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nepenthendline · 3 years

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BREAKDOWN - TSUKISHIMA KEI

A/N: i cried writing this multiple times, but here’s some sad tsukki crying, I’m not proof-reading this bc if I do i’ll cry again ty

TW: mentions of depression, breakdowns/panic attacks, a crying tsukki and a crying reader

Can we cancel tonight?

Read the text that lit up your phone from Tsukishima. To be honest you’d been expecting it, but it still sent a pang of worry to your heart. You’d planned to meet up and go for dinner since you hadn’t had much time together due to assignments and classes, not to mention his training, but he had been a little off for a while now so it didn’t surprise you.

The past week or so he’d been more distant than usual: short responses whenever you spoke to him, rushing home whenever he had to leave the house and you knew he hadn’t been taking the best care of himself due to the dark circles under his eyes. It was like he’d reverted back to the Tsukishima you first met at the start of highschool - detached and guarded. A lot of people just thought he was an ass or that he had a shitty personality, and while that may have been the case at times, you knew why he acted that way. He was protecting himself. It took a while for him to open up to you, but you learned about his struggles, his depression and his worries. Even so, he still tended to bottle his emotions up for as long as possible, but he did improve. Over the years you’d known him you were lucky to watch him bloom; he became more open, more accepting of talking about how he was doing. He’d even come to you first on occasion when he felt himself slipping, and he smiled more. It was a beautiful sight to watch him have fun and be happy for a change, and you couldn’t be more proud. But progress also came with stepbacks, and he wasn’t safe from them.

What’s on your mind? You replied. You knew what was going on, but if he wanted to tell you himself then that was for the best. The three dots signalled his typing, then disappeared, then reappeared moments later. It was a minute or two before the message came through.

Don’t feel good

You stared at your phone for a few seconds, wondering what to do. Part of you wanted to leave him be and see if he could shake this by himself since that’s what he preferred, but you knew this had been going on too long.

Can I come over? You asked, since the last thing you wanted to do was turn up unannounced and make matters worse. You didn’t expect him to accept your proposal but it was worth a try, so when an ‘ok’ showed up underneath your message you were taken back a little. Things must be bad if he agreed.

In a rush you grabbed a jacket and your keys, before sliding your shoes on and heading out the door. His apartment wasn’t too far from yours luckily, however even the small journey made your heartbeat thud in your chest. ‘Hang in there’ you thought to yourself like a mantra in your mind, hoping the message would get through to him in some way.

After climbing various flights of stairs you were faced with his door. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second, before knocking softly and unlocking the door with your copy of the key. It was eerily quiet when you walked in and the only light that filtered through was the street lamps from the road below. Shutting the door behind you, you called out his name but received no reply. You took slow steps through the hallway, peering your head around each corner in aid to find him. His apartment wasn’t particularly messy, although there were some dishes and clothes laying around that usually had no place there. As the living room and kitchen were empty, you made your way over to his bedroom.

Your knuckles tapped on the wood as your other hand turned the handle to open the door; the room was just as dark as the rest of the apartment, however this shadow contained your boyfriend sat on his bed that lived in the corner of the room. His knees were bent up close to his chest as his arms rested on top of his knees. One hand was fiddling with his bottom lip as he stared emptily at the wall in front. You walked closer, slowly as not to startle him, and sat next to him on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge.

Even after the bed dipped under the added weight he didn’t once move or look away. His eyes remained locked on the wall and yours stayed firmly on him. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes lacked the usual golden glow they radiated behind his glasses. For a man over 6ft tall and that trained almost every day, he looked so small and fragile curled up like this. You had never once thought of Tsukishima as weak, but there was a dull look of fear that was spread across his face that made him look like a lost, lonely child.

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes snapped away from the wall and settled on you for a moment, where he nodded briefly and looked away once more. His breathing sped up from before; his shoulders and chest rising faster and harsher than usual. He was trying so hard to keep things together and you were surprised he even could for this long.

You shuffled forward on the bed to get closer and lifted one hand to brush away the hair that stuck to his slightly damp forehead. Even in the darkness you saw him swallow hard, his throat shaking in response. You gently slid the glasses off his nose, folding them up and placing them on the bedside table. As you turned back to him your eyes locked with his; they were wide, worried, yet so vacant. Your fingers brushed over his cold cheek before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders pulling him close to you; his head instantly found its way into your warm neck.

There were few seconds of complete still and silence, until a sob broke out from his throat. His whole body shook as you held him, with one hand combing through his hair in an attempt to soothe him somewhat. The room was filled with strangled breaths and whines as he cried, and your neck was already soaked with salty tears. You rocked your joined bodies back and forth a little, going with the motions of his own tremble, and turned your head slightly to press light kisses to his temple.

Tsukishima was not a crier, at all, but he was human and there was only so long he could bottle things up for. Even so, you couldn’t help but tear up as well at the sound of his anguish. It was heartbreaking to see him like this since he usually seemed so strong, so self-assured. There wasn’t much you could do for him at this point, but just being there to pick up the pieces as he broke was enough.

It was a while before he began to come down and the only reason he did was probably from exhaustion. His arms had found their way around your waist as he cried, clinging and tugging at your jacket as if to find support, and yours had not left their tight grip around him once. His breathing was still erratic, but his tears had muted down to occasional sniffles.

You pulled back a little, enough to see his face, and pulled the edge of your sleeve over your hand to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks. A red hue covered his entire swollen face and his eyes were raw with irritation yet, despite the current event, he still managed to look beautiful. The moisture glimmered in his eyes, but it wasn’t the shine you were used to. You dropped your hold on your sleeve and instead cupped his cheek in your hand. Instantly, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the heat of your skin.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, still hushed as you spoke however he shook his head and sniffled, raising a hand to wipe at the tear that fell from his eye. You nodded slowly in response, looking down to think for a moment.

“You can get through this, I know you can,” you started as he stared at you with fluttering eyes and pursed lips, “we’ll do it together, ok? We’ve done it before and we can do it again.” He hesitated for a moment then nodded vigorously as a whimper sounded from his mouth.

“It’s just… it’s so hard,” his voice broke as he spoke, looking away from you towards the wall. You had to swallow away the lump in your throat as it burned with tears brimming in your own eyes; you had to be the strong one for him, he needed you now. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, collecting each tear as it fell and nodded.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well. I’ve got you.” He replied with a ‘thank you’, yet the sound was masked by choked breaths. You pulled him close to your body once again, pressing your cheek firmly against the side of his head and dragged a hand up and down his back. “We’ll figure things out tomorrow. We can look into things to help you, but for now let’s focus on your breathing and getting settled, ok?” He nodded once more against your neck, taking a deep breath after you demonstrated.

It took a few minutes but he got there eventually. You could feel his heartbeat through the hand on his back, and it had slowed to a somewhat regular speed, and his shoulders drooped from their tense hold. You pulled away, telling him that you’d be back in a moment to get some water and headed to the kitchen.

Not bothering to turn any lights on, you shuffled through the cabinet to get a glass and held it under the running tap. The rippling of the water filled your eyes, and a few tears rolled down your cheeks as you gasped, quickly reaching up to wipe them away. You sat the glass down on the counter and stared up at the ceiling, clenching your eyes shut as you took one deep breath in. You wiggled your hands by your sides as you let out the air in a huff, trying to distract yourself for a moment. With a sniffle, your hands raised to swiftly rub at your face and let out a small, distressed groan. ‘Not now’, you thought as you picked up the glass again, ‘we can do this later.’

You took a final deep breath, mustering up the last bit of strength you had and walked back into the bedroom. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but accepted the glass with a hum of a thanks. He took a few sips as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the darkness of the room. The glass was almost empty as he held it in his hands, brushing his thumb over the rim in thought.

“You’re just as bad as me sometimes, you know that?” He spoke, looking up at you through his wet lashes. Your brows knitted together for a moment, but it wasn’t long before you understood. You let out a weak laugh, wiping your damp cheek with your hand. You saw the tryings of a smile for the first time on his lips.

“I said we’d do this together, so I’m just getting in the spirit,” you mused as the odd tear fell, and he chuckled somewhat. One had left the bottom of the glass and seeked out yours, taking it in its grasp and squeezing.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you whispered, although you’re not too sure if it was to him or yourself. He brought your joint hands and pressed a light kiss on the back, letting his lips linger for a second.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagine #haikyū!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #Tsukishima x reader #Tsukishima kei

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digitalstowaway · 3 years

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No Winners: Chapter Three (Mia & Miles AU)

Read on AO3 | After failing to win a guilty verdict at his first trial, Edgeworth is denounced as von Karma's protege. Mia finds him, alone and traumatized, and decides that befriending him is like picking up a lost, wounded puppy on the side of the road. But it turns out they're connected in more ways than Terry Fawles' death.

It was Friday afternoon by the time Lana knocked on Miles’ front door, holding a thermos of soup and smiling.

Miles stood in his doorway, squinting at her. He wore his pajamas still—a comfortable set of flannel bottoms and a large t-shirt that hung off of his scrawny frame—and his hair was ruffled and messy. Lana could see how it stuck up in the back while the fringe had become frizzy and laid flat against his face.

“I thought I’d check up on you,” Lana said. “And bring you soup.”

“That was… thoughtful.” His voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he strained to get the few words out.

He would have looked adorable if there wasn’t a worrying flush to his face and glassiness over his eyes. But he did look younger than Lana had ever seen him. And smaller. If Lana didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was a teenager taking a day off school.

She just had to take care of him. She couldn’t leave a sick child home alone.

“Mind if I come in?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lana pushed past him and was walking into the house. His home was cute but definitely belonged to a 20-year-old boy. There was hardly any decor, and all of the curtains were drawn shut—though, the latter could have been due to the poor thing looking like he had just crawled out of bed—leaving the rooms to be dark and stuffy. The kitchen was bare, most notably. The only items on the countertops were an electric kettle and decorative containers that Lana suspected held nothing in them.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Miles asked, standing behind her as she unscrewed the top of the thermos.

“If you don’t eat the soup now, it’ll get cold.”

If I don’t watch you eat right now, I don’t think you’ll eat at all.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you’re capable of it or not, it’s just nice to have someone with you.”

She began rifling through his cabinets. She was happy to see full sets of plates and bowls and cups. She wasn’t very happy to see, though, the lack of food on his shelves.

She motioned for him to sit at his island. He did, looking like he was obeying the command of a superior.

“I can make you tea as well,” Lana said, pouring out the soup in front of him.

“Are you always in the habit of inviting yourself into people’s homes and invading their kitchens?”

“I’ve been known to do so on occasion. But usually, people are more accepting of it than you because I’m also known to be a good cook.”

Miles looked down at his soup. He stirred it, mixing up the vegetables and noodles in a whirlpool, and then set his spoon down.

He was tucked into himself, arms discreetly wrapped around his middle. Lana recognized the position as someone who couldn’t stomach the thought of food.

And all of her forged maternal instincts that came from taking care of Ema rushed forward. Really, a 12-year-old girl and Miles Edgeworth couldn’t be too different to look after.

Lana pressed her hand to his forehead. He allowed it, closing his eyes.

“You’re really warm,” she sighed. “Do you have a thermometer?”

Miles shook his head. Lana tutted.

“Do you have cold medicine? Or any medicine?”

“I have aspirin.”

He was barely old enough to take aspirin. Lana prided herself on her knowledge of over-the-counter meds, and she clearly remembered the warning label on the back of the aspirin bottles to not give any to a person under 20. And god, the kid was just old enough to take such a simple drug? He was just entering the final stages of his coming of age?

Lana had had a thought or two upon first meeting Miles that he was truly too young to be in a prosecutor’s office. Not for the uptight, snooty reasons her colleagues had. But because she couldn’t bear to think of the toll it would take on someone so young—so bent on perfection.

“Do you have anything else?” she asked.

Miles shook his head. His eyebrows raised as if he was in trouble and scared of being scolded. It was always the subtle things that made Lana worry.

“Well, lucky for you, I carry everything in my purse.”

As she dug through her purse for her trusty bottle of acetaminophen, he coughed harshly into his elbow. It sounded worse than the night before. Like his lungs were trying to come up his throat. He winced and grimaced and struggled to breathe through it. Lana forgot about the pills and pulled out her phone.

“I’m going to have Mia pick up a few things for you,” she said.

“No—”

“Miles, you’re not going to get better like this. I’ll have her drop off something for your cough and a thermometer at some point today, okay?”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make sure you finish your soup.”

—

By the time Mia arrived with a little bag from the pharmacy, Lana was waiting in the doorway with her phone in hand. She tried to smile when Mia met her, but she looked tired and worried.

“Is he okay?” Mia asked.

She tried not to care. People got the flu. People lived through the flu. Miles was going to be fine in a week.

“He’s in rough shape,” Lana said with a shrug. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

Mia passed her the bag with the highly specific requested items inside. Two types of cough syrup—antitussives and expectorants. Whatever those were. Lana had said a balance of both was necessary. A bottle of acetaminophen and another of ibuprofen. There was something about alternating between the two that wasn’t explained well over text. And cough drops (of which Mia had bought three kinds), acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and a thermometer. Any thermometer, Lana told Mia.

The shopping list had been followed by a notification that Lana had sent Mia more than enough money to cover it all. There was a note in the money-sharing app that said and buy yourself something nice ;) xo Lana

It had been a nice break from her anxiety-ridden text messages. Mia had bought herself a pack of gum and two lollipops.

“That’s for you,” Mia said when Lana pulled out the second lollipop.

“How sweet,” Lana said.

“Can I see him? I want to look at the scary prodigy all sick.”

“Yeah, but be quiet. He just fell asleep.” Lana led her in. “Why do you want to see him like this?”

“Blackmail. In case he ever tries pulling something, I’ll have a picture of him all snotty and gross.”

“Mia, don’t take a picture of him.”

“Why not?”

“It’s mean. And isn’t your whole thing being anti-blackmail?”

This was different. There would be no one to truly show the picture to. And Miles would catch on to that. The threat would be superficial and empty.

The living room was dark and quiet, and Mia nearly missed Miles on the couch. He was curled up under a blanket, blending into the upholstery. But looking closer, Mia could see how pale his face was and the light layer of sweat covering his forehead.

Lana unpacked the pharmacy bag on the coffee table, careful to not make a sound to disturb Miles. But he woke himself up anyway, his uneasy breathing turning into a coughing fit. A hand emerged from the blanket, and a crumpled tissue in his fist was pressed to his mouth. His cough sounded awful. Mia nearly gagged in sympathy when she heard something deep in his lungs get stirred up.

“Miles, Mia brought you some stuff,” Lana said. “Can you take your temperature real quick?”

She assembled the thermometer. Mia had picked one up with multiple tips in hopes that the fancier it looked, the better it would work.

Lana handed the thermometer over, and Miles laid it under his tongue. Mia was surprised by the lack of fuss he made, and he did close his eyes immediately and seemed close to sleep by the time the thermometer beeped.

Lana slid it out of his mouth for him as a mother would.

“103.5,” she read.

Mia grimaced. That wasn’t good at all.

Miles’ eyes opened, but they didn’t react to what Lana had said. Instead, they fell on Mia with a glare nastier than what he usually served.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I delivered you half of a pharmacy,” Mia said, gesturing to the table. “Be grateful.”

Lana interrupted them. “Miles, if your fever gets much higher, I think I’m going to take you to a hospital.”

And the glare towards Mia immediately changed to a scared look to Lana. He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“But if you get any worse, I think you’ll need help and there’s no clinics open at this hour. It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing very well, either.”

It didn’t. Every other intake of breath was raspy.

Miles shook his head again. Lana sat next to him on the couch and brushed his hair back from his face. It was absolutely out of character to allow himself to be coddled in such a way.

How childish he looked, Mia thought. He certainly always carried the air of a brat, but he had never looked so small. So helpless. So in need of a person like Lana Skye.

“Only if you get worse, okay?” Lana said. “And Mia brought you a lot of medicine, so hopefully you start feeling better by tonight.”

But Miles still looked scared, and Mia wondered what his damage was with hospitals. Not that anyone particularly liked having to go into hospitals. They were genuinely acknowledged as places no one ever wanted to be.

“Let’s try to get this cough under control first,” Lana said and reached for one of the bottles of cough syrup.

Hours passed, and Mia stayed. She felt bad about leaving Lana alone with the possibility of Miles needing to be taken to a hospital hanging in the air.

It was also nice to see Lana mother Miles, waking him so often to take a different pill or to press the thermometer into his mouth one more time. When she wasn’t doting on the prosecutor, they snuck into the kitchen to talk like children.

“He really needs a doctor,” Lana said. “But it’ll be best if I can get him to a clinic tomorrow instead of putting him through the emergency room tonight.”

“You’d go with him?”

“Do you think he could drive himself?”

Mia rocked against the countertop. “No.”

“Then, I’d have to go with him. Or someone would have to go with him, and I don’t really see anyone else lining up to escort him.”

Lana picked up her phone and, looking over her shoulder, Mia could see her texting Ema and then Damon Gant. One a reassuring conversation and the other a semi-desperate beg to ask anyone at all if they could do her a favor.

“You know,” Mia said, “if someone needs to watch Ema tonight, I can do it.”

Lana looked up, perhaps embarrassed that she had been caught in such weakness. “Would you?”

“Unless you need someone to wrangle Miles to the hospital.”

Lana smiled. “We’ll see which child needs the most supervision. But if I did ask you to watch Ema tonight, you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not. I have nothing better to do.”

“And if I asked you to help me get Miles to a hospital?”

Mia tilted her head back. She had little reason to say no. “Sure.”

—

As the sun was finally setting, coughing turned to choking.

Miles struggled to pull himself up. He rested on his elbows, his head bowed, coughing too hard to take in any fulfilling breaths.

Lana tugged him up so that he was sitting against her. His shoulders heaved and with his coughs, small strings of bile spilled from his mouth.

“Can you get towels please?” Lana asked Mia.

Mia ran down the halls until she found a closet and stacks of towels. It was an unnecessarily large house for one kid. Mia had a one-bedroom apartment with barely enough room to accommodate Maya when she visited. And there was Miles living in a house with, if Mia counted right as she passed them, two bathrooms and a bedroom on the first floor alone.

But she couldn’t be mad at him if his sleazy mentor gave him the money to buy the house. If anything, it was good for Miles to keep whatever that man had already given him.

Mia grabbed all the hand towels and wash clothes she could, wetting a few down, and ran back to the sitting room where Lana was trying to keep Miles up.

“It’s okay,” she was repeating, and Mia could hear Miles mumbling apologies as she handed over the towels.

Lana got to work cleaning up his face and then his clothes. Miles’ thin hands were limp on his lap, only being moved by Lana to scrub at the bile that hand landed on his sweatpants.

“Do you want to change?” Lana asked.

Miles shook his head. He was usually so pristine, Mia was surprised he didn’t want a fresh pair of clothes.

“Okay. We can lay back down for now.” Lana helped him shuffle around until he was lying back down.

She covered him with his blanket again and left one of the damp cloths over his forehead. Mia stood awkwardly off to the side.

“It’s getting kinda late,” Lana said.

“If you want me to watch Ema now, I can,” she said.

“I don’t know. I think I should really get Miles to a hospital, but I think it’ll take at least the two of us to get him anywhere.”

“Is there anyone else who can watch Ema?”

Lana didn’t say anything. Mia didn’t know many people who could really be left alone with a child. Not any that could be called at the last minute.

“What about Diego?” she asked.

“Ema’s never met Diego before. I’ve barely met Diego.”

“Yeah, but he’d probably be willing to stay with her for the night. He mentioned to me once that he likes kids.”

“Miles is a kid, and he doesn’t seem to like him.”

“Miles is 20.”

“I’m 20,” Miles agreed sleepily.

“And Ema isn’t Miles,” Mia said. “She’s… less difficult.”

“Okay,” Lana said. “If he doesn’t mind, tell him I can give him our house key if he meets us here and helps us get Miles into my car.”

Mia didn’t hesitate to grab her phone and begin texting Diego, her newest message harshly juxtaposing her previous, half-flirty ones. Miles whined next to her, telling Lana that he would be okay. That he didn’t need to go anywhere. And Lana gently cooed to him that it would be alright. He needed more help than she could give him, and she and Mia would stay with him.

Mia didn’t remember when she volunteered to stay with Miles in the hospital. She thought that she would be there long enough to get him inside and moved on from the waiting room before going back to her own apartment. She watched Miles cough into his pillow and Lana brush his damp hair back from his forehead and knew that she was well past the point of any further negotiations.

#mia & miles au #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #mia fey #lana skye #my fics #no winners #finally chapter three!!!

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spooky-z · 4 years

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[1/3]Bombshell Dupain-Cheng: YSSMIAC

Masterlist Maribat by @ozmav

Bombshell: The AU // 0, 1, 2, 3

Ships: Lukadaminette, Jondrien, Chlolix, Feligami, Kimax

Warnings: Language

2.6K

Chapter title: you should see me in a crown

You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favorite sound Watch me make 'em bow One by, one by one

Here's: Marinette and Kagami didn't expect the transformation to be so outrageously obvious.

Of course, Diana had warned the teenagers that it could happen, but- again, they didn't think it would be so drastic. The growing pains had been, well, a pain. A brutal one.

If Marinette was being bitter, she would blame Tikki for this happening to her and her miraculous partners, but she knew for a fact that it was not the fault of the kwamis for this lack of information.

It was the first time since the world was created, that the miraculous were given to literal children. So, for that reason the side effects were something unknown. But they believed that they had already discovered all the effects after five years wielding the jewelry.

Diana was able to destroy any idea they had about it, since none of them noticed the biggest and most obvious side effect of the miraculous:

They were trapped in underdeveloped bodies for seventeen/eighteen-year-olds teenagers. And that wasn't just because their genetics made them look more youthful, no. The active use of Ladybug’s cure was slowing the aging journey of the other heroes, as they were the hardest hit by healing magic.

So, when Diana - Wonder Woman - invited the miraculous female team to Themyscira to correct this problem with the Amazons, Marinette, Kagami, Chloe and Alix did not hesitate to accept.

The men's team had already been invited by Arthur Curry - Aquaman - because men were not allowed on Themyscira, but also because training with Arthur would be more ideal for them than that of the Amazons.

Zatanna encouraging and assuring the heroes that she would maintain a blocking spell throughout Paris to prevent Hawkmoth from acting.

They left their homes with an excuse to travel the world. Adrien was a little more difficult to get out of Gabriel's claws, but in the end, with Bruce Wayne's call, Adrien was able to leave Paris alone with friends. They were ready.

That's when Marinette suffered.

Starting with all the miraculous having to be resigned in order for the effect of magic to expunge faster, the box being kept safe in Themyscira. And then with the infernal training that the Amazons put them through.

Before, Marinette and Kagami prided themselves on being the most agile and sharp in the fights against akumas, but being in Themyscira showed that they did not even reach the feet of the youngest warriors in the island.

So, it was already clear that if Kagami and Marinette were having problems, Chloe and Alix felt death touching their souls with affection.

(The boys also suffered in those months in Atlantis. Arthur was not at all merciful in teaching them.)

Anyway, when the two and a half month mark reached, the physical changes were simply too glaring to go through a simple growth spurt.

Marinette never envied Chloe and Alix so much for not being predisposed to be tall naturally.

Of all four, Marinette grew the most in height without the influence of the miraculous. She may or may not have cried when she reached 5'11” with Kagami and Hippolyta said she would still grow a few inches.

She didn't care much for stretch marks on her joints, but she complained about the growing pains. Kagami was not very vocal, but the grimaces of pain she let out did not let anyone be fooled.

But even with the pain, the teachings and the struggles, Marinette was happy that they were finally having the right mentoring to guide them. Fu had left very early, much of his knowledge was not passed on.

○○○

After almost struggling to free Marinette from Chloe, they left the blonde sleeping on the brunette's bed while she showered.

Alix ate a croissant, Damian and Luka talked about strategies against Hawkmoth and Plume.

