting it to be something it never tried to be. Did it do what it wanted to do perfectly? Definitely not. It forgot what it was at points in S2 and I'd argue it actually cooked too good with it's background details, making people want more of something it never set out to do. But ultimately it was never trying to be a 50 episode war epic focused on the wider world. It was about these two girls and their families.

Suletta & Miorine's scene together in the wheat field on Earth is perhaps one of my favorite scenes in anime. Maybe in any media. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything short of their actual wedding.

[kushnovice]

Spinning My World

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark! Reader

Synopsis: Reader tends to the avengers wounds constantly and when Tony opens an emotional wound in the reader, Bucky is there to help.

wc: 2.4k

Warnings: my first bucky fic, medical, wounds, tending to wounds, sibling rivalry, mention of dead parents, fluffy love, slow-burn

AN: Female reader, fluffy, lots of mistakes, self indulgent (Pictures are not mine nor are any characters part of this)

What makes the earth go round? to most people it's money, to others it's family. To me, it's love.

I grew up with Tony Stark, my older brother. He was never that big on affection which was something he picked up from our parents and because of that, Tony and I aren't as close as we once were before our parents died. I spend most of my time making sure the house is always put together and cooking food for Tony and Pepper. I always feel a little guilty as I haven't achieved as much as my older brother and living with him and all of his fancy things just rubs it in. I also spend a lot of time studying. Since we have the money, I am attending an Ivy League school online. Unlike Tony, I don't like robots and technology, I prefer to help people. I am majoring in Medical Science as well as minoring in Psychology, which the amount of work is unbearable.

I sigh as I close one of my textbooks, my notebook, and my laptop, leaving them on the desk in my room. I make my through the long winding halls and into the kitchen, the tiles on the floor leaving my feet cold as I walk. I flick on the light as I walk in and take a deep breath, finally feeling at peace. The kitchen was always my safe space since Tony never cooked for himself, neither did any of the avengers. It was my own tiny world of peace.

I smile softly to myself as I make my way to the sink, I start to wash my hands while humming a song. "Friday, can you play (song name)?" As the song starts playing, I feel more comfortable as I start pulling what I would need from the fridge and the cabinets. I then fill up a pot of water and put it on the stove to boil and preheat the oven before I start separating and seasoning the chicken. I then start to cut up some veggies before checking on the pasta that I am making. After everything is cooking, I take the time to dance in the kitchen, just enjoying the music and how it flows through my body. That was until I heard the door open. I jerk my head to see who it is, only to be stunned by the sight in front of me. There he was, the most beautiful creature this world had ever created, but he was drenched in blood. Without thinking, I walk right up to him and start to examine him from what I can see. "Oh buck, what happened this time?" I ask as I eye him up and down for injuries, feeling better after not finding any serious ones. Bucky sighed deeply, "The mission was hijacked. I'm not the only Injured one." I sigh deeply as I take the food out of the oven and put the veggies and sauce into the pasta. Then, without a second thought, i make my way to the medical clinic, which I pretty much run.

I put my coat on and wash my hands again before putting on gloves. I make my way into the emergency room that we have to see Tony laying on a gurney. I immediately start to cut his shirt and pants off as I examine his body, the deep wounds showing no mercy as they continue to bleed. I sterilize the wound and start stitching him up and taking my time to make sure it's perfect.

After a few hours, I was done with making sure Tony was alright and had checked out all of the other team members. I look at the clock and sigh deeply when I realize that it is close to 1 in the morning. I make my way through the winding hallways again and I stand outside of Buckys room. "Hey Buck, are you awake?" I ask softly knowing his super human hearing can pick up my voice, and sure enough because the door unlocks and slides open revealing that he had just got out of the shower. I blush slightly as i try not to stare at his bare chest, "oh um...sorry I was just coming to give you a quick check up..." I shuffle awkwardly at his door but he nods softly and lets me in his room.

The smell of Axe Body spray and Midsummers Night circle the room. I sit Bucky down as I start to stitch up a few of his wounds. It stays mostly silent, neither of us knowing what to talk about until Bucky speaks up, "aren't you tired?" I furrow my eyebrows, "why would I be tired?" Bucky sighs deeply, "we go on these missions almost daily and you're the only one who gives us medical help, isn't it tiring?" I look up from his stitches to smile softly at Bucky, "No, it's not tiring. If anything, it gives me a purpose and makes me a hero like you guys." I giggle to myself at how corny that sounded before going back to stich bucky up.

