#is he gives me a prescription and then I have to message him way later on cause it never fucking filled cause he forgot to do something

[sharkieboi]

i keep having to like fight for my life at the pharmacy to get prescriptions filled and I had a call with my T doctor that was supposed to be a few weeks follow up about switching to T gel, but I haven’t yet gotten the fucking gel because insurance sent it back for prior authorization and this guy is too fucking overbooked to remember to do that and/or this hospital just fucking sucks at communicating between doctors and the pharmacy.

so we had our call to check in and im desperately just like can you do the prior authorization so I can actually start this med like fucking PLEASE I’m so tired!! and he responded “are you okay you sound pretty distressed” and I was clenching my fists to try and respond cause YES. I AM DISTRESSED. I keep having to call and fight for every medicine I need to function as a basic human being and be the person I want to be! I’m so dysphoric right now I want to die but my hands shake like a fucking vibrator every time I try and stab myself so I need to switch my method of T to something not a needle! and I’m constantly fighting for my life to get my adhd meds filled and not to be a meth-head but i legit don’t know how I functioned for 27 fucking years and made it through GRAD SCHOOL without meds cause my brain is so much clearer and I function so much better when I can actually get my thoughts in order and focus for real.

so yeah!! I’m in distress!!! I want my brain to work and I want my body to look and function how I need it to!! and this doctor’s blasé attitude to not being able to get my prescriptions filled is going to be the death of me!!!

#shhh sharkie #LIKE SPECIFICALLY THAT ITS THE PRESCRIPTION IS WAITING ON HIM!!!!!!!!!! #YEAH IM IN DISTRESS CAUSE IVE BEEN CALLING YOUR OFFICE AND THE PHARMACY FOR TWO WEEKS NOW #AND ITS FULLY DEPENDENT ON YOU MY GUY #FILL OUT THE FORMS SO FUCKING HELP ME GOD JESUS FUCKING CHRIST #YEAH IM IN DISTRESS. I JUST WANT MY BRAIN TO WORK AND MY BODY TO COOPOERATE WITH WHAT I WANT IT TO LOOK LIKE #i just. also being on T is a legit mood stabilizer for me. #and I know part of being off it is my own fault cause i do technically have all the prescription! I just can’t with needles right now. #and weekly is hard for me to remember. daily is easy. i take plenty of other daily meds. #I think I do need to switch to a different doctor in this practice cause this is what happens every single fucking time #is he gives me a prescription and then I have to message him way later on cause it never fucking filled cause he forgot to do something #actually will maybe check the patient portal and see if i can request someone else lmao. but like really. yeah this sucks i want to be done.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Thank you to all my amazing TikTok fans who talked me into detransitioning! ❤️ You guys are incredible. My sister's been encouraging me to detrans for a while, but from her it just sounded like innocent teasing. But seeing hundreds of you guys comment and send me messages telling me to stop taking estrogen, get my boobs removed, and just embrace being male. I know I should've just listened to my sister a long time ago and stopped living as some big-breasted porn fantasy of being female. I can't believe what a slut I was.... I've probably been fucked by hundreds of guys, and sucked twice as much cock. It was so affirming to be a sorority slut, but in the background every time I posted on TikTok or Insta you guys would be there to call me male, tell me I need to give up on playing make believe and finally go through male puberty.

I'm not gonna lie, I'd masturbate to all your wonderful comments, misgendering me, telling me I'm obviously just a guy with fat man-boobs. My sister would like and agree with so many of those comments. And so would my parents.... and my college professors. I got home one night after getting passed around by like five or six guys, my boobs bruised and swollen, my cock the same way.... I looked at my bottle of estrogen and dumped it out. The very next morning I went to the university's medical department and requested to be put on testosterone. I'm only six months into my detransition but the effects are so noticeable. My face is getting more masculine--not that I ever looked much like a girl to begin with!

And of course my college encouraged me to get my breasts removed asap, when I got my T prescription, they practically pushed me straight into the surgery wing. I went in, took off my clothes, and one of the guys who fucked me only a couple nights ago was the surgery student who was going to work on me. He smiled when he saw me and said he knew I was going to detrans sooner or later. I sat there as the surgery students watched, many of whom I've been fucked by, whistling and cheering me on to detransition. I sat there jerking off my five-inch cock as the guy wrote his guidelines on my breasts to remove them, telling me how much fun he was going to have destroying my breasts in front of the class, tossing them in the trash, having just grabbed and played with them so recently. He said he was hoping the whole time he'd get the chance to remove them. As I sat there listening, jerking off, I told him I hoped he'd have fun....

Now I'm living as a femboy. Still presenting like a girl, but embracing being a boy as my facial hair starts to come in and my body gradually masculinizes at long last. My sister couldn't be more pleased with me. The same with the rest of my family, although I'm still just a college slut.... The main difference is I now live at the frat house, with the other detrans boys. We all sleep together, and share the responsibility of keeping all the jocks other guys satisfied, when they aren't fucking their curvy pregnant girlfriends, or other trans girls, telling them to detrans and stop being delusional fake girls as they fuck them. I hope lots more trans girls get their big fat boobs chopped off and join us here at the frat house, it's so much more fun being a boy. ❤️"

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink #sissi femboi #femboy kink

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3676

(alright, we’re getting into some good stuff now ;) hope you enjoy!)

Three weeks.

Three weeks had passed since you first encountered that purple clad turtle, give or take.

And they were a blur of fighting and parties and studies and a library and coffee and him.

Donnie, the centrifuge that had been the catalyst of the whirlwind that had become your life. Well, technically his brothers, April, and the rest of the gang were also at fault, but he was the main culprit. The superfluous amount of meetings you’d had with him in your short time knowing him, his intriguing disposition, the whole situation had made it quite easy for him to work his way up to being one of your favorite people.

It had been a few days since you’d seen him. It had also been a few days since you’d left the fortress of your home. Following the hectic event and subsequently less wild ones of last week, you deserved a few days’ break.

But it was time to get back into the fray.

You forced yourself up from where you had been lounging on your bed, prying your eyes away from the ceaseless social media scrolling you had subjected yourself to.

Blinking your sleepiness away, you thought about what you had to do: eat something, first of all, get some water and whatever prescriptions you needed, then message that confounded turtle about his progress on that invention.

Call yourself curious, but you just had to see it in its completion. Also, you were desperately bored. Why not get your social interaction and entertainment in one stop, kill two birds with one stone?

You pulled up the chat you currently had with him but paused before you typed a word.

Sure, texting got the point across, but you were looking for a quick answer, not a typical, joining-the-conversation-hours-later Donnie answer.

Would a call work better in this scenario?

Of course, calls kind of sucked to do, solely because of the whole talking aspect, but it could be quicker. And if he didn’t respond, then you could just send a text.

You clicked his contact and the button to call him, holding your breath momentarily afterward. Hopefully it wasn’t too weird. You meant, you’d never called him before, so maybe you would look like an absolute maniac for calling him now over something so trivial. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea-

“Hello?”

You startled at the sound of a voice over the phone. He’d already answered. No going back now.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you responded as smoothly as possible.

“... Fine? You called?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation fell silent until he spoke up.

“May I know what for?”

“Right! Yeah, sorry, I was just curious about that whole mystic gem-finding situation. Did you find one yet?”

“I have yet to locate and secure any that aren’t currently in use. The project’s also been on the backburner with lair repairs; segue, do you know how many microwaves Leo can break in a week?”

You snickered, though you quickly worked back out of that tangent. “Dude, isn’t your dad- er, wait, your father some kind of alchemist? He probably has something you could use.”

“He likely does.  However, we have what one might call a strained relationship.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about that if you don’t want to-’

“Me and my brothers destroyed his lab and he threw Leo off of a roof.”

“Oh.”

You two went quiet once more. He also broke the silence once more.

“Never mind that, let’s focus on the task at hand: how to obtain a sought-after gem.”

“By destroyed, do you mean made a mess of or..?”

“Absolutely decimated it.”

“Right,” you nodded slowly. “So is it abandoned, and, follow up, would it still have any resources left?”

“Not likely. Scavengers, and Draxum himself, probably made certain that anything valuable was taken care of. But, we could potentially check it out.”

“Hmm, ‘we’?” you asked innocently enough, save for a teasing inflection in your hum.

“Yeah, ‘we’. Unless you’re not interested, which is totally within bounds-”

“I’m free Thursday and Friday, either before noon or at, like, ten,” you cut him off. His surprise was discernible by how quiet he went for a solid ten seconds.

“Right, yeah, Friday works,” he finally conceded. “Would Friday at 23:00 work for you?”

Seriously? Military time? What a punk. “Translate into normal time talk and then you’ll get an answer,” you quipped.

“No need to be rude. Does eleven sound better to your inconsiderate self?”

“Much. And eleven works. Where’re we meeting?”

“Fret not. I’ll send the location.”

Come Friday, following the address brought you to the shadiest place you’d been since April took you into the sewers last week.

Man, your friend group was a whole situation.

The area itself was fine. Domestic, contemporary homes and apartments in a congested neighborhood, standard New York living arrangement. Your dubiousness, however, stemmed from the particular location: a horribly lit, uninhabited, possibly abandoned construction site.

Actually, it would probably be weirder for him to ask to meet you in a normal location with street lights.

You sent a quick text to Donnie, informing him that you were there and possibly telling him to hurry his shell up before stepping into the.dirt-coated lot. As you moved deeper into the area, you noticed a silhouette propped against the side of a big metal container. You squinted at the turned away figure, trying to make out any features.

Typing vigorously, wearing an oversized purple hoodie, hunched over their phone- okay, yeah, that was Donnie.

You quickly made your way over to him, leaning next to him on the container with a loud, metallic thud.

“Hey there, pal,” you grinned, a visible puff of air exiting your lips. Boy, was it cold.

He lackadaisically lifted an eyebrow at you as he finished typing something up on his phone. “Salutations. And refrain from calling me pal; we’re not pals.”

Donnie placed his phone and hands into his hoodie pocket and started making his way further into the shadows underneath the structure of steel beams and bars. You followed suit.

“What are we then?” you prompted playfully.

“Acquaintances.”

“Really? I don’t think people who are just acquaintances travel to literal mystic cities or even the sewers with each other.”

“Well, if you are so well versed on the classifications of relationship statuses, what do you consider us to be?”

“Friends, probably,” you shrugged.

“Probably?” he asked as he started to use a pin from his pocket to draw an unfamiliar insignia on an oddly placed brick wall.

You rested your hands on your hips. “I mean, thinking statistically about it, we’re probably friends.”

“In what universe does statistics have anything to do with this situation?”

“Ion’ know. You’re supposed to know about the science-and-math-y stuff. I’m just moral support.”

“No, you’re just throwing mathematical terms around haphazardly!” he exclaimed, gesticulating with his free hand.

“I probably am.”

His eye twitched. Before he could iterate his disdain for your insolence, the design he traced on the wall began to emit an electric blue shade. A static buzz entered the air, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling around you. Not comforting, though. It was reminiscent of the portals you’d encountered just last week.

Abruptly, a swirling amalgamation of light and energy came forth before you, small bursts of lightning zapping periodically.

Huh. You were right. Portals.

“Does this lead to that lab?” you asked, peering at it curiously.

“What do you say we find out?” Donnie gave a lazy grin before coolly stepping backwards into the portal.

You gawked. The audacity of this man to invite you adventuring and then leave you high and dry was astronomical.

That left you with two options: get out of there and have a cozy night in or follow him into a suspicious portal. Which, come on, you already knew what you were going to do: tail that turtle and make him rue leaving you behind like that.

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped, or fell, more so, into the portal, and that’s when things went loopy.

Your surroundings melted into a zero gravity tunnel of blue, insides churning in a manner akin to the swarm of colors around you. Everything looked distorted, warped into only sensations, and after moments of free fall and whiplash and weightlessness you plopped rather unceremoniously onto a brick path. 

Somehow, the area you ended up in was even loopier than that.

For starters, the sky was a washy mix of apricot and slate and a golden color. Next up, and quite likely most pressingly, was the gigantic structure sitting before you. A short, rocky path trailed up to a floating cylindrical building, the size of which rivaled every building you’d ever seen in New York. The building was bathed in green light, had a balcony- and did you mention FLOATING?

“Holy-” You couldn’t help but go slack-jawed, earning a smug expression from the turtle.

“Mmhm.”

“Where are we?” You looked at the vast area behind you, the fiery orange sky littered with floating edifices and vessels and creatures of all varieties.

“Welcome to the Hidden City, my associate-”

You interjected, “-friend-”

“-entourage,” he corrected with the raise of an eyebrow.

You let it slide, not looking to lower your status any more. “Touché. Continue.”

“The Hidden City, a subterranean city-state far beneath New York City and home to the laboratory of former warrior-alchemist Barron Draxum,” Donnie introduced with a flourish of his hands.

You released an amused puff of air. “You feel good about letting out your inner theater kid?”

“I feel great, actually. But there’s no time to dwell on that. Onward, to exploration!”

He was really in full theatrics tonight, but you didn’t mind indulging. Lightly shaking your head at him, you joined him in moving up the path to the towering golden archway at the front of the building.

The door opened creakily, unsturdy on its hinges, shedding light on a decrepit, dust-ridden foyer. Large tapestries and artworks strewn about the halls were coated so thickly in dirt they almost couldn’t be made out. You shot him an uncertain look.

“Like I said, don’t keep your hopes up,” was all Donnie said in response before continuing down the dim corridor. You stalled, still weary about the condition of the building, before swiftly catching back up with him.

As you worked your way into the dark, desolate lab, Donnie lectured you on safety precautions. “Don’t touch anything unless it seems nonlethal and productive. Actually, just don’t touch anything.”

“So, I can’t open any drawers or anything?” you sassed.

He deadpanned. “You know what I mean.”

“Semantics matter, D.”

“Not really- fine, whatever. Let’s get to exploring,” Donnie conceded, excitedly flicking his goggles down with a smirk.

It was an instinct, really, that you clasped a hand over your mouth and terribly concealed a laugh upon seeing his goggle-covered eyes.

He stared at you blankly. “What?”

You waved your hand in front of you to dismiss yourself. “I’m sorry- I’ve just never seen you in the goggles.”

“I’ve worn them during every interaction of ours.”

“No, I mean like on your eyes. It makes them look all beady.”

“Wow. I appreciate that.”

You quickly defended yourself. “In a good way! It’s not bad, just different.”

“Ah yes, ‘beady in a good way’. I’ll log that one in the books.”

“Seriously, I thought they looked cute.”

He looked taken aback, lips pursed and face warm at that assertion.

“Not like that. Like an objective kind of cute.” You shook your head in disbelief at the words you were spewing. “Actually, nevermind. Forget I said any of that.”

“Agreed.” He rolled his eyes and set to work scanning shelves and drawers for any traces of the mysticism you were pursuing. For his sake, you didn’t mention how the pink tint on his face didn’t disappear until minutes into your guys’ search.

The search ended up unsuccessful. Sure, while scouring shelves and cabinets and odd cages around the spacious laboratory you found a whole lot more than you would expect in an abandoned building - elements in sealed jars, flasks of what seemed to be potions or ingredients - but nothing close to a crystal or gem.

After working your way around the room, you looked up at Donnie.

He shook his head and walked over to you. “It appears the lab’s a bust for any type of crystal. Not a total loss, though.” He held up a container labeled ‘emp.’ before one of the mechanical hands from his battle shell stored it for him. Another of the hands gave your shoulder a reassuring pat.

You shook your head. “No, we’re getting you a crystal, man.” You paused, thought of an alternative. “Are there any stores or markets nearby that might have them?”

“Ohmigosh, you are just full of great ideas.” You and Donnie began moving back toward the front.

He sounded like he might have meant that, but his voice was still startlingly monotonous. You narrowed your eyes, put your head askew. “For real?”

“Yes, this time,” the turtle nodded before excitedly gliding back down the entrance’s stairs.

You laughed, following along. “This time?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes.”

You caught up to him and landed a firm, still playful jab to his side.

“Just stop yapping and take us there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what felt like eons of continuous motion, you two made it onto the streets of the Hidden City.

Brightly colored banners, advertisements, decorations, adorned lampposts all up and down the streets, though you avoided certain battle-themed ones. Multitudes of languages and dialects could be heard all around. The smells of delectable foods wafted through the air, sweet, savory, spicy, but you couldn’t pay them any mind. You were on a gem-hunting mission. Even if it wasn’t going very well currently.

The merchant running a crystal stand was slumped over on their counter, boredly staring at the customers that had been occupying their business for minutes on end without making a choice i.e. you and Donnie.

You raised an index finger at a particular pretty purple gem sitting in a pile of other ones on the counter of the stand.

Donnie flicked on his goggles and shook his head. “Uh, no. Not remotely. We’re looking to avoid overcurrent; that thing has enough mystic mojo to wipe out half the city.”

You slowly placed it down. “Oookay then. Glad to be of service,” you muttered.

He pursed his lips at your interesting body language. Slumped shoulders, hints of dejection in your voice - you weren’t having fun. Maybe it was because he immediately turned down the last five of your suggestions, but who could definitively say why?

“The issue is that you keep grabbing crystals that emit cool colors, which, as you know from the electromagnetic spectrum, correlate to a higher frequency. We don’t want that. So, as much as I would enjoy a violet crystal to match my ambience, something with a less vibrant, warmer hue works best.”

You slowly digested what he just said. Cautiously, your hand crept back to the merchant’s display and selected an auburn gem. 

“That one’s frequency is too low-”

“Of course it is.”

“-but you’re on the right track! Try a little further down the electromagnetic spectrum-”

“What, something like this?” You gestured toward an amber gem that was near the bottom of the pile, exasperated.

Donnie hummed. “Actually, yeah. That’s just fine.”

“Really?”

“Shhh,” Donnie waved a hand telling you to calm down before pulling you aside. “There’s no fixed price on the signs here. If we seem too excited or gullible-”

“We get duped?” you guessed.

“We get duped. So stay cool, and let me handle this.”

Donnie cracked his knuckles and turned back to the stand, professionally ready to bargain and deal with the price.