"I already talked to Zatanna and she will release the blocking barrier in three days, just so Hawkmoth doesn't suspect anything." Damian looked at Alix, attracting the young woman's attention. "It would be very suspicious if the barrier was broken just on the same day that Dupont's classes returned."

Alix nodded in agreement. "Did she say anything about tracking the miraculous?"

Luka sighed despondently. "No. She will probably only make it when they are active, meaning- “

"We will have to wait for Plume and Hawkmoth to attack again to get any leads."

Marinette came into the room, fully dressed - a black skater dress with the pattern of delicate cherry blossoms, reaching a few inches above the knee, v-neck and short sleeves; white liner socks - and dry hair stuck in a messy bun, leaving the bangs framing the pretty face.

Luka and Damian swallowed at the glorious sight. She managed to be strong and cute at the same time. And it destroyed them so good.

"He should attack as soon as he feels the barrier is gone." Alix replied and it took both of them out of inappropriate thoughts. Marinette's knowing look showed that she knew exactly where the boyfriends' minds ran.

"And that is why we will be making a war council in half an hour." She reached for the pair of white sneakers on the shoe rack and tucked them in her feet, the laces already tied. “Everyone has already been warned. I will be delivering the miraculous and we will make plans on how to take down Hawkmoth for good.”

"... But first we have to wake Chloe." Luka points. "Who's going to be the unlucky one?"

○○○

After managing to wake Chloe without resulting in a murder, they were quick to leave Marinette's home for Fu's massage parlor, the current headquarters of the miraculous team and where Zatanna had lived for three months when they were away.

"We are here, losers!" Alix announced pompously.

Upon arriving, they found Adrien talking to Jon in a corner; Max, Tim and Barbara on the computer browsing documents that appeared to be important; Félix and Kagami sat at the big table - which Adrien insisted on calling the round table and Marinette found it unnecessary - analyzing a detailed hologram of the streets of Paris.

No sign of Kim or Zatanna yet.

The entry of the five drew everyone's attention; Tim and Felix's eyes doubled in size as they focused on Marinette.

"What the hell, Mari?!" Tim choked on his words.

"This is what I call transformation." Barbara commented amusedly.

“Everyone has undergone drastic changes, Drake. I'm sure you didn't react that way when you saw the others.” Marinette replied.

"Of course not! Nobody came here looking like an Amazon.”

Kagami coughed against the fist, eyebrow raised.

"Okay, I take back what I said." Tim raises his hands in surrender. "But you have to agree with me, Marinette is the most surprising change here."

Adrien nodded frantically in agreement. “When you showed up at school earlier, everyone was shocked. I hardly recognized you.”

Max and Felix scoffed. "Yes, we noticed the warm looks you were shooting at Mari." Max pointed out causing Adrien to choke in embarrassment.

“Oh, is that so? Interesting." Damian murmured, a frankly murderous look on his face. He had already taken the seat next to Felix.

"What? No! You got it wrong.” Adrien stammered, his cheeks red.

“Okay, Adrien. I'm not jealous." Luka said. The malicious curve in the corner of his mouth making it clear that the musician was loving seeing the model turn into a hot mess in front of everyone.

"Luka!" Adrien groaned painfully and turned to Jon. “You know it's not true, right? Everyone knows that I only have eyes for you.” He pouted.

The brunette put his arm around the blonde's waist, bringing him a little closer. “Of course, I know dear. I totally trust my charm.” He winked seductively; Adrien's blush only growing in intensity.

The two of them seeming to forget that their friends were there.

"Ugh, nobody deserves to watch these two making out with their eyes." Chloe moaned on the chair, still drowsy and irritated at being woken up.

"Think on the bright side!" Marinette said happily.

"What would it be...?"

"At least this time they are dressed and aware that there are other people in the room." Kim replied upon entering.

"... I think we better split them up before they really forget we're here." Kagami pointed a finger at the two boys who had started a kiss in a way that, in her opinion, should be inappropriate for people under fifty.

"Does anyone have a spray bottle?" Damian asked.

And Marinette stopped to analyze the physical changes in her team.

So, the fact was: yes, Marinette was the person with the greatest physical change among the miraculous group. Because in addition to the height, she got muscles (which she didn't have before). It wasn't something like a body builder would be, but it also made it clear that she had a pretty intense exercise routine.

Kagami had also grown a lot, losing to Mari by just a few inches. Even before wielding the dragon's miraculous, she had already developed some muscle due to the intense fencing routine; so, the only things that had changed was the increase in body mass around the shoulders, biceps and calves.

Alix didn't grow much, just two inches from what she was before, and the muscles in her body hadn't been developed as visibly as the two asian girls. She had a better definition, elasticity and mobility had improved dramatically.

Chloe was the only one of the four parisian heroines who had no visible change. She remained thin and flexible, with no pronounced hard muscles. Diana had said that the blonde's body was the type that hid her power. The deceptive, fragile type, but who was agile and fatal. Which suited Chloe.

Of the boys, the shock had been Damian. Damian, who, like Marinette, was one of the smallest on the team - followed by Alix and Max - reached his desired height of 6’3”; surpassing both Bruce and Jason, the tallest in the Wayne family.

But that didn't surprise Marinette or Tim, since Damian's parents were both quite tall. They hoped that eventually Damian would start to grow like a weed.

Anyway. While Damian did not grow muscle mass like a brick house like Jason, his shoulders grew broad and powerful, biceps pronounced, muscles lean and defined. He achieved a perfect match between raw power and agility.

Luka surprisingly hasn't changed much. He put a few inches more - taller than Marinette by just an inch, but smaller than Damian by four - but his muscles didn't grow. They just became more defined. And Marinette understood that.

Among all of them, Luka, Alix and Max were the ones who least physically attacked akumas; sometimes they even stayed out of the fight, as their powers were only for a very critical situation.

Adrien somehow still had room to grow. You see, it wasn't like he was short before; for a twelve-year-old boy - before wielding the ring - he was already quite tall, so even with the magic interfering, he still had a decent height for a teenager.

Then discover that there was still room for him to reach Damian? That was surprising.

Unlike Luka, Adrien gained muscle mass. The blonde, over the years, showed that there was no mercy when it came to eating. He never refused food, always chewing what he could as if there was no tomorrow, since at home, his diet was strict. But even with that, he never gained weight.

Always the same skinny boy as always. So skinny that Sabine had made it her life's mission to fatten the Agreste boy. (Which did not work, but it did not diminish the determination of the Chinese woman.)

Then, without the interference of magic, Adrien grew up.

The boy who was once skin and bone, now looked like the blonde version with green eyes of Kim. He didn't get uncomfortably muscular, but the muscle tone he got was insane. Even wearing a hoodie that was supposed to be 2x bigger than its ideal size, it was possible to see that some corners of the seams were stretched on the shoulders and chest.

Gabriel probably burst a vein when he saw his son's transformation. The more youthful Adrien looked, the better it was for him to sell the image of "teenage prince".

Kim was the least surprised, as he was already big even for a teenager. In addition to his shoulders - which became broader - he grew a few inches, bumping head-on with Marinette and Luka. The chest remained strong and his body seemed to have no problem staying flexible.

Félix followed the same path as Luka - which Marinette secretly thanked, since finding a bodybuilder Félix would be beyond strange -, remaining tall and elegant. Lean, well-defined muscles. He remembered Chloe's changes. Silent, but fatal.

He was also in the race for whoever got higher with Adrien and Damian.

Max, on the other hand, must not have grown more than five inches. His muscle tone did not grow at an alarming rate either, remaining mostly thin, but looking agile. Like a person who runs five miles every morning without losing his breath or sweating.

Which was good, since Max was never a fitness person and everyone knew it. If he appeared like a damn monster truck out of nowhere - like Marinette, Kagami and Adrien - it would make people ask even more and they didn't want to attract more attention than they were already getting.

All of this, of course, without pointing out the other obvious changes that puberty brought.

The lack of baby fat, sharp jaws, developed curves, deep voices... Marinette managed to get used to her new height, but was not finding peace of mind with the new weight of her chest.

She clapped her hands to get everyone's attention and smiled.

"Let's start?"

And everyone, including the two lovebirds, sat around the table.

They would only leave with a solid plan against Hawkmoth.

BONUS:

"Wow, did you see how some of Ms. Bustier's and Ms. Mendeleiev's students looked different?" Lila heard extra #1 gossip with extra #2.

"I saw it, girl!" Extra #2 responded. "Everyone is saying that they joined a gang."

"Oho, do you believe that?!"

"Well, won't you say that you didn't find Agreste's new appearance strange?"

Lila jumped when she heard the name of one of her enemies. She moved closer to the two girls to hear the conversation better.

It could be something she could use against the ice king.

“Did you see Dupain-Cheng?! That was insane!”

The Italian bristled when she heard Maribrat's name. Still confused about what the two girls were talking about.

She had decided not to go on the first day of school to make a flashy comeback, so what had happened, she didn't know.

"And Adrien?!"

"I know!"

And that was it! Lila needed to know in detail what was going on.

"Excuse me, girls..." She sweetened her voice as much as she could. The two girls looked at her confused. "I wanted to first apologize for listening to your conversation and also to ask what you were talking about..." The ‘poor woman’ expression stuck to her face.

The two girls were even more confused. "Didn't you come yesterday?"

"No. My flight from Achu took longer than expected and I just arrived today.”

"Ah..." Extra #2 waved. “Is that- Ah! In fact, just look back and you will understand!” She said hastily.

Extra #1 looked over Lila's shoulder with a haunted expression. Waving violently.

And when Lila turned... What the fuck was that.

[tag list]

@nightstarblue @dreamykitty25 @phantomroseo3 @avengerthewarrior @guessmyname17 @luveverything12 @wannajointhecrabcult @chocolate1721 @polyvirnl @enchanted-nerd @sandraf0612 @multi-fandom-freak0221 @rosalineandrosemary @jessigurl-design @saays-bitch @xxmdsxx @nicknnie @iamablinkmarvelarmy @damianette-is-life

#maribat #bombshell au #lukadaminette #chlolix #feligami #kimax #jondrien #gaydrien #not salt yet #buff!marinette #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years

Text

better with time. Ch 3

one hundred and seven years.

The year is what now? 850?! (AO3)

Words: 2192

The next morning, you were awoken early by a harsh kick to your cell’s rusted bars, dust dwindling down from the ceiling peppered your face as you were ripped from your dreamless sleep. Snapping your eyes open you sat up stiffly, your back aching from your new stubborn mattress. In front of you stood three imposing figures, Levi, Hange, and a taller man, blonde hair, blue eyes, thick eyebrows that sat atop a strong handsome face that screams, “I’m reliable you can count on me”. You found yourself anxious under his piercing gaze and oddly warm and generous smile.

Sheepishly you smiled back at him and Hange, your gaze drifting right over the top of Levi’s head. You noticed his eyebrow raise suspiciously at your avoidant scan. He sucked his teeth before pulling out a seat for himself on the other side of the cell. Hange took a seat as well, while the new guy remained standing, further adding to his impressive aura. He oozed confidence and strength, something you hadn’t yet experienced in this magnitude. He had a strength about him not found in Levi or Hange, the strength of true leadership. Something about him just felt like you could follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked, and you’d never regret such a decision. It was quite nerve wracking considering you knew nothing of him.

“Hello. My name is Commander Erwin Smith.” His voice deep as you expected. You gave back a simple wave and looked to Hange to speak the words you couldn’t.

“Ah, as you remember Commander, she has very little memory.” They explained, much to your relief. So, the Commander had a bit of a debriefing, that’s good. Saves you all some time.

“Yes, well. We’re just about caught up on your situation miss, let me get you up to date. For starters, the year is 850. Does that happen to help you recall how long you were a titan?” He asked, a more serious concerned look to his features now. Thick brows knitted together in concentration and his sky-blue orbs piercing through you so fiercely you feared he could see through your clothes.

But no, more importantly, did he say the year was 850? If there was one simple thing you remembered from the past it was the year. There was no way of continuously keeping time for so long out in the wilderness but you hadn’t imagined it would have been 107 years! Your eyes blew wide in confusion and fear, lips slightly parted as your mind worked to wrap around the news that you were a titan for over a century.

The three of them seemed to pick up on your prickling anxiety and simultaneously they leaned in, anticipated anything. Shakily, you pointed towards the notepad and pen in Hange’s lap and they quickly slid it across the floor to you.

Blinded by tears and dread, you struggled to sloppily write a number. The last year you remember. The year 743. It took Hange no time to decipher your chicken scratch and they mumbled under their breath their hypothesis.

“Is 743 the year you were born?!” They stammered, and you shook your head wearily in response.

“The last year you remember?” Erwin asked plainly, and you nodded solemnly. Levi’s steely grey eyes widened just a fraction before regaining his composure and returning to his usual bored look. His trained eyes raked over your face studying your expression, shock, sadness, confusion. You hadn’t a clue how you’re alive right now.

“107 years.” Levi stated, lacking any form or emotion. It was like he was simply echoing your thoughts for everyone to hear, and it's true. It has been 107 years. You honestly felt a bit sick at the realization but, what did you expect. You knew a lot of time had passed, too much time to be honest. However, the reality was nevertheless horrifying. More than a few lifetimes had passed, anyone you may have ever loved was long gone by now, not that you’d even remember them truly.

You heaved a shaky, trembling sigh and Erwin gave a sad, knowing smile to you. It was sort of comforting, but you were on edge still.

“Anything else you remember?” He asked, full of patience. You shook your head after a bit of thinking, nothing important was coming to mind. Just bits and flashes of things that you yourself couldn’t even begin to explain. Seemingly done with the questioning for now, Erwin bid you ado and Hange followed close behind.

Captain Levi however, stood back for just a bit, much to your chagrin. You wanted nothing more than to be left alone for a moment to process things. If anybody were to stay behind a bit to ogle, you’d hope it were Hange, they could probably give you a laugh or two. Levi said nothing before tossing a book to the floor before your feet, you shot him an annoyed glare before he spoke.

“Practice your reading brat,” was all he said before he quietly climbed the stairs and locked the door at the top. Grabbing the book and dusting it off you found it had plenty of pictures for context, and at the very least it would give you something to busy yourself with as your tried to distract yourself from your newly acquainted grief.

It felt a bit like survivor’s guilt, not that you personally remembered any of the other titans you often saw roaming around the island. You silently sighed as you thought of the other titans, you felt bad. They were all humans, you presume, stuck in your same predicament. Fighting and dreaming of freedom.

The hours passed as you tried to read the words on the pages set before you. You found yourself not making much progress as you continuously had to wipe away your stinging tears from your lashes. Heavy steps descended the stairs as you hastily dried your eyes once more, hoping it won’t be too obvious that you’ve been crying.

It was Erwin again, shadowed by Levi. Levi’s thin brow rose, he almost looked disgusted at your tears, or maybe he was taking pity. Either one, you didn’t truly want from the likes of him. Erwin, however, did look truly concerned for just a moment before hardening his expression to keep things professional.

“Well, we won’t be able to learn anything from you until you learn to read and write. Thus, you’ll be staying here for the time being. I’ll visit periodically, but Captain Levi will be who you answer to for now.” He gave you a curt nod before taking his leave. Once again, Levi remained. The silence dragged on and you gave him a silent, yet fully exasperated sigh rolling your eyes in his direction.

He scoffed before adjusting his cravat, his top lip twitching upward into a scowl of disdain.

“I was about to pity you and be lenient, but forget it. Stop your crying and read, brat!” He spat, before sitting harshly onto the wooden chair he always claimed, He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his slender legs, one over the other. The two of you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned around harshly and began studying.

With him babysitting you like this; it’s going to be a lot less pleasant. Hopefully it won't take you very long to relearn these skills, the faster you can distance yourself from this guy.

The hours stretched on in a deafening silence. The tension in the air was palpable and you hated it. Levi’s stern glare seemed to be burning holes in the back of your head, that made it hard to concentrate. How could he demand results whilst simultaneously making it so hard for you? He was difficult to put it nicely, but raging will do nothing to make your life more pleasant. The silence was suddenly interrupted by him, making you jump.

“The Commander is really sticking his neck out for you. I don’t understand why.” He said, his irritation evident in every word that spilled past his lips. Your shoulders slumped at his words. Were you truly making their lives so hard? This wasn’t something you wanted. He waited a few beats before continuing, and icy chill to his tone.

“I for one don’t trust you, if you can’t tell. You can warm up to Hange and Erwin all you want, but there's a reason I’m the one that’s in control here.” You shook your head slowly at his words, you’re not dumb. It’s clear as day he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t think the others completely trust you either and you understand their reasoning. At the very least, they try to see things from your perspective. Levi, however, seems like the type to enjoy a stick up the ass.

“I’m watching you, because I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try anything.” He said, cocking his head to the side to attempt to see your expression. Sweat was beading at your brows, and you muscles tensed on reflex. You lived in fear before, but you still didn’t know how to cope with it. Will you ever be happy again?

Slowly, you turned around to face Levi, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. Doing your best to ignore his words you decided to return the attention to your book. You wiped away at your eyes before you steeled your nerves to approach the man, pointing to a particularly confusing image on the page before you. He quirked his brow at the page, his eyes narrowing before he gliding up to meet your own. He held your stare for a moment, as if trying to scare you away but he quickly grew tired of the effort.

“Those are the three walls that protect humanity from you titans.” Your eyes locked again briefly, before he continued his explanation. He was an insufferable human being but very smart, you had to admit. He explained everything thoroughly without missing a thing and you found the walls fascinated.

“Is that all or do I have to read the entire book to you, brat?” He complained, bringing his tea cup to his lips. You gave him a short and obviously fake smile before rolling your eyes and returning to your bed, once again facing your back towards him as you studied the picture once more. Little did you know, Levi’s lips quirked up into a microscopic smirk behind his tea cup at your attitude. Though, even to himself he couldn’t admit that you were a little funny to watch sometimes.

Sighing, Levi checked his pocket watch, it was due time for afternoon training. He lazily tossed a clean notepad and quill pen into your cell.

“Practice your piss poor writing too brat.” He said, cup still held high up to his face before he downed the rest of his tea and you were left alone in the cellar once again.

Once you were sure he was gone, you stuck out your tongue in childish protest before grabbing the notepad and pen. Scribbling and drawing ought to be more fun than reading this textbook you figured. The rest of your evening was spent in silence, until Hange brought you a late lunch with tea. She kept you company for a while, and it was something that helped to ease your anxiety. She explained in more detail what was planned for you here within the walls, and it's true, Erwin really was sticking his neck out for you, all of them were.

Keeping you a secret from just about everybody in power until you could speak for yourself in a court of law. Your time with the Scouts would remain a secret even after then to keep from anyone getting in trouble. Seems the Scout’s get in enough trouble already, and housing a titan shifter for a second time would get them in a lot of trouble. Yet, for your own safety, they would put everything off until you could defend yourself properly, for that, you were eternally grateful and you wanted to thank him in person.

Maybe even thank Levi, because, whether he wanted to or not, he was putting his own credibility on the line for you. As much as you dislike the man, you won't let his efforts go unappreciated. You thanked Hange for the food, conversation, and their protection with a bow, they simply waved you off.

“It's no matter! There’s equal benefit for you, me, and humanity!” They exclaimed before marching up the stairs and heading off to handle reports. You smiled to yourself at their hospitality and friendliness. Today was a tough day, but a necessary one.

This was your second chance at life, one you had lost hope at ever having. You weren’t going to waste it on fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. With newly found resolve, you drifted off into an early slumber, unaware of Captain Levi’s light foot falls descending the stair case.

His dark eyes sliding to your sleeping form, having Hange talk to you was a good idea after all .

#levi ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #aot #attack on titan #fic #better with time.#snk

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Illogical Hobbies (Or so he Thought)

Logan is struggling with being seen as unreliable or biased in his logic. Why? Because the man likes tickling and he's super embarrassed about it. Looking for help from anyone, Logan decides to talk to Remus about his dilemma. Remus quickly proves to be open-minded, and even excited about Logan's interest!

This fanfic has some dirty jokes and ultimate gay moments. Whether Intrulogical is platonic or intimate in this fanfic...I have no idea. It could be read as both. Just keep an open mind, knowing that this is Remus and Remus us well...dirty.

Also: this fanfic was suggested by 🦂 person. Hi 🦂 person! Sorry it took weeks.

Other than that: I hope you enjoy!

For @kanene-yaaay

Logan had been struggling with his thoughts. For one of the first times in his life, Logan’s brain was overwhelming him with logical theories that haven’t been proven as of yet. The logical side now believed he might be a freak and as a result, is now unreliable for Thomas. This hypothesis was created due to his interest in one thing: tickling. He had seen the documentary they made about it. He had seen how uncomfortable people become due to others and their ‘feelings for tickling’. There are people who enjoy it as a…

Logan shivers. Despite his inability to hold onto biases up until this point...Logan had developed a strange reaction to the unspoken word. He just doesn’t like thinking about the word, let alone saying it. Society has managed to place so much of a bad condentation onto the word, that...saying it feels super wrong. Those types of topics are usually kept secret and are only discussed with people who you feel close to. Making sure the other person doesn’t mind talking about it might also be a good thing to check. You don’t want to end up in one of those one-sided conversations where you do all the talking while your friend only listens, nods and refuses to add input. That would be the last place Logan would want to get stuck in.

Logan sat down on his desk and clicked the pen to start writing. He drew out the people within the mind palace, and wrote down the pros and cons of talking about it with that person. Logan did this so that he could determine who would be the best person to go to, that wouldn’t be biased or rude about his...feelings. Yeah, feelings. He needed someone who wouldn’t look down upon him for being this way, and who would remind him that he is still the logical side who doesn’t let biases or conflicts get in the way of the truth.

Patton seemed like a good idea and he’d consider coming to him another time. But poor Patton’s already got so much on his plate. Patton’s been trying to help out Roman, who was still struggling with the truth that was told to him during the last conversation they had. Patton had gotten better acquainted with Janus by then, and was now struggling to find a stalemate between the light and the dark sides.

On top of that, Roman was also out of the question for more reasons than one. Again, Roman was going through a few different things involving his insecurities. Truth be told; Roman is now roughly 30 like Thomas is, so he should’ve been experiencing this phase long ago. But, late is better than never. Even if Roman weren’t stressed about his self-image, Logan would still turn down the prince because he found Roman too biased and rude over simple matters. It would be better to let Roman question things rather than be taunted by him for the rest of his days.

Virgil is more of a quiet citizen who probably would’ve handled it just fine. The emotional man has his own interests and hobbies that he often keeps from people as well. Example: his love for spiders. Patton would probably have a heart attack if Virgil admitted such a secret. But the one big con Logan had with Virgil was the chance he’ll let out a...strange reaction to the news. Whether it was gonna be a good or a bad reaction, was not something Logan wanted to test out.

Janus seemed like an interesting option as well. Yet despite his better understanding of the snake-like being, he began to wonder if Janus would be too manipulative or perhaps...too blunt. In this moment in particular, Logan felt he needed reassurance more than vague, or blunt answers. And knowing Janus...both possibilities stood out equally. So...Janus was off too.

Now Remus particularly stuck out to him. Remus would be blunt, but in a strangely charming way that would lessen the truthful blow. Remus would also be the most unbiased next to Patton because he’s learned about literally everything involving the subject. Remus might even have the recommended tools readily available in his room! Though Remus may immediately resort to assumptions about the interest...that’s about the only con Remus had under the list. Furthermore, Logan liked Remus. Maybe if there wasn’t a risk of getting physically injured, Logan would’ve had no cons under his name.

Logan threw away the chart and walked himself up to Remus’s room. Feeling nervous yet fascinated, Logan knocked on the door. He kept his knocks rather quiet, as to not disturb the other dark sides.

Remus opened the door and immediately pulled Logan into his room. Remus closed the door and planted a big, slightly bushy kiss onto Logan’s cheek. “Welcome Logan, to my sexy chamber of secrets~!” Remus greeted. “I am your tour guide: Sexy Sanders~. Are you ready for the greatest tour of your whole life?” Remus declared proudly.