After I am done, I make sure I didn't miss any dry blood before I stand up, "make sure you eat dinner, I don't know if the others did yet but you need to eat." I smile at him to which he gives me a small smile at the end of his lips. "I did eat already, it was delicious." I smile at him as I watch him put his shirt back on, "good good, I tried a new recipe today so I'm glad it is good." I smile to myself thinking about how Bucky enjoyed my food. "Did you eat yet?" Bucky asks with a furrowed eyebrow and I'm left shocked, normally i'm the one asking that question. "I was about too, then all of that happened," I smile at Bucky but his facial expressions don't change this time. "You really should eat." I nod my head and start to make my way into the kitchen to see a huge mess of plates and bowls and forks all over the place and all of the food gone. "at least they liked it" I smile to myself as I shrug off my coat and take off my gloves, "Friday, some music please" I speak as I start to pick up the plates and bowls and utensil's and place them in the sink. I then pick up all the trash and wipe down the counter while dancing around the kitchen. I spend a few hours cleaning, until it is spotless before I turn off the music and realize I wasn't alone. As I go to grab my coat and turn off the light, I hear a voice, "Aren't you going to eat?" I whip my head around, looking for where the voice came from until I can see Bucky, just outside the door. "there was no more left, i'm glad everyone enjoyed it." I smile at him but he doesn't smile back, he makes his way into the kitchen and starts grabbing stuff. "woah woah woah what are you doing?" I ask as I watch him start up the stove. "You need to eat. More than any of us." Buckys voice is stern and emotionless but I can tell that he cares. "I'm alright, I'll be up in a few hours to cook breakfast anyways." I look at the time and then at Bucky who then turns to me with furrowed eyes again his eyes studying me and trying to figure me out as he looks me up and down. "Why do you cook for everyone? Why do you go out of your way for everyone? I don't get how that benefits you." I sigh deeply, "I don't do it for me, I do it for you guys. You guys are heros and are saving the world every day. the least I can do is cook you guys a warm meal and make sure you guys don't get too hurt." "But why?" Bucky asks as he cracks open an egg and starts to cook it. "You guys deserve it, you deserve the best." I smile at him softly, watching his movements while I think. "Why do you save the world?" I ask while watching his movements. He seems relaxed and calm "Because if I can help save the world then there's hope to save myself." He speaks in a quiet whisper, "why do you save us? why are you so interested in medicine?" He asks with seriousness, trying to understand me better. "I was never taught self defense so I save the world in the only way I know, medicine." Bucky turns to look at me, "you don't give yourself enough credit, no one does." I can hear how he sighs softly. I let myself smile, knowing this was his way of showing he cared. Bucky finished cooking the food and he made two plates, setting one in front of me while he sat across the table from me. He immediately downs his food within seconds leaving me to take awhile to finish my food. When I'm finished eating, I grab our plates and put them in the dishwasher. When i make my way back into the dining room, Bucky is watching me as soon as I enter the room. "What? Is there food on my face?" I jokingly ask, with a smirk on my face as I make my way back to sit down. Bucky snorts softly at my comment, "No, I just don't get how someone could look so pretty after working for so many hours." Buckys voice is soft but his eyes are full of emotion as his hands fold on the table. I feel myself melt under his gaze as my cheeks start to burn, "Oh, uhm...thanks..." I giggle lightly, "You aren't too bad looking for someone who just got stitched up." I reply causing bucky to be taken aback.