He still ended up paying a ridiculous price for the small gem’s size, but you didn’t know if you’d ever seen him grin so proudly, so you didn’t say a word about it.

The first time you spoke up after the deal was made was after passing by a food cart and hearing your stomach rumble.

Donnie almost kept walking without you before you loosely clasped onto his wrist.

Puzzled, he turned back to you.

“Would you want to get something to eat? Like, while we’re down here,” you asked.

He pursed his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to retort or deny the requests, you were both hit with a wave of the most scrumptious food you’d smelled probably in your entire life.

“Okay, you have to admit that smell is heavenly,” you looked at him knowingly.

“I don’t have to do anything, but those do look fire.”

You gave him the best pleading look you had, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he caved in.

“Alright, we can take a quick detour from the exit.”

“Heck yeah! You rock, no correlation to geology,” you winked, adjusting your grip from his wrist to his hand so that you two wouldn’t get separated from you charging through the crowd.

And charge through that crowd you did.

Donnie in tow behind you, you bounded through the crowd excitedly, scarcely avoiding collisions all over.

However, the complaining Donatello in hand and sweating were inconsequential compared to being in line for a brand new type of culinary experience.

You were practically buzzing with joy, so excited that you momentarily forgot to relinquish Donnie’s hand. You still did though, just a moment shy of awkwardness.

You had made a good deal, had good company, and were about to have good food. What more could you want?

Still beaming, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket and pulled it out.

The smile on your face quickly receded as you checked who was calling.

“Just a moment, I need to take this,” you muttered before slipping out of line and off through the crowd.

Donnie froze. He didn’t like the fact that whoever called seemed to ruin your mood, nor the idea of you being alone in an entirely unfamiliar city.

Reluctantly, he relinquished his spot in line - which was painfully close to the front, might he add - to find you.

It took a moment of weaving left and right, dodging up and down through a flurry of wings and tails for him to find the space between two buildings that you had moved yourself into.

Not wanting to intrude, he stood right outside the small alley, listening in by a complete coincidence. Certainly not out of nosiness in the slightest. Nope.

Anyway, he only got close enough to hear you mid-sentence.

“-you serious? Now, I don’t know if your section of New York is in a different time zone, but for me right now it is way too dark and way too late to be calling for conferences.”

A pause. Scraggly sounds faintly sounded from the other side of the call, not that he could make out an inkling of it. You, on the other hand, understood it all too well.

“Obligatory? Yes, I know what obligatory means, I just find the notion of a required meeting kinda dumb- Sorry, I mean extremely dumb.”

Another pause of you presumably getting chewed out passed before you, begrudgingly, grumbled, “Ugh, if you insist. Be there later.”

The phone call ended after that, and Donnie had no clue what to do.

Walking in normally could make it seem like he was eavesdropping, which he was but he didn’t want you to know that, but he couldn’t just stand still either.

After some careful contemplation, Donnie looked around and stumbled (definitely not purposefully) into the alley you were in. He seemed somewhat concerned; he hadn’t seen you that perturbed before.“Is everything alright?” he muttered vaguely, not wanting to overstep.

“Just yelling at my… mother’s urn- Anyway, once again, I have really got to go, this has been really fun, we should do this again sometime, am I missing anything else?” you joked lightheartedly. Thankfully the mood, along with Donnie, followed your attitude shift.

“I feel like a ‘thanks, you’re the best’ may be due,” your companion urged jokingly.

“Thanks Donnie, you’re the best.”

He huffed. “Kidding. I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

For a probably too long moment, he made eye contact with you and your startlingly genuine eyes. Eventually, he tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “... Let’s get you back to the surface.”

The trip back to the site of the portal was mostly silent, just the two of you trekking shoulder to shoulder through crowds of characters, before you entered the vertigo-inducing light once again.

The wind bit harshly at you as soon as you landed back on New Yorkian ground, an unkind reminder of the end of your adventure.

You blew a puff of warm air onto your hands and almost started walking on instinct before Donnie spoke, reminding you of his presence.

“Are you alright going back on your own?” he questioned quietly, almost coyly.

“I mean, I made it here on my own. I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Oh. Okay,” he concurred with a nod before giving you a pair of thumbs up. “In that case, make it home safely. Text you later?”

“Later,” you agreed emphatically. With one more nudge of his arm and a pivot in the other direction, you were off, out of the construction zone, on the sidewalk, down the street.

As you moved toward your destination, the skyscrapers and towering structures lining your path grew taller, more opulent, more lavish. Insignificant residentials morphed into substantial, old money commercials. Your heart rate climbed.

You paused in front of the grand doors of your location and took a deep, steadying breath. It was just some quick business you had to take care of. Brief. Inconsequential. Everything would be fine.

With some renewed confidence, or at least some semblance of it, you pulled on the handle and swiftly entered the hotel’s lobby.

The door closed thickly behind you with a thud.

Resonate. Absolute. Irrevocable.

(Artwork for part 5)

Taglist ~

@rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise season 3 #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #rise donatello x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #soulmates #part 5

[everythingsf1ne23]

𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 | 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 & 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🎀💕:

@yarrystyleeza If you want to be added check out my pinned post! 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 💌:

I hope you enjoy my lovelies and I think that I might have to write a part 2 for this so let me know if you guys would want that, enjoy my lovelies <33 ~Jess

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 📝:

in which, a girl feels jealous of Michael going out with Molly so she goes for someone unexpected (inspired by the song ‘She’s All I Wanna Be’ 

by Tate McRae)

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘷:

sʜᴇ's ɢᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ?

I was surprised when the phone rang late in the pharmacy, nobody else was at the front so I answer it

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Molly there?”, my heart sank, 

of course Michael wants her.

“Yup she is” I call out for her and she quickly comes out from the back, 

Molly thanks me as I hand her the phone, 

I got out to the back to give her some privacy and I begin to prepare some prescriptions for the following day.

After a few moments, Molly returns to the back of the pharmacy to help me with the prescriptions, “Well someone certainly looks happy” I say to her noticing her bright smile on her face 

“Yeah I am, Michael is taking me out for a drink later to thank me for helping him”

“Ah that’s lovely, I’m happy for you” I send her a smile, I’d like to have Michael but if he doesn’t want me that’s fine,

 I know exactly who I’ll go for.

“I’ll have to go soon to get to the pub”

Molly tells me and I nod,

“That’s grand, I’ll lock up here for you”

Molly finishes up her bit and she gives me the keys to close up the pharmacy,

I admit that I don’t like working in a pharmacy as I’ve always had dreams of being a musician but I guess we don’t always get what we want,

“Thank you for doing this for me”, Molly says with that bright smile of hers

“No problem, have a good time”

And with that, Molly left me all alone 

I sigh but thankfully I was finished my part of the prescriptions soon enough, I quickly lock up the pharmacy and I drive home,

As soon as I get into my house, 

I get a glass of champagne and I start my research online, I mean I know his name and from what I’ve heard, 

he is the one leading the Turk’s gang that are going after the Kinsella family,

I search his name on Instagram and I find him quickly, I send him a follow request.

I decide to watch some telly to focus on something other than Michael and Molly, 

I flick through the tv channels but as usual there isn’t much on, soon after I find an interesting show and as soon as it goes for the ad break, my phone beeps and I check it to see that Wayne Madigan has accepted my follow request and almost immediately I have a message from him.

A few weeks later, 

I finish work at the pharmacy and I stand outside waiting for Wayne to pick me up,

Moments later, Molly walks out as the shutters close 

“You’re still waiting for your mysterious man?” Molly asks and I nod, 

“Yeah he should be here soon hopefully”

I say with a soft smile

“I’m glad that you’ve found someone who makes you happy, you seem a lot happier in yourself these last few weeks”

“Thank you Molly and I definitely am happier, he means a lot to me” And I wasn’t lying to Molly for once, surprisingly Wayne and I have a great connection 

I notice Michael coming up the street and I look in the other direction to also see Wayne coming my way,

Wayne arrives up to us before Michael 

“There’s my favourite girl!” Wayne says loudly and I giggle, I rush up and

 I give him a hug

“How was your day?” I ask him 

“My day was good but I missed you” 

Wayne replies with a soft smile

“Aww you guys are so cute together” I almost forgot that Molly was still there 

but then Michael was finally there, 

he notices Wayne beside me

“Amanda wants a meeting with you tomorrow for that deal” 

Michael tells Wayne and he nods

“That’s fine, I’ll be there” 

And with that, we part ways, Michael and Molly are going to a restaurant but 

Wayne offered to cook for us this evening so he drives us home.

#kin rte #kin bbc #kin fanfic #kin fanfiction #charlie cox #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #jack meade #wayne madigan x reader #wayne madigan x you

[silvfyre-writings]

Tell Me a Story, Ranpo-kun Pt. 4 (BSD Fanfic)

I apologize in advance for the ride you all are about to undertake.

Enjoy?

So, yeeeeah, if you're crying, I have tissues on hand.

There's only one chapter to go, and… I'm not ready. I estimate that it should be done before the end of May, but we'll see. I'm sure you all know what's coming though.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this fic, I appreciate every single one of you <3

Until the final chapter.

Time passes faster than Ranpo had expected it to, and before he knows it; two years have gone by in the blink of an eye, and so much has happened, some of it good, some of it bad. And while Ranpo often wishes that he could have had Poe by his side while everything happened, he also knows that it’s important for Poe to focus on his studies, since, you know, he’s spent literal years working towards completing them.

It just means he’ll have a lot to say when he finally gets to see the man again.

Like they’d promised, he and Poe keep in contact as much as they can, but time zones and life get in the way, and more often than not, they can only manage to hold a phone call for only a few minutes. That doesn’t mean they don’t try, though; they do everything in their power to keep old of that precious bond they share, and the promise they made to each other to not let it fall apart.

Ranpo calls Poe the moment Yosano drops by the café, almost a year after Poe’s departure, excitedly telling Poe that the drug the doctor’s been working on all this time has finally been approved for distribution. It’s a joyous moment, one that Ranpo has been waiting for, for a long time, and despite the tiredness in Poe’s voice—because it’s in the middle of the night over in America when he calls—he can tell that he’s just as happy as Ranpo is. And likewise, Poe calls Ranpo in the middle of the night a month later, crying happy tears as he tells Ranpo that he’s successfully passed all his classes and that he’ll be graduating soon as a fully-fledged nurse; the unsaid words of I’ll be back in Yokohama before you know it, not needing to be said at all. That night is the longest they’ve managed to talk the entire time they’ve been separated, and Ranpo falls asleep that night, listening as Poe babbles on and on.

He wakes up the following morning, phone dead, but once he charges it and it turns back on, he’s greeted by a message from Poe. Sleep well, Ranpo-kun.

In the two years that have passed, Ranpo has gone from frequenting Yokohama’s hospital to barely setting foot in it at all; all because of Yosano and her determination to give him a good life. It helps, that upon the approval of the drug he’d once trialled, she secures a prescription for him, and it soon joins the cocktail of medications that Ranpo has to take daily in order for his body to actually agree with living. It’s a lot of pills, and he stares at them with disdain every morning before downing them all at once with a shudder.

Every day, without fail.

As much as he hates it though, he can’t deny that the meds help; his flare ups are milder than they were three years ago, and while they still happen, he hasn’t been admitted to the hospital for one in well over a year now—aside from one time when he’d gotten an infection and come so close to death, Fukuzawa had actually started planning a funeral. It’s a weight off of Ranpo’s shoulders; Fukuzawa’s too, for the constant medical bills finally come to a halt, and the man can finally get ahead of them instead of stressing over them like he’d been doing for the past six years.

Even better, Ranpo manages to secure himself a job now that he’s not half-living in a hospital, earning his own income for the first time in his life. And while Fukuzawa had told him he didn’t need to pay him back for providing Ranpo with medical care for all these years; Ranpo still puts most of his pay into an envelope and hides it in Fukuzawa’s office. He knows Fukuzawa finds the money—he’s not hiding it that well to begin with—but his guardian never says anything to him about it, and he thinks it’s because he understands that this is something Ranpo both wants and needs to do.

It's not like he’s got anything better to spend his money on anyway; nothing that he doesn’t already have at least.

Ranpo had stumbled upon the job purely by chance, and really, it had been the strangest of encounters; he’s still not quite sure how he’d managed to get a job in the first place. He’d gone out with Fukuzawa, and Ranpo had managed to get lost somehow, and he’d wandered around until he’d stumbled upon harried police officers and a rapidly blocked off crime scene in an alley way; the body they were covering up freshly killed.

The officers had been just as surprised as Ranpo was to see them, and had quickly tried to move him along, but Ranpo was nothing if not stubborn, and this sudden turn of events had caught his attention. All it had taken was a single glance over the crime scene for him to figure out that the killer hadn’t actually left the crime scene, and was, in fact, hiding in the dumpster, watching as the police ran around like headless chickens.

“You can’t possibly know that.” One of the officers had said in disbelief. “You’re just a civilian anyway, what would you know?”

Ranpo had shrugged. “Check the dumpster then. I know I’m right.”

And low and behold, Ranpo had been right, the killer ranting and shouting nonsense at Ranpo as the police dragged him from the dumpster and arrested him. The other officers at the scene had looked at Ranpo with a mixture of horrified and impressed expressions. The same officer that had doubted him earlier had approached him carefully after the killer had been taken away.

“How did you know?”

“It was obvious, duh. He’s probably the one that called you out here in the first place, wanting to see your reactions to his ‘masterpiece.’ Stupid if you ask me.”

The officer had tried to ask Ranpo more questions about how he’d figured it out in such a short amount of time, but before the man could even get the first question out, Ranpo’s phone had rung; Fukuzawa frantically asking him where he’d wandered off to. Ranpo had walked away then, ignoring the perplexed officers, following Fukuzawa’s instructions until he’d reunited with the man, telling him about the little adventure he’d had whilst they’d been separated.

He'd thought that had been the end of it.

But no, apparently the officer that he’d spoken to was actually competent—apparently he was the head of the department—and had tracked down Ranpo’s whereabouts, turning up in Fukuzawa’s café to talk to him about what had transpired the previous day.

Kunikida Doppo was the officers name, and the first thing he’d done after introducing himself was offer Ranpo a job—well, it was more of an arrangement than a job, but it still ended up with Ranpo earning money, so, a job it was in his mind.

All he had to do was solve the cases that Kunikida brought to him, and he got paid. It sounded easy enough, and while Kunikida’s co-workers had doubted his skills in the beginning, Ranpo had quickly proved himself, solving case after case with minimal effort. It didn’t matter if it was a murder or a car theft or a lost pet; Ranpo solved them all.

Eventually, word of Ranpo’s talent got out, and soon he was being harassed by police from all over the country with cases that they’d deemed ‘unsolvable’ or ‘too hard.’

And Ranpo solved each and every one of them. Even better, he was enjoying the work. He loved the way he was forced to put his mind to the test, reading over the case files and studying the clues that the police had already gathered—sometimes going out to the crime scenes for himself to find the clues that the police had oh so obviously, missed when they’d combed over it originally. Some of the officers he worked with got upset whenever he solved a case they had been struggling with, but Ranpo didn’t care. He was having fun, using the observation and deduction skills he’d always been somewhat aware of, but never truly focused on, to solve complicated puzzles. Because that’s all these crimes were; puzzles waiting to be pieced together, much like those video games he always used to play when still frequented the hospital.

When Poe was still here.

“Ranpo-san, are you alright?” Kunikida asks, his voice dragging Ranpo out of his memories and back to the present; the duo are on their way to have lunch after Ranpo had been dragged out to the latest crime scene to offer his assistance. It had been an easy case and he’s only a little salty about solving it so fast after being promised that it would be a challenging one—he’s a little proud though, that the police force are finally figuring out how to lure him out to help them whenever he’s reluctant to do so. Kunikida had sounded oh so desperate on the phone that Ranpo had agreed.

Kunikida repeats his question, and Ranpo realizes he’d failed to answer the man. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Are you certain? You aren’t feeling ill are you?” Kunikida’s looking at him with a furrowed brow; he’s worried. It’s not an uncommon look for the blonde to wear unfortunately; he’s well aware of Ranpo’s poor health—Ranpo had been forced to tell the man after a bad case of joint pain had left him unable to work one day—and is always looking out for him, even though Ranpo is constantly telling him not to bother.

“Kunikida-san.” Ranpo sighs. “I’m fine. You’d know if I wasn’t.”

“Alright then… what were you thinking about if I may ask?”

Ranpo immediately breaks into a grin. “That’s for me to know and for you to not find out!” He’s worked with Kunikida for just a little over a year now, but he hasn’t told his co-worker—Kunikida’s not a friend, nor is he just a mere acquaintance—about Poe. No, everything about his friendship with Poe is reserved for Ranpo and those he considers family alone. Those that have been there since the beginning and watched as they became friends and… something more. But once Poe returns—because that’s what had brought on his earlier reminiscence; the day that Poe’s due to return to Yokohama is drawing ever near, and Ranpo’s getting a little excited at that—he might consider introducing the two.

He knows they’d get along.

Kunikida sighs, but doesn’t press, well aware that this is just how Ranpo is, and instead, starts off on a tangent about all the paperwork that’s awaiting the two of them back at the office for when they get back. Ranpo immediately tunes the man out; he’s never done any paperwork before and he’s not going to start now. But he’ll let Kunikida think he will at least.

The place that Kunikida’s decided upon for lunch is coming into sight when Ranpo stumbles, a wave of dizziness threatening to send him crashing to the floor, and it’s only because he manages to get his cane under him just in time, that he doesn’t. The world swirls around him, bringing with it nausea and a ringing sound that drowns out the outside world. Ranpo folds in half, struggling to stay upright as he brings a hand up to cover his eyes. Of course, the vertigo has to hit now of all times, and without any of its usual warning signs.

The vertigo is a fairly recent addition to Ranpo’s misery, although he’s experienced it before, brought on by the medication he’s taking. But it doesn’t happen often enough for anyone to be concerned, so he simply deals with the episodes as they come.