Logan bit his lip and looked away shyly. “R-Remus…” Dammit! Now he was turning into a deer frozen in the headlights! “I’m flattered by your introduction, but-”

“OOOoooh! ReeRee, you sly dog! You just flustered the nerd beyond belief!” Remus reacted. “Perhaps the ninja star and the loss of your buck teeth has left poor Logey in a confused state of ecstacy!” Remus teased, letting out a sexy cat growl.

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Excuse me…” Logan started to turn around while he tried to ramble out an excuse. “I suppose now may not be the time to talk, so I’m gonna leave you to your duties and-”

Remus slammed something against the wall beside the door. Logan jumped at the bang sound it made, and turned to look at the blurry thing that had made the sound beside him.

It was a foot? A high heeled foot, to be exact. And...Oh geez Remus was wearing kinky boots. “Come here darling…” Remus put his foot down and led Logan to the bed. “Let me get you something somewhat edible to eat and drink.” Remus offered. “You seem in great dire need of it, after all~”

Remus sat Logan down on his bedside and opened a bottom drawer that was split into 2 spots and filled with snacks. On the left side was ‘Remus’ based snacky foods and on the right, was normal snacky foods that he guessed could be for Roman or Janus. “Pick your poison.” Remus told him.

Logan bit his lip and smiled slightly. “Is any of it actually poisoned? Or is that just you using a phrase?” Logan asked.

Remus giggled. “It’s just a saying, li’l sweetberry.” Remus replied.

Logan awkwardly reached down and grabbed a pack of swedish berries. “Thank you, Remus.”

“No problem. Now: What does the poor distressed brainiac need from your pal?” Remus asked.

Logan bit his lip and swallowed. “Well…I’ll start with this:” Logan took a breath and began. “I took some time finding out who exactly to talk to about my personal issue. My other choice would’ve been Patton, but...He’s busy with your brother.” Logan admitted.

“Oh Patton...The poor boy is busy trying to keep the peace while Roman loses his sanity because his biased beliefs and nasty habits are finally being seen as rude!” Remus added.

Logan widened his eyes and looked at Remus. “Yes! That’s exactly it!” Logan reacted.

Remus scoffed and looked at his nails. “He’s always been like that. I’m not even gonna start with all the insults he’s thrown at me.” Remus added. “Though I don’t mind some angst in my life...Roman has genuinely hurt me before.” Remus admitted.

Logan looked down a little. “I’m...I’m sorry to hear that.” Logan told him.

Remus quickly waved it off and readjusted his position. “It’s fine! Now: What is this seeecretive thing you worked sooo hard to talk about?” Remus asked.

Logan calmed down slightly and continued. “I have felt rather embarrassed and...unreliable to Thomas because of some interests I’ve had.” Logan admitted.

Remus gasped and leaned his chin on his hand. “Do tell! I do love a good ‘life-altering’ hobby.” Remus told him with a wink.

Logan rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but grow a little soft towards Remus. “Ohokay. Well...Because of my outward presentation, I am unable to present many mannerisms without fearing I’ll be judged by some of the sides.” Logan admitted. “And...there’s one specific activity that I have ached for…for a while now...” Logan admitted.

Remus giggled. “Does someone have a thing for bonds?” Remus teased.

Logan blinked and looked at him with a confused face. “I- no. Not bondage.” Logan replied.

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Roleplay?” Remus asked, now guessing.

Logan visibly cringed. “No…”

“Hmmm…” Remus bounced his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Sexting?” Remus asked.

Logan looked quite bothered. “It...It’s not a fetish, Remus!” Logan finally told him, feeling dirty for saying the word out loud.

Remus’s smile dropped. “Oh…” Remus thought for a moment. “Do you have a thing for furries?” Remus asked.

Logan shook his head. “No.”

“Is this more wholesome than I think?” Remus asked.

Logan looked at Remus with an embarrassed smile. “Y-yeah.”

“Hmm...Cuddles? Are you lacking a few good cuddles?” Remus asked.

Logan widened his eyes as his cheeks started to glow a dark red. “I...Kinda…” Logan replied.

Remus picked up Logan immediately and gently threw him onto the bed. “Tally HOO!” Remus shouted as Logan landed on the bed. Remus jumped onto the bed beside Logan, and wrapped his arms around him. “Is this what you wanted?” Remus asked.

Logan had frozen in place, unsure of how to react. This was kind of what he wanted, but...there was something missing…

Logan wrapped his arms around Remus as well and soon rested his head against his chest. “Y-Yeah...This is what I wanted…” Logan somewhat admitted.

Remus tilted his head and looked at him. “Stop the music:” Remus said to the quiet room. Remus pointed at Logan. “You’re hesitating...I can hear it.” Remus told him.

Logan widened his eyes. “Am I?” He asked.

Remus nodded. “I can tell you want something else.” Remus told him.

Logan looked down with a wobbly smile and blushed. “Yyyyy...Yeah you got me.”

“So: Any hints?” Remus asked.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, and carefully gave Remus a really light squeeze on the side. Remus jumped slightly, but gasped as he immediately caught on.

While Logan opened his eyes with worry in his eyes, Remus smirked and gave the back of Logan’s neck a little tickle. “I think I understand what you want~”

Logan threw his head back and squeaked, not expecting it. He instinctually reached his arm back to grab the hand.

But Remus giggled and wiggled his fingers. “You shouldn’t have done thaaat~” Remus touched down on Logan’s now-exposed armpit and skittered wildly while making teasy ticky-ticky sounds. Logan quickly threw his arm down and let out his first snort. “Awwww! I think this IS what the distressed brainiac yearned for! Am I right? Am I right??!” Remus teased as he squeezed his hip with his other free hand.

Logan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he let out a big, overwhelmed yelp. “REMUHUHUS-” Logan started wiggling and squirming while cackling somewhat quietly with his face all squished.

Remus had a stupidly happy grin on his face as he kept going. “The smartest being in Thomas’s entire mind palace is ticklish! And he LIKES it!” Remus reacted. “This is like landing in heaven! For Logan AND myself!” Remus reacted.

Logan covered his face with his hands and whined. “Yohohohou lihihike ihihit toohohohoho?” Logan asked.

As a reply, Remus leaned in and blew a raspberry on his neck. Logan squealed like he had never squealed before, and hid his flustered face in Remus’s chest. “There’s my answer!” Remus declared.

Logan tried to mutter something to Remus, but his face was intentionally being shoved into Remus’s chest. Remus bursted out laughing at how muffled and wonky Logan’s ‘words’ sounded in his chest. “You sound like you’re stuck in a door or something! Do I need to tickle you out of your crampy situation?!” Remus asked him jokingly.

Logan giggled more into the Duke’s chest. Remus’s teasing was starting to fluster him more, and the anticipation was only adding to it. Remus was surprisingly good at this! Logan was thrown out of his moment of thought from two ticklish squeezes against his hips. “BAHAHAHA- REHEHEHE WAHAHAHAHAIT!” Logan yelled at him.

“Wait? But why? You’re already enjoying it! Why would I wait for something to happen, when everything I want is happening right now?” Remus asked rhetorically.

“IHIHIT’SSSS-SSSOHOHOHOHO TIHIHICKLIHIHIHIHISH!” Logan yelled back at him.

“I know! But isn’t that the best part? You’re getting the tickle tickle tickles you’ve been craving for…” Remus paused and thought for a moment. “Wait...How long have you been wanting these tickles for again?”

Logan snorted as his hair grew more and more messy. “UHUHUHUHUHUHH...MOHOHONTHSSSS?” Logan guessed.

“MONTHS?! Seriously?! You’ve been tickle-deprived for MONTHS?!” Remus shouted. “How in Satan’s butthole did you manage to survive months without being tickled?!” Remus reacted.

“PERHRHRSIHIHISTENENENCE!” Logan yelled back.

“Okay, maybe. But persisting without tickles and cuddles for MONTHS?! That’s like living an entire week without my favorite deodorant in the house! I’d die of starvation! And my tongue would be drier than Gluten Free bread!” Remus reacted further.

Logan laughed more at Remus’s statement. Of course Remus would starve himself if he had to live without deodorant! It only makes sense if you properly know the guy. Logan also visibly cringed at the thought of deodorant ‘moisturizing’ the tongue. The image in his head was making his tongue feel all weird and chalky.

...And surprisingly, Remus had a point. Gluten Free bread is ridiculously dry…

Remus soon gave Logan a bit of a break and spun his mustache while he watched the nerd. Logan took the moment to breathe again, but looked visibly disappointed that Remus had stopped.

Remus frowned softly with a wobbly smile at Logan’s reaction. Then, Remus made the one sound Logan NEVER imagined hearing from him: he cooed!

“Awwwww!” Remus covered his mouth and nose with his hands. “God, it’s like trying to ignore a homeless puppy! Now I know how Patton feels 60% of the time!” Remus reacted.

Logan chuckled at the last statement. Patton really does act like that a majority of the time.

Remus wrapped his arms around Logan and hugged him tightly. “I’m so happy you told me!” He admitted. “You have no clue how happy you made me feel the moment you came to my door!”

Logan relaxed a little more and hugged him back nicely. “...Really? You’re happy I told you?”

Remus nodded. “Well of course! No one besides Janus and Roman have ever told me their deepest secrets before!” Remus admitted. “And...Your secret is super wholesome.”

Logan’s smile dropped slightly as another thought went through his head. “Hey Remus…”

Remus tilted his head. “Yes Logan?”

Logan calmly stared into Remus’s eyes. “Do you still think I’m logical and reliable? Even with my...tickling interest?” Logan asked.

Remus smiled softly and placed his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “You are the most logical and sane side we have in the mind palace. No amount of feelings is ever gonna change your big IQ.” Remus reminded him.

Logan smiled and went back into the hug. Feeling safe and secure in his arms, Logan closed his eyes and rested his chin on Remus’s shoulder.

“I guarantee if you were to tell Patton or even Roman, you would be given what you want.” Remus told him. “Roman is a bit more risky. He might look at you like you have 3 heads at first. But Roman will wind up going ballistic about how cute you are.” Remus told him. “He’s done the same thing for me.” Remus told him.

Logan looked at him. “Really?” Logan smirked a little. “What’s your cute hobby?” he asked.

Remus smiled and pointed to his closet. “Making stuffed animal abominations.” Remus replied proudly.

Logan tilted his head. “I...don’t think I follow.”

Remus giggled and blew a raspberry onto Logan’s neck again. “It doesn’t take much to follow what I mean.” Remus teased.

Logan squealed and cowered into Remus’s chest again while Remus began to explain: “I make stuffed abominations out of many different stuffed animals! I switch out the limbs, I add stuffed wings, tails or tentacles to the stuffies, and they become my pile of monstrosities!” Remus explained.

“Sohoho you’re sid from Toy Story?” Logan asked.

Remus smirked and tickled his sides as a response. “Exactly! See? You get it.”

Logan snorted and tried to scoot himself back. But Remus managed to grab his arm, hold it up, and attacked his exposed armpit. “Nice try, Ms. Berry blue!”

Logan shook his head wildly and let out every bit of laughter he had. He was a wiggling mess of laughs, giggles and snorts all in one nerd. It was so cute to see!

“C-COHOHOME OHOHOHON, REHEHEHEHE!” Logan yelled to him.

“Is that a challenge?” Remus asked him. “Are you telling me I’m not tickling you enough?! The nerve!” the Duke teased.

Logan squealed and pulled his knees to his chest. “NOHOHOHO, IHIHI DIHIHIHIDN’T!”

“But it sounds like you did! What on earth could you possibly mean when you say ‘come on, Ree’?” Remus asked.

“IHIHI MEHEHEHEANT YOHOHOHOU’RE TEHEHEHEASIHIHIHING MEHEHE AHA LOHOHOHOT!” Logan admitted.

Remus giggled. “I know.”

Remus stopped tickling him for a moment and placed the nerd’s hand down. Next, Remus grabbed onto Logan’s tie and started loosening it. “Here: I don’t want your trusty tie to choke you while I tickle you.” Remus told him.

If Logan wasn’t blushing before, he was CERTAINLY blushing now! Remus actually unfolded Logan’s collar and removed the tie with genuine care presented in his actions. Logan had frozen in place, which ended up helping Remus remove the tie with little struggle.

Then, Remus put the tie around Logan’s right wrist and tightened it to a comfortable amount. “Check it out!” Remus lifted the tie up and started tickling Logan’s armpit again. Logan snorted and immediately burst into giggles while he tried to cover his armpit. But the tie was working like a bonding rope and preventing his arm from covering the spot properly! But Logan also noticed Remus had left the tie a bit looser. So with some tugging and twisting, the wrist could easily pop right out.

Much to Remus’s surprise though, Logan tried not to pull too hard on his wrist. He was actually letting his hand be bonded for a bit.

Remus happily smiled as he covered Logan’s body with all the tickles and laughter. This was so fun! And to think that just 25 minutes ago, Logan was a tense and illogical mess. He’d never seen Logan behave like that before. He’d seen the nerd annoyed, hurt, excited and in shock, but he’s never seen Logan anxious. It was quite unusual for the logical side. But now Logan was a giggling, blushing mess of emotions. It was brand new for Remus, and most likely quite brand new for Logan as well. But Logan seemed to be enjoying it.

Finally after a while of tickling, Logan decided he had reached his limit. He pulled his hand out of the tie, and curled up into a sideways ball. “Ohohokahahahay, thahahahat’s ehehenoho-” Remus had already stopped the moment Logan said ‘Okay’. He must’ve already known Logan would want him to stop. So, he did.

Logan looked at Remus with a glow of happiness in his eyes. “Thank you Remus. That helped a lot.” Logan told him.

Remus smiled back and gently punched his shoulder. “Eeh, it’s nothing. I’ll happily do it again anytime you need me to.” Remus told him.

Logan blushed a little at that and looked away awkwardly. “I’ll...I’ll keep that in mind.”

Remus got off the bed, walked over to the dresser and opened the middle drawer. Hidden within some magazines and spare sewing fabric, Remus grabbed a water bottle and wrote an L on the lid. He closed the drawer and handed it over to Logan. “Here you go. I don’t want you die-drating on my watch.” Remus told him.

Logan laughed a little at that and drank some of the water from the water bottle.

“Now: Either you can get the hell out before anyone notices the nerd’s hanging out with the crook, or you can stay and get hit with all the questions later.” Remus explained.

Logan choked on his water and put the lid back on as he coughed the drop of water out of his air pipe. “Ihi-” He cleared his throat. “A crook is a dishonest person, or a thief. You may be a bit of a Grinch, but you’re most certainly not a crook.” Logan admitted.

Remus looked at him with surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Really.” Logan put his water bottle down. “You are the most honest person we have in the mind palace. Though the honesty does cross the line to brutal sometimes, it still shows the lengths you’ll go to be truthful.” Logan explained briefly. “Besides: I think I’ll risk the countless questions and stay a while longer.”

Remus smile grew into a big toothy grin as he held his own chest. “Awwww!” Then Remus shoved his hand into his own chest and ripped his heart out, blood vessels and all. “Look! You made my heart jump!” Remus reacted as he pointed to it. Sure enough, his human heart had visibly jumped a few times in front of Logan.

Logan covered the lower half of his face and couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth. Looks like Logan will have to add the word ‘random’ to the list of Remus’s personality traits.

I'm finally back. I took nearly 3 weeks off of writing because I hit a major writers block. I am happy to say I got other things done in that time, and I used the unexpected break to my advantage. So now: I'm back and hopefully back to stay for a while.

#dirty jokes #remus is very gay #slight logan angst #comfort #ticklefic #ler!remus #lee!logan #remus is a good friend

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sapphire-strikes · 3 years

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☆Some Smile For Me Headcanons Pt. 7☆

Part. 1 Part. 2 Part. 3 Part. 4 Part. 5 Part. 6

It has been a while since I've done one of these but I figured it's just what I needed to get my creative juices flowing. Just a mishmash of random headcanons I have that I wanted to share but couldn't find a reason to fit them into my other writings.

• While Boris struggled for a while with becoming accustomed to the cuddlier aspects of having friends like physical affection, ironically enough, even before being reformed he didn't, and still doesn't, have a good understanding of personal boundaries.

• Back when he was still working as a dentist he often opted to use his own hands over some of the prodding tools when he'd have trouble handling them due to the size of his hands. He may have been wearing gloves but it's no wonder some of his patients had less than positive reviews. Kamal helps him break this habit once they start working together, thank goodness.

• Boris is the furthest thing from Germaphobe. I kind of draw this idea from the fact that he had no qualms about putting other people's teeth in his own mouth. Would probaby eat a tuna fish sandwich he found on a park bench.

• Also tends to be the kind of friend that will just touch all over your food with his bare hands. You offer him some chips and he just undercuts his whole fist into the bag and roots around.

• That same lack of boundaries applies when it comes to -ahem- baring himself to the world. If it wasn't for Kamal's indigent screams, Boris very well would be comfortable dropping his pants in the middle of the living room to change.

Boris, pulling back the shower curtain: "Hey, Kamal. We're out of-

Kamal: *shrieking*

Boris: "No need to scream, silly, it is just me! Anyway, we are out of listerine :-( "

• It's just a kind of over familiarity he takes on with the people he trusts. Boris had been living alone since moving out and going to college. He's never been that close to anybody before and he's not used to having to consider other people's boundries so it's more innocence then it is him being inconsiderate or rude.

• Kamal doesn't really mind. It took him a while to get used to living with someone that was so touchy but hey, if the big guy's has a nightmare and want to crawl into his bed then who's he to stop him.

• When Boris is in his shadow form his body becomes almost manipulable. For the most part you'd never notice as he feel completely solid but if you were to push at him with enough force your hand might break through and come out the other side. Boris looked almost as confused as you the first time it happned but it didn't seem to hurt him. Your body gets wraked with that staticky feeling stronger than ever and the thin penumbra around his body would shiver when you moved your arm around.

• Shadow Habit is also capable of stretching to a small degree; perfect for snatching up his friends.

• Boris knows how to drive but prefers to let Kamal or someone else take the wheel. The exception being when he's alone with the FK. Even if you have a lisence he'll insist on driving because he thinks it's the polite thing to do. He also regularly drives Millie, Putunia and Tim Tam around town.

• Boris is a tickle monster first but a cuddle monster second (*cough* and a shadow monster third *cough*). If it wasn't evendent already this is one of my favorite headcanons for him. The poor man needs to be held.

• Back when he was still settling in he'd let his touch starvedness show with the lingering hugs. If the other person didn't move to let go then neither would he.

• If you ever decide to test this theory you'll find out that it's right. After a few minutes he actually shifts some and you think he's about to let go but instead you're held onto as he moves to sit down.

• If you pull away to look at him curiously the sad look on his face just breaks your heart. He knows he should let go and he thinks that's what you want too but you held on for too long and now he just can't. Imagine the surprise on his face when you just smile and go back to hugging him, even as you feel the tears hitting your shoulder.

• A few months later and he's mostly out of the awkward faze but that doesn't mean the joy of a good snuggle is lost on him, if anything it's quite the opposite. This man becomes a fiend.

• If you or Kamal ever share a bed with him there's the possibility that he will roll over on top of you and you'll be stuck there until he wakes up. It's one of the only things that can get Kamal red-faced anymore. Being snuggled underneath him wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that he nuzzles whoevers under him constantly and might even make low purr if he's in a deep enough sleep.

• Makes a lot of "hrrumphs" and "Mrrph" sounds in his sleep too.

• While Boris is indeed a Professional Tickle Monster™️, he himself isn't very ticklish at all. Try to get revenge and you'll only be met with a small chuckle as he doesn't even bother to try to stop you. After he thinks you've had enough fun you're lifted up from under the arms and your positions are swapped. "Good effort! Now it is your turn! :-D" (0/10 very unfair)

• When addressing Kamal, Boris pronounces his name Kah-mal as apposed to Kuh-mul.

• Pabit, when being puppeted by Boris or talking on his own, speaks with a high pitched mobster accent. It's definitely not the type of voice you'd expect Boris to be able to make but it does suit the little guy really well.

#smile for me #sfm headcanons #Boris Habit #dr. habit #sfm writing #kamal bora #flower kid #mention of nudity

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hvilested · 3 years

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Infatuation Is a Temporary Illusion: How to Escape the Pain

LucyJul 14, 2020

As a neuroscientist, I am fascinated by infatuation; it's such a strong, mysterious phenomenon, yet is entirely scientifically-explainable.

This Too Shall Pass

I will start this by saying that however deep and impossible your situation feels, you will leave this infatuated state. There will be a day when you can think about this special person without any type of pain or passion. You will remember how strongly you felt towards them while they didn't have the same feelings for you, and it will seem completely crazy that you were so stuck in limerence.

Albeit cliché, the concept that time is the only thing that will make you feel less magnetically drawn to someone who you cannot be with is true. You cannot magic away these feelings, because they are a strong illusion created by chemicals in your brain. Over time, your neurobiology will balance out again and this person, who is acting as a potent stimulus, will no longer inspire the same physiological response in you. Thinking about your situation scientifically helps, as it steers you away from thinking in terms of romance and delusion.

What Is an Infatuation?

Are you currently struggling with huge, incredibly deep feelings for someone that you will never be with? We use the term 'infatuation' (also limerence) to describe the state of being utterly enamored by and obsessed with someone; it is the wildest thing that a human can experience in the sober, baseline state. The invisible pull that you feel will seem so novel and colossal in strength that, if experiencing infatuation for the first time, you will be certain that you will 'never feel this again', and that this person is 'the one'. After all, your body and mind react so strongly and surely to them that it is impossible to imagine a life worth living that doesn't have them at the center of it. This is not the case, as you will experience several infatuations in your life if you are prone to them.

Due to differing genetics and brain chemistry, some people are more prone to entering limerence than others; in fact, some will never experience this roller coaster of euphoria and insecurity. Unrequited crushes are normal and not too much of an issue; unrequited infatuation not only encompasses incredibly powerful attraction, admiration and a general feeling of 'love' towards the subject, but is also agonizing and depressive by nature.

If the infatuated cannot be with the person that they desire, they will likely enter a deep depression and will feel completely out of order for weeks or months, until the feelings fade or they gain closure. Irrational thoughts and misery normally accompany this rollercoaster experience, as well as physical symptoms such as elevated libido and lack of appetite (due to an excess of dopamine in the brain).

Is It a Normal Crush or an Infatuation?

You may wonder how we can define things as vague and fluid as romantic feelings. However, the line between a healthy crush and a problematic infatuation is not as thin as it seems. Crushes can be unwanted and painful, bringing ups and downs into our lives, but a true infatuation blows a crush out of the water. If deeply infatuated with someone that you cannot be with, you will think irrational thoughts such as 'I want to die - X isn't in my life and everything else makes me miserable'.

These thoughts are falsehoods, for the world is so open that you will definitely encounter other people (as well as places, music and even fashion trends) that you find fascinating.

If you are simply experiencing a romantic crush, you will find the person very appealing and may intensely want to date them, but there will be less feeling than there is in limerence - less hormonal influence, less joy, and less crying. The highs will be less euphoric, sure, but the lows will not be nearly as crushing as those experienced in the limerent state.

The difference between a crush and an infatuation is that the former allows you to enjoy the warm feelings and be in control of your emotions, while the latter is extremely unhealthy and causes the sufferer a lot of pain if they cannot be with the person they desire. A crush may feel very strong and you may want to act differently to charm the subject of your feelings, but it will never be as delusional., destructive and fantasy-based as a true infatuation is.

So, how does one differentiate between the two? In short, if you feel so distraught that you cannot be with the person that you are googling for solutions, crying before bed and upon waking, losing interest in activities that you normally love, struggling to imagine a future without the person in your life, you are definitely infatuated and not crushing. If you treat this emotional conundrum as if it were a drug addiction, you will stop feeling this way in a matter of weeks or months.

Why Do People Become Infatuated in the First Place?

Most people go through their lives organically forming healthy 'crushes'; even when not actively seeking a partner, they will encounter a few people a year that will grab their attention and seem irresistible. After all, this is biologically advantageous; we are mammals and are meant to pursue, and eventually reproduce with, those that we deem physically and emotionally intriguing.