"Why are you two up at 2 in the morning?" Tony asks as he walks into the dining room in his black robe that is barely covering his bare chest and his blazers. Tony somehow still has his shades on as well as his slippers on as he sets down some coffee and a sandwich at the table and sits down. "I was just making sure your sister ate after giving everyone medical exams." Bucky replied as he stared blankly at tony as he ate. "Interesting." Tony replied quickly as he started to eat. "I'm glad that your mission didn't go to badly, not many people were injured." I smiled at Tony as I recall the injuries that everyone had got. Tony sighed as he swallowed the food in his mouth, "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?" I roll my eyes at how immature Tony still is after all of these years. "Somebody's cranky." I snort to myself, Tony glares daggers at me. "Somebody needs to shut up." I smile at Tony, now enjoying fucking with him. "I don't have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel." I smirk at Tony, thinking I got the better up. "Frankly, I don't care. Just like how he never cared about Mom and Dad. You know who killed them right?" Tony asks as he glares between Bucky and I. "If you're insinuating that Bucky killed our parents then fuck you!" I yell in Tony's face, not able to control my anger as I get up and storm off. Bucky looks at Tony as Tony finishes his sandwich, not purposefully glaring but staring deeply at him causing Tony to get uncomfortable and scramble out of the room.

Bucky sighs deeply as he makes his way to my room, thinking of the right words to say as he ends up right outside of my door. "Hey...I know Tony's words really hurt but I'd like to tell you my story, not what you've heard from files but my life the way I lived it, when I had control of my life." Bucky expected no response honestly, who would want to talk to their parents murderer? Surprisingly the door swung open as Bucky looked in at my small trembling figure on the floor, a pang in his heart caused him to lose his breath seeing her in such pain.

I lift my head to meet Buckys soft eyes as he moves to sit on the bed next to me. His voice was kind but also firm as he told me all about his life, from his time in Brooklyn with Steve all the way through Hydra, he spoke about my parents last almost as if to save me the pain. "Your parents...they were a mission I had to carry out while apart of Hydra, or else I would have died as well as them...I wish I never had too..." Bucky sighs deeply as he looks at the ground. "You don't have to be my friend or even be nice to me, but I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt anyone." Bucky softly got up, expecting to be kicked out before he felt my hands wrapped around his human arm. "I want to be your friend. It hurts knowing that you did that to my parents and I don't think that hurt will ever go away, but I do know that it wasn't you, that you didn't do it on your own will. I forgive you, Buck." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around Bucky's human hand, taking his warmth from him as it comforts my shaking body as I am able to relax into my bed and into Bucky, feeling safe and comfortable for once. I don't remember what happened after that other than my eyes forcing themselves closed as Bucky's mechanical arm softly strokes my hair.

I wake up to the sun shining brightly in my eyes causing me to instantly rub my eyes. I stretch with a small groan, wishing to be asleep still as I reach my arms above my head. I hear a rough chuckle beside me and open my eyes to see Bucky smirking down at me, "Morning, Doll." I feel my face go red at the nickname. I roll over to face him in the bed, "I'm sorry that I kept you here all night." I apologize softly as I yawn the sleepy feeling away. He smiled softly down at me, the golden sun reflecting off of his eyes making it look like tigers eye. "You have nothing to apologize for, darling." He used his fingers to swoop the stray strands of hair out of my face. "It was the best sleep I have gotten in awhile." He confessed as he pulled me a little closer, his body heat keeping me warm as he smiled down at me cheekily. "Don't smile at me like that, you know it drives me crazy..." I giggle at him softly as I place my hand on his face before leaning in. Bucky closed the gap as he took my lips in his, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in closer as he chuckles into the kiss.

"How else would I make your world spin?"

[crystalis]

thread by Arnesa Buljušmić-Kustura

Apr 5, 2024

Today marks the anniversary of the Siege of Sarajevo. The “official” start of the Bosnian Genocide.

Almost 4 years of being cut off from the world, from food and water and electricity. 4 years of daily shelling, bombing, and terrorising campaigns of the city and its residents.

Today is a particularly painful day and in the next 6 months, we will have an anniversary after anniversary after anniversary of the various massacres and horrors that were inflicted on us throughout the Bosnian Genocide.

I was just a child when the Siege of Sarajevo started. The peaceful neighbourhood I once played in was suddenly surrounded and shelled daily. Sniper attacks became common place. Every day you heard news of someone being killed. Someone you knew. Someone you loved.

One of my most vivid memories of the Siege of Sarajevo is my great-grandmother. She was a fiery spirit and I was her favourite human. Her heart gave out when she found out her son had died. I always think she would’ve lived another 10 years had there been no genocide.