“Kunikida-san...” Ranpo’s voice is barely more than a whisper, the man he desperately needs to look back and see him, still chattering as if Ranpo’s beside him. Ranpo knows that in about ten seconds, he’s no longer going to be able to stand, and not wanting to split his head on the concrete, manages to shout, “Kunikida!”

Ranpo hears Kunikida stop, and a quiet curse, before strong arms are grabbing onto his own, muscles straining to hold him upright. “Symptoms, Ranpo-san?” Kunikida asks, no-nonsense and professional as he always is in these moments.

“Vertigo.” Ranpo hisses out between gritted teeth. The dizziness chooses then to worsen, and Ranpo’s not given a choice in the matter; he’s going down, his legs giving out on him. Kunikida carefully follows him down to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself—something that’s happened before—not saying anything until Ranpo’s laying on the ground, taking deep breaths to combat the sudden carousel ride he’s found himself on.

Ranpo would be embarrassed, to be laying in the middle of the footpath in the middle of the day, the eyes of strangers silently judging, but that bridge had long since been crossed. There’s no room for pride; he just grins and bears it at this point.

“Ambulance?” Kunikida asks, reaching down to loosen Ranpo’s tie in case he’s finding it hard to breathe—he’s not, but the gesture is appreciated.

Ranpo gives a single shake of his head, even though it does nothing to help his nausea and he lets out a groan. “Fukuzawa.”

There’s nothing that can be done for him in the hospital that he can’t already do in the comfort of his own home. At least at home, he has Fukuzawa to give him his meds and watch over him, and privacy to ride this out alone. The hospital will just bring needles and questions until someone recognizes him and then he gets sent home and told to ride it out anyway.

So why waste time?

Despite not saying anything, Ranpo can hear Kunikida’s mind working as he tosses between listening to Ranpo, and going with what his gut wants him to do. But ultimately, Kunikida trusts in the fact that Ranpo knows his body well enough to know what’s best for him, and he feels a hand dig around in his pocket and take his phone. You’d think after knowing Ranpo for as long as he has, Kunikida would have Fukuzawa’s number on hand already, but he doesn’t. Apparently it’s because he hasn’t officially met the man to exchange numbers or something the rather—Ranpo doesn’t care, he really doesn’t. All that matters is that he’s capable of contacting Ranpo’s guardian—which he is—so if that means stealing his phone whenever Ranpo himself is unable to call, then so be it.

Ranpo tunes out the world as he hears Kunikida speaking into the phone; the world is still spinning around him, even throwing in the occasional topsy-turvy motion just to make him feel that little bit sicker. There’s the ever present fatigue that comes with every bout of poor health, the kind that feels like there are anchors strapped to each of Ranpo’s limbs, weighing him down and preventing him from being able to move. It always sucks when he feels like this, and it always comes when he feels really good about himself for a change, like his body just has to remind him that it’s nowhere near perfect, and that this is his fate.

“Excuse me, sirs, do you need help?” A stranger approaches them, and Ranpo swallows his building nausea.

“No, we’re fine. Help is on the way. Thank you though.” Kunikida responds and the footsteps fade away as the stranger moves away. Kunikida sighs and directs his attention towards Ranpo. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Ranpo’s blunt, as he always is when he’s unwell. Kunikida doesn’t seem to take it to heart.

“Fukuzawa’s on the way—” Kunikida cuts off as Ranpo’s phone begins to ring, and Ranpo recognizes the ringtone and braves opening one of his eyes to see Kunikida’s eye twitch something fierce. “Dazai’s calling.”

Ranpo, despite the vertigo, grins. Dazai and Kunikida had met not long after Ranpo had secured his job, and like the man had done with Ranpo, he’d latched onto Kunikida like a leech and refused to let go; often tagging along to work with Ranpo just to mock and tease the poor man who ended up making several threats against Dazai’s life if he didn’t stop.

So, of course, Dazai doubled his efforts.

“Find out what he wants.” Ranpo says, because Dazai is Dazai, even after all these years, and he never calls Ranpo without a good reason. Not without warning him beforehand. It’s how they’ve been able to differentiate the joke calls and the serious calls—the kind where Dazai jokes about the newest suicide method he’s discovered, and the kind where Ranpo has to jump through so many hoops just to make sure his best friend survives the night.

And if it is one of those calls, vertigo be damned, Ranpo will crawl to get to Dazai’s side.

Kunikida’s eye twitches again, but he answers the call, and Ranpo closes his eyes again, just barely able to hear the contents of the phone call; but from the way Kunikida already sounds like he’s ready to commit murder, it’s one of the joke calls.

“—along the river, why?” He hears Kunikida ask, and then vigorous cursing. “Damn you, you bandaged bastard! Hanging up on me after you were the one that called in the first place!”

“Technically,” Ranpo swallows. “He called me.”

“I know. He could just stand to be a little less secretive though—before you say it, I know, that’s just how Dazai is.”

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.” Ranpo says, even though he actually was, and pretends he can’t feel Kunikida giving him a look. He doesn’t say anything else and the two sit in silence as they wait for Fukuzawa to arrive. It’s only been a few minutes since Kunikida called but it feels like hours to Ranpo, and he wishes his guardian would hurry up. But he knows that it’s not as simple as Fukuzawa dropping everything to come to his rescue—it kind of is, but it was always easier when Ranpo was close by and not across town. It takes time now, and Ranpo hates it.

He doesn’t have much of a choice right now, since the calls already been made.

“Kunikida-kun! Ranpo! Fancy meeting you here!” Dazai’s voice grates on Ranpo’s eardrums, and he knows if he was able to, he’d be hitting Dazai with his cane for being so annoying with only one sentence. It’s a skill, he swears, that Dazai perfected the moment he popped out of the womb, to be as annoying as humanly possible, yet still somehow likeable at the same time.

Kunikida’s groan following Dazai’s greeting is how Ranpo feels. “Why are you even here, Dazai? And wh—”

“Because what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come when I’m needed?” Dazai whines, interrupting whatever Kunikida had been about to ask. “I was expecting to crash your adorable little lunch get together, so imagine my surprise when I turn up and you aren’t there. Vertigo again, Ranpo?”

“I can, and will, puke on you if you try and pick me up.” Ranpo warns as he hears footsteps approaching him. It’s an unfortunate mishap that’s happened once before, when it had been just the two of them walking down the street. Dazai had picked Ranpo up with the intention of helping him home, only to have Ranpo’s stomach rebel and cover the both of them vomit. He’s pretty sure there’s a photo out there somewhere; of the two of them in the bathtub with Nakahara cackling in the background.

Dazai hadn’t tried to carry him since.

“Rude.” Dazai says, and Ranpo feels a hand come to grab his own, long fingers coming to press against his pulse. “After all I did to bring you a surprise.”

Wait, what. Ranpo realizes in that moment that Dazai’s voice isn’t coming from in front of him and that this hand is very familiar, and that the motion of checking his pulse is as well. His heart pounds, hoping building within him and he braves opening his eyes. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light, but once they do, he smiles. The world continues to turn and spin, but he’d recognize those violet eyes anywhere, even in the darkest of rooms.

“Edgar.” Ranpo says, reaching over with his other hand to intertwine his fingers with Poe’s, disturbing the man as he’s counting.

“Ranpo.” Poe looks down at him and smiles, looking just as happy to see Ranpo is after all this time. There’s a hint of worry on his face as he squeezes Ranpo’s hand. “I suppose it makes sense that the first time I see you, it’s when your body is hating you.”

“It just wanted to remind you of the first time we met.” Ranpo lets out a sigh and pulls his arms back to get them underneath him, ignoring the way they feel like bricks. He’ll force them to work if he has to, but he’s not going to continue lying on the ground when Poe’s finally returned to him.

Immediately, Kunikida protests. “Ranpo-san, you shouldn’t be moving whilst you still feel dizzy! You’ll only make it worse!”

“Ah, just let him, Kunikida-kun.” Dazai waves a hand in the air, a look of anticipation on his face as he watches Ranpo and Poe closely. “Besides, it’s better to get him sitting now, right, Poe-san?”

Poe lifts his head to look at Kunikida and Dazai, and nods. “I assume you’ve already called Fukuzawa-san?” At Kunikida’s nod, Poe continues, “then it’s best to get Ranpo sitting now, so that when we go to stand him, he’s already halfway there and a little more willing to actually be moved.”

“Oh, I see. My apologies then.” Kunikida says. And then. “Are you a doctor?”

“A nurse, actually.”

“Ranpo’s nurse if you want to get really specific.” Dazai teases, and Ranpo reaches around for his cane so that he can hit the man with it, only to hear the familiar sound of wood tapping against concrete coming from Dazai’s direction.

“Dazai, give me my cane.” Ranpo opens his eyes to glare at his friend as best he can in his current situation.

“No, you’ll just hit me with it.”

“That’s the point.” Ranpo grins when he hears a thwack and Dazai whining afterwards. “Thank you, Kunikida-san.”

Dazai and Kunikida begin to dive into their usual antics, and Ranpo tunes them out to focus on Poe and only Poe. It’s been two years since he’s last seen the man, and almost six months since they’d last spoken to each other, so excuse Ranpo for wanting to push his issues to the side just to bathe in Poe’s attention. He’s been waiting for this day ever since Poe had told him he had to leave Yokohama in the first place, waiting to feel Poe’s hands in his own, and to see the man in person and not through a screen.

Poe’s hair is shorter now, too short for the ponytail that Ranpo had loved and adored. His bangs are as long as they always have been, although they’ve been pinned to the side, revealing those eyes that Ranpo could very easily get lost in. The ever-present eye bags are there as well, darker than they were when Poe left, and Ranpo notes that Poe’s complexion is almost vampiric in nature, he’s that pale; it’s probably why they look so dark in the first place. He’s thin too, and Ranpo frowns, because right now, he looks like the healthy one, and Poe, the sick one. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

“I only landed in Yokohama literally an hour ago, Ranpo. Please excuse me for looking like death itself when I am fighting against jetlag.” Poe quirks his lips, which does nothing by make Ranpo grin at him. “Anyway, how are you feeling? Since you so rudely interrupted my checking on you.”

“It’s vertigo. I feel like I’ve been taking for a carousel ride against my will. Which, I have, just so you know.” Ranpo says, and he closes his eyes as Poe shifts him so that he’s sitting upright, groaning at the change in position. It worsens the dizzy feeling he has, but it eases off as Ranpo adjusts to it. The vertigo never lasts all that long when he’s struck by it, two hours at the most, five at the longest, but he still doesn’t feel like he can stand up without keeling over. The only good thing about sitting up right now, is that Poe lets him lean against him, an arm around his back as Poe kneels beside him.

Ranpo can’t wait any longer.

“Edgar.” He says, and when Poe looks at him, he tugs him forward into a greedy, but still sweet, kiss. Poe gives a surprised grunt, but kisses back. It’s not really the right place of time to indulge in such a notion, but Ranpo hasn’t been able to be affectionate with Poe in so long. He wants to hold Poe close and kiss him more, but he settles for short and sweet for now, and pulls back after a few seconds. Poe’s face is bright red, clearly not having expected Ranpo to be so forward, but he’s not complaining and looks rather pleased.

He should be, since Ranpo had been the one to promise him he’d wait for him.

Which had been absolute torture, mind you.

“And that’s what I was waiting for.” Dazai says, completely ruining the atmosphere and Ranpo just about forgets he’s supposed to be unwell, and goes to stand, ready to throttle the man; Poe’s arms preventing him from rising the only thing stopping him.

And, well, the vertigo.

“Dazai-san, please stop tormenting, Ranpo.” Poe sighs.

Kunikida chooses that moment to speak up, a stunned look on his face. “You told me you weren’t involved with anyone, Ranpo-san…?” It sounds like a half-question, half-statement coming from the man; it’s rather amusing to watch him trying to piece together what he’s just witnessed.

“I’m not.” Ranpo says, going to lean back against Poe. The dizziness is easing now, more a discomfort than actually debilitating.

“What, so you just kiss all your friends?” Kunikida asks, his eyes sliding between him and Dazai, and Ranpo scrunches his face at that thought. Why does everyone keep thinking he’d kiss his best friend when Dazai already has someone to do that for him in his life?

“No. Edgar’s the only one.”

“Then—”

“Don’t even bother, Kunikida-kun.” Dazai laughs and throws an arm around the confused man’s shoulder. “No one understands the relationship between Poe-san and Ranpo, not even me. It’s easier to just accept it as it comes.”

Thankfully, Ranpo’s saved from this conversation by Fukuzawa finally pulling up beside them.

“You haven’t changed much.” Poe says, handing Ranpo a glass of water and his meds that Ranpo downs quickly. “Although the cane is a new addition that you never told me about.”

Ranpo drinks the rest of the water before moving to stretch out on his bed, leaving enough space for Poe to crawl and lay beside him, which he does. They’re both in Ranpo’s room now, Fukuzawa having brought him home—after greeting Poe with a smile and an embrace, both of which had left Poe stunned—and leaving the two of them alone. “I actually forgot to mention it last time we spoke.” Ranpo says, eyeing the piece of wood that’s leaning against the wall beside his bed.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Poe rolls onto his side and shuffles closer towards Ranpo so that he can rest his head on Ranpo’s chest. One hand is pressed against Ranpo’s side, but the other stretches across to grab at his hand, and… it’s nice. Ranpo’s free arm is trapped underneath Poe, but he has enough movement to run his hand up and down Poe’s spine; Poe shudders and relaxes into him even more.

Two years apart and still, it feels right.

“I got sick last year.” Ranpo offers despite Poe not asking him, because he knows Poe’s curious why he has a walking aid now when he didn’t before, and he also knows that Poe’s too polite to ask, always worried about upsetting or offending him. As if Ranpo ever could be when it’s Poe. “A dog bit me on the leg while Fukuzawa and I were out. It was infected the next day, because it’s me.”

“Was that when I didn’t hear from you for a couple of months?”

Ranpo nods. “Yeah. It was… it was bad. I don’t remember any of it really, but Yosano-sensei told me afterwards that Fukuzawa was actually starting to plan a funeral for me.”

“I heard about that.” Poe says quietly, a sad look on his face. “Yosano-sensei called me to tell me about it. She told me how sick you were, and that you might not make it. I wanted to come back, but she told me not to, that the only people allowed in the room were her and Fukuzawa so there wouldn’t be any point to me flying all the way here. But she promised to keep me updated. I was relieved when she told me you were finally on the mend.”

For some reason, Poe’s words send warmth spreading throughout his chest. “Well, I suppose having me in your thoughts is enough.” He’s teasing. “But, yeah, the infection wreaked havoc on my leg. Took months for me to actually walk on it again, but it never healed right.”

“Hence the cane?”

“Hence the cane.” Ranpo leans down to nuzzle Poe’s hair; it tickled his nose, but it smells nice, like Poe had freshly washed it. “Now what about you? You changed lots. Your hair for starters.”

“N-Not much happened, really.” Poe says, suddenly awkward now that the attentions been turned onto himself. “I c-cut my hair because it was getting in the way—”

“You cut your hair, but not your bangs?”

“—hush you.” Poe scolds, pulling his hand away to flick Ranpo’s forehead gently before returning to intertwine their fingers again. “My bangs can be pinned back, and I like hiding behind them. As I was saying, not much happened. I graduated; I started w-working—things I’ve already told you.”

“What about your stories?” Ranpo asks.

“What about them?”

“Have you published them yet?” He knows that Poe hasn’t published them, because he would’ve heard about it if he had, but it’s the best question he has to ask Poe about how his writing’s going without outright asking about it. Poe always seems to turn into a stuttering mess when he’s asked about his writing, Ranpo doesn’t quite understand why.

Poe hums, his voice starting to slow down as tiredness overtakes him. “No… but I do have something to show you. Later”

“Oh? What?” Ranpo asks, but his only response is a mumble he can’t understand as the jetlag finally wins against Poe’s fight to stay awake and the writer falls asleep in his arms. Ranpo continues to lay there until he too, falls asleep, enjoying Poe’s warmth and the fact that he’s finally back.

He looks forward to spending as much time as possible with Poe in the coming days.

It’s almost like they were never apart in the first place.

-----

“You’ve come back for a reason, haven’t you, Edgar?” Ranpo asks one day while he and Poe are eating an early dinner together. He can hear Fukuzawa downstairs, cleaning the café, and the pitter patter of paws as the cats run up the stairs to escape the smell of chemical—and the dreaded vacuum.

As it turns out, Poe had sold his apartment upon leaving Yokohama, and after two years apart, Ranpo wasn’t going to let the man sleep in some hotel somewhere, so he’d told Poe to just stay with him until he found a place. Understandably, Poe had protested, not wanting to impose on him and Fukuzawa like that, but Fukuzawa had chosen that moment to say that it was fine, and that Poe was always welcome.

So, for the past week and a bit, Poe had been sharing Ranpo’s bed with him. There had been a spare bed, of course, but why bother when they were already so used to sleeping in each other’s presence? Poe had, of course, tried to protest that the bed was Ranpo’s, but Ranpo wouldn’t hear it.

“How many times did we lay in the same hospital bed together? At least this one’s bigger!”

“I wanted to come back, is that not enough?” Poe frowns, as he uses his chopsticks to push his food around his plate. Ranpo narrows his eyes at the movement; Poe hasn’t yet eaten anything, and he’s been living here long enough for the jetlag to have long since stopped affecting his appetite.

He doesn’t say anything.

It is, but I know you, and you have that look in your eye. The one that tells me I’m missing something. The last piece of the puzzle…  Ranpo thinks, chewing on his own food. He hums and tries to think about his words so he doesn’t upset Poe. “I know you came back for us, and that makes me happy, but… there’s something else. I know it has something to do with whatever it is you’re still keeping from me.”

He'd asked about what it was that Poe was hiding after Poe had left, trying to get the answers he so desperately wanted, but not one of them told him anything useful; playing dumb or just telling him to ask Poe—which he’d already done.