Having said this, I will clarify that your sexual orientation is totally unimportant in your ability to develop all-consuming, raging feelings for someone. This level of feeling is just as prevalent between people of the same gender as it is between those of opposite genders. However, we are wired to pursue, bond with and care for other human beings for the sole reason of reproduction and the survival of our species. If someone is infatuated with someone of the same gender, they will experience the same concoction of erratic emotions as a straight person. Neurochemical changes will temporarily dominate your life regardless of the perceived likelihood of the passing on of your genes.

infatuations

Rupi Kaur

What to Do? Understand That Your Feelings Are Scientifically-Explainable and Never Permanent

The wild array of feelings that come along with any form of attraction may seem intangible and wondrous, but they are caused by altered levels of different neurotransmitters. Focusing on the science behind such a strong human experience is crucial in dealing with the pain that it can cause you.

Reject dwelling in the infatuation too much. It's incredibly tempting to spend hours writing and lamenting about the subject of your "love", only to enter an even more heightened state of delusion. Even if this isn't your first infatuation and you saw that you got over your last one, remember that, naturally, you will be convinced that this person is the one and that you are ruining your life by missing out on being with them.This is nonsense and is your brain tricking you!

The best way to avoid falling into this nauseating, fantasy-driven loop of obsessing and fantasising and despairing is to understand the science behind this crazy human experience.

It is also incredibly comforting to know that unrequited infatuation very rarely lasts for more than 6-8 months, and often will fizzle out incredibly suddenly and much earlier than this. This is because infatuation is neither logical nor grounded at all. It is so, so ephemeral by nature; one day you will look back at this period of your life and it will seem like a wild but distant dream. Trust me on that one.

However, to break this person-addiction habit and ensure you never, ever cry over unrequited love again, you'll need to dig very deep and be committed to recovery. Your external world is a mere reflection of your beliefs and what you allow to imprint itself into your subconscious mind. By meeting your psychological needs healthily and treating unhealed wounds, you will become completely, 100% immune to infatuation/limerence. Potential partners will sparkle to you, make your heart sing and you'll be able to transition into real relationships with them instead of you manifesting unrequited love and crying spells. I promise you this.

infatuations

Feeling Something Intensely Doesn't Mean It's Permanent

Don't get confused and think that, just because you feel such strong passion for this person, your feelings will 'last forever' and you will 'never get over them'. For some reason, when us humans experience something intense or profound, we do what no other animals do and we introduce a poignant aspect of eternality to the situation. It's a huge logical fallacy to think 'I feel strongly about X, hence I will ALWAYS feel this way', yet we all do it. Our tragic flaw is, in many ways, that we are aware of time and the future and cannot simply live in the moment and deal with whatever strong feelings we are experiencing as they come and go.

If you think about, a large part of your pain is that you feel that you won't ever have a happy, fulfilled, exciting life without this individual. After all, they've inspired so much energy in you and you haven't felt this way with anyone else before. The truth is that, no, your infatuation will not last long and will certainly not be permanent.

Infatuation has a shelf-life because it is based in the fantasy and reality cannot maintain it. It is such idealisation and irrationality that, once the real world creeps in and you become aware that your feelings are unfounded and inappropriate, they will naturally dissipate. It is for this reason that couples who feel 'infatuated' often become bored after around 6 months. They aren't experiencing that surge of initial attraction or the wondrous mystery that their partner made them feel when they first met, because they were simply infatuated then and didn't really know their partner.

What Does It Mean If You're Prone To Infatuation?

Being a neuroscientist, my attention has been drawn to the fact that those of us who fall into infatuations are 1. prone to this state (experience it over and over again until they learn precisely how to treat the root cause, even if each "episode" feels novel and "different this time"), and 2. we are people who feel things very intensely.

Now, I am aware that virtually every single person on this planet feels certain things strongly and irrationally, but a limerence really is at the top of the scale in terms of intensity, especially since mental illness is usually thrown into the mix. Nearly every single person who I have seen who has fallen into a deep infatuation has been on the spectrum for severe depression, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder (BPD) or OCD (meaning, they could obtain a psychiatric diagnosis for one of these illnesses).

I don't want to scare you; I am a firm believer that we all sit on spectrums for most mental health conditions, and that there should be no fear or taboo enshrouding this type of information. Many of us could be diagnosed with different things and obtain certain psychiatric labels, but I don't think we should strive to do this unless our mental health is affecting our quality of life extremely negatively. However, I do have to tell you: infatuation at its worst is not neurotypical.

If you tend to live your life emptily, only motivated and made to feel emotion by unobtainable people who you think can make everything okay, then you are most probably mentally ill (by society's definition, at least). If your self-esteem was moderately high and you were mainly mentally healthy (no depressive episodes, no propensity to obsession, no episodes of mania) then it is highly unlikely that you would fall into an illusion so controlling as infatuation.

As I have mentioned and will continue mentioning in this article, infatuation is a deceitful trick. It's your brain's way of latching onto something that could, in theory, make you happy and take away all your troubles. For this reason, if you are infatuated with someone, you are not happy with your current life. You might want to tell me "I am happy and confident, this person is just so special/beautiful that I need them", but that statement would be yet another dopamine-driven delusion.

If you are prone to infatuation/limerence:

you have a lot of love to give to people, whether platonic or romantic (this is a blessing). I suggest that you utilise this in the healthiest possible way and focus on solidifying strong, platonic friendships. You won't feel the high of infatuation and attraction, but you won't experience the horrible lows either, and you will be immensely satisfied because you'll form close bonds and feel understood by people who want to be in your life for genuine reasons, other than desire.

as mentioned above, you are probably mentally ill in some way, and could most likely be diagnosed with OCD, depression, anxiety, BPD, or bipolar disorder. Don't let this scare you. A diagnosis would just be putting a label on what you've felt your entire life.

you will fall into more of these miserable infatuations if you do not treat the root-cause, which is unmet psychological needs and limiting beliefs regarding yourself and your worth. Don't let them shape your months and years, and don't let your life be a string of feelings for different people with you making no advancements in your own life. Even if you don't feel sound enough on a psychological level, force yourself to make friends, to exercise, to work and to read books. You'll be pleasantly surprised at how quickly you actually make new brain pathways and *escape* this hell.

you're very prone to fantasising about ideas, people and concepts that could, in theory, help you "escape" the current life or situation that you are in. Use this to your advantage - it just means that your brain is prone to creating dopaminergic pathways to motivate you. Currently, you're motivated to get this person into your life, but you can use this mental tactic to enjoy other things intensely, like academics, hobbies, pets etc. Become obsessed with another country, and make it your mission to learn the language fluently and move there within the next 8 years. Grab onto something other than a person that sparks your interest and get you thinking "my life would be amazing IF ...", whether it be the idea of gaining muscle at the gym, redecorating your house or writing a novel. Some would advise against this, but I have evidence to prove that it's a healthy way to cope with a propensity to idolising people. Hobbies/pets/languages/exercise won't turn you limerent, so obsess over them instead.

unless you work hard on yourself to recover from this susceptibility to falling hard and selflessly for people, your partners will never be on the same page as you. They will never love you as fiercely as you "love" them, because they will never be consumed by someone in the way that people consume and fill your existence. This may fill you with sadness but is reality; the fact that you have developed the behavioural pattern of limerence isn't their problem, nor is it something that many people will relate to. Wishing for someone to fall for you in this lovesick, bittersweet way is going to align you with reactive, toxic people who are generally unstable and enmesh with you too quickly.

the best comes last: you can become immune to infatuation/limerence! You'll need to do a lot of research on how to attack your subconscious mind and alter your brain's fundamental wirings, but it's surprisingly simpler than it sounds and the only path to complete emotional freedom.

infatuations

Rupi Kaur

Yes, This Is Just One of Your Many Phases!

Live in the moment and deal with any false, irrational thoughts like 'this will last forever'. Every time you think that, correct yourself and remember that you're feeling something very strong and unpleasant, but that's all it is and in no way does this equate to any form of permanence.

You can feel things strongly without them lasting forever! I don't know why we, as humans, struggle with this idea so much. There are so many sensory afflictions that come and go. For example, think of a terrible illness where you're vomiting constantly and can barely walk. You feel like you're never going to feel well again, but days later, you bounce back. The illness is just a faint memory that doesn't even inspire much emotion in you. Similarly, sometimes we come across music that we love and then can barely stand to hear it a month later.

We, as humans, go through many phases in our life. Phases are definitely valid life experiences, but find comfort in their ephemerality! This boy or girl is a phase in your life, albeit an intense one. One day, you will look back and associate them with whatever music you're currently listening to, the clothes you're currently wearing and the way that you feel. That is because those aspects of your life are also a phase. This person won't make your heart skip forever. If you take one thing from this article, let it be that. You won't believe me now, but there will come a time when you don't care who they date, and their name won't even stand out to you in a list. Human emotions are weird, huh?

Remember: You Love Your Brain's Chemicals, Not This Person

Unless you are experiencing a healthy crush within reality (just attraction and the feeling of connection), your infatuation is a result of an unhealthy dopamine reward circuit that your brain has essentially created as a survival mechanism. You are so depressed/unfulfilled/lonely that your brain knows that real life isn't offering much for you in terms of incentive to live, so it creates its own happiness in order to temporarily relieve you from unhappiness, nihilism and lack of focus.

Infatuation is the brain making its own fun through a 'fantasy bond'. Your brain provides you with a sugary high full of wonder and hope and promises for the future, and then when real life doesn't follow the illusion (e.g. when the person unsurprisingly doesn't devote their entire life to you because they have their own life/feelings), you will experience the consequent crash. There is a duality to every strong psychological experience, and what goes up always comes down.

Mocking yourself slightly and realising that your brain is 'glitching' in this way is imperative. Tell yourself, "I love dopamine, not him/her!". If the attraction wasn't there, and you knew their personality inside out, would you still 'need' them? It's almost impossible that you would. You might love them in a genuine, affectionate way, just like some elderly couples love each other after years of commitment, but it wouldn't be delightful and euphoric, nor would it be what you're craving now.

Find comfort in the above. If you find yourself thinking "I've met him at the wrong point in my life, we could have grown old together etc." remember that the romance wouldn't feel like this for more than a few months anyway. Yes, maybe if you had met this man in 5 years time you'd date and then marry him and be happy (in the stable sense of the word, with no thrill), but the truth is that that's not even what you want. You want to be able to act on the passionate feelings that you currently have, and for those to last forever, which is why the supposed "missed connection" is so tragic and hard for you to cope with. The thing is, as I've explained, the sheer concept of living with them forever and feeling this way with them forever is a fairytale that your brain has created.

In short: your brain has messed up here, and is misunderstanding the situation. We are animals at the end of the day, and our bodies function to promote survival, often not bothering about our feelings. If your life is lacking authenticity, excitement and motivation, your brain may work to ensure the survival of your genes by creating its own goals. Don't listen to everything that your mind is telling you and try not to crave the highs that it is offering you!

Neuroscience: What Causes Infatuation?

Understanding the science behind this turbulent experience is crucial, and is the only way to think practically without being nihilistic and numbing yourself to your feelings. This area of neuroscience is fascinating, as it deals with human experiences that seem so spiritual and magical that it's hard to believe that they are caused and controlled by relatively simple chemicals. However, a handful of neurotransmitters control all aspects of your mood and mental health, and therefore can explain every thought and motive that an infatuation will cause you to experience.

1. Dopamine is the 'pleasure chemical', and relates to euphoria, addiction and craving. It can also inspire goal-based behaviour, e.g. wanting to save money to plan an elaborate trip, or, more relevantly, wanting that "perfect life" with someone you have recently met where you two are alone and free, revelling in each other's happiness. When you first fall into infatuation and you cannot imagine happiness with anyone else but this individual, it is dopamine acting... and boy, is dopamine a powerful neurotransmitter! It gives us momentum in life and quite literally drives humanity, but in the case of infatuation, it is a delightful yet dangerous substance.

When noradrenaline is also released, the two neurotransmitters can undergo a reaction and produce not only an elated mood, but also focused attention, hyper-activity and loss of appetite. All of these changes can be witnessed in the "lovesick"; you develop tunnel vision during these biochemical changes. You are greatly inspired by anything to do with the other person, and bored at the rest of the world, for it all seems so dull compared to the object of your passion. While noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter and adrenaline a hormone, the two contribute synergistically to a racing heart and the novel excitement associated with love.

2. Serotonin is low when you are infatuated, which is counterintuitive, as high levels of serotonin are also commonly associated with "lovey-dovey" feelings. In fact, taking ecstasy causes a great release of this neurotransmitter, and depression is caused by low levels of it. However, the infatuated brain shows the same low serotonin levels as someone with OCD, which explains the obsessive nature of infatuation, and hence why you should avoid romanticizing your state and realize that you are essentially mentally ill while in the throes of this level of passion.

3. Adrenaline activates stress responses in the body, and is involved with the physiological signs of infatuation. It activates the levels of other hormones like cortisol, which all activate the sympathetic nervous system in a cascade-like manner, causing trembling, sweating and an increased heart rate.

4. Oxytocin is released during intimate acts, cuddling and other forms of close, trust-based contact. It is slightly different to the others, as it does not directly cause "infatuation". In other words, it does not contribute to the insanely powerful passion that one feels while infatuated. Rather, it adds to the experience by increasing the sweet feelings of trust and fondness. For this reason, it is also extremely important in relationships after the infatuation and hence the craving (caused by dopamine) wears off. If the people in the relationship do not possess adequate amounts of oxytocin (and vasopressin), it is unlikely that the relationship will last once they have passed through the drugged-up stage of infatuation and are suddenly aware of each other's flaws.

I urge you to think about the science behind your feelings, as it will help you rationalise what you feel. Allow yourself to cry but don't let yourself romanticise this 'missed connection', because it was never there in the first place. Your neurobiology has temporarily gone awry and taken control of your feelings, but this level of misery cannot and will not last.

#love #infatuation #limerence #depression #mental illness #mental health #anxiety #ocd #self hatred #self loathing #self love #dopamine #dopaminergic pathways #brain #deceit #illusion #obsessed #obsession #attachment

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creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 8 - Welcome to Our Freakshow

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Stirring awake, she tries opening her eyes, finding that it's exceptionally difficult due to her drowsy state. She waits a moment, collecting her bearings and slowly coming to the realization that, instead of leaning against a wall like she remembers doing, that she's laying on her back, on a seemingly cushioned surface. Like a bed. That's strange... did she sleepwalk? Or get up and get back in her bed? But she doesn't recall such a thing. Maybe she was just too tired to pay attention.

That dream though... This time, the dream was a bit... different than usual. There wasn't any static, there weren't any dead bodies, she wasn't in a completely different setting. All she remembers is feeling a rush of adrenaline, a moment of panic, then blackness. It was definitely odd, not that she's complaining any. If she had dreams like that all the time instead of whatever she's been experiencing recently, she'd be a lot more at ease. She can faintly remember seeing someone, or something, in front of her, trying to keep her quiet. It looked a little familiar, but she can't seem to figure out why.

This dream was a lot more up-close and personal, though. And it felt so... so real. Realer than her others have been, which is pretty baffling. What did the figure look like? Mostly black, with some dark blue? And a type of inky liquid? The whole incident is blurry to her, though she assumes it's because her mind wanted to make it all unnerving.

That voice, though. She knows she's heard that voice, before. Where? That's a total mystery to her, but maybe with some thought about the matter, she'll be able to place it. Or maybe it's all just in her head and she's never heard that voice in her life. She brings her hands up to rub her face, attempting to wake herself up a bit more so she can actually open her eyes and finally gathers the energy to sit up, if only slightly. As her eyes adjust to the moderate amount of sunlight spilling through the crack of the currently shut curtains right beside her, the first thing she discovers is that the scenery is... well, completely different from the bedroom she was in previously.

It's much smaller, being only big enough to hold an average-sized mahogany dresser to her left, a bedside desk to her immediate right crafted of the same wood, and sitting atop that desk is a lamp with a candlestick shade, a glass of room temperature water, and an unopened small pack of crackers; the kind one would receive from a restaurant. A window with simple brown and red drapes sits directly beside the desk, and across from her, on the other side of the room, is a shut door. She's unsure if it leads outside or to a closet of some kind.

The wallpaper in the room is white with occasional, tiny flowers colored a delicate shade of blue printed onto it, and the floor is made of hickory hardwood, part of it is covered by a thin, maroon rug of oval shape. The musty smell that the room itself puts off gives her the idea that it hasn't quite been used in a while, though the small cobweb dangling in the corner of the ceiling proves that theory. Either that, or it just hasn't had a proper cleaning.

Her heart skips a beat and she doesn't even try to slow her breathing for the time being. This isn't her bedroom, nor is it any other room in her Nana and Pops' house, at least not one that she can remember. As far as she can tell, she's in a whole other household completely. But why? Who brought her here? Her gaze travels down to her body, almost instantly seeing a bandaid stuck to the inward area of her elbow. What the heck...?

Instantly, she peels it away in one quick motion, tossing it aside and not giving the very brief discomfort it causes any thought, instead focusing solely on the barely-noticeable pinprick still very present in her skin. She knows what that is. That's where somebody stuck a needle into her arm. But who? And why? What did they inject her with?

This thought sends her mind into a frenzy as she fully comprehends the startling, unexplained situation, and she throws the blanket that had been apparently placed over her prior to her awakening away, and jumps to her feet, almost instantly being hit with a wave of dizziness once she does so. Shaking her head to rid herself of the disorienting feeling, she uses one hand to prop her body against the wall to ensure she doesn't fall down, and with the other, she pulls back the drapes hung in front of the window, sticking her head through the widened crack and squinting her eyes at the minor change in illumination.

She can barely see through the thick greenery grown in front of the glass and obscuring most of the outside world, though she manages to see the trees that surround, she assumes, the whole house. Her grandparents live in a heavily wooded area, yes. But she knows for a fact that the lawn around the length of their house is almost completely free of trees. She isn't in her grandparents' house anymore. So where is she? And how did she get here?

Without a stroke of hesitation, she curls her fingers beneath the bottom rim of the window, and with one swift tug, attempts to open it, trying again when it doesn't work. She doesn't know why she's here, and she refuses to stay long enough to get that information. If it weren't for this being totally unfamiliar territory to her, sure, she may have stuck around until someone explains it to her. But not only does she get a bad feeling from this room, this place, but she also has plenty of reasons to want to escape.

It's very apparent to her that she was drugged and brought here against her will. How? Beats her, although she isn't going to stop long enough to question it for too long. With wide, frantic eyes, she searches for a lever to unlock the window, seeing two of them on opposite sides of the frame and instantly pulling them toward her. Hopefully, this will actually work this time. She spends the next two minutes yanking upward on the window, hoping to the highest heavens that it will eventually fly open so she can get out. Her grandparents must be worried sick if they've been calling for her, and looking for her, and she isn't even in the house. She doesn't know where she is.

How long has she been gone? There isn't a clock in the room so she can't actively check, but she assumes it has to be around nine o'clock in the morning, given the angle of sunshine flooding in through the trees. It's only a guess, though. "Come on, just open, you stupid thing..." she mutters, really not wanting to use the door as her escape route. But if it has to be done...

Finally giving up on the window with an aggravated slap against the glass, she twists around, searching desperately for a weapon of sorts. If she has to wander out of this room in an unknown, likely dangerous house, then she sure as heck doesn't want to go out unprepared. Quietly, yet hurriedly, she opens the drawers to the dresser, then the one attached to the small desk, but to her misfortune, finds nothing. Everything is empty.

She looks beneath the bed, under the rug, behind a door that she discovers leads to the closet, though still sees nothing whatsoever that could be of use to her. It's almost comical how utterly defenseless she is right now, and she would laugh if she wasn't so terrified. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she feels worried tears prick at her eyes as she hesitantly walks toward the still-closed door, the one she is now confident leads to the rest of the house, and reaches out, wrapping her fingers around the knob.

With a deep breath and a mental pep-talk, she tries to twist it, her heart dropping when it, too, doesn't move. She tries again, after all, maybe it's just stuck? Nope. Whoever brought her here has locked her in and now she has no way of possible escape. What should she do now? The window obviously isn't going to budge, but should she keep trying? Or just wait until somebody eventually comes inside and attack them? It doesn't look like she has another option.

Her gaze shifts back over to the desk, then to the water still sitting untouched on its surface. Of course it's untouched. What is she going to do? Drink it? Only an idiot would do such a thing. But... that does look like a rather heavy glass. Heavy enough to lob at someone's head and hope they get knocked cold? Guess there's only one way to find out.

She snatches it up, not caring about the drops of water that fall to the floor from the action, and stands only a couple of feet in front of the door, drawing her arm back and getting ready to throw her only defense mechanism at the first thing she sees come into the room. Maybe she'll catch them off-guard, at least long enough that it will enable her to get out, for the most part, unharmed. Fortunately, she doesn't have to wait for very long, for soon she hears footsteps outside before the knob turns and the door slowly swings open.

Not taking time to pay attention to many details of the person entering the room, she launches the glass at them though only manages to strike them in the shoulder, the water from inside splashing out and either soaking that area of their clothes or hitting the floor, the glass following closely behind and breaking into several different pieces. The person releases a grunt of surprise, flinching back slightly and looking down at the makeshift weapon hurled at him, then shifting his gaze back up to the h\c-haired girl standing warily ahead.

She would have used that as a distraction and booked it past him and out of the room, and that's what she originally intended, had it not been for the unusually tall figure still standing in front of the door, blocking her path and making it impossible without a struggle. Dang, I should've waited until he was farther inside to actually throw it...

Once he tilts his head back up in her direction, she sucks in a sudden breath and hurriedly backs away in a mixture of fear and shock, trying to comprehend the sight before her but having quite a bit of trouble. That's what he looked like. That's what the figure in her dream looked like. Seeing him now, in real life rather than just her mind, she can remember that. This is why she felt so afraid. He's terrifying...

But it was just a dream. It should have just been a dream. Is he the one who brought her here, wherever 'here' is? She backs away so fast that she runs into the foot of the bed, nearly tripping though able to catch herself before she actually falls, and continues until her back hits the wall. He stands in the same place, staring at her through the black, empty pits replacing his eyes and realizing how alarmed she clearly is. Not that he can blame her for that.

He raises his hands in a non-threatening manner, keeping his posture mellow and speaking, voice deep. "Y\n... I know what you're thinking."

It knows my name? It knows my freaking name?? Her breathing quickens and her eyes frantically avert around the room, trying to find something, anything, to use as a potential weapon, but her luck runs dry. She stays silent, waiting to see what move he'll make, if he'll even make a move.

"...But you're okay. No one's gonna hurt you." He takes a small step forward, keeping his hands up to show her he isn't holding anything. She only backs farther up into the wall, narrowing her eyes up at him and remaining silent. "You were brought here so we could protect you."

'We'? There's more of them? She parts her lips, nervousness coursing through her veins as she contains the tears trying to spill over and onto her cheeks. "Wh...who are you?" She tries to make it sound like a fearless demand, but it comes out as a meek whisper. No, stop it! He can smell fear!

He hesitates a moment. "You... don't recognize me, but I'm Jack." Her eyebrows furrow incredulously as she stares at him, gaze unwavering. "What I told you about moving here with my mom, that was a lie. I do live here, but... I'm with a group of people. Not my mom."

"I don't believe you," she manages to spit out, tone venomous and looking past him, through the door, into what seems to be a hallway. This... this seemingly eyeless freak is Jack? No, Jack was normal. This person isn't. But she has to admit, his voice does ring some bells in her mind.

"You don't have to. Point is, you're here for protection. Nobody here is going to hurt you in any way, you don't need to be scared."

Right, and I should trust the guy who drugged, kidnapped, and brought me here to his 'group' against my will for what reason? "Let me go," she says, voice hardening and muscles tense. He shakes his head, taking another step forward.

"That's something I can't do."

"I don't want to be here. Let. Me. Go." Her hands clench into anxious fists, heart pounding what feels like a thousand miles an hour as he takes yet another cautious step forward. Maybe I can incapacitate him then run like a madwoman through the door.