The residents of Sarajevo were shot at when they’d be collecting water. When they were in line to get bread and aid. When they’d attempt to get to a hospital. In hospitals. In schools. In libraries. There was nowhere that was fully safe.

On a daily basis, the Serb forces would average of approximately 329 shell impacts per day during the course of the siege, with a maximum of 3,777 on 22 July 1993. The city’s streets, homes, buildings, hospitals, govt and historical buildings were all targeted and destroyed.

Over 13,000 people were killed in the Siege, and over 1600 of them were children. Of the estimated 65,000 to 80,000 children in the city, at least 40% had been directly shot at by snipers; 51% had seen someone killed; 39% had seen one or more family members killed…

19% of the children in Sarajevo had witnessed a massacre; 48% had their home occupied by someone else; 73% had their home attacked or shelled; and 89% had lived in underground shelters.

Today, as I reflect on the Siege of Sarajevo…I cannot help but think of the parallels and similarities with the atrocities occurring during the Siege on Gaza. Over 13,000 children had been killed during these past 7 months.

The Siege of Sarajevo resulted in the deaths of two uncles, my godmother who was a Serb and was killed by Serb forces, my grandmother who was killed when she was making breakfast and her home was attacked by Serb forces. My neighbours, my friends, and countless others.

There is not a day in my life in which I do not recall the horrors we endured. There is not a day in my life in which I do not curse those who destroyed my childhood and my innocence. When I was 5 years old, a Serbian sniper shot at me….a child. I survived thanks to my neighbour.

It has been over 30 years since the Siege of Sarajevo started. A 4 year long campaign of terror, genocide, and destruction. The world knew. The world saw. The world stayed quiet. They refused to allow us to defend ourselves. They said that “Bosnia did not belong” in Europe.

Our pain and suffering became an easily exploitable topic for the politicians, journalists, academics to build their careers off of. To this day, many only have a career because of the Bosnian Genocide. Yet, when it was the worst for us…they watched and allowed it to happen.

The Bosnian Genocide did not need to happen. As all genocides, it could have been prevented. & now they tell us to “remember the past” and they say to “never forget” while they allow the same to happen to Palestinians.

I cannot look at the photos coming out of Gaza and not see Sarajevo in it. Their pain is all too similar to our pain. Yet the International Community, once again, seems intent to ensure that the past repeats itself.

& I cannot help but feel that just as much as they believed that “Bosnia did not belong” and therefore allowed the genocide and horrors to continue for 4 long years….they feel the same about Palestine. To them: we “do not belong”. Our deaths are just a bloody stain on their tvs.

So today I spend my day praying for those we lost in the Siege of Sarajevo and throughout the Bosnian Genocide, I will pray that the world wakes up and sees that they are allowing the past to repeat in Palestine.

May we never forget the beautiful souls whose lives were taken and destroyed, in the name of ethnonationalism and fascism. In Sarajevo, throughout Bosnia. In Gaza. Throughout Palestine.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time. 

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more. 

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’. 

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him. 

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn. 

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well. 

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.  

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’. 

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel. 

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him. 

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach. 

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts. 

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black. 

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing. 

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat. 

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

[vroomvroomcircuit]

The World did not end

(A/N): 'ello and welcome to my first F1 fic. I'm quite new here (not to fanfic or tumblr, I mean F1), but I want to give back to the F1 community, since you all helped me out tons during a really rough period these last couple of months.

Pairing: Lando Norris x platonic!reader

Warnings: mentions eating food, death of a loved family member, grief, it sounds sad, but it's actually pretty sweet and hopeful (it's based on a tiktok trend), English is not my first language btw

Wordcount: .7k (she is a shorty)

Masterlist ______________

Finding Mclaren’s reserve driver crying in the cafeteria wasn’t what Lando expected to stumble upon, when I went to check out where the repeating music came from. It sounded like a sad song that could land a high spot on his next Spotify wrapped.

“Uhm, (Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asks gently as he approaches the table. After a startle she turns off her phone, which has been playing the music. Frantically, she wipes her tears. It still does nothing against the fact that she has been crying and that her blood shot eyes are very visible.

Lando shakes his head. When people think Oscar is an introverted person, she is the masterclass of introvertedness. Like, the last stage of a pokémon evolution. That’s why seeing (Y/N) cry in a semi public place like the cafeteria calls for concern.