Poe goes quiet, his head dropping to avoid looking at Ranpo, even though his bangs already do that plenty. “It’s… complicated, Ranpo.” His eyes look sad for a split second, but it’s not long enough for Ranpo to know if he truly saw the look or if it was just a trick of the light, before Poe’s looking at him again, a smile on his face. “Is there anything you’d like to do now that I’m back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, your meds are working quite well, so you can probably do things you haven’t been able to before. We could do some things together?” Poe suggests.

Ranpo stops eating and thinks. It’s true that there’s lots of things he’d like to do, and despite being free of the hospital for as long as he has been, he still hasn’t done much of the mental list he’s built up; he blames it on all the work he’s been doing recently and not really having anyone to do those things with. But now that Poe’s back, it gives him more reason to want to actually do these things and—

“I want to visit my parents.” Ranpo says after a few minutes. “I haven’t been in a while.”

“They aren’t buried in Yokohama are they?”

Ranpo shakes his head. “Out in the countryside. It’s pretty far, so whenever Fukuzawa and I have gone in the past, we’ve had to take a couple of extra days. I would always fall ill when we returned though, so we didn’t get to do it often.” He drops his head. He’s had plenty of opportunities these past two years to take the time to go and visit, yet he hasn’t, and he’s not sure why that is. The thought leaves him with a heavy feeling in his stomach, and suddenly, he doesn’t think he can finish the rest of his dinner, not when he feels like he’s been the worst son imaginable.

“Ranpo… are you alright?” Poe looks concerned, and he stretches a hand across the table, resting it with the palm facing upwards; an offering, if Ranpo needs it.

He rests his own hand on top, enjoying the way Poe’s hand is cold against his own warm one, and does his best to smile, although he’s certain he fails. Thinking about his parents always leaves him feeling this way, even though it’s been years since they’d passed. “I’m alright. Just thinking about my parents… ya know?”

Poe nods, an understanding look on his own face. “I get it. I didn’t quite have the same relationship with my own parents, but I do understand.”

Ranpo looks up, eyes wide at the information Poe divulges. It’s the first time that Poe’s spoken about his family to Ranpo in the years they’ve known each other. That doesn’t mean that Ranpo hasn’t tried to find out more, because, he has. But every time he asks, Poe always gets a faraway look in his eyes that Ranpo recognizes as the same one Dazai gets when he gets lost in bad memories, so Ranpo’s carefully learned how to avoid crossing the thin line that is Poe’s emotions when it comes to talking about family. The only reason family ever even comes up between the two is because Ranpo has always liked to talk about his own family; his parents and everything they did for him before they passed, and Fukuzawa who took over for them.

So, with Poe’s feelings regarding family in mind, he carefully asks, “What were your parents like?”

He can see the moment that Poe freezes, and the moment he begins to mentally back away from the conversation—almost as if the response is an automatic one at this point—and Ranpo’s already forming the words on his lips to tell Poe that he’ll drop it, when Poe actually answers him. “I… didn’t actually know my birth parents. My father left before I was even a year old, and my mother died when I was two. But the people that raised me… they were alright, I guess. They weren’t the nicest of people and both passed when I was sixteen. I’ve been on my own since.”

“There’s no one else in your family?” Ranpo asks, his interest piqued at how open Poe’s being with him. It makes sense now, why Poe’s so hesitant and anxious when it comes to what most would consider basic things. The way Poe used to stiffen up the moment he was touched by unfamiliar hands, or the way those that happened to be taller than him, caused him to shrink until he appeared smaller than even Ranpo. All of Poe’s mannerism’s that have slowly faded the longer he’s lived in Yokohama, can absolutely be traced back to the childhood that he lived back over in America.

Poe shakes his head. “No one that cared enough to talk to me. I don’t mind though, Ranpo, really. I’ve always been quiet in nature, so living on my own suited me just fine.”

No it didn’t, but Ranpo’s not going to say that out loud. Instead, he turns his attention back to his long forgotten dinner and shoves some of it into his mouth, talking while he chews. “Well, now you have a new family—our family—so you aren’t alone anymore!”

A soft laugh comes from Poe’s mouth as he smiles, and eats a little more of his own food. “No, I suppose I’m not, am I? What about your parents? What were they like?”

Ranpo brightens immediately; it’s not often that he gets to talk about his parents, not when the topic usually comes up after a series of nightmares, or when something bad is happening to him, so it’s a nice change to get the chance to talk over something nice. Ranpo doesn’t hesitate to start talking, telling Poe everything as it comes to his mind, in no order or sense, and he’s pretty sure that he’s talking far too fast to actually be understand, but Poe’s watching him softly, head resting on the palm of his hand, listening as Ranpo talks, and talks.

“They sound wonderful.” Poe says when Ranpo’s finished talking. “Do you think they’re watching over you?”

“I like to think so.” Ranpo looks up at the ceiling, imagining the night sky that lies beyond it. “I can’t imagine they’d move on to the afterlife or wherever it is the dead go without making sure that I’m alright.” He grins at Poe. “They would’ve liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do!”

The train ride to the countryside is as long as it always is, and Ranpo’s quiet as he stares out the window, watching the scenery fly by as the train chugs along the tracks. Fukuzawa is sitting across from him; lost in the book he’s brought along for the ride. It’s almost the exact same scene as it is every time the two of the them have made the trek out to the small village that Ranpo had grown up in, only… it’s not just the two of them this time.

There’s a weight on Ranpo’s shoulder as Poe leans against him, eyes closed in slumber, and soft snores the only noise in the compartment the three of them are sitting in. In order to get to Ranpo’s hometown, it had meant getting up early to catch the right train; and while he and Fukuzawa were used to the early wake ups, it appeared that Poe was not, for they hadn’t even left Yokohama before he had dozed off. It had been even harder to get Poe up and out of bed, the writer opening his eyes only to try and go back to sleep upon seeing that the sun wasn’t even up yet. Unfortunately for him, Ranpo was the more stubborn of the two, and eventually, Poe had gotten up on shaky legs and slowly moved about the bedroom, looking more dead than alive in that moment. Ranpo had watched him with concerned eyes, ignoring the way Poe had tried to reassure him that he was still waking up and would be fine soon.

Ranpo didn’t believe him.

He’s not that stupid, he’s had two years to piece the puzzle together, two years to read between the lines of what people tell him.

He just doesn’t have the missing pieces yet. Those lie with Poe and Poe alone.

“You look worried. What’s on your mind?” Fukuzawa comments, even though he’s not looking at Ranpo at all to know what kind of face he’s making. He’s starting to think that the man is telepathic from the way he always seems to know what Ranpo’s thinking, even before Ranpo himself knows what he’s thinking.

Ranpo sighs and glances at Poe’s sleeping face, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of his face; a gesture that would’ve normally roused Poe from his sleep did nothing this time. It told Ranpo that Poe was more exhausted than he’d tried to lead him to believe back at home. “I’m not worried.”

Fukuzawa glances up at him this time, albeit briefly. “You’re usually much more restless and talkative. And you have that look on your face?”

“What look?” Ranpo frowns.

“That look.” Fukuzawa moved to close his book and places it on the chair beside him, giving Ranpo his full attention. Ranpo likes to call it the ‘important talk’ look, and he dislikes whenever he’s put under its scrutiny. “What’s wrong, Ranpo?”

Ranpo thinks over whether or not he wants to divulge his thoughts to his guardian, when he’s not even a hundred percent sure that he has something to worry about in the first place. He knows that there’s something, it’s something that’s been hanging around the back of his subconscious since that night Poe had ended up in the hospital, but he’s not a hundred percent certain; there’s a sliver of chance that he’s wrong, and that he’s worrying about nothing, and it’s that sliver that Ranpo clings to.

He doesn’t want to be right, not this time.

“There’s nothing.” Ranpo says, making the decision not to talk about it, not until Poe himself has spoken to him—whenever that happens. “But I’ll tell you if there is.”

“Alright.” Fukuzawa nods, and goes back to his book.

Ranpo’s hometown hasn’t changed much since the last time he was here, and neither has the graveyard his parents are buried in. It’s a little more overgrown from lack of care, but he knows that someone will be by at the end of the month to tidy the graves and give them a clean. Even after all these years, he doesn’t know who it is that does the work, but he appreciates it; its certainly easier to travel over the uneven ground when plants aren’t constantly trying to take his cane from him and trip him up.

He leads the way down the path, carefully watching where he’s walking, and listening to make sure that Fukuzawa and Poe are still behind him. The walk to the graveyard had left both Ranpo and Poe needing a break, but while Ranpo had recovered enough to continue on, he can still hear Poe’s wheezing breaths behind him; any attempt he’d make at taking a longer break was met with Poe insisting that he was fine and capable. Ranpo would’ve argued, but the look Poe was giving him was one he’d often used himself when he was ill, so he dropped the subject, and set the pace as slow as he could instead.

“Here we are.” He says, slowly easing himself to the ground to sit in front of the gravestone that had his parent’s names marked on them. Ranpo feels sad as he looks at it, wondering what his life would’ve been like if they hadn’t died in the accident; if he still would’ve met Dazai, and Yosano, and Poe. He doubts he would’ve met Fukuzawa if it hadn’t been for that fateful day that had brought them together, but he’s also pretty sure he would’ve been dead by now if he hadn’t met the man. It’s thanks to Fukuzawa that he’s still here, really—sure, his parents had fought as much as they could to get him help, but even they had given in to the doctors saying nothing could be done in the end. Not that Ranpo blames them—he probably would’ve given up on himself too back then.

I miss you. Ranpo says to his parents, knowing that wherever they are, they will always be watching over him; always listening. He’s never spoken aloud to his parents whilst visiting them, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself. Ranpo still tells them everything though. I’m doing well though… still fighting hard like I promised. I’m twenty now, an adult. Who would’ve thought, huh? I remember people telling you that I wouldn’t make it to thirteen. I sure showed them. That’s not all, I uh… I met someone. He’s here with me actually—I wanted him to meet you both. His names Poe, and he’s American—oh, and an amazing writer, and, well… he’s special. Very special. He’s helped me a lot, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.

Ranpo continues to update his parents on everything that’s happened to him these past years, updates them on how the family he’s created by his own hands is doing as well. There’s silence around him; Fukuzawa kneeling beside his left, head bowed respectfully towards the graves. He’s probably telling them that he’s still managed to keep his promise in keeping Ranpo safe, the same promise he always makes on these visits. Poe’s to his left, mouth moving, but no words coming out as he says words Ranpo can’t discern; he realizes after a moment of watching that it’s because Poe’s speaking English, which isn’t surprising in the slightest.

They sit there for an hour, in silence, as the three of them talk of different things to the ghosts that they hope can hear them, even in death.

There’s not much to see in Ranpo’s hometown, but he shows Poe around anyway; where the general store is, where he used to live with his parents—there’s a new family in that house now, so he only points it out as they walk past it—and where the one restaurant is in town that also doubles as the lodgings for passer-by’s. He even shows him the ratty playground that kids have broken more bones on than actually played, telling Poe the story of how he’d snuck out of the house when he was younger to go play with the other village kids, only to break his wrist falling off the damn thing.

After Ranpo finishes his story, he leads Poe back to the lodgings so that they can get something for dinner, and get some much needed rest before catching the train in the morning.

“Would you like to come to America with me, Ranpo?” Poe asks once they’ve settled into the only lodgings in the village. The question is sudden and unexpected, and comes while Ranpo’s kicking off his pants so that he can get into bed. He stares at Poe from where he’s leaning against the wall, one leg out and the other raised as he fights with his clothing. Poe, whose already undressed and comfortable in bed, stares at him with a curious look.

“If you tell me why, I’ll give you an answer.” Ranpo finally answers, finally tugging his leg free. He’s curious why Poe’s brought this up, when he’s never really seemed keen on sharing his American heritage with Ranpo before. As he waits for Poe to answer him, he limps over to the bed and crawls under the covers with Poe, getting as close as he can to the man. He can feel Poe’s heartbeat underneath his ear, and he lets out a pleased noise when Poe plants a kiss on his forehead.

“I thought that since you’ve shown me where you grew up… you’d like to see where I did.” Poe says, uncertainty in his voice. He’s worried Ranpo will say no, or laugh at him for even suggesting such an idea in the first place. “You, um, don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. I’d u-understand. It’s quite far…”

“Don’t be stupid, Edgar.” Ranpo says, tracing a senseless pattern into Poe’s bare chest that has the man shiver underneath him. “I want to go. But can we go?”

“You’d just need a passport, which is easy enough to get… I hope. We can ask Fukuzawa for help. And if you’re worried about your health, we’ll plan accordingly. We won’t just get on a plane tomorrow and fly halfway across the world.”

“What about your own health?” Ranpo asks. It’s not what he’d originally wanted to say, but it’s what escaped his mouth, and he really wishes he could shove the words back in, but he can’t, so he keeps talking. “You still don’t look well, ya know? Not that I’m saying you are unwell, of course, just that you look it. Not that I’m one to judge. I—”

Poe cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “Ranpo, it’ll—it’ll be fine. You trust me, don’t you?”

Ranpo nods. Of course he trusts Poe, he always has, ever since they first became friends. Hell, he’s probably trusted Poe earlier than that—a memory of the time Poe had sat by his bedside before he’d even known who Ranpo was flashes across his mind.

“Then trust me. It’ll be fun, and we’ll make some memories.”

Ranpo’s always considered himself a heavy sleeper, so he’s surprised when he wakes up at some unknown hour of the night for a reason he’s not yet aware of. It takes him another minute or so for him to wake up enough to realize that it’s just him in the bed; Poe’s nowhere to be found, although there’s a light coming from the bathroom, the door half closed to prevent said light from flooding the rest of the room. “Edgar?”

When he doesn’t receive an answer, Ranpo throws the sheets off himself and crawls out of bed, and shuffles as quickly as he’s able to over to the bathroom. Slowly, he pushes the door open, “Ed—” Ranpo cuts off as the first thing his eyes land on is blood. “Edgar!”

Poe’s leaning against the toilet, head between his knees with more blood than Ranpo’s comfortable seeing staining his clothes, his hands, his face. He jerks when he hears Ranpo’s voice and his head lifts slightly. “Ah, my apologies, Ranpo. Did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Ranpo comes and awkwardly kneels in front of Poe, his hands hovering in the air as he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “What happened?”

“Nosebleed.” Poe sighs and drops his head back down; Ranpo realizes then that one of Poe’s hands is pinching the bridge of his nose, and he vaguely recalls that that’s what you’re supposed to do when your nose decides to just randomly bleed on you. “My phones on the counter, can you tell me what the timer’s at, please?”

Ranpo nods and does as he’s asked, stretching up to grab the device—and after a brief pause, the box of tissues beside the phone—before returning to his spot in front of Poe, nudging the man’s leg with the box. “It’s at six minutes, thirty.”

“Okay.” Poe lets out a sigh as he discards the bloody tissues he’d been pressing against his nose and replacing it with a handful of new ones. “Grab one of the small towels, wet it, and place it on my neck.”

“What’s that for?” Ranpo asks as he stands, leaning against the counter with all his weight on his good leg as he grabs the towel. He’s really wishing he’d taken the time to grab his cane instead of madly dashing to the bathroom, but he pushes his discomfort to the side and refocuses his attention on helping his friend.

Poe sniffs, and it’s a horrid sound; wet and thick, almost as if Poe has a cold, even though it’s obviously from all the blood that’s still coming from his nose. “It’s to help constrict the blood vessels. Should stop the bleeding, or slow it down at least.”

“Do you… should I get help?”

“Only if it lasts longer than ten minutes. It’s—It’s fine, Ranpo, this happens sometimes.” Poe tilts his head to the side just enough that one of his eyes are peeking out from behind his bangs. “You can go back to bed if you want.”

“Nah, that’s boring.” Ranpo places the now, cold, and wet towel against the back of Poe’s neck, the man letting out a blissful sigh as the chill seeps into his skin. “I’ll just sit here and keep you company until you stop bleeding all over the place.”

“Surely that’s more boring.”

“Of course, it’s not! Why? Because I say so—hey, Edgar, want me to tell you a story?”

“Huh?” Poe sounds confused, which is fair, because Ranpo’s also confused, despite being the one to make the offer in the first place. It’s the first time he’s ever offered to tell a story; it’s usually Poe telling the stories, and that was fine with both of them. The confusion disappears, and a soft smile appears in its place. “Sure, use my phone to find one if you’d like.”

Ranpo nods and scrolls through Poe’s phone, trying to find a story that’s not too long, but not too short either. Eventually, he finds one that looks promising, some foreign fairy tale he’s never heard of before, and he copies and pastes into a translator so that he can actually read the words. He doesn’t know how Poe does it if this is how he’s always read stories to Ranpo; it’s just another reason to be fond of him, really.

“Just know, I had to put it through a translator. If it doesn’t make sense, don’t blame me.” Ranpo says, shifting closer to Poe and wrapping an arm around his back.

Poe leans into the touch. “How could I ever blame you, Ranpo.”

“Shush you, I’m going to read you the best story you’ve ever heard.”

They end up falling asleep on the bathroom floor, and when Ranpo wakes up, it’s to a very strong ache that resonates across his entire body. Great. He let’s out a groan and carefully, shuffles out from underneath Poe. But that’s as far as his plan goes, because he can’t pull himself upright apparently, and he resigns himself to sitting on the cold bathroom floor until Poe wakes up; he regrets not bringing his phone with him when he’d come all the way here.

Poe’s still sleeping, still covered in blood, albeit dried now. His nose had stopped bleeding sometime while Ranpo had been speaking, and he, himself had fallen asleep not long after, once he’d finished reading the story. Ranpo’s not quite sure why he didn’t just stop when Poe had fallen asleep, but something had kept him going, some unknown force that whispered in his ear that he had to finish the story.

It makes him wonder if this was what happened every time Poe had been the one to tell him a story. If Poe felt the urge whenever he was reading, to keep on reading until there wasn’t anything left to read. He then wondered if that extended to the stories that Poe writes, and if that was the reason why he always saw the man scribbling down in a notebook, desperately getting the words out until the story had told itself.