"You need to stay here. Somebody dangerous is after you, and this is the only place you'll be safe."

"Says the one who shoved a needle into my arm and pumped me full of whatever-the-heck it was you used to knock me out with," she retorts, fiery attitude returning in full form due to the alarming and unexpected circumstances. She hears him let out a sigh, muffled by his navy blue mask.

"I only did that because I knew you wouldn't come with me willingly."

"Oh gee, I wonder why." She scoffs, eyeing the door now a couple of feet behind him and contemplating her chances. Just come a little closer, buddy. I dare you.

"Look... I know you're scared and don't know what's going on. I can explain it to you, you just... need to pay attention." He steps even closer. "We don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah...?" Her timid, soft tone is very intentional, and he tilts his head slightly at the sudden shift in expression and eases even nearer.

"Yes, Y\n. I promise." She uses the wall to brace herself as she lines her foot up with her target, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to do.

"Wish I could say the same." Before he has time to react, she brings her knee up and forcefully rams her foot between his legs, causing him to double over in pain and give her enough time to dart past him and through the door, grabbing the knob as she does so and slamming it shut behind her to spare herself as much opportunity as she can. Briefly, she checks for a lock, only seeing a keyhole and figuring out he must have the key, so she glances to the right, thankfully spotting what she guesses is a door to the outside world.

She rushes down the hallway, past another door across from the room she was just trapped inside, and directly into a small living room with nothing but a maroon sofa slid in front of a covered window, an armchair at a 90-degree angle, and a coffee table in front of both with a few meaningless items scattered on top of it that she could care less about. Heading straight for the door, she turns the brass lock up and yanks the door open, blinded by her motivation to escape and be as fast as humanly possible.

Yep, just as she suspected. She's surrounded by forest, overgrown grass, and overall a poorly maintained lawn. She can only hope that she doesn't trip over any of the obstacles between her and freedom. What's most hazardous is the fallen branches and rocks hidden by foliage, so hidden in fact, that she wouldn't know that they were there until she was eating dirt. The sun's light is mildly obscured by the large number of trees looming over her, but she can see her surroundings clear enough that it shouldn't cause a problem, at least not one too big.

She leaps off of the small, wooden porch and into the lengthy grass, using it as momentum to gain more speed and hurrying in-between the many trees. She has no idea where she is, but the trees seem to be, overall, the same kind that grows around her grandparents' house, so she has hope that she's at least in the same general area. Could she have been hauled off to a whole other state? Surely she wasn't asleep for that long, right? ...Right?

She sticks her hands out and swipes the brush and low-hanging branches out of her way so she doesn't get stabbed in the eye and have her vision rendered. That would be a very bad thing, so of course, she wants to avoid it. Occasionally, she feels the sharp impact of various plants scratch up her arms, twigs getting caught in her hair, and briars sticking through the thin material of her socks since she didn't have any shoes on while sleeping, though ignores it, for the most part, focusing on finding a trail, a road, something other than pure forest. Something to lead her back to civilization so she can get hold of the police, and in hindsight, contact her grandparents. They must be so worried about her. How long has she been gone?

The temperature isn't extremely hot yet, but she suspects it will be steadily rising the later into the day it gets. Adrenaline pumps through her body, her mind not fully able to comprehend what just happened. Did she really just escape her kidnapper? How often does that happen? Maybe she does have a chance of survival, after all. Well... she does as long as she doesn't get caught, again. If he wasn't intending to hurt her before, he for sure will after being kicked in the nuts. She's no dude, but she can imagine that getting hit in such a... sensitive area, can't feel very good.

Not that she cares about that right now, anyway. He had it coming. Past the erratic beating of her heart, she can hear the crunching of greenery beneath her feet as her speed gradually increases. The farther away she gets from that house, the more of a chance she has to escape. But then he'd track her down, again. He knows where she's staying. He took her from her own temporary home. But then does that mean... what did he do to her grandparents?

She's shaken from her thoughts when she hears the faint bark of a dog, the sound drawing closer and closer no matter how fast she runs. Oh no... They have a freaking dog, too? Now I'm dead for sure! Quickening her pace does nothing whatsoever, and not even a minute later the barking is so close by she swears the dog itself has to only be a few feet away. Oh no, oh no, oh no, please don't—

A sudden blunt force takes hold of her ankle and tugs her back, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward with a pained grunt as the force becomes firmer. She isn't stupid, she knows that the dog just bit her, and she likely isn't going to coax it into letting her go. After all, if that guy and his friends regularly kidnap random people then they probably have a lot of runaways. This is nothing new to the dog.

She can hear the dog's low, threatening growls from behind her as its teeth sink through her pants and into the flesh on her leg, hard enough to leave indents but she doubts it will draw blood. She could be wrong, though. Her breathing is quick as she attempts to collect her bearings, wanting desperately to get away before whoever owns the dog comes to collect her and send her to the inevitable... whatever they do to the people they forcefully take here.

She swallows a cry of fear, keeping her eyes planted down to the dirt that broke her fall and meekly trying to pull her leg out of the dog's mouth. It becomes apparent to her that it isn't going to let go when it shakes its head and drags her a couple of inches backward, heightening the volume of its snarl. It sends another bolt of pain up through her ankle, and she winces, wracking her brain for solutions to this particular situation. If only she had watched more National Geographic then maybe she'd know what do to when a potentially rabid dog attacks...

Maybe... it plays fetch. Yeah, she mentally scoffs, 'fetch the human'. Unfortunately, she doesn't see any stray sticks around that could be thrown, not that she could reach very far even if there were. Hesitantly, she twists her head around to look at her captor, eyes widening when she meets the narrowed ones of an unusually large Husky, its gaze boring into hers and sending another twinge of pain through her leg when it bites down harder.

Her eyes travel down to the inflicted ankle, seeing not pointed, regular canines, but instead flat, human-like teeth, greatly catching her off-guard and making her gulp. What has she been thrown into? First some guy without eyes leaking some black, runny goop from his sockets, now a dog with human teeth? What's next, cyborg zombies from space? How does this even exist? It should be impossible.

But here she is, and here it is, latching onto her leg without mercy and being very real. "H-hi, doggy..." she starts, voice shaky and soft as to not alarm it and send it into full-on attack mode instead of just catch-and-keep mode. It releases another unfriendly growl, its eyes holding aggression. It's obvious this animal—if you could even call it that—isn't trustful of her in the least. Something she considers very hapless. "Let me go, please..."

She's so distracted by the freakish-looking dog that she doesn't hear somebody else steadily approaching, not until they're standing directly above her, their shadow blocking the sunlight and casting shade over her body. She doesn't even want to look up for fear of seeing something even stranger than a dog with actual human teeth but also doesn't want to seem weak in front of a possible deranged psychopath. What's the worse it could be though?

Don't jinx it, Y\n. Giving into both temptation and her strong urge to remain as bold as possible, she cranes her neck and her eyes trail up, taking notice of his converse shoes, ripped jeans, white hoodie with... questionable red stains, and shoulder-length black hair. Interesting style. His eyes are a bright, icy shade of blue, and the bottom portion of his face is covered with a black bandana being used as a makeshift mask. Why would he need a mask? Ya know what, I don't wanna know.

"Well, hello, girlie," he says, voice low and gruff as he stands in a casual-looking demeanor and gazes down at her. "Ya know, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye." She sends him a glare, her tone mundane and holding a sense of obviousness.

"We never even met." He raises an eyebrow in response, bending his knees and squatting down closer to her level.

"And whose fault is that?" She doesn't answer, instead continues mildly struggling against the dog's grasp and glancing at him expectantly. He looks at her with the same expression.

"Call it off." She assumes that this canine belongs to him, either that or he's used to its presence because he isn't freaking out about it. He stares down at her, unblinking, and the dog bites down harder, making her intake a sharp breath of discomfort. "Please. It hurts."

"Oh, it hurts, does it?" He takes his hand and pulls his 'mask' down around his neck, revealing the very noticeable scars that look to have been messily carved into his cheeks, forming a crooked, permanent smile. She withdraws slightly, a bit alarmed by his disfigured face. Sure, it's definitely freaky and raises inquiries, but it's not as unnerving as random men showing up with featureless masks and no eyes who kidnap you in the middle of the night. "I do believe that's the point."

She stays silent, taking in his odd attributes. Those cuts, no matter how healed they may be, look like they could burst open any second. Did he do that to himself? What kind of sick freak would carve a smile into their face? Then again, who would own a dog with human teeth? He smirks—at least, she thinks it's a smirk—and leans in closer, causing her to scoot farther away. Well, as far away as she can get, considering her current restraint.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He's probably well aware of the thoughts racing through her mind and is taking pleasure in making her uncomfortable, but her expression hardens, not willing to show him that he's getting to her.

"No." She takes a glimpse at the dog still holding onto her tightly, refusing to let her go. "Dog got my ankle." He snorts in what she takes as amusement, his gaze shifting down to the dog briefly as well before he meets her eyes again.

"Fair enough." He snaps his fingers, rising to his full height and pulling the bandana back up over his mouth and the bridge of his nose, once again hiding his slightly disturbing facial features. "Smile, let go." As soon as the command leaves his mouth, the dog, who she now knows is called 'Smile' for fitting reasons, immediately releases her ankle and takes a step away from her, attention on the male of average height.

Once the action is completed, she flips on her back and sits up, bending her knee and examining the affected area. The bottom leg of her pants is not only soaked with saliva but also ripped in various places, and worse, she can see blood coming to the surface of the torn skin beneath. So I was wrong... Scowling at Smile, she rubs at her ankle, not even considering fleeing the scene again. Smile would most certainly catch her, and a failed attempt at escape isn't worth an injury, especially one disabling her to walk.

"Good boy, Smile," he says, patting the dog affectionately on the head and earning an excited bark in response. "You have a fat, juicy steak in your near future." She rolls her eyes when Smile wags his tail, grumbling in protest and wincing when she hits a particularly raw area on her ankle. The man nudges her leg with his shoe, hard enough that it'll likely leave a bruise later, and she narrows her eyes up at him. "Hey, if you didn't want to be dog chow maybe you shouldn't have tried to run away."

"Well, maybe your buddy shouldn't have kidnapped me."

"You kiddin'? Jack isn't my buddy. And I didn't even want you here, but the others thought it was the 'best call'." Before she has time to process it, she feels his hand wrap around her arm before she's effortlessly pulled to her feet, stumbling a bit and having to lean against a nearby tree for support since he let go as soon as she was up. "Trust me dollface; if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here."

Her nose scrunches up in disgust at the abrupt and very much unwanted nickname, watching as he starts walking back in the direction she originally came from while he pulls out a phone, scrolling through something unknown with his thumb and looking back up at her as if waiting for her to do something.

"Well? I don't have all day, ya know. I've got things to do." He signals ahead of him with his head, implying what he expects of her. She is currently zoned in on the small device in his hand, though. If she can get her hands on that, she'll be able to call the cops and get out of here. Back to her grandparents... if something hasn't been done to them. She will kill every person here if she finds out one of them killed or hurt her Nana and Pops, even if she dies in the process.

He continues staring at her for several more seconds, almost seeming confused as to what she's looking at so intently until he follows her gaze and it leads him to the phone. Raising his eyebrows knowingly, he grins from behind his mask, holding the device between his thumb and index finger and waving it in front of her face.

"Oh, I see. You want this, don't cha?" She presses her lips together into a firm line, shifting her e\c eyes back up to his mostly-covered face and giving him an indignant glare. "What, you gonna call the police? Get us arrested?" A dark chuckle escapes his mouth, and he takes a step closer to her when she doesn't answer. "Lemme let you in on a little secret, girlie." She leans her head back as he gets way past her personal boundaries, staring her directly in the eyes as his entire aura grows dangerous and whispering. "Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

The mere tone his voice holds is enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up from unease, though she doesn't break eye-contact, no matter how much he may be trying to intimidate her right now. What the heck is wrong with this person! His words almost sound like a threat, and she has to hold her breath to stop it from shaking.

"Keep that in mind next time you try and get out, k?" He brings his hand down onto her shoulder, giving it a rough pat before spinning around and continuing to walk ahead of her with Smile by his side, and she doesn't miss the way he discreetly pulls the shiny blade of his knife out of his hoodie pocket, in clear view of her, before putting it back and acting as if nothing happened. She gulps, quickly figuring out that this dude is not to be messed with. Not without proper defenses, at least.

She tries to slow down her accelerated heartbeat, remaining completely still until he looks back at her with an evil glint in his icy-blue orbs, once again silently telling her to get a move on, to which she hesitantly obeys. If she were to try and run, she'd surely be caught. She doesn't want to get on this guy's bad side, not until she has a weapon of her own so maybe she'll have a fighting chance. Limping a few feet behind him, sharp pains zip up her leg each time she puts weight on the injury, and she stares at the man's back, watching as he presses the phone to his ear.

"I got her, don't send the others out to look." An incoherent voice erupts from the opposite line, and she tries to listen in on what's being said, though fails. "Well, call them back. It isn't that hard." What sounds like a scoff can be heard from the phone before he takes it away from his ear and shoves it back into his jeans pocket, seemingly done with the short conversation. "You better pick up the pace back there. I'm not gonna frickin' carry you if that's what you expect."

"Over my dead body," she retorts, though makes an effort to walk a bit faster to avoid making him mad, even at her disadvantage and the pain it causes.

"That can be arranged. Smile." She eyes the dog warily as it raises its head in attention, subconsciously shifting closer to the male in front just so maybe she can use him as a sort of shield before she's completely mauled to death. "Shall we teach her not to say such a thing without actually meaning it?" Smile whines, she can't figure out if it's in agreement or confusion, but for her sake, she hopes it's the latter.

"I do mean it." Her words are strong, a lot stronger than she expected considering the nerves jumping in her throat, but she's satisfied nonetheless. He's quiet a moment before clicking his tongue, glancing back at her with crinkled eyes, and shaking his head.

"Heh. Ya know, maybe you won't be as annoying as I thought."

"Oh really? Gee, thanks," she mutters, biting the inside of her cheek and dreading what's to happen when she gets back to...Jack's house. He certainly won't react well to her reappearance considering what she did to him. Was he telling the truth? Is he actually the Jack that she met just a couple of days prior? But... she doesn't see how that could be possible. Jack looked like an actual human being, but this person looked completely different... He is wearing the same attire, though, and his voice is undeniably similar.

If that is the case, why would he bring her here, to a place full of weirdos, Jack himself being one of them? As far as she knows, they seemed to hit it off pretty well. So why would he kidnap and put her in danger? Cause he's a psycho. Just like Joker wannabe over here.

"Now, I think we both know what happens if you try and get away, again." She stares at the back of his head, unimpressed, as she wraps her arms loosely around her torso to soothe herself a minuscule amount. "Not that I care, of course. Frowny face just wants you alive, I could give less of a crap whether you become Smile's dinner or not if I'm being honest."

"Yeah, you already established that. I appreciate the concern, really." Sarcasm practically drips from her voice, as she tries to form some kind of escape plan in her mind.

"Hey, what else am I here for?" Rolling her eyes and releasing a small huff, she looks down at her ankle as it steadily leaks blood, knowing she'll have to doctor it soon before it gets infected. Who knows what that... thing is carrying? Considering her no doubt unfortunate situation, she shakes her head in disbelief.

My God... what is going on? And why am I involved with it?

#Creepypasta #x Reader #female reader #Creepypasta x reader Creepypasta x female reader #fanfiction #Jeff the Killer #Smile.jpg #Eyeless Jack #Y\n L\n

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 1

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 2 Part 3

Your high heels click on the marble floor, numerous conversations stopping in the hotel’s lobby since you haven’t been seen around in the past 3 years. The concierge can’t hide a smile and you take your sunglasses off, finally making it to the front desk after driving for hours.

“Welcome to the Continental, Miss Y/N. Such a pleasure to see you.”

“Thank you Charon,” you remove 7 gold coins out of your purse and slide them on the counter towards him. “It’s good to see you too.”

“For how long will we have the pleasure of your company?” the man inquires, taking a peek at the computer’s screen to make sure he can shuffle things if needed.

“One night.”

“That will only be 4 coins,” Charon informs and you point out at the tiny pile:

“The rest is for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/N,” he smiles again, typing on the keyboard. “Your old room is available; it will be a couple of minutes for us to add a few finishing touches.”

“Sure. Is the manager here?” you ask because you texted him this morning to announce your arrival.

“He’s waiting at the bar,” Charon gestures towards the elevator and you take a deep breath, excited and a bit nervous about the upcoming encounter. “Also, if I may… Allow me to express my deepest condolences.”

You bite on your lip and can’t utter a sound besides nodding your head instead of a reply: although it’s a genuine declaration, it caught you off-guard.

You slowly walk towards the elevator and once inside you press the B button when a hand halts the doors from closing; you know whom those tattooed knuckles belong to. Ares squeezes inside looking like she wants to kill everyone. What else is new?

“I thought that was you,” the woman uses the sign language and you silently gaze at her.

“Which floor?” you sign back.

“10th,” her thumb indicates the number.

The elevator’s doors shut and she analyzes Y/N, deciding to continue the conversation:

“Remember I told you next time we bump into each other I’m going to kill you?” the mute assassin’s threat brings a faint smirk on your lips.

“Shut up,” you elbow her and the smartass response doesn’t fail:

“I’m always as quiet as a mouse.”

You chuckle and Ares grins at her own cleverness, having a nice suggestion for the evening.

“I have the night off; wanna meet later for dinner?”

You are tired as hell but a distraction doesn’t hurt.

“Will 7pm work?” you accept the invitation.

“Awesome!” she signs, delighted you two can catch up. “They have new items on the menu you would enjoy,” Ares winks then her enthusiasm gradually dies out. “I’m sorry about…,” the discussion takes a serious tone and you sniffle, trying hard not to cry.

“Thank you,” you touch your chin and the ding sound reveals its first destination. “I have to bail; I’ll see you soon,” you step out of the elevator and she remains inside.

“It’s a date!” she signs, concerned you’ll burst out in tears as soon as she’s gone.

Yet after the elevator’s door close, Y/N manages to pull herself together; God knows it’s not easy to pretend she’s fine following the tragedy of losing someone she loved with all her heart.

The individual waiting for her at one of the tables at the bar can definitely notice the struggle behind the tired eyes; Winston sipps from his martini and gets up, opening his arms in anticipation.

“There you are,” he gives you a hug, then invites you to sit down.

“Hello Winston,” you place your purse on the floor and Continental’s owner is attempting to small talk:

“Please make an old man happy and confirm your return.”

“You’re anything but old,” you emphasize while he snorts, amused. “I’m not sure; I have to figure out some personal stuff…”

“Of course,” Winston agrees right away given the situation. “Mmmm… I’m terribly sorry for your loss,“ he addresses the heartbroken Y/N.

“Thank you…” you mumble, avoiding eye contact since the painful subject hurts more than any physical wound you ever sustained.

“I wanted to come attend the funeral yet I was out of the country,” the man underlines.

“No worries. I appreciate the flowers you sent… …”

Moments of complete stillness before Winston changes the topic; he knows better than to prolong your agony. A manager with his flair can at least guess the extenuating circumstances that led to your presence on the premises.

“Any plans for the near future?”

“I’m going to stay with Jonathan until I decide.”

Winston wishes to suggest a couple of options but he’s interrupted by your warning:

“Someone might come searching for me.”

He taps his fingernails against the martini glass, the weak echo dissipating in the background noise.

“Is that someone…somebody’s husband?” his furrowed eyebrows prompt an answer not difficult to estimate:

“More like… ex-husband…”

The manager inhales, debating on your confession.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he reassures without any hesitation; heaven knows a domestic dispute is the last kind of mess Continental needs but it will probably pass undetected. “Would you care for a drink?”

Suddenly, Winston’s cell goes off and he retrieves it out of his suit’s pocket, apologizing for the delay.

“I’m sorry, I really have to get this,” he slides the screen, attentively listening to the person speaking. “Are you kidding me?!” the man raises his voice with contempt. “Damn…,” he rubs his forehead, annoyed. "Well, he brought it upon himself! Transfer me,” the manager passes the sentence without hesitation after his call reaches the correct department. ”Accounts payable: 11111. Effective immediately: Magnus Stonnenberg, excommunicado. Open contract: 2 million dollars. Distribution: international,” and he hangs up. “Work never ends,” Winston adds even if it’s not necessary; you are perfectly aware how the company works and what it means to run it.

“What happened?” you curiously investigate.

“Trouble on the 15th floor: Magnus murdered Anuscka Volovdya on the hotel grounds, thus I have to implement punitive measures. This is neutral environment and the rules are clear: no killing. Cocktail?” he lifts his glass up and you politely decline.

“No, thank you. If it’s all the same, I will retreat to my quarters. It was a very long drive and I can’t wait to freshen up. I will come see you in the morning before I leave; would that be ok?”

“Of course,” Winston stands up in the same time with you, a faint smile lingering on his face as he watches you distancing yourself from the bar. He didn’t see you in a long time and he can tell that although you look pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

Everyone’s cells start chiming and ringing, including yours: the text messages keep on popping up with the manager’s most recent order regarding Stonnenberg.

You wander along the small corridor leading the stairs when at the corner Magnus almost crashes into you; he seems distressed and no big surprise due to his present predicament.

“Are you back?” he hisses while quickening the pace in the opposite direction because he wants to get the hell out of there.

“No,” the short acknowledgement triggers his cockiness mixed with relief.

“Great! One less to worry about!”

You frown at the unnecessary statement: pursuing a bounty is not financial gain you are momentarily interested in; you have more important problems on your plate and chasing a persona non grata isn’t on your list.

************

Next evening, 7:13pm

“There you are!” John exclaims as soon as he sees you. “Come on in,” he grabs the two suitcases out of your hands, leading the way around the house. “Did you get stuck in traffic?”

“Yes,” you close the door and follow him into one of the bedrooms downstairs already prepared for your visit. “Traffic was terrible, took me one hour to pass Lincoln Avenue.”

“Well…” he places the luggage by the bed, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too… Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Jonathan.”

Despite having his hair in a ponytail, the shorter strands slide out and John blows them off his cheeks, irritated.

“Yeah, absolutely. Plenty of space.”

“What’s that smell?” you sniff the air, intrigued.

“I cooked chicken Alfredo.”

“Oh no,” you crinkle your nose and he laughs at your despair. “Are your skills as bad as I remember?”

“Worse,” he admits. “Helen is not here to guide… me…”, John swallows the last word and you feel compelled to soothe his grief.

“I’m sorry she’s gone… You had a terrific partner…”, you sadly smile and continue . “We pay such a heavy price for leaving the organization… I must say you got a better deal than I did.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and you could swear there’s no trace of Baba Yaga inside him; I suppose this is John Wick’s greatness: his ability to switch from an apparent normal guy to the deadliest assassin in a blink of an eye.

“Umm… do you want me to help you unpack?” he breaks the silence and you lift the first suitcase on the bed, opening the metal clasps.

“I don’t have a lot; just some basic necessities,” you explain and gulp when you take out the device you use on a regular basis. “I… I still pump the milk and… and throw it away since I don’t have my baby to feed anymore…”

Jonathan exhales, sensitive to the mother’s sorrow: he knows a thing or two about losing a loved one and Y/N uncontrollably sobbing triggers emotions he kept bottled up for weeks. He pulls you in his arms and you hug him back, hopelessly crying on his shoulder after displaying such restraint in the past days.

“Why didn’t he drive the car? Why?” you keep on repeating the question and John understands what you’re referring to:

Two months ago The Joker was supposed to bring his three weeks old son from the beach house to The Penthouse and didn’t; he had a meeting and instead he sent one of his henchmen to drive Kase back to you and they never made it. There was a horrible accident on Glissan Street: the car was smashed to pieces by a huge truck, both driver and the baby dying on impact. You couldn’t stop blaming your husband for his indifference regarding the safety of his own child. I supposed the meeting and making money was infinitely more critical than driving his son home.

Maybe if J navigated the vehicle, he would have taken another route and you would still have your tiny treasure right now.