“There has to be something. The food here is not that bad. I mean, I have the same reaction when I see fish being served, too. But today I felt like the meals were rather good. So do tell. What’s bothering you?”

First she shrugs, the twenty year old not being able to find her voice immediately. “The- the world didn’t end when I was 13.” The tears are coming back again, restricting her voice once again.

Lando gathers her into his arms. even though he doesn’t understand what is happening at all. Does that matter right now, though?

The girl needs another minute or two until she is composed enough to explain the reason behind her crying. “There is this Tiktok trend going viral right now. It’s about people saying what mundane things they are able to do, or-or which things they have achieved, and all that because the world did not end when they were a certain age. They mean they got through some heavy event in their life. And because they got through this, they are able to do said things or achieve this.”

He nods, understanding the bittersweet and hopeful outlook this kind of videos can bring. “And something heavy happened to you at 13?” He probes while trying to keep a cautious tone, not wanting to overstep any boundary he doesn’t see.

“My, you see, when I was 13, my grandmother died. This was the first time I felt real grief. I wished for the world to end, because nothingness would have felt better than this immense amount of grief. And this led me to thinking of how many times I wished for the world to end. Because there were important and life changing events approaching me so quickly. When the world ends, I wouldn’t have to go through them, right?

And suddenly I’m 18, writing my final exams in school and it felt like the biggest task in my life. it felt like make or break. But the world did not end. I was able to graduate.

Then I got into the drivers academy, I am training, studying, and meeting people. I’m doing everything and anything. Because the world did not end when I was 13.

And it didn’t end when I was 16, overwhelmed with studying for school. It also did not happen when I was 19 and put under contract to be a reserve driver for Mclaren.

The world never ended. I begged and cried for all of this to stop. To have peace. Because I thought that I would only feel at peace, when nothing happens anymore. And the world didn’t end and now I sit here with you, talking about a tiktok trend.”

Lando understands her train of thought and sentiment immediately. “You know, I’m happy it didn’t end. These past couple of months with you here were pretty fun. Even Oscar admits it! With that true little smile, not in that monotone tone of his. These interviews and the media stuff is much more fun with these silly remarks of yours. And you are an amazing human being. I’m really glad that your world did not end, because meeting you made mine better.”

(Y/N) laughs, the tears being gone and cheeks heating up at that confession. “I’m glad too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to ravish my way through the mountain of pasta minutes before you came in.” They giggle, knowing they share similar food preferences and have the culinary plate of a four year old toddler.

And all that, because the world did not end.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Lucien As a Big Brother | A Headcanon

Just thinking about after Beron dies / is murdered by everyone, when LOA is finally able to be with Helion and Lucien in peace in the Day Court, simply existing as a family.

Helion and LOA make love for like 100 nights straight and (unsurprisingly) conceive the final member of the brood.

LOA gets to joyfully and openly have a child with the man she has never been allowed to love.

Helion is endlessly fussy throughout her entire pregnancy as if she hasn’t done this 7 i repeat 7 times. And she lets him because it’s so damn endearing to see him experiencing fatherhood.

Helion keeps having panic attacks and Lucien has to calm him down.

The labor takes 1 hour because LOA could do this in her sleep at this point. Lucien has to walk Helion through more breathing exercises than his mother during that hour.

Lucien becomes a big brother to a little girl with auburn curls who all but worships him and follows him around hopelessly forevermore.

She thinks her big brother is the sun, the moon, and the entire world in between. She becomes inconsolable whenever she has to be parted from him for naps or lessons.

Lucien takes her to the libraries on his shoulders and she giggles all the while. He hands her books to read on his shoulders while he finds his own. She holds them upside down and babbles, pretending to be very studious like her elder brother.

One day she shows up to lessons having drawn a line from her jaw to her eyebrow to match his. Her governess scrubs it off. She scribbles it back on the next day.

Lucien finally learns what it is to have a sibling who cares deeply for him and looks up to him like no one else. The end.

Bonus content: Eris comes around frequently to teach her to wield her flame magic. The firelord turns into soft puddles around his little sister. She sometimes burns herself when they practice but he kisses her little fingers to make it feel better.