Ranpo hears his phone buzz in the other room, and a quick glance at Poe’s phone shows they’re running late to meet with Fukuzawa for breakfast. He tries again to get to his feet, but his body just isn’t interested in complying with him this morning, at least not until he gets his meds into him which will do wonders on the aches. Poe’s phone buzzes a couple of minutes after, Fukuzawa’s name popping up on the screen and it’s then that Ranpo slaps himself with a hand. He could’ve just used Poe’s phone to ask Fukuzawa for help instead of waiting all this time.

With one hand, Ranpo shoots a text to Fukuzawa explaining what had happened and that Poe was still sleeping. He gets a response a few seconds after he sends it; Fukuzawa’s on the way. Thank God. Ranpo decides then, that while letting Poe sleep the day away is perfectly fine and something he’d love to do so himself, he also knows that if they want to get back to Yokohama at a reasonable hour, he needs to get up now.

“Edgar.” Ranpo shakes Poe’s shoulder, and keeps shaking when the man doesn’t immediately show any signs of waking. Poe’s brow furrows, but he still remains asleep. “Edgar.”

A twitch of the finger, and then, finally, Poe’s eyes open. “Ugh.”

“I’ll say. Welcome back to the land of the living. We have blood and joint pain greeting us this fine morning.” Ranpo laughs at his own words. He doesn’t care if Poe doesn’t find them funny, he does and that’s all he cares about.

Poe just stares at him for a moment, blinking blearily at him, before he seems to realize what Ranpo’s said and snorts. “I see we’re both having a great start to the day. Can I help?”

“Fukuzawa’s coming.” Ranpo answers with. “But maybe clean yourself up a bit so you don’t look like I punched you in the face.”

“It’s not that bad, Ranpo.”

“It looks that bad.”

Poe huffs, and gets to his feet—Ranpo doesn’t miss the way that Poe’s having to lean heavily on the sick, nor the way he can’t seem to stay standing, collapsing onto the toilet lid, and washing his hands free of blood that way—whilst he watches from the floor. A knock distracts him, before he hears the front door opening. “Ranpo? Poe-san?” Fukuzawa calls into the room.

“Bathroom! Bring my meds, please!” Ranpo calls back, accidentally startling Poe, which in turn startles him. The two of them stare at each other momentarily before quietly chuckling.

Fukuzawa appears in the doorway, holding the little bag that Ranpo keeps his pills in and he makes grabby hands towards it. It doesn’t take him long to get what he needs and swallow it; now he just needs to wait for them to actually work. “Thanks.”

He received a nod in response. “Is it bad today?”

“If you get me upright, I can probably work through it.” Ranpo says, and lifts his arms as Fukuzawa bends down to hoist him up—Ranpo groans at the change in position—guiding him out of the bathroom and towards the bed where he gets dumped, Fukuzawa disappearing back into the bathroom. He returns moments later with Poe, an arm around Poe’s waist, and a hand underneath his elbow as he deposits Poe beside Ranpo, in a much gentler manner than Ranpo had been. Rude.

“I brought breakfast with me.” Fukuzawa moves to grab the bag that Ranpo hadn’t even noticed off of the little table that all motels have and passes it over. Inside is a few pieces of buttered toast and some fruit; it’s simple enough, which suits the situation just fine. Ranpo’s content to much on the fruit whilst Fukuzawa moves about the room, gathering their belongings for them—Ranpo’s grateful for that. He thinks he’d fall over if he tried to help right now.

Instead, he turns towards Poe and nudges the man with his knee when he notices that he’s not eating. “Eat. You’ll feel better if you do.”

Poe hums and doesn’t say anything, but obediently grabs a piece of toast and nibbles on it.

The train ride back to Yokohama is quiet; Ranpo stares out the window like he always does, but this time, Poe’s in his lap, and he’s running his fingers through his hair while he sleeps.

He spends the rest of the trip worried.

“Are you sure that going to America is a good thing?” Ranpo whispers when they’re safely back at home, comfortably resting in his bed. He and Poe are curled up next to each other like they always are, but Ranpo’s pressed their foreheads together so that he can feel Poe’s soft breaths against his face, and he’s gently running his thumbs across the back of Poe’s knuckles. “There’s plenty of time, we can go when you’re feeling better.”

Last nights incident slotted another piece of the jigsaw together.

“It’ll—It’ll be fine, Ranpo. It’s n-nothing to worry about.” Poe says, eyes blinking tiredly. Ranpo wants to argue, even starts to open his mouth to do so, before Poe covers the distance between them and kisses him—only for a second—and it might just be Ranpo’s imagination, but…

It doesn’t feel as full of life as Poe’s kisses usually do.

-----

When Ranpo tells people that he and Poe are going overseas, he’s met with very different reactions.

Fukuzawa watches him closely after Ranpo tells him. “You both need to be careful, okay? But ultimately, enjoy yourselves and make some good memories.”

Yosano insists that Ranpo lets her check him over a few days before they plan to fly out. “The climate’s very different over there, so you make sure to take care of yourself, okay? I won’t be there to help you if you have a flare up.” She has an apprehensive look on her face as she says that, and he has a feeling it’s not directed at him.

Nakahara corners him in the café after picking Dazai up one day and gives him a list of things to do over in America. “These are some of things I did when I went over last, but I’m sure Poe-san has a plan in mind already. But it wouldn’t hurt to suggest some of these.”

Dazai is the only one that doesn’t say anything, just gives him an unreadable look as he leans in close and whispers into Ranpo’s ear in a voice that sends shivers up Ranpo’s spine. “Have you ever noticed that Poe-san only stutters when he lies?”

Ranpo’s not sure what to make of that, but his best friends words leave him feeling uneasy for the rest of the day.

-----

It’s when their trip is fully booked and planned out—they’re leaving in two weeks—that the final piece of the puzzle falls into place.

Ranpo and Poe are helping Fukuzawa with closing the café, when Poe breaks out into a fit of coughing, which isn’t odd in itself; Poe’s been coughing and wheezing a lot these past few days. It’s just a cold, is what he’d told Ranpo, and Ranpo had believed him, if only because he’s the same way when he falls victim to one.

What wasn’t normal, was when the coughing only seemed to grow worse, and Ranpo looks up from where he’s wiping down a table to see Poe, with one hand clutching the table he’s next to, and the other, his chest. The coughs start to sound different, and Ranpo steps closer and freezes in place.

There’s blood dribbling down Poe’s chin, his lips stained in the crimson liquid. A bubble forms and bursts at the corner of his mouth, and finally, Ranpo’s limbs seem to unfreeze and he surges forward. “Fukuzawa!” He shouts, dragging a chair from one of the tables and forcing Poe down into it. His heart’s beating a million miles a second, and he’s pretty sure he’s shaking. He’s scared, but he does his best to prevent it from showing, because Poe looks more frightened, and Ranpo knows that if he looks afraid of what’s happening, then that’ll only scare Poe more, and it’ll only become so much worse.

He's reminded so much of that time it had been him coughing up blood.

“Breathe, Edgar.” Ranpo says, taking Poe’s hand into his own, trying to remember what others had done for him when he’d had trouble breathing during flare ups. He’d often been laid on the ground in a specific position, but there’s never been blood involved in his cases. Where the hell is Fukuzawa? “Here, lean forward—Fukuzawa!”

Footsteps hurry from the kitchen and Fukuzawa rushes over, the franticness of Ranpo’s voice alerting him to the seriousness of the situation. Ranpo only has to make eye contact with the man, before Fukuzawa’s kneeling beside Poe and issuing orders. “Ranpo, bring me a towel, and then call Yosano-sensei.”

“No.” Poe croaks, more blood spilling over his lips that he catches in his hand. The coughing’s eased off enough for him to speak. “I’m—I’m fine.”

“There’s only two options, Poe-san, and that’s I drive you to the hospital, or I call an ambulance. Not going is not an option.” Fukuzawa says, words harsh, but voice somehow still kind. “Let us help you, Poe-san. Just like you’ve always helped us.”

Ranpo remains frozen in one spot as Poe stays silent, only moving when Fukuzawa looks up at him, and he remembers that he’s supposed to actually be doing something instead of just standing there. He moves off to grab the towel that Fukuzawa had requested, handing it over to the man before he grabs his phone and dials his doctors number.

Yosano picks up on the second ring, and listens as Ranpo speaks rapidly to her, watching Fukuzawa wipe away the blood that’s staining Poe’s mouth, and then helping the writer onto his feet. He’s not quite sure that Yosano understands what he’s saying, but once he’s done, she reassures him that everything will be alright, and that she’ll meet them when they arrive. Ranpo manages to get out a quiet ‘okay’ before he’s hanging up. “Yosano-sensei is going to meet us.”

“Okay. Are you coming?” Fukuzawa asks, only because he knows how much being at the hospital irks Ranpo, but it’s a stupid question in this case. Of course he’s going. He could be unable to walk and breathe himself, and he’d still go. His face must say something, because Fukuzawa only nods. “Help me then.”

Ranpo follows behind Fukuzawa, wishing that he could help support Poe’s weight as his friend stumbles along, but it would be foolish on his part to even try. Instead, he makes sure to turn the lights off and lock the door of the café behind him, and when they get to the car, he opens the door and slides into the backseat without a word, putting his arms out to help guide Poe to come and sit next to him.

“You’ll be okay.” Ranpo presses his face into Poe’s hair as the man leans against him, forgoing his seatbelt so that Poe can stretch out against him and breathe. And for once, Fukuzawa doesn’t tell him off for it. “It’s just a bad day, that’s all.”

Poe coughs. “Y-Yeah…”

They aren’t allowed to go with Poe once they arrive at the hospital, Yosano ferrying him away the moment they step foot inside the building. So, for the second time in his life, Ranpo’s forced to wait in the waiting room, left to get lost in his endless thoughts of what ifs and whys. It had clicked the moment everything seemed to calm down around him, allowing his mind to piece together the puzzle that’s been pushed to the back of his mind for all these years; the puzzle that is Poe.

Poe is sick.

That much, Ranpo knows, although he doesn’t quite know how bad it is; whether Poe’s sick in the way Ranpo is, or if it’s something different entirely. Whatever it is, it’s not good, and Ranpo fights the urge to cry, because it’s not fair. Poe, who’s lived a hard life, just wants to write stories, and help people, yet for some reason, the world wants to have him suffer? Poe, who deserves to have the stories he writes shared across the world, deserves to be loved and cared for, is suddenly not allowed to have those things?

It’s not fair.

“Did you know he was sick?” Ranpo quietly asks. He knows that the adults in his life have been working together to keep this information for Ranpo, but he doesn’t understand why they would do such a thing. Poe asked them to, remember? Yeah, sure, Poe may have asked them to not say anything, but they still could’ve said something. Ranpo might’ve done things differently if he’d known that Poe was prone to bad days, might’ve been less demanding all those times that Poe had looked unwell, yet still worked to take care of him when Ranpo felt ill.

Fukuzawa is silent for a moment. “Yes. Yosano-sensei warned me when she saw how close the two of you were getting.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” It’s the truth, he would’ve, because Ranpo’s spent his entire life being ill, so he knows what it’s like to feel weak and useless in a world that’s out to get you; what it’s like to struggle through every day when your body just wants to give up and stop fighting.

“Poe-san… asked us to wait.” Fukuzawa says slowly. Carefully. “You were already suffering through your own problems; he didn’t want you to spend time being concerned about him.”

Ranpo hums and curls up into Fukuzawa’s side, letting out a sigh as his guardian draws him in closer. “I still wish he’d told me.”

Yosano doesn’t say anything as she collects him and Fukuzawa from the waiting room, guiding them up to the room Poe’s being kept it—it’s not the same one as it was the last time they were here. The only sounds aside from the usual hospital sounds, are those of Yosano’s heels as they click against the floor, and the tap of Ranpo’s cane as he limps along. Fukuzawa is silent, the only sign he’s even there is his warm hand against Ranpo’s back as a form of encouragement.

They come to a stop outside Poe’s room and Yosano levels Ranpo with a look. “I know what the two of you are like when it comes to personal space in this place, so I won’t tell you not to. I only ask that you be careful. He’s sleeping, and needs as much as he can get.”

Ranpo nods, and thanks Yosano as she opens the door for him. He’s the only one that enters the room, and knows that its because Fukuzawa wants to speak to Yosano without him overhearing. About what, he doesn’t know, and right now, he doesn’t care; all of his attention and focus is on Poe right now. His friend, despite being taller than Ranpo, looks so small in the bed. Poe’s eyes are closed, and there’s a cannula on his face; he’s breathing normally now, but he’s been laid in a raised position, and is on his side—a precaution, Ranpo guesses, in case more blood makes a reappearance.

He keeps Yosano’s words in mind as he abandons his cane and situates himself on the bed, being careful just like he was asked, so that he can lay beside Poe. It’s almost exactly like it was two years prior, with Poe connected to a bunch of machines, and Ranpo navigating the mess to lay, just like he is now, beside Poe. Only, this time, there’s a sunken feeling in his gut that tells him that things won’t quite be like last time.

Poe doesn’t wake as Ranpo continues to lay beside him, and Ranpo doesn’t sleep, something inside preventing him from closing his eyes and letting time pass by that way; he just watches Poe’s chest rise and fall.

And watches.

And watches.

When Poe finally wakes, Ranpo hasn’t moved an inch, but he lifts his head when he feels Poe shift, and finds himself staring into tired eyes. Poe blinks at him, before his eyes move to look at his surroundings, and Ranpo can almost see him thinking, so he decides to help Poe figure things out a little faster. “Yosano-sensei admitted you. Said you needed to rest.”

“Ah…” Poe sighs, and his eyes fall back to land on Ranpo, and an arm comes to lay across his waist that he welcomes. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t.” Ranpo lies. There’s only a few things in his life that have truly scared him, and seeing Poe cough up blood was pretty much at the top of that list. He knows that the act of coughing or throwing up blood isn’t normal, that it’s a sign of something internally wrong with the human body, so to know that it’s happening to Poe, terrifies Ranpo.

Poe gives a hum, and his eyes soften greatly, like he can see right through into what Ranpo’s thinking, which, he probably can. He brings a hand up to rest on Ranpo’s cheek, his thumb swiping just under his eye, and Ranpo can’t help but nuzzle into it. It’s reassuring, despite how cold Poe’s hand is against his skin, to feel the pad of his thumb move across his skin; it helps to ease the worry inside of him that had taken over when Poe had first started coughing, and he feels like he can finally relax.

Maybe that’s why it feels right to bring up what it is that’s been bothering him. “Why did you tell me you were sick, Edgar?”

Poe stiffens in front of him, his expression reminding Ranpo of a deer caught in headlights as he tries to figure out what to say; Ranpo waits, not wanting to repeat himself, but also not willing to let the conversation slide. He’s done with not knowing the truth, and he wants Poe to understand that he’s listening. “I’m—” Poe starts and then cuts himself off. It takes him another couple of minutes to speak again. “It’s—It’s complicated, Ranpo…”

“You told me that before.” Ranpo says, and he brings his own hand up to rest against Poe’s cheek, and he’s staring into Poe’s eyes, hoping that his expression is encouraging and kind, instead of impatient like he feels. “Tell me, Edgar. Please.” He needs Poe to confirm what he’s already suspecting; that Poe’s like him, chronically ill and that this is just a flare up of his own that he needs help with overcoming.

Something in his voice must give his intentions because Poe refuses to look him in the eye, slowly curling in on himself. “I…” Poe trails off and sighs. He doesn’t try to speak again.

Ranpo gives a sigh of his own, and he sits up in the bed, shuffling up so that he can run a hand through Poe’s hair in a soothing manner. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” He asks, hoping to prompt Poe into answering him.

There’s a pause, and then, “Y-Yeah, you c-could say that.”

The next sigh that escapes Ranpo is one of relief, and he looks down to give Poe a fond smile as he strokes his hair. “You’re stupid, you know? Why wouldn’t you just tell me then that you had bad days? I, of all people, would understand.”

“I just didn’t—didn’t want Ranpo-kun to worry.”

“Hey, what’s with the -kun? We made a promise.” Ranpo frowns, tugging gently at Poe’s hair. He gets a half-hearted glare in return, before Poe’s arms are winding around his waist and his face is buried into Ranpo’s stomach. Poe mumbles something that Ranpo can’t quite hear. “Sorry, what?”

Poe lifts his head just barely. “Ranpo’s being pushy.”

Ranpo’s hand stills. He is being a little bit pushy, and he remembers telling Poe once upon a time that he wouldn’t do that, that he’d wait and let the man come to him when he was ready. A little bit of guilt swarms his belly. “You’re right. I just want to know the truth, Edgar. I want to be there for you as you were once there for me. Is that wrong?”

“No… it’s not.” Poe rolls onto his back, with the intention of leaning himself against Ranpo like a pillow, when a fit of coughing overtakes him. Ranpo’s quick to act this time, and he tugs Poe upright, letting himself be used as a support whilst Poe gets himself under control. The fit passes quickly and Poe sags against him. “I appreciate that you care, Ranpo, I do… I just… I didn’t have the support that you had with your own illness. It’s hard for me to accept help from others.”

Oh. That makes sense. It makes all the sense in the world. Ranpo knows very well that if it weren’t for his parents and Fukuzawa, that Ranpo wouldn’t have accepted help as easily as he does when it comes to his own illness. And if Poe’s been as sick for as long as Ranpo has, then he’s had to deal with it alone for his entire life, with no one to hold his hand or guide him through the dark times. Ranpo wishes that he could go back in time, to when they were both children—despite not knowing each other back then—and extending a hand of help.

But, it’s never too late to accept help, at least, in Ranpo’s books that’s the case, and he knocks his head against Poe’s gently. “Well, how about we start by accepting help right now? Let me, and Fukuzawa, and Yosano-sensei get you through this flare up, and then we can get back to living life. You still have to show me America, remember? I know you’ve been planning something good, since you won’t tell me what you’ve been plotting.”

Poe gives him a strained smile. “It’s a secret, my dear—” Ranpo flushes at the term of endearment, the first time he’s ever heard it before, “—but I’m sure we’ll still be able to go as scheduled. Just make sure you’ve packed—”

“Not happening.” Yosano’s voice cuts through Poe’s words as she strides into the room, Fukuzawa and Haruno following behind her; both move off to the side whilst Yosano comes to stand in front of the bed. “I’m sorry, Poe, but I cannot, in good conscious, discharge you to fly halfway across the world.”