You’re calming down a bit and John wipes your tears, upset to see you broken beyond anything he could ever fix.

“Do you want to lie down?”

“No,” you whimper and fight to regain your composure. “I’m a little bit hungry…”

“Well,” your friend puckers his lips, “depending on how bad it is we might have to order something. Shall I…call anybody for you?” he hints and surely didn’t predict the reply:

“My anybody is probably too busy with his mistress or planning a heist, can’t be bothered with any type of insignificant matters.”

Your friend seems shocked and you enlighten the mystery for him:

“I followed J so I know… That’s why I decided enough is enough. I packed minimum necessary in a hurry and left… … …I should have killed him… …” your voice dies out and your attitude proves Jonathan that you most than likely tried to. “Can we eat now please?”

“Should I actually order Italian?” he plays along for your sake.

“I’ll try the chicken Alfredo first.”

“Shit! You’re brave,” his brutal honesty makes you giggle and whimper in the same time. “C’mon then, food’s on the stove. Hopefully we’ll survive,” he smirks and you nod in agreement, grateful to have a soul to talk to since your husband’s lack of empathy made it so much harder to cope with your son’s demise.

***************

Same evening, 7:30pm – Continental Hotel

“Mister Joker,” Winston greets The King of Gotham. “Welcome to New York!”

The gush of wind sweeping the terrace on top of the building messes J’s locks and for once he couldn’t care less.

“Hello Winston,” your spouse growls, barely able to concentrate after he slept a couple of hours the previous night.

“Grape juice on ice?” the manager’s hospitality emerges out of necessity because The Clown isn’t exactly the easiest character to accommodate.

“Is my wife here?” J quizzes, ignoring Winston’s cordiality.

“Walk with me,” the hotel owner persuades your husband; they move alongside the concrete path bordered by decorative shrubs as information is shared. “Y/N was here.”

“She’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she go?” The Joker sneers.

Winston fails to spill the beans and J is aware he can’t push for a disclosure, not with a high ranking member of the organization. So he attempts a different strategy.

“Imagine my surprise when I returned home after a meeting just to find out my wife abandoned the nest,” he shows management a post-it with your handwritten note:

Do what you want with the rest.

“She just took a few things, thus I have to personally discuss with her a very crucial dilemma: what am I supposed to do with the baby’s items? I have a room full of them. So I’m asking: WHERE.IS.MY.WIFE?”

“Mister Joker, you forget that in my line of business I am good at reading people and I can tell when they lie,” Winston elegantly throws it out there for the heck of it.

The King of Gotham halts and cracks his neck, displeased with the comment.

“Then tell me, am I lying?!”

The manager sighs, carefully analyzing J’s features: although he looks pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

“Maybe she’s staying with a friend,” he insinuates and your husband articulates a sentence rarely spoken aloud:

“Thank you,” J stomps away, already having a few ideas about your whereabouts.

Winston huffs, intrigued to have discerned a crazy detail while reading The Clown’s reactions: besides the fact he wasn’t lying, something else stood out.

“He loves her…” management mumbles to himself. “I bet he doesn’t even know it.”

*************

10:34 pm

John softly knocks at the cracked bedroom’s door, unsure if you’re awake or not.

“Y/N, do you need anything before I go to sleep?”

There’s no answer and he creeps inside only to see you passed out with your hand hanging over the side of the bed. Jonathan tucks you in, feeling awkward about your unresponsiveness.

“Hey, are you ok?” he gently shakes you and freezes when he realizes there’s an empty pill bottle on the nightstand.

“Oh God!” he panics and reads the label. “Trazodone 300 mg: Take 1 tablet by mouth nightly for depression/insomnia.” That’s the highest dose for the medication and he taps on your cheeks, concerned you took a bunch of them at once. “Y/N, Y/N! Can you hear me?!”

You moan and open your eyes, unhappy to be woken up in such a hasty fashion.

“Jesus, lemme sleep... would you?!...” you grumble and turn on the other side, groggy from the drug.

“How many sleeping pills did you take?” John doesn’t give up and you yawn:

“One…my last one…” you adjust your body on the comfortable mattress, not comprehending why your host is agitated. “I’m exhausted…” you close your eyes and he lingers next to your bed, relieved the situation was a misinterpretation from his part.

**************

11:32am, New York

“Oh my…”The Bowery King deciphers a missive a dove flew in 10 minutes ago; he got a whiff of some valuable data yesterday and the new documentation is by far the best conspiracy and revenge scheme he stumbled upon this year. “Would you look at that,” the man grins, caressing the bird’s feathers. “What do you think?” he addresses the winged companion. “Should we be nice and tell Y/N and Mister Joker their son is not dead?”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker suicide squad #joker imagine #joker fanfiction #joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #dc #dcu

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ayeateez · 4 years

Text

The Hunger Games AU - Part 3 - Finale: The Final Fight

GENRE: Angst

PAIRING: None

WARNINGS: Major character death, sexual harassment, mentions of murder, weapons, and just harmful things in general

WORD COUNT: 3182

It had been days since Seonghwa died. It was miserable. I was too familiar with this feeling, I wanted it to stop, I wanted it to end.

Knowing the same man who killed Seonghwa was coming to my district today made me sick. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to kill him. He deserves it.

I’ve learned how to live with the blood on my hands. It doesn’t mean I still don’t get nightmares, or that I don’t feel bad, it means I can deal with it. Hongjoong had been so cocky on his tour, meanwhile I couldn’t even speak properly.

•

I was on the far right of the stage, where the only victors of 12 stood. I watched as Seonghwa’s family struggled onto the podium in front of the screen that had Seonghwa’s face on it. They were as broken as me. I couldn’t imagine how his brother or his parents felt. I looked away before I could catch myself crying, now wasn’t the best place or time.

Minutes passed as people got all settled in. I saw the face I never wanted to see. I wanted him to die. He deserves it. As we sit down finally, I zoned out, not wanting to hear his cocky ass speech about how good he is for killing Seonghwa. Then something caught me off guard. Something caught all of us off guard.

“I did it for y/n. I want her to be mine. If she accepts, of course” He smiles and looks towards 12’s victors, towards me. His smile was full off all the cruel things he has said about the other tributes, and the nasty words he said to Seonghwa came from the same mouth. He waved me over, on live tv as victory tours were aired, and I had no other option but to walk towards him.

“What do you say, Y/n? Will you be mine now?” He asked, oh so innocently. The smile was wiped off his face the moment I had slapped him, hands closing in on his neck. Peacekeepers immediately came to separate us as Hongjoong collapsed, half conscious as he tried to regain his breath and steady his breathing.

The peacekeepers dragged me off the stage, away from Hongjoong, and I let them. Anything to be away from him. I kept a straight face the entire time I watched him try to get back up.

•

“Please, I’d do anything BUT go out with him. I don’t fucking care about publicity, he killed my boyfriend then asks me to go out with him. Who in their right mind does that?” I yelled at my younger sister as she tried to help me come to an understanding. It was a bitchy move, but still.

“Y/n, what if they put you in that arena again? Hm? What would you do?” She asked.

“Why the hell would they put me in that arena? They aren’t allowed to! That isn’t legal!”

“It is when President Snow says it is” She shrugged.

“But why? They have no reason?”

“You slapped him and tried to fight him. They’re probably going to take that as a sign that you want to fight. Fight to the death. A special type of games”

•

I stared blankly at the holographic tv in my room, as it suddenly turned on due to it being ‘urgent’.

“Due to recent events while Kim Hongjoong was touring in District 12, we’ve decided to hold a - special games. There will only be 2 tributes, who shall not have a choice whether they participate or not and volunteers are not welcomed. The tributes are:

Kim Hongjoong, District 2

Y/n L/n, District 12

the games will take place October 31st at exactly 12:00 and shall only continue until November 2nd at 12:00. Dear tributes, may the odds be ever in your favor”

I dropped the remote as my breath shortened. No... no they couldn’t have. But the games just ended - this has to be a joke.

I’m going to fight to the death with him, Kim Hongjoong.

•

It’s didn’t take long for peacekeepers to

come break into my house to collect me and bring me to the capital. I really had no choice but to cooperate with them. I was back, back on the train for what seemed like the hundredth time. The first time I took this train to the capital, I was with Jongho. The second, I was with Seonghwa. Now, I’m here. By myself. Trying to mentally prepare to fight Hongjoong.

•

The 26 hours went by quickly as no one spoke to me. It was like they understood what was happening. He murdered my boyfriend, now I’m going to murder him.

The clapping and cheering and all the bright and fancy colorful things went by in a blur as I tuned out all the loud noises.

They took me to the place where I would be stayed for the next 3 days. They’ve given us less training as we’re both victors, I’m assuming. Last time we had 2 weeks. There’s no way I’ll even be close to in shape or prepared within 3 days.

I knew I should’ve head down to the training area, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I was about to go into a whole ass fight with the same person who killed Seonghwa. I wonder how they feel in heaven, San, Jongho, and Seonghwa? Are they okay? Is it alright up there? Whatever it is - they’re definitely doing better up there than down here.

“Y/n, I know you aren’t in the mood, but you have to train if you want to stay alive”

“I don’t want to be alive. I want to see Jongho, Seonghwa, and San up there” I sighed, noting even sparing a glance. Who ever it was, they gave up easily and left.

I eventually got up on my own, getting dressed and heading down to the small, enclosed, dark, training room. Deciding to test a new skill, I picked up a sword. It wasn’t too heavy, it felt just right. I swung my arm a few times, not that bad.

Walking up to a dummy, I worked on a stance, that would probably be useless, and well, kind of cut up the dummy. I don’t know how mad they would be to see their dummy all cut up, cotton spilling from all angles so I stuck to knives and throwing them.

•

It was the same. It was the exact same every time. I did the same thing for the past 2 days, while eating and drinking as much as I can. There were no parades, there were no festivals, nothing. Just announcing the games, that’s it. Of course though, my stylist still made sure I played and killed while looking good, so he came up with ways to make me seem less dead, more appealing to the camera, claiming that the prettier I look, the more sponsors I get, and I don’t doubt that. I mean, it’s the capital.

20 minutes.

Realization started to set in. I’m going back. I’m going back into the games, except this time? I’m targeted and targeting. There’s a 50/50 chance I’ll die and that he’ll die. What happens if I die? What happens if he dies? What will happen? I mean, either one of us will win but... what will happen?

“You’ll be fine in there, calm down. You’ve won one of these games before, haven’t you?” My stylist sighed, making an attempt to calm me down. I looked at him.

“What if I don’t make it out alive? I’m rusty, he just won the recent games-“

“Yeah, he’s still scarred and injured-“

“How many victors do you think have nightmares about the games? How many do you think can’t figure out a way to live with innocent people’s blood on their hands? Think about it. It’s not a lot” I snapped. Our silence last for minutes until the countdown from 30 started.

The arena was set up where our cornucopia’s were set up on opposite sides of the arena, and every day the arena shrinks until we fight to the death. But it’s not easy to get to the cornucopia. I think I heard them saying we have to get past landmines and some weird type of hyena that happened into the 67th games.

After putting the final touches onto me, I stepped into the tube as it shut around me. The remaining 5 seconds were counted out then it started to move up again. My heart raced as panic surged through my veins. This is it. I’m really getting my revenge now.

I was hit by the wind of the arena, the fake sun shining oh so bright, fake birds chirping. If I didn’t know what was going to happen, I just might’ve called this paradise.

The countdown remained only 10 seconds left. I unintentionally tuned out the counting, listening to my heart and the wind race.

“3”

“2”

“1”

The cannon went off as I avoided all dirt piles. Hopping over everything, I made it to the center, grabbing everything I needed and could hold. Grabbing the first backpack, it was empty but for a blanket and some matches. I grabbed 3 sets of 24 knives, just a guess. Stuffing more weapons into a backpack, I chose to carry a sword by hand. 3 weapons I could use, I had a choose from 3.

Realizing what was going to happen, I jumped down from the top, grabbing another bag as I sprinted my way to the forest, away from the growling.

Heavy. Weight. That’s all I could feel in my hands and on my back. I grabbed too

many things. I was going to have to abandon something soon.

I stopped at a tall tree, quickly grabbing any branches I could to pull me up, only hoping that there were no tracker jackers in this thing. I have 2 days to kill him. I need to get to him first.

•

Night came quickly, as I stayed in a tree all day. Far in the distance, I could see smoke. He started a fire. He must know I wasn’t going to come after him this early. The capital wanted a show? I’ll give them a mother fucking show.

I groaned as I leaned back against the uncomfortable bark again. I wanted to get up and walk around. I wish I was in my bed, maybe eating something and reading. But no, here I am, stuck in the middle of the games.

A sleepless, restless night passed and I hopped down from the tree in hopes of being able to walk around freely. It’s already the 1st, I have until tomorrow to kill him.

I saw the edge. The edge of the barrier, and I ran. I ran like my life depended on it, which it really did. Only god and the gamemakers know what happens when you touch the edge of the barrier, and I don’t want to find out. I realized that they were driving me straight towards the smoke, where Hongjoong was. At least that’s where I thought he was.

He wasn’t there. It was a trap. As soon as I realized the trap, I looked around, and ran, climbing up another tree. Another day in another tree? Thought so. This was boring people had to be losing interest or something. Maybe if people don’t watch, they’ll stop the games? No, they don’t care if people watch or not. They’ll kill both of us and erase this game from existence if they have to.

I heard a twig snap and my hand instantly flew to my belt, grabbing a knife as I sat there, eyes looking around sharply. I spotted something with crazy colored hair sprinting, and I could even hear him cursing. Hongjoong. As much as I wanted to throw, I didn’t. After I heard my name, at least. I couldn’t hear any more words come from his mouth. Audible ones, at least.

I sat back in my tree and waited. My stomach growled loudly. I just had to wait. But if I had thrown the knife, there was a high chance it would’ve hit him and at least would’ve slowed him down enough for me to kill him, but curiosity took over.

After having enough of my tree time, I slowly and carefully climbed down the tree. I made my way through the forest, occasionally leaning down to feel the dirt. It was damp, meaning water was nearby, but so was the barrier.

Deciding to continue on, I found the smallest patch of water. It was as clean as water in the games could be. I instantly dropped to my knees as I splashed water all over my face, a relief to have all the dried sweat off my face and having something to drink. Now? I just need something to eat, but I could actually survive without food. Food isn’t my bigger concern now, it’s Hongjoong. Hell, he could even be behind me right now, about ready to stab me. Becoming paranoid, I turned around only to see trees and the forest.

I watched the branches and leaves sway with the light breeze. I had to move. Something felt off. I took one last drink before getting up and moving quickly, killing a rabbit on the way.

It was hard without allies. No one to help you, no one to help, it was weird. I’ve only known playing in the games with others on my side.

•

It was boring. I’ve said this plenty of times before, but it was so boring. Watching me, at least. I did nothing but wander around the arena, secretly hoping to be able to stab Hongjoong in the back or something like that. Who knows what Hongjoong is doing? I could only guess.

A large noise scared me as I almost fell from my - you guessed it, tree and I was temporarily blinded by the flashing light. I was at the edge of the barrier, and I could see the other end. We were that close. I looked up at the sky to see a timer counting down. 59:37. It’s already 11 on the 2nd.

I climbed down, leaving everything but my weapons. I decided it’s time to end this man.

I walked through the woods, making as much noise as I possibly could to try and draw him out. I looked up, I looked down, but I couldn’t find him. Did they take him out of the arena and just leave me in here to kill or embarrass me? I heard a twig snap behind me and I quickly turned around, throwing my knife that pinning Hongjoong’s sleeve to the tree.

“Hey gorgeous”

I hadn’t ever thrown so quickly. He dodged my knife, throwing one back at me but his aim was way off. How did he win this again?

“Come back here!” I yelled, chasing after him. I spared a glance at the clock. 28:39. I still had time. He turned and threw another knife at me, and it grazed my arm, cutting my sleeve and leaving a painful cut. I cursed under my breath as he tripped in front of me and fell. I wanted to kill him with my own hands.

I held him down as my hands tightened around his neck, but he quickly flipped over so he was on top as he held my wrists down. I used every strength in every muscle in my body to get out, but I couldn’t. It was useless. I was going to die.

“What have we got here, hm? You see, princess, if you had just agreed we wouldn’t have been here-“

“If you had died in the 73rd games we wouldn’t be here” I growled back at him, cutting his words and he raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“Feisty, are we now? Hmm, that Seonghwa guy was so lucky to have you. Look, you’re a gem” His smirk grew as he touched me places I never gave consent for.

“Fuck, let me kill you already!” I shouted, squirming under his grasp.

“I bet I could make a deal. If you date me, we won’t ever have to be in these arena’s again. Snow would probably agree, yeah?” Hongjoong looked away, as to show he was supposedly thinking. I wanted to slap that stupid smirk off his face.

“What time do we have left?” He asked, looking up at the sky.

“20:19, yeah? What could I do with you in 20 minutes. Angel, there’s so many things we could have done together. We would’ve been so so powerful, but here we are, fighting to the death - are you crazy?” His words bled into my brain.

“And look, you’re bleeding. How did that happen?” His finger traced the cut, spreading the blood across my skin.

“Stop it”

“But why? You look so nice under me like this... imagine-“

I suddenly jerked my knee up into his crotch, cursing at myself on why I hadn’t thought of that earlier. He fell into the dirt, groaning in pain as I took the chance to hit his elbow and making him release my wrists, giving me the chance to get up.

I smirked down at him, just kicking him repeatedly. No knives or sharp things, just my foot in his fucked up face. Satisfaction occurred when I spotted blood dribbling out of his mouth, nose, and other places. I pulled a knife from my waistband, flipping it a few times.

“Y-You don’t want to do this princess... you won’t be able to live with it...” Hongjoong’s words were slurred from the thick, red liquid filling his mouth.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. He opened his mouth to speak, but only screams of pain came out as my knife flew into his chest. Shrugging, I threw another into his stomach for extra measure.

The sound of the cannon I knew all too well sounded in the arena as the clock stopped.

Hongjoong was right. I couldn’t live with the blood on my hands. I couldn’t live knowing I had killed numerous people. The bitter feeling overcame the victorious one. I became nauseous at the sight of Hongjoong’s dead body right in front of me.

Slowly slipping my last knife from my waistband, I chuckled crazily.

“This one’s for you... San”

The pain burned in your chest as I fell to the ground with a crazy look plastered on my face. I looked down at the blood dripping down my body. I felt my heart stop and my brain stopped registering. My vision went in and out of focus, spots dancing around my vision. The urge to shut my eyes became so strong, so I shut them. Then I stopped. I just stopped.

#atzinc #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong angst #the hunger games au #hunger games #the hunger games

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katsuki-creativewriting · 4 years

Text

Kōyō Yamamoto - IT1

My current progress so far... I feel optimistic and I think we may finally have a lead. I want to build up our progress and do whatever possible to prevent falling back to square one.

The time is 6:35 pm. I am currently driving at 60km per/hour, no sign of anyone driving past me. It almost seems odd. I usually see the same brand and the same bland colours of cars zooming past me like lightning every minute I drive. And believe me, it doesn't take long.

I am making my way to a workshop on the outskirts of the city. The man I'm about to present myself to is, Kenzou Hibiki. He's age seventy-one, not married, and no children based on his information according to Maro. If I were, to be frank, my mind and body aren't looking forward to visiting a stranger. I'm not sure if I can call him a 'stranger' with all the details we've gathered. Although he doesn't know us, and we've never met properly in person. Maybe? You know what? strangers will do. I haven't been too keen on the idea of visiting him. I should be asking myself why. Well... it is due to his compulsive addiction with... pills.

I forgot to mention that the man lives in his workshop and apparently, fixes and sells clocks and watches? I'm surprised he can make a profit out of by just making CLOCKS all day. Nowadays most people use sci-fi tech watches or just use their phones to look at the time or even search for the weather. While I prepared myself before this trip, I decided to bring my broken watch along to see if he can fix it for me. Perhaps I could get on his good side and hopefully, I can get his consent to question him (let's hope he hasn't taken any of his "sweet, saviour" pills). I could wish myself luck on this venture through a thunderstorm, but I don't know if I CERTAINLY need it.

It's just questioning. It can't be that challenging, right?

- Signing off, Kōyō

• • •

Kōyō could not even describe the emotions of the small droplets of tears falling from the sky. Could he imagine them as petals? No, they seem too harsh; they cannot even describe as a feather! The raindrops fall almost like hailstones knocking at his window in an attempt to enter through the front. The journey was not too far, but it seems longer just by peering into the distance. It felt like a continuous circle going on the same roundabout over once and over twice; it never ends. The same strip of trees, the same patterns on the road. The only time Kōyō could tell he was making progress was when he notices carcasses on the side of the glossy road and plastic bags floating along to the sound of the gushing wind.

He likes the sound and feel of the engine vibrating. For some reason, it puts him at ease like he is trying to escape or take his time away from his office. Stuck to the chair like glue nearly all-day having to tap away on a junk of technology while he hears the reverbed buzzing going off in his brain whenever it is quiet. Whenever the noise occurs, he feels desolate on the inside.

In the boot of the car, he brought along with him a handful of files given to him by the police centred on the drugs and its current effects it has caused on the people who have by far taken them. Since the man has bought a plentiful of these exact pills, he must know something about the one in control or at least the company producing them. Kōyō does not seem intimidating like the police in their act, dressed in their navy, blended blue uniforms. Thus, he would like to see if he can coerce him to disclose information.

• • •

Kōyō reached his destination and stops around the end of a construction site. The shop is that close to a site? he thought. Was it truthfully okay for Hibiki-san to be living near here now? It doesn't seem safe anymore.

Kōyō exhales as he releases the wheel from his grip and opens the door to elevate himself out. "So... This is the workshop?" He ponders to himself. This must be a prank, right? The house is practically ready to collapse! There were the few patches here and there but Kōyō could not even comprehend the idea of someone ESSENTIALLY living here. Kōyō calls Maro again to ensure he was at the right building. A voice echoes at a high yet low pitch on the phone. "Yeah? what's up?"

"Umm... Hinata, are you sure this really is the place? It really looks knackered for someone to live here..."

"I'm certain this is actually the place. Unless you didn't check the address correctly."

Before Kōyō responds, he checks the address once more picking it out of his battered coat pocket. He was in the right area. But is it really...?

"Oh!" Maro bellows from the phone. "I forgot to mention about the construction site next to the house. It's honestly a tad bit appalling to see a man stay in one spot for most of his life. It could be he's close to broke with all the pills he's purchasing, or he's just a clingy dude who makes his living off clocks. Anyways, good luck trying to communicate with him!" And the call ends. It only left Kōyō biting his lips.

This really IS the place. Maro was not lying after all...

Kōyō carries out the heavy files piled up behind the backside of the car. It was too much of a load for him in the end and decides to only take out the ones that are most needed for the questioning. Locking the car behind him, he made his way up the steps and knocks on the door with one exhausted hand struggling to carry the files.

No answer...

This wasn't exactly the plan. I'm not supposed to be here to look like a fool! He argues to himself. With the files in his left and his right free, he can describe himself as a hunched man than a straight man. He knocks on the door once more before kicking the files with his kneecap to thwart them from slipping out of his arms.

No answer again...

This was odd. Was he home? According to Hinata, this guy rarely leaves his house. So, it would seem peculiar to think that NOW of all days and hours he decides to pack up and leave so unexpectedly. Unless... he knew Kōyō was coming to question him. He stands in front of the door, observing everywhere but the door, waiting for the door to open. A few minutes later...

It did...

Kōyō tentatively pushes the door open, to see that no one was there to open the door for him. Has he been standing near the door for almost five minutes and it turns out to be unlocked the entire time? To say the least, he has made far worst moments for himself. He studies the house. The uninviting wallpaper covered up by old wooden clocks hanging on the walls. You can barely see the flowery patterns. The only thing visible was the plain, white ceiling. He has planted way too many samples of his hand-made clocks. The sound of the loud and agitating ticking from the clocks drew Kōyō insane. He wanted to get in and out as soon as he can; he has already heard enough ticking in his brain in his office. A few would have done the trick. The desk was dusty, and the carpet was ragged. It looks like he has not replaced the carpet for a couple of years now. At least it smells pleasant. Smells like the aroma of flowers, not sure what type.

His arm and hands were dying from the files that he carried alongside him. All the blood from his arm to hand left his grip fragile. He plonks the files onto the desk to give his left a break.

"Hibiki- san! Are you there?" Kōyō calls out. But there was no answer; just like with the door. Hibiki-san probably could not hear him from all the ticking in the room. He shouts for the second time, but still... no answer. He rummages around each room he could find, skimming through it with just a quick peek. No person in sight. With no one around the office, there was only one other room left. His bedroom.

I'm really sorry, Sir. But you're not leaving me with any choice...

He gradually but steadily saunters his way up the stairs. It seems so soundless as he was climbing up like the clocks never exist in that one room. And the smell of flowers... was fading away. Replaced with something more... repulsive. What is that horrendous smell? Is it coming from the room? Kōyō clutches his nose as he steps up the last two rigid stairs. This is the only room he can imagine where Hibiki-san could be hiding. He holds onto the door handle and pauses for a moment to think about what he was doing.

Was this an innovative idea? It definitely isn't my best. Guessing if this was the best idea to commit to was not going to reward him with the information he desperately needed. His eyelids tenderly knit together; he opens the door. He unravels his eyes only to feel his heart leap and body tumble back. He automatically grips onto the frame of the door. He just went... pale. There he was, Hibiki-san on his bed with saliva leaking out of his mouth like he recently vomited. His eyes were rolled back. Bloodshot.

Not.

Moving.

A muscle...

He could not get his words out. Just... stutters. From downstairs, he could hear a 'ding', then a 'dong'. Kōyō tries to avert his eyes away to see the time on his phone. It was 7:00 pm sharp. He glances at the man again. He still was not moving. Kōyō crept up to the man and checks his pulse.

No beat...

Oh shit, oh fu- Shit! No, no, no this can't be!

Kōyō calls Maro in a state of panic. This cannot be true. Did the pills really do this to him?!

He could not even think straight, his hands were stuttering as much as HE was stuttering.

Maro picks up. "Hey, Kōyō, what's up? Any luck?"

"H-Hinata, Hinata... I-I, uh..."

"Dude, what's wrong? Why are you stuttering?"

"You know the man I was supposed to question, Kenzou Hibiki?"

"Yeah?"

"Well... you didn't tell me he'd be DEAD!"

"What?! How?"

"I'm not sure. My gut's telling me it's got to do with the pills or... just an overdose."

"I'll call the police to let them handle this unpredicted mess. What are you going to do?"

"I... think I'll go back to the office and rehash this. I'll let the police take care of this."

"Alright, but you NEED to come back to the house to observe more of the area if the police allow you to do such."

"I promise I'll come back and give you the juicy info you yearn when I've been given permission."

"...Perfect." And the called ended with a click.

Kōyō suppresses the urge to vomit as he rushes out of the house, lifting the files in both hands. The files were useless in this situation. A situation he could not match against. He places the files in the front seat instead and clicks in the seatbelt for the pile as well as himself.

Let's get out of here and let the police handle this...

• • •

The pellets of the thunderstorm only grew heavier and more vicious as he makes his way back to his apartment. The gloaming sky made him assume it was nine rather than seven.

Back on the journey.

In his mind, he could not unwind or think about the road. He only thought about what he saw back there. The sight of the man, the state he was in... Decaying flesh and receding hair. The poor guy was lost and confused on his path, and it was obvious from the doorway he was masked with wrinkles. The only question he could ask himself is: Why did he choose that path? The path to escape, to the point of death? or did he really take the "easy" way out?

In fact, why do people choose this, knowing it will one day kill them?

Kōyō heard another car approaching his direction. On the contrary side, he was making progress. But the worrisome side, the car sounds like it was going much faster than him. They were in a sixty per/hour zone. Were they going past the limit?

The car was moving up closer in the dark. Kōyō was waiting for the car to appear through the headlights like something you would expect out of a horror movie. All of a sudden, there they were, driving away. The driving seemed somewhat sluggish, and that was troubling. In just one steer, the driver turns to his right.

Right in front of him!

Kōyō could do nothing. He could not steer to his right; he could not turn backwards. The only action he could take was to hold himself tight like a shield, and that is what he did when the car collided into him and hurtled into the trunk of his car. It shatters the windows and Kōyō's head bashes against the steering wheel.

He fell unconscious once the two cars started bleeping like crazy. His mind grew silent, his sight went blank...

…and the ticking stopped in his brain.

• • •

"If I may ask, who are you? Give me some details about you. And tell me, why did you decide to take this job up?"

"My name is Kōyō Yamamoto. I am twenty-one years old and graduated from Sakagami high school in Tokyo. I chose this job as a private journalist because I wish to take over my Father's job and... avenge someone who seemed to be connected to this case."

I don't plan to stop until I've reached the top of the path of malice.

#koyo yamamoto #koyo #introduction #innocence tomb #reflective fragments #IT1

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superpooped · 4 years

Text

Dealing with Quarantine (from an actual expert)

Hello!

Today’s post is for people who are having their first taste of isolation or quarantine and are feeling a bit overwhelmed.

There’s a lot of these going around, and although they can be useful (I have no idea about specific Corona-based medical practise or finance) they seem to be written by people who are generally out and about in the world.

No offence, but what you really need is a Professional. You need… A HOUSEBOUND PERSON!

And that’s where I come in.

For those of you that are new here, I have a condition where, amongst other things, my body doesn’t create energy like it should. My mitochondria are all messed up, so, as you can imagine, that has an impact on… everything.

I am too exhausted to leave the house, or sometimes my bed. So I’ve been cared for by my lovely family for seven and a half years, and have been housebound for the last five and a half.

By now, I’m an old hand at this, so I’ll be able to help you out with some of the lesser known issues that people without that half a decade of experience just can’t tell you.

Some of this may seem strange or contradictory in places, but I don’t make the rules. This is how it is.

Choice makes a difference

You’re probably learning (or about to learn) that the one thing that makes a difference as to whether doing something or not is fun is Choice.

The number of times I’ve had someone say to me “it must be so nice to be at home all the time” is ridiculous.

The person saying it is thinking of the fun type of staying at home, where you decide to have a duvet day and watch movies and eat toast in your pants.

But now people are being faced with the less fun kind. The kind where you can’t leave.

Staying at home because you want to… fun. Staying at home because of Doom Plague Potential… not fun. (Also, bagsy “Doom Plague Potential” as a band name.)

It’s tough being uncertain when you’re going to see people, do things or get on with your life, but…

If you think about it, you are making a choice. You’re making the choice to put your health first. That’s sensible.

And if you’re careful with others who are more at risk then you’re making the choice to be kind. That’s even better.

You can do it

I’m not even meaning this in an inspirational quote sense, you can actually do this. It may be tricky, but if I can last half a decade in my house, you can last a couple of weeks, or even a couple of months.

If you’re actually sick then make sure you have people who can check up on you via the internet or phone if not in person. Seek medical attention where necessary.

Otherwise…

The Internet exists - embrace it

All that “put down your phone and live in the REAL WORLD” stuff is about to become a load of cobblers.

You will feel lonely, the Internet is a great tool to prevent that, so embrace it.

Group chats, social media, and video chats make a MASSIVE difference in the lives of people stuck at home, so utilise that.

Even when you’re watching tv, have a group chat of mates watching the same thing and talk about it as if you’re all there together. Because you are... kind of.

You can also contact plenty of mental healthcare professionals over the internet (or phone) if you feel that’s something you need. Don’t be afraid to reach out. There are people available.

The Internet isn’t real

At the same time as the internet being an amazing tool and opportunity for social interaction, it’s important to remember that it’s not a complete experience of the world.

It seems obvious when you’re able to leave the house, but it will quickly become clear that things start to feel a bit more skewed without the regular interaction of polite (or not so polite) strangers in everyday life.

Things will seem more polarised and polarising, and specific, potentially small things may seem extremely important. That’s normal, just... bear it in mind and take a deep breath before reacting to things.

TV, Radio, Things to do!

If you, unlike me, are at home as a precautionary measure instead of long term health condition you can probably do things. Hooray!

Right now that is less than you're used to, and BELIEVE ME I know that feel, bro, but you can still do things and that’s wonderful.

Imagining a lengthy period where you’re stuck at home sounds awful, but imagine it without TV, books or the internet. Or crafts. Or DIY. Or the ability to clean your clothes or yourself.

I’m trying really hard not to play the “be grateful” card here, because people have said it to me despite me struggling (or being completely unable) to do any of those things and it made me want to bite them. But also... you can likely do those things. So maybe this is the point where all those trite inspiration memes come in handy and you can embrace the things you can do.

Unless you are sick, in which case, for the love of all that is holy, do not do the things.

Stay in bed. Drink fluids. Have people check in on you as safely as possible. Resist the urge to get up and make your body fight harder than it is, because that will not help you.

Trust me, despite all those “you can do anything if you BELIEVE” quotes, it’s not strong or clever to push your body when it’s struggling. You will just use up energy your body could be using to heal you. Take it from the sick person.

Stay in bed till you feel better, and then a bit longer, just to make sure.

And resist the urge to go out in public and rub your germy self onto various surfaces.

You will come to love your Postie/Courier.

Oh, those kind humans who strive through wind and gale to bring us parcels and food, and most importantly, contact with the outside world.

A face! A new face! Possibly some small talk. You never knew that was a thing you could miss before this moment.

Will you potentially feel the need to disinfect everything you get in the post? Possibly. Will you be ever so glad to see someone who doesn’t live in your house or flat? Most definitely.

They must be protected for they are the keepers of the parcels.

Time will lose all meaning.

The only thing I can reliably liken it to is that weird week between Christmas and New Year where you don’t know what day, time or year it is. Or why you’re covered in biscuit crumbs.

If you don’t celebrate these events and have have no prior experience in this weird time warp... I’m sorry. Things are about to get real.

I genuinely forget my own age at this point.

Keep to a regular schedule.

You’re going to re-enter the world at some point but that’s going to be difficult if your schedule is all messed up.

Keeping to a normal(ish) schedule will also mean you’re more likely to sleep better, which will be handy if you do actually get sick.

If you’re going to be working from home then you’re probably going to have to use alarms to get you to do anything because otherwise you will look up and it’s three in the afternoon, you’ve done nothing and you’re still in your jim-jams.

(To be fair, if you want to work in your jim-jams that’s a totally valid choice.)

Try to stick to specific working hours if you can. It’s much easier to switch off your mind from work worries when you’ve got commute time in the middle, so having set hours or a signal to yourself (like changing clothes) that the work day is over will help you wind down a bit easier. I remember that much from my healthy freelance days.

Exercise?

I imagine that if you’re housebound without being sick you’re probably going to have a ton of pent up energy.

I’ll admit I’m completely guessing here, because energy is quite literally what my body is rubbish at producing so exercising makes me worse, which is why I’m stuck in my house unable to do anything in the first place.

Looking back at those heady years before I got sick, however, I would get pretty restless being stuck inside during that weird post-Christmas week, so it’s probably good to try and exercise some of that off.

Stretches, yoga, kick a football about in the garden. Whatever floats your boat.

You’ll probably sleep better and it’s good for releasing endorphins too.

Again, if you’re sick, don’t do this. Just don’t. Coronavirus targets your respiratory system so nobody wants you to be doing star jumps like a muppet. Go lie down.

Touch withdrawal

If you live on your own, or even if people inside your house are avoiding contact to prevent potential contamination you may experience mild touch withdrawal. I don’t know if that’s an official term, but that’s what I’m calling it.

You can counter this with:

Blankets, duvets, or weighted blankets

There’s a reason people are given shock blankets after trauma, and that’s to simulate a hug and release the associated endorphins. Having a blanket, duvet or weighted blanket around you will do that same thing.

Pets

Having access to a furry (or scaly or feathered) friend will help with loneliness and touch withdrawal. A lot of them will be loving the chance to spend more time with you.

ASMR

I’ve had people tell me that ASMR videos help them with loneliness and touch withdrawal.

ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response and is basically a tingly feeling of calm and being cared for that a person can experience when watching or listening to certain triggers.

YouTube is full of people tapping on bottles and turning books pages, and it can be really useful.

I was a bit dubious to begin with, but honestly the ones where the person pretends to cut your hair make me into a giant pile of goop.

Not the same as long term isolation

This is going to pass. You will be able to leave the house again, and it will be relatively soon.

When it does, please be respectful of those who are still here.

Yes, a two week quarantine might give you a tiny glimpse into what it’s like to be housebound, but it won’t make you an expert in long term isolation due to illness or disability. That’s a whole other ball game.

Please do not equate the two, because it honestly feels a randomer in a bar who has spent two minutes thinking on a topic telling you about something you have a doctorate in.

Coronavirus is scary, and quarantine or self-isolation is not something you’re used to but it is temporary.

Finally

If disabled or sick people are getting salty on the internet it’s because they have reason to be.

A lot of us have been stuck like this for years or even decades, and many of the options that would make things much more accessible for us have only magically become possible now there’s a threat to the general, abled population.

It doesn’t help that lots of people are trotting out the old “it’s only the old and sick who are in danger”. Thanks for that, mate. So glad that it’s only us sickies (and oldies) who might die and not the important, useful people that are in danger.

Many of us do not have that light at the end of the tunnel when we can leave the house and just get on with our lives. I have no idea when or if I will be able to rejoin society fully, or even partly. And I just have to get on with it.

So take this opportunity to be a little more mindful of those people.

I do hope this helps people who are nervous about being isolated. Keep calm. It will be alright.

Originally posted on superpooped.blogspot.com

#coronavirus #corona #covid 19 #covidー19 #covid19 #isolation #self isolation #quarantine #quarantined #virus #stay home #mecfs #pwme #disability #disabled #chronic illness #ableism #housebound

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 4 years

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Pokémon Black: The Novel - Chapter 9 (Thread the Needle)

Prologue and more info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Pokémon Black: The Novel on FFN

Pokémon Black: The Novel on AO3

Pokémon Retold the series on AO3

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Hil spent the next week training along Route Three.

He stopped at Striaton City’s Pokémon Center often and stayed there overnight. Even if he often heard whispers and received awkward stares, he had no intentions of going to Nacrene City just yet. He knew Cheren and Bianca would likely spot him, and he just didn’t want to talk to them. As angry and hurt as he had been at Cheren in Wellspring Cave, he had understood Cheren’s concerns. In fact, he had even agreed with him. He just had no solution for the problem at the time.

His mind had settled on a simple plan: train, train, and train. Do it alone. He hoped that he would be able to manage on his own, and if he got into a tough spot, desperation would force him to keep from locking up. At first, he and his pokémon had been forced back to the Pokémon Center almost hourly, but after a while, he found a groove and was able to remain for longer stretches of time. His pokémon seemed to appreciate the one-on-one interactions they received, at least. He had even managed to catch a Blitzle after repeated, failed attempts at acquiring one.

The Blitzle, a male one, had an arrogant air about him. He had been lazy and disinterested in battle and that had been what allowed Hil to catch him. Hil had offered him the chance to leave following his capture since he seemed angry at having been caught, but at the last second, the Blitzle had seemed to change its mind and bumped its muzzle against Hil’s right palm. Hil had smiled uneasily and thanked him for agreeing to stay. Due to his haughty nature, Hil had jokingly called him ‘Prada,’ and the name stuck.

It was day eight when Hil awoke in his hostel room to his Xtransceiver ringing wildly. He ignored it at first, as he always did, with the hopes the other person would get the hint and leave him alone. Yet, after ten minutes or more of successive rings, Hil’s anxiety kicked in and he sat up, dazedly reaching for the device. He found it was a mixed effort of Cheren and Bianca both calling him. He flopped back down in the bed before sliding his finger across the ‘Answer’ button.

His face appeared on the bottom left screen. His unkempt, oily hair, whipped into every which way, indicated way more obviously than he’d have liked that he hadn’t showered in the last two days. “Sup,” Hil mumbled groggily.

“Hil!” Bianca exclaimed. “You finally answered! I’ve been so worried!”

Her voice echoed. He could tell she was with Cheren in the same spot and they had both just been making a concentrated effort to annoy him into answering. He supposed it had worked.

“Yeah? I’ve just been training on Route Three some,” Hil yawned.

Again, it was Bianca who spoke. Cheren didn’t seem to even be looking at his Xtransceiver. “Well, you scared us! We thought you might have been hurt when you kept refusing to answer and you never showed up in Nacrene,” she whined. She tilted her head and glanced at Cheren. After a short pause, she stamped a foot and tapped him in the shoulder. “Hey! Speak up!”

Cheren winced at her touch and shot her a dirty look. He nervously glanced up at the Xtransciever and away again. “I’m sorry for what I said in Wellspring Cave,” he mumbled at last through what sounded like a mouthful of cotton. “I lost my cool. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again.”

Hil tossed his left arm over his forehead, blotting out his view of them and their view of his face. “Don’t say that, Cheren,” Hil sighed. “I mean, I appreciate the apology, but what I meant is… you weren’t wrong, really. It is scary that I freeze up like that and that’s gonna be a big problem if I don’t deal with it. That’s why I went off the radar. I wanted to practice without having anyone to fall back on for a while but myself. Hoped it might force me to see reason even if I was having a freeze-up.”

“…Did it?” Cheren asked quietly.

Hil thought about that for a second as he moved his arm from his face. He hadn’t really had but one or two moments in his training throughout the week where he truly froze, and both times, his pokémon had taken up for him. At least, Noodle had. Rather than continue to panic alongside Hil and wait for him to issue commands, the Snivy had taken it upon himself to react when Hil began to lose his focus; he seemed to default to a Vine Whip, and then would lightly tap Hil’s legs with the vines as well to try to regain his attention. Interestingly enough… it had worked. Noodle had to repeat his ministrations a few times, but it always worked.

“I think so,” Hil answered finally.

“So, nothing bad happened while you were out there?” Bianca asked worriedly. Suddenly, he felt very annoyed with that question. It sounded as if Bianca were being protective at him. While part of him wanted to be appreciative, what little pride he had was wounded at the implication he needed guarding by her.

“Nope,” was all Hil answered her with. She didn’t deserve his vitriol. “I caught a Blitzle, though. His name’s Prada.”

“That’s awesome!” Bianca beamed. “Where are you at, anyway? You look like you’re in a bed, but we haven’t seen you in Nacrene.”

“You look like you slept on your head and forgot what a shower was as well,” Cheren added dryly.

“Ha ha,” Hil sneered, “yeah, I’m in Striaton City’s hostel. Was able to convince them to let me have a room alone.” Hil curled his lips a little and mockingly said, “Perks of being the kid of a dead gym trainer man.”

Bianca visibly cringed at that statement, but shook it off within seconds. “W-well, we’re at Nacrene, if you want to meet us here! Cheren already won his badge from Lenora. We were waiting on you to come along and have your battle before we left!”

Hil blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah. We left Nuvema together, didn’t we? Why split up now?” Cheren questioned. “Not gonna let one little fight ruin us, are we? We’ve had worse spats, I think,” Cheren laughed a little nervously.

Hil chuckled. “You have a point… okay. I’ll get ready and meet you guys in Nacrene in…” Hil glanced at the time in the corner of the Xtransceiver’s screen. It was currently 10:12 AM. Oh boy, he had sure slept in. “…Probably about noon,” he said half-heartedly. “Sorry, I had no idea I slept in so late…”

“You always sleep in late,” Cheren mused.

“We’re away from home, who cares? Sleep as late as you want!” Bianca giggled.

Cheren scowled at her. “That is not healthy life advice.”

“Thanks Daddy, always lookin’ out for us,” Hil grinned.

With that, Cheren hung up and Bianca squealed something incoherent, laughed, and quickly wished Hil farewell before hanging up as well. Hil felt relief welling in his chest. He hadn’t realized how badly he had missed talking to them and how painful it had been to actively ignore them over the course of even just the week. He had known Cheren and Bianca his entire life, and he looked forward to putting that spat behind them.

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Castelia City had felt suffocating recently. It was a new feeling to the happy-go-lucky gym leader of the most bustling, lively city in Unova. The open, winding streets and various shops that had once felt warm and inviting now felt restricting, like the straps to a straitjacket, and he, the loose cannon of a patient. He had opted to leave the city for a while. He still had rights to a studio in Nacrene City and although he had allowed some younger artists to use it for the time being, they had been ecstatic at the idea of having him back for a while. Their exuberance had been welcome. Burgh didn’t feel like he was anyone’s favorite person anymore, but their reaction had made him feel wanted.

Many would tell you Burgh was the cavalier, artsy gym leader of Castelia City, enjoying life at its fullest and encouraging his gym trainers and challengers to do the same. They would proclaim him as easily the most upbeat of the entire Unovan Pokémon League Staff, they would celebrate his portfolio of art, and lightly tease his fondness for Bug-types. They may have whispered about his occasional artists’ block and how he’d travel to Nacrene City to escape it on occasion, since he had started his art career as a lost, lonely art student in one of its outrageously expensive studios.

More recently, however, one may have found a wildly different picture of Burgh painted by the brush of news anchors: the ignorant, careless gym leader that did not notice the light fading in one of his students. A callous, pompous artist who no longer concerned himself with the emotions of others unless it suited him for public viewing.

It had all stemmed from the sudden suicide of a gym trainer of his named Vincent, or as he had preferred to be called, Vince. Burgh also felt the blame aimed his way was highly unfair because he never had any idea Vince was struggling. Vince was more outgoing than many of his other trainers, he joked often, he loved to pretend he really was a court jester in alignment with their funny clown outfits… He had seemed so excitable and happy. Sure, Burgh had been aware Vince had an unpleasant home life, but the gym had seemed to lighten his day up. No matter how many times he scrutinized his time spent with Vince at the gym, he could never come up with an ounce of evidence pointing to the idea that Vince was struggling with such bitter demons.

The closest thing to evidence he had come up with was that sometimes, Vince showed up in unkempt clothes, the scent of coffee strong on his breath, and his eyes glazed over dazedly. It had given Burgh the impression that he may have been hungover, but what was he supposed to have done about that? Vince was a grown man, and while he preferred his trainers to show up unintoxicated, there was no official rule about it. The only time anyone was asked to sit to the side for those reasons was if they were actively disrupting instruction or clearly not in their right mind. He hadn’t had an incident like that with any of his students, well… ever. Vince had always joked about his uneasy state whenever he arrived like that, and Burgh had just joked back, thinking that’s what Vince had wanted.

Insulted was a kind way to put how the media’s lashings made him feel. Burgh prided himself on offering help to others and indeed, his passion for art had grown from a desire to show off the beauty of everyday mundanities to others in a bid to brighten their lives. His love for Bug-types had sprung from a youth spent sympathizing with them for how most considered them gross and unsightly. He had striven to show they were just as deserving of love as any other pokémon. As any other living creature.

Over the course of three short months, the media was running his name into the ground. Truth be told, not everyone believed it; Burgh had personally touched the lives of many people and his status as gym leader meant that many had difficulty even considering the possibility of the sensationalist stories being right. Even so, the small group of people who believed it were very real. An odd glare here, a hurried, husky whisper there… Burgh was not blind nor was he deaf to the hike in public criticisms. He could have marched up to them and demanded they stop spreading such nonsense—indeed, he could have even gone to the news stations themselves and order them to stop spreading such insidious stories—but he knew that would only worsen his reputation. He had begged other League Staff that had wanted to defend his honor to leave the subject alone and let it blow over. It seemed like it would never blow over, though…

On top of all of that, crime was on a minor rise in Castelia City, and he knew the source of it. Robberies, though only of relatively small amounts of cash, were being reported. The culprit was described as a mid to older teenager that used pokémon wordlessly and seamlessly in his thievery. Burgh had known immediately who they spoke of and although he had not exactly been interested in divulging that information to police (nor was he required to), guilt had pressed him to offer those stolen from some compensation. He earned plenty of money from his art as well as his job as a gym leader. He played off their confusion as him simply wanting to be a good citizen.