“Why?” Poe’s voice is terse.

“Your test results came back and it’s not good. Your lungs are beginning to shut down—one of them practically has already—and it’s placing a lot of strain on your heart—”

Ranpo freezes. Wait, what?

“—mention, the state of your liver and kidneys—”

No, no, no, no.

“—and I called Fitzgerald-sensei, only to learn that you already knew this, and that you’d denied treatment before leaving the hospital and flying all the way to Yokohama!”

The world cannot be this cruel.

“Yosano-sensei—” Poe tries to interrupt, only to stop himself when Yosano glares at him.

“Don’t you ‘Yosano-sensei’ me, Edgar Allan Poe. You have two months to live at best, and if you continue to refuse treatment—”

Ranpo doesn’t hear the rest of whatever it is Yosano says; he’s lost in his own mind, the jigsaw puzzle that he’d thought he’d assembled correctly, breaking apart before his very eyes as he realizes that he had it wrong. Poe was sick, that much was correct, but it wasn’t the kind of sick that Ranpo had initially thought.

“You’re like me, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, you c-could say that.”

Words spoken only minutes earlier assault Ranpo’s mind as his heart pounds, and it increases when Dazai’s words days ago return to him.

“Have you ever noticed that Poe-san only stutters when he lies?”

And just like that, the puzzle reforms itself, taking a new shape, bringing new pieces to the table that Ranpo hadn’t even considered in the first place; from the time they’d first met to just before Poe had gone back to America. Everything made sense. The way that Poe was always exhausted, no matter what, the way that days could go by without Poe eating anything but smoothies, the way that he always seemed weak and frail, despite nurses being some of the strongest people within the hospital with everything they did.

It all made sense.

A sob escapes him, and the conversation he hasn’t been listening to dies off around him. Ranpo ignores it; ignores it to turn and face Poe, hoping that he’s wrong again, that Yosano’s wrong and that this is all some elaborate prank that everyone’s pulling on him. But Poe’s face is one of quiet acceptance, and he reaches out a hand towards Ranpo, only for Ranpo to throw himself off the bed and back away. He can’t—he just can’t.

He looks around the room.

Fukuzawa looks pained, and he’s got his arms crossed like he’s preventing himself from just wrapping Ranpo up in his arms and hiding him from the world like he used to do.

Haruno has tears forming in her eyes, and she backs out of the room silently before they fall.

But Yosano, Yosano has the worst look of them all; horror, as it dawns on her that until now, Ranpo didn’t know.

And now he does.

Edgar Allan Poe is dying and there’s nothing Ranpo can do about it.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #writing #fanfiction #hurt/comfort

[brennacedria]

yeah this iud is coming out. not like "is currently being expelled" coming out, but I'm 90% sure it's dislodged and even if it isn't, I was up for hours last night with jerking stabs of pain--Brian said if he didn't know about the iud, he would have said I was passing a kidney stone. I've seen how he jumps when an especially bad stone (for him) moves the wrong way, and that's exactly how I was. if not for the iud, I would think it was a kidney stone, too. I didn't get to sleep until about an hour after FINALLY taking half a lortab from an ancient prescription I still have, and I woke up again in four hours because I get extra insomnia when I take that

I'm going to demand it be removed and get another birth control. idk when they'll get me in at the doctor tho. I'm going to have to go to work with only an anti-inflammatory in me (because I'm probably going to have to drive), call and leave a message with the receptionist, let my managers know that I might-be-leaving-early-or-I-might-miss-tomorrow-or-later-this-week-who-the-fuck-knows, wait for a call back, and then whenever they do call back I have to figure out if I can get there today (if that's even an option) or tomorrow or whatever. if it's today, I have to come home first so I can pick up brian to give me a ride back home from the doctor.

...idk, brian thinks we should just skip over calling the doctor's and go up to the office at 8 when they open. it'll definitely get the urgency across, and it'll save me from possibly getting stranded at work if I'm not able to drive myself back.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #long post #birth control #iud #Bren does life #I feel like this needs more tags but idk what to put on it

[verelan]

Of demons and shadows - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Day 1 ------------

She clung to Rose as if something in the shadowy corners might snatch her away again. Chris left over an hour ago but Mia couldn’t muster up the strength to get up from the couch. Her heart still felt like it might tear itself apart any second and her lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen in. She was hyperventilating – she knew!- but her tears wouldn’t stop. Her whole body was paralyzed yet trembling terribly.

If she couldn’t get a grip on herself it would become a full blown panic attack. Her prescriptions were safely tucked away in the bathroom drawer but even without Rose in her arms it was out of question to take another dosage right now. “Mia, it has to be this way. There is no other choice. We don’t know enough about her and her powers or how it might affect her in the future.” “She is just a child! No – you cannot be serious, not after everything we’ve gone through!” “I am serious and I won’t change my mind, Mia. She’ll be taken into custody when she is old enough. Until then I want you to report everything to me in case anything changes. It may sound heartless now … but think about her.”

With that said he had left immediately after. Her throat felt dry and scratchy from her screaming. She didn’t want to lose another member of her small family but no one seemed to give her a choice in that matter. Her first thought after Redfield (she couldn’t use first name basis right now) left without another word – or did he say more to her but she didn’t hear? – was to pack her and Roses things to leave, to run as far away as they could. “I promised Ethan to watch over her. And I will. It’s better for her to stay under close surveillance.”

“Chris, you are talking about taking my little girl away. She is no science project! Rose is my baby and I am her mother! Ethan wouldn’t …” … want them to be separated. He fought so desperate for them.

Mia kissed her child's forehead softly, humming a tune from a song her husband used to sing to Rose. No, she was sure that Chris was in the wrong here no matter how pretty he made it sound – for her protection. It still was what he proclaimed. “I don’t know what to do …” she whispered into nothingness. Was running away an option? No probably not. They would find her. Probably sooner rather than later. Who knows, maybe they already were being observed and … studied. Mias gaze wandered to the kitchen window. It was already dark outside but she selfishly didn’t feel like putting Rose down to bed at the moment. And her little angel didn’t seem to mind either. She was wide awake, gurgling to herself. A small string of spit pooled at her chin because she kept sucking on her fingers. “You might be already teething, mh? Let me check, baby girl.” Mia pocked her inner gums with a finger without feeling anything yet. “Such a big girl already.” Ethan surely would have loved this. He took so much photos of her already. Since her husband was currently labeled M.I.A there hadn’t been a funeral yet. Nothing was left of that village so they wouldn’t find a body no matter how hard they searched. She guessed it was just some procedure they had to go through before confirming his demise. It hurt Mia not to have a place to visit.

Suddenly her phone went off in her pocket and she took it out to see a text message from Chris. As if he got hint of her thoughts or something.

Mia, I am really sorry. It’s the best for both of you. - Chris

He got some nerve! If he had the need to tend to his guilt then he should talk to someone else!

Angered yet again she put her phone back without answering and stood up with her daughter in her arms. She couldn’t understand what he saw in Rose. She was not his responsibility even if Ethan asked him to keep an eye on her – it was not meant to be literal. Of course she knew they had to check on her as her father had been … more then human but so far the mold hadn’t affected her in any way. And if it did, then she wouldn’t know because they kept information about the incident sealed off to her. For now, Mia decided, she would stay angry at Redfield as it keeps her mind off from other topics and she wanted to give Rose her full attention as of now. The soldier could shove is message where the sun was never shining, she didn’t care. “Seems like we are on our own for now, dear.” Rose looked at her without knowing what she was talking about but that was fine.

#resident evil village #shadows of rose #re8 #re8 fanfiction #rosemary winters #mia winters #ethan winters #chris redfield

[adamsart]

Fuck so I saved Shelby once again and took her in even tho I told mark I wouldn’t save her. Then I sent her back to stay with mark but we were in love at this point and I knew I was destined to be with her. I thought about her all the time. I always wanted her by my side and I made sure she was loved and taken care of. I got her car back from her mother only to lose it to the third impound in a month like 2 years later. These were the happiest years of my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever find that kind of love ever again. Shelby was with me thru thick and thin and stuck threw some pretty scary shit like gunpoint robberies, kidnappings, had her set up this guy we knew and she didn’t know until I mollywhopped his ass for stealing from me. Shelby was a beautiful person and her soul was so beautiful. After getting out of Sacramento county late one December I tried to call home and wish my family a merry Christmas and happy birthday to my brother. No one answered I figured it was because of me but what I didn’t know is my brother had just gone back to jail and my mother was left with no pain meds and a nasty infection in her bowls that she couldn’t fix cause she was allergic to antibiotics. My father tracked me down how I don’t know but he tracked me down and told me he couldn’t watch my mother die and the doctors gave her 24 hours she only actually lasted 3 hours and my father couldn’t watch his wife of over 25 years due infront of him and he felt like a coward. One of the most heartbreaking calls of my life. My mother died the 27th of December 2012. I decided I was going to go to a truck stop and someone would give me a ride in there truck and get me home. I was broke and my brothers wife had now stepped in and was in control of my fathers phone, bank account, vehicles everything and as soon as she showed up my father could no longer talk to me on the phone only thru Sarah over text message was the only way I was allowed to try to speak to my father. After 2 days of sitting at the truck stop with a pathetic sign that read MOTHER PASSED AWAY JUST NEED A RIDE TO SALT LAKE UTAH after 2 days I finally decided I was just going to have to steal a car and chance it my dad needed me and I needed to get there for my mothers funeral. So I preyed to god to help me and that night a girl I had just met her name was ANGEL came to where I was staying and she gave me a set of keys that she found in the laundry room of her building and I went to the apartments and found the car right away. I still have to make amends to those people. I was desperate and selfish. The car was empty when I stole it and the first person Shelby asked filled us up to full and we were on our way the next time we had to refuel it was the same thing first person filled us up and we were back on the road the last time I stoped for gas we were just outside of Utah and the first person filled up our tank again. And gave us a card with a bible quote on it. The last time I stopped it was right across the Utah border and A UHP officer pulled away from a stop to come after us and get us pulled over. After running our tags it took another 15 minutes before they shout down that side of the freeway and pulled me out of the car felony style. I went to jail and had to call and speak to my dad and tell him I wasn’t going to make it home for moms funeral. Maybe the hardest phone call of my life I can only think of one worst. Man I just wanted to give up and die. Missed my mothers funeral and on top of the new felony for a stolen car I was already wanted for 7 pounds of weed they busted me with just before my divorce as well as 4 prescription forgeries 4 insurance fraud and 1 commercial burglary. I was taken to toole county and somehow talked to he judge into releasing me to Davis county after 1 month. I went to Davis county jail and Shelby was released that day. I still had a 50,000$ bond to get out. Where there is a will there is a way cause I was only in Davis county jail 5 hours before I had found a bondsman to get me out on a signature and promise to pay in a week.

[mychemicalmenopause]

Update / Timeline

The last week has been non-stop hell between my mental and physical health and the business. I haven’t been able to post as much as I’d like, so I’m going to try to recap as best as possible: 

After not receiving a call from Dr. Williams last Tuesday, 8/30/22, I sent another message in MyChart following up: 

“Hi Dr. Williams,  

I sent a message last Wednesday 8/24 and wanted to follow up to make sure you received that message. I called the office yesterday and they said you weren't there, but assured me you'd get back to me today. I would really appreciate some kind of response from anyone, especially about when to start Lupron (and if I need to set an appointment for that or how it works).

Thank you.” 

I received an acknowledgment message from Stefanie at 9am saying, “I have forwarded your message to Dr. Williams and I will make sure he looks over it today. I'm sorry for the delay. “

Around 10am, I received a message from Dr. Williams:

“Hi Stephanie,

I'm sorry I'm just now getting back to you. Good questions. I would actually start the lupron in the luteal phase (after ovulation). I would look at your prior cycles and try to time the lupron such that you're taking it approximately 7 days prior to the start of your menstruation; alternatively, taking it on cycle day 21 probably would pinpoint the luteal phase fairly well. 

2.   You can stay on your current vitamin regimen.

3.   Let's see how you do on the lupron first. I would be using the naltrexone for PMS symptoms and I'd like to see how you do with the "medical menopausal" state alone. Thank you for the information on your grandmother. It is good she did not have ovarian cancer.” 

After receiving that message, I immediately called the office and explained that I was currently 7 days from the start of my period and wanted an appointment to get the Lupron injection. I was then told by Erica, the same nurse I spoke to on the 29th and we specifically spoke about Lupron, that the Lupron was a prescription that would be MAILED to me, and then I would come in for them to give me the injection. I was taken back by the new information and asked if it was already on it’s way to me and she put me on hold. She came back to tell me that Carrie was currently on the phone with them getting it called in, which was at that time, 7 days after Dr. Williams had asked her to. I asked Erica if Karie was the same nurse who read my message to him a week ago and she said yes. She says that they are very short staffed and that Karie is Dr. Williams’s only nurse. I told her that I own a small business and we’re short staffed too, but we stop taking on new clients when we know we can’t handle them. I asked to speak to a manager and she told me they don’t currently have an office manager, but that she could have the Regional Manager give me a call that day. 

It was at that point that I realized who Karie was - the hateful nurse from my first visit there. So I need to rewind even further, sorry to anyone who may or may not read this and good luck keeping up. 

8/15/22: Ashlyn spent the night so she could go with me, and we arrived in Winston Salem at 10:45 for my 11:00am appointment. We checked in and all was well until we walked into the exam room with Karie, the NP, and another nurse who was training who’s name I didn’t get. As Karie was getting my history, Ashlyn was able to take everything in, and as soon as I mentioned the abortion I had when I was 19, Karie immediately shut down and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. She told me to get undressed and that the doctor would be in shortly. When she closed the door, Ashlyn pointed above the door frame at the crucifix on the wall. I knew they were a pro-life clinic from their website, but I decided I wasn’t going to let politics get in the way of my medical care - boy, was I wrong. 

About 10 minutes later, Karie came back in and told us that the doctor had been called to the hospital and that we could wait a little bit to see what happens, but that they would probably need to reschedule. Ashlyn and I were shocked that this could happen, but we tried to be patient. About 20 minutes later, Karie came back in and said I would need to go ahead and get dressed and she would take me up front to get rescheduled. I was pretty upset at this point, as I had to pay one of my sitters an extra $100 to cover for me at work that day and we were never told he was on call. Karie immediately became frustrated with us and said we could “voice our concerns up front.” I got dressed and she came back in, I kept my cool and asked if there was any way we could just wait for the doctor to come back, or we could come back at 5:00 and be the last appointment for the day, anything! Karie said no to every single one of my suggestions and was very rude about it. I reminded her that I was a transfer from the ER and in a lot of pain and she had zero compassion whatsoever. 

We explained to the front desk that we had not been told the doctor was on call, repeated how much pain I was in, how we took time off and drove an hour to get there, and I begged them to do anything they could to get me in the same day. Meanwhile, Ashlyn was behind me asking for names and threatening to call the Better Business Bureau. They told us to have a seat and that they would see if there was anything they could do. About 45 minutes later, the “Office Manager” came out to the lobby and apologized for the confusion. He said the doctor had just delivered a baby and was on his way back to the office, and that they’d get me back in a room shortly. We thanked him profusely and before he walked away, Ashlyn asked if there was anyway we could get a different nurse, as Karie had been rude and we were no longer comfortable with her.

A few minutes later, the nurse who was training came to get us and put us in a different room, with another crucifix above the door. A couple minutes after that, she came baring drinks to kiss our asses, which we appreciated. Eventually, Dr. Williams came in and we spent about 45 minutes talking to him about my history, what’s going on now, and how badly I’m ready for a full hysterectomy and oophorectomy. Here’s Dr. Williams’ notes from MyChart: 

“GYN Office Visit CC: pelvic pain   

HPI: Stephanie is a 35 y.o. female who presents for the above complaint. Pt has had painful periods since 10 years old. ocp at 12 yrs old. At 19 yrs old, got pregnant. Had abortion. Doesn't do well on ocp's. Has psych concerns when on birth control. Was on depo when was 29; didn't do well on it, psych wise. Had IUD and didn't like it. Has PMDD.  She sees a correlation between her mood and fluctuations in her hormones.  Is followed by psych at this time.  Believes that ovarian removal may give her benefit.  She does report a family history of ovarian cancer with her aunt.  Her mother may have been tested for BRCA but she is not sure.  She is can ask her.  Told she might have endometriosis by another doctor. Never had surgery. Saw pelvic pain doctor in Charlotte. Went to pelvic floor pt; didn't help. Has pain with sex; every time in all positions. No pain with urination or bowel movements. Some diarrhea with menstruation. Ended up in ER on 8/3 due to pain and vomiting along with heavy bleeding. Bleeding lasts for 9 days when she does have flow. Cycles are about 20 days apart. Pain starts about 7 days before the flow. Does not have interest in fertility. Not in relationship currently. Has tried anti-inflammatory supplements. She is 100% sure she does not want a baby and wants a hysterectomy; knows this may not help her pain. She is tired of the bleeding.   

The patient has a very long history of chronic pelvic pain.  Statistically she has a very high chance of having endometriosis.  We did discuss fertility preservation and an evaluation for endometriosis and appropriate treatment with excision given her age however the patient declines this option.  She seeks definitive treatment of her abnormal uterine bleeding.  She has utilized multiple modalities to improve her bleeding & pain and she has not seen benefit.  She therefore wishes to have a hysterectomy with bilateral salpingectomy.  Given her long history of abnormal uterine bleeding and pelvic pain along with multiple failed medical management, I think it is reasonable to proceed with this surgery.  Of note she has no interest in future fertility.  We did have a very long discussion specifically on fertility given the permanency of this procedure and she is adamant that she desires no future pregnancies. She also inquires into a bilateral oophorectomy given her PMDD.  We are going to discuss this further at her next visit.  She has not tried Lupron in the past and this could be utilized to see if she would gain any benefit from a oophorectomy.  She is aware of the permanency of a surgery such as this.  She is also aware she will go into surgical menopause which increases the risk of osteoporosis along with all the menopausal symptoms including hot flashes night sweats insomnia vaginal dryness, etc. She would need E2 for bone health.  Patient states she is well aware of these risks and has been thinking about this for a very very long time.  She wishes for a total laparoscopic hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy.  She will return for a preoperative visit and we will discuss this further in detail.  I did review her ultrasound imaging which she is completed at an outside radiology department on August 3.  There are no concerning findings; there does seem to be some asymmetry between the posterior and anterior myometrium which could be consistent with adenomyosis however this is certainly not definitive.  I did mention utilizing naltrexone to assist with her psychiatrist and get back to us.  I also asked her to speak with her mother to see if she had genetic testing given her aunt has had ovarian cancer.”