Meanwhile, he really was just trying to lessen the heat on the robber. Burgh had met the boy, Taven, some years ago, by chasing him through the streets of Castelia and well into the sewers after hearing stories of a mysterious young man robbing grocery stores for food and other menial supplies. He had grown frustrated with the chase and had his Leavanny use String Shot to tie him up, force him to stop. Until that point, Taven had been mostly silent save for the occasional grunt, but upon finding himself trapped, he yelped and began to struggle madly against the bindings. The fright in his dark, slate eyes had given Burgh some pause. That was a notable change from the careful, almost smug expression he had seen earlier.

Initially, he had intended to calm the young boy down, and then take him to social services where he would personally oversee how they handled his case. Yet, as Burgh and his Leavanny had drawn closer, Taven had glared up at him with an almost feral look of fear and snapped, “No!” He then had jerked with so much might in his attempt to free himself that he had lifted himself nearly completely off the ground. The panicked effort had seemed to sap most of his strength, as when he stopped, he had been panting wildly. “They need me!” he had gasped, his voice cracking in the last word. He had squeezed his eyes shut at that point.

An Oshawott had then scurried from the sewer water and jumped in front of Taven, brandishing a shell in its tiny arms. Unlike most Oshawott Burgh had met, who looked as if they had no idea where they were most of the time, this one had been dangerously focused. Rattata soon had followed and begun to gnaw away at Taven’s silken prison. Zubat then swooped from the darkest recesses of the arching ceiling and had descended on Burgh in a swirl of beating wings and screeching. His Leavanny had managed to scare them off, but by that point, Taven had been long gone. A pile of shredded silk had been all that remained.

After that, it had been a long road of carefully gaining the boy’s trust, and coming to the unspoken agreement he would not try to remove him from his home. Even if Taven’s home was literally the Castelian Sewers, he seemed happy there, and he had never forgotten the sheer panic and conviction in Taven’s voice that first meeting. Taven truly believed he was all that looked out for the pokémon that called Castelia’s sewers and alleyways home. Burgh knew that although integrating him back into society would have likely been best for him physically, Taven would have hated every second of it. The more he learned of the petty thief, the more he saw him as his own son, and felt a stronger desire to help and protect him where he could without forcing his hand. Taven… was complicated, but Burgh knew he had a good heart. After all, despite his downfalls, Taven’s primary motives were rooted in helping abandoned and starving pokémon around Castelia City.

Except recently, he feared that was taking a turn. Robberies performed by Taven up until that point were done to take care of himself or his pokémon. Clothes, food, the occasional creature comfort—but these robberies were simply for cash, and although nobody was ever hurt, the details from the victims showed that Taven was not afraid of threatening the victims to get them to listen to him. Burgh liked to believe he didn’t have a truly violent bone in his body, but…

He sighed. He was wondering if he knew what anything really was anymore.

Suffice to say, he was looking forward to heading to Nacrene City, and hoped to get some coffee with Lenora and Hawes while he was there. They were a lovely couple to hang out with and Lenora typically inspired him with her discussion of new artifacts that had been given to her museum for curation. He had a habit of over-blowing details in his artwork of ancient pokémon she described, but she seemed to enjoy his work, nonetheless.

He was walking the straightforward route through Pinwheel Forest. The buzzing of life from within its depths always made him feel a little introspective, he thought with a snicker. It was where he had met the majority of his pokémon. He often escaped to the Pinwheel Forest whenever he wanted to draw as a child and that habit had not fled him even as he grew older. This was not his destination, however, so he pushed through the last of the canopied pathway and found himself on the neatly trimmed path that connected Pinwheel Forest and Nacrene City. A beautiful fountain circled by pathway appeared in front of him as he walked and he decided to take a breather on one of the benches next to it. He listened carefully to the Pidove cooing overhead and the distant calls of Patrat chuffing at threats in the distance, likely telling the rest of their pack of a prowling Purrloin.

He breathed in the clean air. It smelled strongly of the nearby forest and a little swampy. Parts of Pinwheel Forest were marshland, after all. Already he was feeling the prickle at his fingertips to begin to sketch as a loose, indescribable image formed in his head. All of his art started that way, as a nondescript blur in the back of his mind, and it was his hand that sketched it into proper form. After a few seconds of waiting to regain his stamina, he was off again. He’d have to settle into his studio and then go meet Lenora before he could be free to camp out in the forest for a day.

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He had only just noticed her before she came barreling at him at top speed, enveloping him in a tight hug. She was a lot stronger than he remembered. Hil staggered at Bianca’s hold and laughed when he stumbled as she let him go. Cheren strode up to him next with his arms crossed. Hil gave him a small smile. Noodle, on the other hand, practically danced on his shoulders in excitement as he recognized Hil’s two friends.

“Yeah, that’s them, buddy,” Hil chuckled. He snorted as Noodle finally opted to climb onto his hat and lean down on Hil’s visor to get a better look at them. Cheren snorted and awkwardly reached his right hand out to pet the bouncy Snivy.

“So, are you wanting to try and take on Gym Leader Lenora?” Cheren asked idly as he continued to rub Noodle.

“I guess I could try. We were training for a while out there…” Hil glanced at the visor of his hat. “Noodle, you think we’re ready to fight the next gym?”

Noodle peered over the visor, sticking his nose into Hil’s face, and chirruped. Hil felt his tail gently thwap against his head a few times. He laughed and moved to grab Noodle’s tail to steady him. “Easy, pal, that’s my head, Arceus knows I’ve got enough brain damage,” he giggled.

“Would you stop,” Bianca complained as she gently swatted at his arm. Cheren took a step back.

“Stop what?” Hil asked, genuinely confused.

“Saying stuff like that,” she huffed. “That’s mean.”

“It’s about me, though.” Hil really was clueless as to what she was getting at.

“Exactly, stop saying mean stuff about yourself,” she said, nodding. Hil dubiously agreed that he would, but really he didn’t see anything wrong with it. It was funny. He was allowed to have some humor about his situation, wasn’t he? That familiar feeling of irritation picked at his chest. When was everyone going to stop shoving their ideas of how he should handle it onto him?

“Anyway,” Cheren interjected sharply, “if you want to challenge Lenora, we’d better get there soon.” He adjusted his glasses and turned to face further into Nacrene City. Hil noticed the cityscape behind his friend was mainly that of dark wood and faded stone structures. It looked old, but lively, with people bustling from the various apartments and studios. “Gym Leader Lenora only takes trainers at certain times of the day since she works as the Museum Curator.”

With that, the three friends headed toward Nacrene City’s museum and gym. It was a large, stately building visible from well across the other side of the city, but as they drew nearer, they noticed a crowd of people gathered in front of it. It was easily two or three times as large as the one that had blossomed in Accumula Town for the Team Plasma speech there. Yet, it soon became clear that was exactly what this was. To the left of the museum’s entrance, a group of seven or eight silver robed men stood proud. Just like in Accumula Town, two on either end of their makeshift stage proudly displayed flags bearing Team Plasma’s insignia, while a man in darker, rounder robes paced back and forth between them. He had a tall, round hat and gray, grizzled hair spilled out from beneath it.

“This looks good,” Cheren grumbled as they all slowed to a stop at the back of the crowd.

“We call ourselves friends, or benevolent caretakers,” the elderly man was saying, his voice rising in volume, “and yet we bring our ‘friends’ back from the dead to fight for us! They are brought back from a life some thousands of years ago, likely from a time very different from ours, and expect them to assimilate to our society! To our brutish way of battling one another for sport! Fossil restoration is barbaric and another cruel invention of the Pokémon League!”

Hil had started to laugh, but was cut off by the roar of agreement that came from the gathered people. He shared a look with his friends and noted the shock on their faces as well. He had known Team Plasma had managed to gather a rather massive following… but, as he looked out over the crowd, actually seeing it in person was an entirely different feeling. The air was alive with their chanting and fist-pumps. This seemed less like an informative speech and more like a rallying cry… He cringed as he heard some of the words from the crowd.

“No more exhuming the dead for sport!”

“We shouldn’t profit off of something resting in peace!”

“And yet, that’s exactly what trainers do…”

The elderly man looked over the gathered crowd with a satisfied grin. He jabbed a fist into the air and screamed, “We must put an end to this horrific practice of bringing back the dead to serve the needs of selfish trainers, usually young children that have no idea what it is they’re doing! Not only are we abusing pokémon, but we are manipulating our youth into believing this behavior is acceptable!”

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dlugo7-blog · 4 years

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Still Here.

Disclaimer:

I’ve seen so many wins and losses, both in my life and in others’, and I wanted to share my experiences from what was quite easily the toughest 365 I’ve ever faced. This isn’t to bring attention to myself, but more so to let you know that we’re all human. I hope you read this and it helps you somehow; whether you can relate or not, we’re all in this life stuff together. Be confident, be you, always.

It’s been… a while? Sure, the decade is coming to a close, and it’s great that many are reflecting on the last ten; however, I myself wanted to focus on this past year in particular.

Making decisions is inevitably a part of life that we eventually must tackle with confidence. The spectrum of decisions features endless possibilities: from black or white socks in the morning, to which job you should take, one is small, one is big, both are crucial.

I made a decision at the end of last year that changed my life forever. This decision was something that I never envisioned happening. When I say never, I mean not one millisecond did my mind wonder off into a state that featured this decision coming to life in any way, shape, or form. There were plenty of reasons that I didn’t think that a decision like this would ever have had to be made, but the main ones were the power in and faith of love, which I still possess to this day.

With that decision came the darkest days of my life, but opportunistic ones subsequently. I started a new position at Nike, which consisted of a three month “stretch assignment” as a part of the music team. I was primed and determined to obtain a corporate-level position after the 90 days because I knew that I had worked my ass off and was ready for the next step in life, but also partially because I needed the aforementioned next step for the sake of my own mental.

The first month was full of learning and growth; I was blessed yet again to rub shoulders and engage in conversation with some of the most creative, hard-working people that I had ever met. For my Nike vets out that made the choice to read this, I was just trying to be a sponge early on in the process. January was a blur, but it closed with me being asked, “is your schedule clear for the first week of February? We want you to go to LA.”

*cues “Bicken Back Being Bool”* The night before leaving, I had one of the toughest conversations I’ve ever had in my life; one that semi-clarified the direction in which my life was heading in. I’ll never forget the ride to the airport in the morning; I let it all out in that Uber while texting my inner circle. I told them that I was scared as fuck, in so many ways, but I thanked them for always keeping me afloat in midst of this life shit. I’ll say this until I am blue in the face, but you are only as strong as your support system. I’m often one to bottle up, but we’re all human at the end of the day, and I have no shame in admitting that. I boarded the plane, my brain scrambled, with my first solo work trip staring me in the face.

I landed in LA, arrived at my hotel, and walked into a room that was straight out of the movies. TV mounted on a pole in the middle that swerved whichever way you wanted it to, king-sized bed with a bathtub adjacent to it, and a mirror the size of a Manhattan skyscraper. The best part was the fruit platter that was assembled on the table, which had an envelope propped up against it that said “Mr. David *middle name* Lugo.” I felt like Hov, y’all. I can’t lie.

The trip was full of nothing but positivity. I’m forever grateful to the both East and West music teams for showing me an insurmountable amount of love throughout my time with them, but this trip in particular was something I’ll never forget. I got the opportunity to meet so many people in higher places, and experience things “on the other side.” I was ten feet away from Jorja as she performed, and I was never so close to losing a job in my life. That’s cap, but, what a moment that was. “If you asked this little kid from Brooklyn who had dreams of being in the MLB if he would be on a work trip in LA working in the music world, he would’ve looked at you like you were crazy. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” That’s the text I sent in gratitude at the conclusion of the trip. I meant every word.

Time passed, and I kept working hard, as always. I started to gain some traction, some momentum, both physically and mentally. Then, March 31st came. I’ll never forget being on Dave’s couch watching Duke and Michigan State when Ian stopped and said, “Not Nipsey, man.” I frantically refreshed Twitter, the only word I could utter was “fuck.” Thirty-three years old, shot and killed in front of what he built. He’s playing in the background as I type this now, and it still doesn’t seem real. I’ll never forget coming to work and talking to Kha about it. He said, “that’s so crazy, because you always tried to get me to listen to Nip.”

The next day was the start of my last week at the office. I barely spoke to anyone that day, because that shit hurt. It still does, there’s no way around it. Ironically, one of my close friends was getting married in LA that weekend. I’ll spare the details, but despite my hard work and determination those few months, the stars weren’t fully aligned yet, and there was no room for me to join the corporate team. The trip to celebrate love couldn’t have come at a better time.

I made my way out West, and it was bittersweet for obvious reasons: the decision to close out the last year, Nip’s death, not getting a permanent look at the office, and a variety of other life obstacles all weighed on me. We pulled up to Slauson to pay our respects, and hundreds of people were gathered to celebrate Hussle’s life. As emotional as it was, the love and energy that was there was truly special.

Wedding day came, and to see love at its’ peak was a beautiful thing. My friends were so happy to be joined in marriage; the company, the scenery, the aura, all of it was perfect. They even walked out to “U See Us,” and I was so gassed that I went and thanked them after. Nip blaring out of the speakers as they walked into the hall was something I didn’t expect. Full transparency, as gushingly happy as I was for everyone involved, I was selfishly sad a bit. Reflecting is great, but reminiscing isn’t always the same. A combination of the two made for a constant tug of war in my mind. As I sat in the airport waiting for my departing flight back home, I couldn’t help but think how this could’ve been me soon.

I got back home, hot to cold, literally. Back at the store, I felt trapped again. Creatively, I was fed up with my lack of progress due to circumstances that were out of my control. The one constant positive thing about that door was the people and the running community that was built there. I loved being that guy to round the troops up to go for a run after work, motivating others to join me regardless of their running experience.

A big step in my personal growth this year had a lot to do with running, as many of you may already know. I took it extremely serious, and developed a new passion that I never could’ve imagined coming to life. This new found passion allowed me to lead in a new way, inspire in a new way, and most importantly be happy in a new way. I am forever grateful for every single person that encouraged me, ran with me, or was involved in the journey that is still going to this day. I’m forever in debt to you all.

Skipping a few months of a routine cycle, which led to this.. Remember that opening paragraph about decisions? Well, I faced a pretty fucking massive one in July, when I stepped out of the box and bet on myself. Real quick, though, shout out to Roddy for a late contender for Song of the Year with “The Box.” Unbelievable.

Anyway, I felt stuck and decided to reach out to someone who had offered me some help a while back if I ever needed it, based on some work that I had done in the past. I took his word for it and set up a meeting. That meeting led to another meeting, which led to an interview, which led to a 90+ degree day in July. I was at Citi Field for Go Play Day with Nike, when I got a text from said person saying that he wanted to speak about a potential offer. I couldn’t take the call because I was occupied teaching first graders the proper fundamentals on how to field ground balls and step into their throws. Clearly more important. So serious, by the way.

The call happened the next day, and I was offered a job. Holding back tears like Will in The Pursuit of Happyness, I thanked the other end of the phone a million times, and the call ended. I broke down, my pals. The accumulation of hard work, persistence, struggle, pain, and everything you could imagine had brought me to this point. That’s where I’ve been since August, putting in some serious work with an All-Star team. I’m leading my own year long project, and doing the damn thing.

Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m tired. I’ll use this paragraph to tell y’all some random facts about the year. Amanda and Darren had a baby, and Adonis is perfect. He’s a baby me, and I can’t wait to take him to the park. I went to Oregon and Seattle, went up to the Space Needle which was beast, and had a peaceful time exploring such a beautiful coast. I went to more of Ian’s plays because he’s a superstar. I ran with Dave because he realized I’m not trying to be a bodybuilder like he is, so to get him to run was like pulling teeth. Freddie Kitchens is the worst coach ever. I started going to church this year, and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made in quite some time. I dyed my hair because, life? I got two tattoos, one of which has been years in the making and is an ode to Sade, Bob Ross, and myself. I fell in love with Snoh. I don’t know, a lot of shit happened.

To close out this damn near novel of the year, I want to say that I’m proud of myself. I’m still standing, and I didn’t know what to expect as I wrote this. It was emotional, without a doubt. I’ll continue to reflect, I’ll continue to reminisce, and I’ll continue to be human. I encourage you all to do the same. I’ll continue to walk in faith, and give all glory upstairs. I don’t really know how to close this, which is weird, but as I always say, love is love. Whether it’s to close out this decade, or to start the new one, make a decision. Right or wrong, have faith it’ll all work out. I still do.

- The Boy

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feel199x · 5 years

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ monster of my dreams ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

monster(sort of)!changbin. monsters inc!au

I II

a/n: look, i dont know how this happened either. this will probably only be two or three parts though and then i’ll give changbin a decent au where i don’t clown him

warnings: fear of darkness, angst towards the end

You hated the dark, like, really, you were terrified of it. Sure, it may be childish, but nothing good ever happened in the dark. No one ever came home after dark and said: “Guess what amazing and totally not scary event just happened!” Because, face it, the dark was scary. Would a haunted house be a scary if it was a sunny summer day? No, it would not. It wasn’t a crippling fear or anything, but truth be told you had some issues to work on.

So when you saw this humanoid figure stepping out of your closet, you screamed bloody murder. You swore you’ve never screamed so loud as you threw your pillows and anything you could grab from your bed.

“Please,” he yelled through the ambush of thrown pillows, “Stop throwing stuff at me.”

“No!” you yelled, trying to stand as defiantly as you could, “There’s a small, short stranger in my apartment.”

“I’m not short! I’m probably taller than you!”

“Get out my apartment! I’m calling the police!”

He came fully out of the closet, approaching your bed. “Wait a second,” he said suspiciously, “You’re an adult?”

“What is that supposed to even mean? Who are you?”

He tapped the bed frame impatiently, and as you turned your bedroom light on- his face was suddenly illuminated. Oh no, he’s hot.

“My name is Changbin,” he said, “And I think a mistake has been made.”

You made a fist, wondering if you should make a run for it or call the police. You looked around the room, searching for a weapon or something you could defend yourself with.

“Can I wait here,” he asked, “Look, I know it’s weird but my boss is gonna think it’s weird if I leave after like two minutes.”

You looked at him with the face of utter confusion, you were completely lost. What kind of person breaks into an apartment by accident, and then asked to stay awhile. And besides, it’s not like he was about to listen to anyway, as he flopped himself down onto the floor and leaned against the bed frame, grumbling to himself.

You crawled to the end of your bed, letting your head drop as you turned your head to face him. He raised his eyebrows in shock and scooched farther away from you. “You need to stay far away from me,” he stated, “I can’t get contaminated by humans.” You wanted to kick him in the shins, you really did. This guy broke into your house, refuses to leave, and you can’t get near him?

“Humans?” you asked, “And what are you?”

“A monster.”

You snorted. “You’re not a very scary one.”

“I know,” he said miserably, “That’s what they said at Monster University too.”

“Can you get out now?”

“No.”

You inched closer to him, about to use his newly found fears against him. You moved slowly, but noticeably towards him.

“Don’t! Go away! It’s just a few minutes!”

You were making your way off the bed and towards the young man...as he patched the tempo you were moving at, trying not to set you off, but not letting you get close. That’s when you jumped at him and he scrambled for the closet. You were confused as to why he would go for the exit instead, but you sprinted, following him into what used to be a shallow and narrow closet.

Used to be.

Suddenly, you toppled on top of the guy who called himself Changbin, and landed somewhere unlike anything you ever seen before. It was dark, and filled with things you’ve only seen in cartoons. There were doors, everywhere, constantly moving and disappearing. Suddenly, you were being pushed off and tugged somewhere obscure. And you moved, because suddenly Changbin seemed a lot less scary standing in your room compared to the type of creatures you witnessed.

“Are you insane?” he scolded you in a quiet voice, “Why would you follow me?”

You flailed your arms desperately and motioned around you. “In what world,” you whisper-yelled back, “Does following someone in a closet lead here?” He tapped his foot impatiently, and took a phone-like item and called someone.

“Felix, yeah,” he glared at you, “I have a situation.”

Changbin grabbed you using the sleeve of his leather jacket, and hurridely moved you along what seemed like a factory, hiding you behind various objects and greeting an even larger variety of monsters until the both of you had reached a secluded room.

“You brought a human?” a deep voice yelled, “A human into our factory?”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, hoping to whatever god there was, that it wasn’t a terrifying monster like the ones you had seen roaming around the factory. But it wasn’t. It was another boy, another human boy.

“Literally the both of you are human,” you commented, “I really don’t-”

“We are not!”

The both of them turned angrily at you, and you quickly shut up, deciding that maybe it wasn’t the best to piss off your somewhat allies in a place that was filled to the brim with monsters. They quickly turned their attention off of you and continued their discussion of you. “Why is it such a big deal if I’m human?” you piped in, “Can’t you just send me back?”

“They’ll kill you,” Changbin said, “And us. It’s like treason. Our worlds are seperated for a reason.”

That response was something you had not expected, you’re not sure exactly what that was, but certainly not a death sentence. You quieted as you tried to think of a solution to your more than unfortunate situation.

“Just make me look like one,” you said, “a monster, I mean. Make me look like a monster.”

“That’s ridiculous-,” Changbin started.

“No, wait a second,” Felix cut him off, “They might have a point.”

And for the next hour, the two maybe human boys used things in the supply closet to obscure your actual identity. And by the end of that time, you were a toilet-paper mummy with the end of a mop on your head.

“I think ___ looked scarier without the toilet paper,” Changbin commented, “Now she just looks like one of us.” The three of you waited in the supply closet until the factory was due to close down. And when it did, Felix stepped out to make sure that the coast was truly clear, and there weren’t any monsters lingering around.

“If you’re not human then why do you look like me?” you asked, “I mean, anatomically we don’t have any differences. Okay, well we might have a few, but-”

“I’m not human,” he said harshly, “Drop it.”

“But you’re not a monster either-”

“Shut up!” he yelled, “I don’t know you, you don’t know me. I could lie to them you know, and you’d be dead, but I’m not!”

“Would a monster do that?”

And at that moment, you knew you had pushed too far. Some line, some undrawn line in the sand, you had crossed it. And it showed in his face, the way it tightened and screwed up. But his face wasn’t read, and he wasn’t struggling to control his breath. But he was angry, and you could feel the rage coursing through his veins. For the first time that night, you decided that Changbin could sincerely, and authentically be scarier than anything you’d ever seen before.

“Get up.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, but whatever you’re thinking about. Please, please don’t.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

So that’s what you did, not trying to provoke him any further.

No, you didn’t like the dark at all.

Whatever you thought Changbin was gonna do, he didn’t do that. Instead, he had locked you in another supply closet, far back in the factory where it looked mostly unused. You were relieved, but angry at the same time. Because, well you were alive, but you still had a mop on your head.

But most of all, the part you hated the most, was being stuck in the dark, in a room you could barely breathe in. You pulled at the toilet paper around your neck, hoping that you could breathe better, but it didn’t help. You began pulling the paper from your eyes and nose and torso, but it didn’t help. The air in the room was still stuffy, and you were still trapped. You even risked banging on the door, but there was nobody there. Not Felix, and especially not Changbin.

You were getting desperate, tears streaming down your face, until finally, the door opened.

“Oh,” Changbin’s voice softened, “I’m sorry.”

You glared at him through your glassy eyes, and even though he’d already seen the tears fall on your face- you didn’t want him to get the satisfaction from seeing you like that. Until, of course, he hugged you. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, while you stood there, face buried in his shirt.

“You’re a monster,” you said pulling yourself away, “A big, old, mean monster.”

Changbin gave you a concerned look, and was about to say something when Felix came up running to the both of you, a worried look painted on his face. “The door,” he panted, “The door is gone. I can’t find it.” You looked at both of them, lost and confused, just like you had spent most of the night. “You can’t go home,” Felix explained, “That was your only way out.”

A voice crept from the darkness: “Oh,” they said happily, “But there’s really no need for that now, is there?”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fic #skz fluff #skz changbin #stray kids changbin #changbin fluff #changbin angst

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