I left the visit feeling a ton of emotions, but overall I was SO happy to have finally received a green light on surgery, and texted my family, “He said yes!!!”  

Ok, so let’s recap:

August 4th - ER visit for extreme pelvic pain and vomiting

August 15th - Exam with Dr. Williams, he agrees to surgery. 

August 22nd - I call the Surgical Coordinator to see when the first available surgery is, and she schedules it for January 5, 2023. 

August 23rd - I get a call from Dr. Williams saying he changed his mind and wants to do Chemical Menopause for 6 months to make sure I’m going to benefit from him taking out my ovaries, before we do surgery. Although I’m frustrated that he didn’t mention this during my appointment, I’m willing to “try it before I buy it,” as Dr. Williams phrased it. He calls in estrogen patches and progesterone tablets to my pharmacy and I pick them up the next day. 

August 24th - I send Dr. Williams a message in MyChart asking when to start the Lupron, if I should continue my supplements, and told him I  spoke with my mom and it was cervical cancer, not ovarian. 

August 29th - After not hearing anything back, I called and spoke with Erica who said Dr. Williams was not in the office but that he would definitely get back to me tomorrow. 

August 30th - I sent another message in MyChart following up

August 31st - I get a message from Dr. Williams saying to start the Lupron 7 days before my next period, which happened to be that same day. Called the office, was told the prescription needed to be mailed to me and that Karie was currently on the phone with the pharmacy calling it in. I was given the number for MedImpact to follow up with them, and Erica said she would leave a message for their Regional Manager to call me (since they don’t have an office manager). 

September 1st - I call MedImpact and was told there was no information for a prescription. I explained to them that my doctor’s office was calling in Lupron was I was on the phone with them and was told Lupron is a specialty rx and requires a prior authorization, which had not been given. Still no phone call from the RM. 

September 7th (today) - I call Dr. Williams office and spoke with Dana. I told her that I was really frustrated because I have no meds, there has been zero communication, and I’m still in a LOT of pain. She gave me the short-staffing spiel and told me to “just be patient.” I told her I had been patient, but no one should have to wait this long for meds when they are in this much pain. She put me on hold and confirmed with Karie that the meds indeed were called in with a prior authorization.

I just got off the phone with MedImpact and they are now showing that the meds were called in yesterday, but they’re still waiting on insurance. She said to call back Friday if I still haven’t heard anything. 

The thing is, I’m so frustrated with the level of care I’m receiving and I’m terrified to start on meds, especially progesterone, without knowing I can contact my doctor. I’m not sure if Karie has it out for me or if they’re actually that short-staffed, but waiting weeks for meds is unacceptable. 

[crazybigredlove]

6th July 2013

Petey! 

All three of the guys from the dating site sent me a text message. Pretty sure they were the modern equivalent of a mating call. Do you think it's okay to screen them according to their grammar and use of the English language? Is that a bad thing? Seems fair enough given that I am a journalist of sorts. Maybe I only write ill-informed fitness articles, but same-same. Okay, yes technically a filler writer for a magazine, but I have a degree in journalism. Or creative writing anyway, which these days really is the same thing. 

Shut up. 

As yet only one has managed to spark my interest and - brace yourself - he's a ginger. I'm not talking a little bit of an orange tinge, I mean shocking fire-engine red hair. He's well over six foot tall (I am still strictly enforcing my six foot two height minimum) and he seems so sweet. Also, he seems very athletic. That's important in my world (refer to earlier point on writing fitness articles. Sure I personally may be allergic to exercise, but staring at pictures all day of men working out has resulted in unrealistic expectations of what Prince Charming is going to look like. Plus, if I can't have Prince Harry this guy is definitely an acceptable substitute). Oddly, he asked for my email even though he had my phone number, but I complied and the first email chimed through only minutes later. War and Peace long but unexpectedly sweet, so I replied being my usual charming and funny self. Translation: I prattled crap and stressed the whole time about how uncool I sounded. Seven drafts later I had to hit send because I didn't even recognise the person in the email anymore and I feared that if I kept going I'd be so far removed from myself that I'd be some sort of load back Victoria’s Secret model cool chick who lives a life constantly harassed by beautiful men. As it was I may have told him that I was of Icelandic ancestry. I'm still not sure how that happened. Anyway, he emailed back a short time later and that was when I told him to just text me again. He did and asked if we could meet up soon. Requested a picture so that I could actually see his face as apparently the kids these days think that when you're looking to pickup the best way is by posting photos of yourself that are so dark and blurry an eye examination and new prescription glasses are required immediately by anyone hoping to view them. 

Well. 

He's cute. Yes. He seems cheeky. Yes. But sending me a picture of himself flipping the bird? I'm going to just take a stab in the dark and say his mental age is either younger than Christopher's or he has no clue about women. I'm not even sure which one I want to be right. Needless to say I did what I do, which is send a text back without hesitation and which probably ended the short- lived romance. He responded saying something similar. Then he sent one apologising. Then I ignored him all afternoon till he sent me one asking if we were good. 

Then I got distracted and only remembered that I hadn't replied about, oh, four seconds ago. 

So that's a new relationship PR: two emails and four texts. I am mentally unwell. 

Harry did insist that I write to you about my problems, and while I feel the bulk of my problems do stem from my absolutely crap dating life (see exhibit A: Big Red giving me a middle finger salute as a mating call) he seems to think there is something deeper going on. Like the fact that I lay awake for hours every night thinking about nothing and everything seems cause for concern. Now, without startling you, he may have thrown the word “depression” around, but you have to know how I feel about labels. Likely he was being a jerk and a little overzealous. Besides, I'm not even convinced that I have problems. 

Buffy chewed through your duvet. Thought you should know. Also, have blown two light bulbs this week and even the tallest chairs in the house are still not tall enough for me to reach. I would ask your brother to fix them but seriously, he'll make a move on me. That would result in his body hanging from the balcony with a 'Love Liv' sign hanging around his neck and I don't have time to deal with being charged with murder this week. 

Liv x 

PS. Bumped into your folks at the markets. Your Ma invited me around for dinner (plus she said I'd lost weight. Ha!). Accepted cordially and explained that it was the least I could do given that I knew that her crap parenting was the reason you'd fled so abruptly. Ok. I didn't really say that. But if I did would you come back? 

#love #friendship #dating #wtf #memories #emails i sent #emails #letters

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 1, Episode 2

Episode 2 picks up the morning day after the initiation party, the girls are having breakfast lunch at their dorm, the boys at theirs, and everyone wants the juicy details about what happened at the party...

Culture: Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far? Although, it's pretty funny how the roles are reversed, Maddie is all "meh" about it, while Nils tells a different story. Then again, since when do you get together after a blowjob?

Culture: I actually have no idea why Simon is having breakfast at Skogsbacken, since regular schools only cover lunch for students, everyone eats breakfast at home, and then goes to school. Then again, it allows a scene where (Never mind, they're having lunch, thanks @kamand !) Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm casts some nervous glances at Simon after having been called out for disappearing at the party and almost forced to confess to making out with someone.

Culture: I know Felice is trying to put August down, but don't knock a proper Swedish pizza! As much as I like living in the US, they can't fucking make pizzas here, and the first thing I eat every time I go back to Sweden is always a real pizza. With pineapple and shrimp as God intended pizza to be made!

Culture: August is namedropping ski resorts in the Alps, which is where you go skiing in Europe if you have money, although Saint-Martin-de-Belleville is actually near Val Thorens in France, while Verbier is in Switzerland. It does have a three-star restaurant, though. Sweden and Norway have a couple of decent ski resorts, but the Scandinavian mountain chain is simply not as impressive as the Alps.

Subtext: Remember Wilhelm getting up and hurrying to math class in the beginning of the scene? It was so he could grab the other seat next to Simon, because he knows Simon is gonna sit next to Sara, since no-one else does.

Culture: Formally greeting your teacher before class is very uncommon in Sweden, but since Hillerska is all about discipline and tradition, of course they do it. Note that they're again using the formal Swedish title for male teachers, Magister, which in a regular school would be kind of a joke, since teachers and students are on a first-name basis with each other.

Subtext: Wilhelm is exposing how the world works if you have money. At Simon's old school, studying alone would result in good grades, but Hillerska is slightly corrupt and almost expects the students to essentially pay for getting a good grade.

Subtext: Simon is lying to his teacher, he absolutely hasn't talked to his parents about paying for private lessons.

Subtext: No, Sara absolutely does care about what other people think about her, and when she directly tells Felice that she would actually like some friends, that's when Felice gets it and starts making an effort to become real friends with her.

Culture: They're all bilingual at Simon's home, they're all speaking Spanish and Swedish, although Linda has a very noticeable accent to her Swedish. Based on demographics and statistics, the most likely scenario is that Linda immigrated to Sweden from Chile, met Micke, and started a family. In real life, Omar Rudberg was born in Venezuela and grew up in Sweden, while Carmen Gloria Pérez was born in New York, and grew up in Puerto Rico.

Subtext: Remember how I talked in the intro post about how distant social classes know nothing of each other? Ayub and Rosh are either working class or lower middle class like Simon, and since rowing is a typical upper class sport, they know nothing of it, they don't even think of it as a real sport. Unlike football, which is a proper working class sport, they know all about that!

Subtext: Scandinavia has Jantelagen, and everyone there thinks it's uniquely Scandinavian, but all countries have some form of Tall Poppy Syndrome. In this scene, Simon is starting to make a class journey, he started rowing, he started trying to fit in with the other upper-class kids, and getting into a relationship with someone as upper-class as Wilhelm would definitely move him all the way. But going on a journey means leaving things behind, which is why Rosh and Ayub are cutting him down and literally turning their backs on him. They like it in the small town of Bjärstad, why can't he be happy there too? Why is he betraying his roots?

Subtext: This comment from August nicely foreshadows a later episode when August does something traceable on a School computer...

Subtext: What August means is that he's not sure Wilhelm has the same desire to be accultured into the upper class, to play the part of a proper prince, in the same way that he and Erik have accepted their roles and are even enjoying them.

Culture: Although it's impossible to read the name of the medicine, the paper tag on the bottle indicates that it's some kind of prescription medicine. From the conversation with Vincent, we learn that it's some kind of ADHD medication, probably some kind of Dextroamphetamine since those improve athletic ability and cognitive functions in healthy people.

Culture: Birkenstock sandals are associated with hippies in Sweden as well as in many parts of the world, so August is actually saying that the school counselor isn't really part of the same upper-class society as the rest of the staff. And again, his use of the word sosse drives the point home.

Subtext: Consequently, the counselor sees right through August and refuses to immediately prescribe him the medication that he wants...

Subtext: ...even though August tries to both bribe him and threaten him into giving him the medication he wants.

Subtext: A big theme of this episode is class journeys, and in this scene and a previous exercise scene, August gushes about how good a thing that is, how proud he is of Simon for going on one, and spouts some crap about how everyone can make it if they really want to.

Subtext: Thankfully, Madison says what we're all thinking: August is full of shit, life isn't fair, and they're only at the school because they were born into privilege.

Blink and you miss it: After Wilhelm has nervously texted his crush for the first time, he starts to bite his fingernails, but quickly stops himself, because why would he be nervous? He's just texting another boy about rowing practice, there's nothing more to it!

Subtext: Simon's texting game is on point though, he knows exactly what he should write to get Wilhelm to go on a totally-not-a-date with him.

Subtext: In the same way that August couldn't convince the counselor about being sick, I don't think Wilhelm's atrocious acting here convinces August that he's sick either.

Culture: Public transport in the greater Stockholm area - or wherever we're supposed to be - is of course cash-less, and you pay by either charging a special card, or by signing up in their app and buying tickets through there. The point of this scene though is to drive home how Wilhelm has never ever had to take the bus before in his life, and therefore has no idea how it works.

Culture: The totally-not-a-date starts at a Circle K, which in Sweden is just another gas station, but it is actually a Canadian multi-national convenience store corporation. The price of gas is of course posted in kr/l, and 13.98kr/l corresponds to roughly $6/gal.

Subtext: Throughout the totally-not-a-date, Wilhelm is trying to reach for common ground with Simon, trying to show him how he's just a regular guy...

Subtext: ...but then real life intrudes, Wilhelm is recognized by some local girls, who call out to him and run away giggling, which shows how he's not a regular guy, he's going to get recognized wherever he goes.

Culture: Kokt eller grillat, boiled or grilled, are the two ways you can get your hot-dog at pretty much any hot-dog place in Sweden, and ketchup and mustard is always offered. The correct answer to this question is of course grilled, with ketchup and mustard, and this just shows that Wilhelm is a man of culture and good taste. Unfortunately, they were out grilled ones, so they all got boring soggy boiled hot-dogs instead. Is there a metaphor here? I don't know.

Subtext: Again, the show drives home the point that absolutely no-one has a problem with people being gay. Simon is clearly out to Ayub and the rest of his friends, and Ayub immediately picks up on the fact that this is totally a date.

Blink and you miss it: Ayub nudges Simon with his elbow to tell him that he should make a move on Wilhelm.

Culture: What we're looking at is just the local junior/high school football team, Bjärstad, playing a match against some other unnamed junior football team. Since the stakes are super low, the audience basically consists of whichever parents and friends of the players that could be bothered showing up.

Culture: Driving age is 18 in Sweden, and even then getting your own car at that age is extremely uncommon. However, you can easily get a license for a moped when you turn 15, so these are the vehicles of choice for teenagers to get around.

Subtext: August found out about Wilhelm's trip to town, but his main problem with it is that he wants Wilhelm to stop slumming it with lower class people, and to start hanging out with everyone at school instead, so that he can be properly accultured into the upper class. Again, sosse in this context means working class, not socialist.

Subtext: Although Simon felt really great about his first date with Wilhelm, the text message reminds him that Wilhelm isn't a regular person, and that even this innocent little trip generates interest and scrutiny, and can't be posted publicly.

Culture: As everyone should have noticed by now, Madison keeps speaking English, while everyone speaks to her in Swedish, so clearly she understands it. But here she gives her motivation for sticking to English, and that is that she doesn't feel she's good enough at speaking Swedish. Boarding schools like Hillerska attracts international students that have some kind of connection to the country, so a likely scenario is that Madison grew up in the US with a Swedish parent, and she's being sent here to experience Swedish culture and get immersed in the language to learn it better.

Cinematography: This shot of August drives really home all the pressure he is under, he's out of drugs, the headmistress just hinted that he's out of money, and he's literally being weighed down by books and work-out weights.

Subtext: Simon has kept his visits to Micke a secret from Sara, so here he has to intervene to make sure August doesn't accidentally reveal this to her. He also wants to protect his sister, so he's redirecting August's search for drugs onto himself.

Subtext: And on the flipside, Simon isn't really telling his dad that Sara still hates him and really doesn't want to see him, so he's vague when Micke asks about Sara and Linda.

Culture: Finally a bottle of medicine where we can read the label! Unfortunately for Simon, this is Tramadol, an opiate prescribed for pain relief, which is the complete opposite of the kind of drugs August wants.

Subtext: If you haven't figured out yet that this episode is about class journeys, August spells it out for us here. However, the reason he's "congratulating" Simon in front of everybody is because Simon just supplied him with more drugs, so this is his way of thanking him, since he can't really pay him.

Blink and you miss it: For a split second, Wilhelm grabs Simon's leg during the scary scene.

Subtext: The entire dialogue of the movie works as subtext for what's actually going on between Wilhelm and Simon at this point, and Wilhelm is getting a little freaked out by this sneaky display of affection.

Subtext: The movie also puts words on the implications of Wilhelm getting together with a boy, what about having kids in the future? Can you carry on your family name and traditions, or will they die with you?

Lost in translation: The plaque actually says "FEEL YOUR RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE HERITAGE". Even though the plaque means the heritage and legacy of the school itself, Wilhelm is thinking about his legacy, his heritage, and how getting together with Simon would threaten that.

Lost in translation: Wilhelm actually says "jag är inte en..." - "I'm not a..." before he stops himself. So it's not possible that he was trying to say "I'm not gay", because that doesn't work grammatically in Swedish either. He could be trying to say "I'm not a guy like that" or "I'm not a guy who likes guys", that would work.

Cinematography: The framing and silhouetting of this shot is just chef's kiss. The outline of their hair allows us to see who is who, and we can see from their poses that Simon is welcoming a kiss, while Wilhelm is still hesitating.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock x Depressed!Reader - With a Little Help from My Friends - Words: 2,793

IMPORTANT A/N - PLEASE READ: As stated in the title, this story contains discussions of depression. There is mention of suicidal thought and self-harm. I personally don't think it's too intense in it's descriptions HOWEVER!!! If this will trigger you, for your own health and safety please do not read. My messages are always open if you'd like to talk. I wrote this partially based on my own feelings so I can understand to at least a degree. You're amazing and I love you all. As far as this story goes, just remember: it has a happy, very fluffy ending but it doesn't start that way. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment!

Brief Backstory: Reader is friends with John and Sherlock. She is a nurse who works with John. The three met shortly after Sherlock came back. Sherlock and Reader have crushes on each other but won't admit to it. I think the story explains everything else.

"Y/N, I'm going to be honest," John said, putting his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. "I may have PTSD but I cannot fully put myself in your shoes. My depression is different than yours." You had called your best friend, John Watson, in a mild panic. You had been feeling depressed for some time, as he knew, but that day had been especially bad. There was no particular reason but your depression had gotten so intense that you knew you needed help to get past this particular wave. John invited you over to 221B, assuring you that his flatmate would be out for the next couple of hours. "As a doctor, I am going to prescribe you some medication. Lowest dose possible and only because I want to help you get some immediate relief but I know you do not want them to become permanent. Let's work on finding another solution for you, ok?"

"I don't know, John," you replied. You'd asked John to be your Doctor since you didn't go to one regularly and he didn't mind your irregular checkups. "I've tried just about everything. The only outlet that seems to help is writing and even then," you trailed off, trying not to cry again. "This feeling just won't go away and I don't even know why it's there in the first place. I just want it to stop."

"I think you should talk to Sherlock."

"What?" You squeaked. "Why in the world would I talk to Sherlock?"

"I can't tell you why, Y/N. As both your Doctor and Sherlock's, I have to respect certain amounts of patient confidentiality. However, as your friend, I think you should talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," He replied. Smirking slightly, he added, "Doctor's orders."

"Ok, John," you chuckled. He smiled and hugged you. "Thanks."

"Now how about we go and fill this prescription and then maybe get some ice cream?"

"Well, honestly," you sighed. "The ice cream sounds great but I didn't sleep well last night. I was actually wondering if I could just take a nap here for a bit. I sleep better here sometimes." You blushed but John nodded understandingly.

"Of course," He replied. "I'll run down to the drugstore and fill this for you. Meanwhile you get some rest. I'll let Sherlock know you're here just in case he ends up getting back before I do. Will you be ok by yourself?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "This is a safe space for me. I'll go grab a blanket. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Just remember, talk to him."

"I'll try."

About 15 minutes later, Sherlock arrived back at the flat. He'd gotten John's texts.

John: If you get home in the next 45 minutes, be quiet. Y/N is over and she's taking a nap. I have to run out for something.

Sherlock: Is everything ok? - SH

John: She said she had a bad night.

Sherlock: She must have had a reason to come over in the first place though. - SH

John: She's going to need to tell you that herself. Don't ask. Do you understand me? Let her tell you. Be nice, ok?

Sherlock: When am I not nice to Y/N? - SH

John: Ok, that is true. You like her too much to be rude to her. If you could just hold back your deductions for one second I will say this: you two have more in common than you think.

He hurried home, not to wake you up of course, but because he wanted to see you. If there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to try and brace himself for it first. He couldn't help the smile playing at the corner of his lips when he thought of you. You two were good friends, that much was obvious to everyone. But Sherlock could see the potential for something more. He liked you a lot. You were just as smart, sassy, and sarcastic as he was. But you also could be extremely kind and caring to others and especially to him. He still didn't quite understand why you cared for him so but he was grateful. Before he could dwell on that too much longer, he arrived at 221B.

He quietly slipped inside and smiled at what he saw. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping like a baby. Apparently, though, you'd kicked off the blanket you had grabbed. Instead of picking up the blanket, he decided to take off his long coat and carefully lay that over you. You quickly cuddled into the warm fabric, unconsciously taking a deep breath, inhaling his unique signature left behind on the coat. Satisfied with what he'd done, he took off his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for when you woke up. He knew you had a favorite tea and, unless John moved it or drank it all, there still would be some in the cupboard.

You woke to the smell of your favorite tea and a hushed exclamation from the kitchen. Opening your eyes slowly you saw Sherlock in at the counter trying to set up a tray with the teapot and cups. Recognizing your surroundings a bit more, you realized what was on top of you. Sherlock was just about to bring out the tray but you decided to pretend you were still asleep. The chances of fooling the Detective were low, but you wanted to try.

"There," He whispered to himself, setting the tray on the coffee table. You could hear him settling down on his chair, likely getting into his 'palace pose' as you called it. For a moment you were happy. You had actually gotten some quality sleep, you were currently cuddled up in Sherlock's famous coat and Sherlock had even made you tea. But that feeling quickly faded. Tears threatened to spill out of your still closed eyes as self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind.

'John probably told him to make me tea. He probably covered me with his coat so I wasn't as much of a distraction. He doesn't want me here. He never does. Why does he even tolerate my presence? He probably wishes we'd never met,' You thought. Your mind was going a million miles an hour and gaining. Without your notice, the tears began rolling down your cheeks and quiet sobs escaped your lips.

"Y/N?" Sherlock whispered. You're eyes shot open. You hadn't heard him get up. Now he was kneeling right next to you, one hand hovering over your arm. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" You cried. "I-I wish I knew."

"C'mere," he said, motioning for you to sit up. Once you did so, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's this for?"

"You always give me and John a hug when you see us. You haven't done so for the past 5 days. I-" he paused briefly before lowering his voice and continuing. "I missed it."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure how to reply to that. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Y/N? Is there something I can do to help?"

"How much did John tell you?" You asked. You wouldn't have been mad exactly if John had told Sherlock to talk to you, but you wanted to think Sherlock was reaching out on his own.

"He told me you had a bad night."

"That's all?" You asked, surprised. You pulled away slightly and stared into his eyes. Sherlock nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to deduce you.

"Why are you afraid to talk to me?" You turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "Be honest."

"I don't want you to make fun of me. I have-" You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves and preparing to just jump right in. "I have been extremely depressed lately and I didn't want to hear another speech about how all I need to do is exercise and eat right and stop thinking about sad things. Well you know what? I can't stop it! I can't help it if I feel like a useless pile of trash that should be thrown in the bin and burned." By the time you finished your little tirade, you'd gotten up and started pacing the floor. Then you turned and faced Sherlock. His expression was neutral but there was an obvious sadness in his eyes, one you didn't expect to see. It wasn't of pity. If you had seen that you also would have given up on the conversation. No, it was almost an understanding, an empathy. His eyes were actually glistening with tears.

"Have you ever felt like," he paused, voice unsteady. "Like giving up?" He whispered, unable to hold eye contact. You nodded silently. He got up slowly and walked towards you. At first, you thought he would hug you again but then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Just wait a moment. I want to show you something." He carefully shrugged off the purple shirt that you, admittedly, loved so much and tossed it on the chair. "Only one person knows about this. You will be the second. You remember I told you about Moriarty's network?"

"Yes, the day we met. I asked you about your work, a simple question. And I got an answer that lasted 3 hours." Sherlock chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, no. Please don't apologise. I-" You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I tend to make jokes when I'm nervous."

"I know." He smiled at you with, yet again, a completely unreadable expression. "You remember though." You nodded, opting to stay silent as he explained. "Well, those 2 years dismantling his network weren't easy. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. As a result of the different missions, I received many wounds on my body in various locations. I was," He paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I was depressed, guilt-stricken and suicidal. I figured I had hurt my friends enough. If they thought I was dead maybe I should just go on with it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't want to do it on a mission. I wanted to see home again one more time. So to temporarily relieve the pain I," He sighed. Well, I wouldn't let my wounds heal. I'd pick at them. Mycroft finally convinced me to come back officially because he needed my help. I never told him about this. I think he knows but we don't discuss it." He looked down, obviously embarrassed and feeling more emotionally naked than physically. "You can look," he said. It was as if he'd read your mind. You were trying to be respectful and not stare but you realized that's what he wanted to show you. You had, on occasion, seen him shirtless before but you had never realized how bad some of the scars were.

"Sherlock, I-I don't know what to say. I-" You were completely shocked. Not offended. But actually comforted that he understood you. "Thank you," You finally said.

"Actually I wanted to thank you. I didn't just show you this to prove that I understand your feelings." You looked at him confused. "The day we met. You were leaving work, correct?" You nodded.

"It had been my first day there. John had been happy with my work and requested that I stay assigned to his office permanently. John had already finished up and headed home but there was some paperwork I had to finish so I was leaving about an hour late. Come to think of it, John said he had plans with you that evening. Why were you there?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I met you less than a month after I came back. I had still been quite depressed so I was still picking at my injuries. That day had been a bad day for me. So I cancelled my plans with John and I decided to go back to where I started this whole mess and finish it."

"Wait, are you telling me that-"

"You saved my life." Sherlock took one of your hands in his own and held it tightly. "I had memorized the work schedules of most everyone there and knew how to slip in unnoticed."

"But you didn't factor in me."

"Correct. When I ran into you, quite literally in fact, as I was entering the building, I was surprised. Not just by your presence but by what I deduced about you. You intrigued me. I had to find out more about you so I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me."

"Which turned into dinner." Sherlock nodded. "And since you were so intrigued by me, you forgot all about that."

"In a manner of speaking. You weren't a cure-all, mind you. You helped, though, by giving me a new mystery to investigate: you. That night, when I got home, I told John everything. He helped me too and when I mentioned you he couldn't stop singing your praises. He is very proud of you and your work you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," You replied, a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you went through all that, but, I'm glad I have someone who understands. And I'm glad you're here to help me."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too," He replied.

"Can I, um, can I have another hug?" You asked, blushing and smiling. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you must," He sighed, holding his arms out. Any other day, you would have thought he genuinely didn't want personal contact. But today you realized he was simply teasing. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his chest. You felt him relax as he leaned forward a little to cocoon you in his arms. "I care about you, Y/N. I don't care about many people but you mean so much to me. I-" You looked up at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You don't have to say it, Sherlock. I know." He smiled and looked somewhat relieved. You knew he wasn't good with feelings and that was fine with you. "I love you too."

"I wanted to be the first one to say that," He pouted. You chuckled softly and booped his nose.

"You already have." He smiled and kissed your forehead lightly.

"I know this won't fix everything right away. I know you'll still have bad days. But I wanted you to know you could come to me too."

"I know. Thank you again, Sherlock." At that moment, John walked in with a bag from the store.

"Oh, hello!" He chirped, happy to see you hadn't gotten into a yelling match. Then he noticed Sherlock's shirt, or rather, lack thereof. "So, uh," He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "What should I do with this?"

"First of all, thank you, John, for giving me the guts to talk to him about this. And second, I think I'll give it a try. You know, to try and prevent a really bad day when you guys aren't available or if talking still isn't enough. But for today I think I'll be alright," You said, turning to John with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad. So did you just talk about that or did he finally tell you that he's had the biggest schoolboy crush on you from the moment he met you?"

"John!" Sherlock yelled. You laughed loudly.

"Not in those words exactly, John," You replied. "Don't worry," You added, turning to Sherlock and ruffling his curls. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need your input on this case."

"Me?" You asked, quite surprised.

"Yes," He said as if it was obvious. "You're a woman after all!"

"And that is important because?"

"The killer was a woman obviously but I can't understand why she would do it!" The two of you went off into your own little world, completely ignoring John as he cooked dinner.

John: Ok, mates, get your tuxs out. Won't be long now.

Greg: He finally proposed? 😀

John: Not yet, give it a week.

Mycroft: John, you forget I monitor his spending habits.

John: And?

Mycroft: He's had a ring purchased for some time now.

Greg: 3 days tops.💍

Mycroft: I would estimate about 3 days as well, Detective Inspector.

Greg: We're in a Group Text. Talking about our friend like a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party. I think you can call me Greg.

Mycroft: If I must.

John: So, girls, will you help me make the plans?

Mycroft: Of course. He is blood after all.

Greg: Count me in! Wouldn't miss it! 🕵️👰

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

@for-hearthand-home

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock oneshot #depression #ptsd #mentions of torture #self harm discussion #potentially triggering #trigger warning #TW #anxiety #good friends #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade

[writer-akihiko]

Can you do a Yandere!HEAVENS/Yandere!STARISH (I’ll let you choose whichever boys you think will suit this story) where there’s a Baron/Duke/Marquis who has an extremely beautiful daughter (MC) whom he has imprisoned in his house since she was a toddler after the loss of his wife (whom his daughter strikingly resembles). Her only way to see the outside is through a single window of her room (cause her father designed the entrance to her room to be concealed behind a wall with no door and only he and his daughter’s maid know about it). When men inquire about his daughter, he always lies that she is bedridden. And everything changes when the HEAVENS/STARISH character visits to inquire about his daughter and trick him in order to see her. And rather than them killing the father in order to have her, can the MC be the one to accidentally cause her father’s death much to the delight of whichever guy?

Deceitful Arrival: Yandere!Ren, Cecil + Kira

I really had a lot of ideas for this one, so I narrowed it down to Ren, Cecil and Kira . I'm also trying out a new format for a mic of scenarios and headcanons, so let me know what you think about the new format.

Ren Jinguji

He's not angry at your situation, nor does he blame you. Ren is focused on getting to the bottom of the situation

His influence greatly triumphs your family's, so it was easy to get a few servants of his into your family home. Some were bribed, some were eternally loyal to his families. Whispers and messages sent to him contained information of extra plates of food, and the food was covered, sent elsewhere besides the main house. The servants who patrolled the night were also reporting sightings of an active room that was not of the servant's quarters… It must be your room.

He, so kindly of his character, offers your father a doctor to heal you with the expenses on his family's name

He has multiple doctors at his disposal. They all follow his orders, to heal a lady in the LN household and by proxy, revealing that he knows the location of your room. Many were turned away, some chased away after your father, but it wasn't long before the doctor of the royal family arrived. The gig was up. Prince Ren knew of your existence. The doctor was let in, only to hand a fake, harmless prescription to your father as he reported to Ren that you were perfectly healthy

You really should've expected this, the prince to storm your house at night with arrests for your father

The false predicament was that your father was avoiding taxes, and as your only guardian you'd be placed under the palace for further protection. That was what society knew anyway… The deranged man was locked up quietly in a dungeon far away, as Ren introduced himself as the amiable prince that saved your life, both in truth and white lies.

You accept Ren's love quietly, and with the announcement of your engagement, he arranges a trip just for you and him

He wraps his much larger coat around your smaller frame, keeping you warm in the cold hallways. The click of your heels to the stone floor doesn't give you anymore hints to where you are, as Ren had tied a blindfold securely to your head. He hands you a slender object, a knife you'd suppose and think you're cutting into a celebration cake. The squelch and musty smell made you wince, almost barfing. Your prince holds you in his arms, gently prying the blindfold off as the knife clattered to the ground. Beneath your feet, it was evidence in itself that you had stabbed your own father…

Cecil Aijima

For as much as others tell him to take care of his position, he doesn't mind it much

One glance from you was all he wanted really, with the look from you that he caught at the window while accompanying his father for a trade with your own. He wouldn't stop talking about you to his half-twin and his father, who later says that if the trade is successful, they could arrange a marriage.

You'd catch him eventually, but strangely enough you don't seem to mind the stranger at your windowsill

Cecil is impatient, sneaking every night to your window. You're not sick. The only thing you're sick of is your father. The stranger simply asks to chat to you, and he kindly listens to your struggles, albeit he gets touchy. Somehow… to you, he's a charming man. Had you seen him before? He was friendly, polite… showing you things and telling you of experiences that you wished to have if you had a normal life

To Cecil, he'd prefer if you didn't ask questions. After all, you can get to know each other once you two wed right?

He only ever reveals it all once he's convinced you love him. He tells you of how you're destined to be together, how he's your fiancé and how much he loves you. You can't deny him. He's the one promising to free you, with a price of course. You of all people should've known that nothing comes for free in this world, especially when discussing the price of your freedom…

A special vial just for you… Don't question it, just something your father favours so put it in his tea! He might let you go outside once you do!

His sinister thoughts aren't fully unveiled. He promises that once you gain your father's favour, your beloved Cecil can take you on a voyage as the Duke's daughter-in-law. With how much care Cecil shows you, it was the one thing you had to do. Two weeks, the lie was flipped. It was your father who was ill, by the end of the month passing away. Don't shed any tears love, you're free right? Free to walk into the cage that belonged to Cecil, that is…

Kira Sumeragi

He sends anonymous gifts, with full intention of marrying you

It had been many many tours around your family's vast estate, yet the one person he had not visited was you. He could recite your family history by heart if he wanted, as the main butler of the house drawled on and on, presumably by the orders of his master as to not to enquire about any of the women of the house.

He's insistent to your family, but with his reputation how can you refuse?

It was easy for him to watch you from a far. Sometimes he'd follow his spies as a servant, sneaking past doors just to look at your sleeping form. Bribes are easy to come by, considering the way your father pays them pennies for nothing. Kira understands the wants of people… Soon, all the servants are at the palm of his hand, with promises to take over your household once he marries you.

The maids who serve you speak of a gentleman, Marquis Sumeragi's heir, and how you should accept his proposal and write to him

It scared you, receiving such a formal proposal of marriage. Without your father's knowledge nonetheless! You heart pounded in your chest, seeing the photograph on the newspaper of the dashing man, accompanying the Prince of the Country at the ball you wished you went to…

Your father could do nothing the moment the carriage of the Sumeragi family showed up. Kira had a right to collect his fiancé, as per the contract after all…

It was a new life for you, in the Sumeragi mansion. You were treated well, but Kira had to lead you on your initiation to the Sumeragi family

It was a party announcing your engagement, many wishing the happy couple well wishes and prosperity. Behind the curtains, Kira had you by his side, comforting you as the mutiple people overwhelmed you. The way he tugged against your waist caused your hair piece to snag on a rope. He helped you untangle it, knowing that it was attached to the chandelier. He hid his smile, knowing that it landed on your father in the middle of the room. Don't cry, it wasn't your fault… It'd be best if the funeral was delayed and private, that is… if your father's body was even found...

#yandere ren #yandere x reader #yandere uta no prince sama #uta no prince sama #utapri #utapri x reader #yandere cecil aijima #yandere kira sumeragi #yandere cecil #yandere kira #yandere ren jinguji #yandere utapri #yandere ren x reader #yandere kira x reader #yandere cecil x reader #cecil aijima #ren jinguji #kira sumeragi

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

my body is a cage.

ObNeSummary: Y/N’s worst nightmare has become a reality. Her only saving grace is that she doesn’t have to do it alone. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,000+ [One Shot]

Warning: Feminist Issues, Adult/Mature Themes (NOT smut)

Y/N could feel her heart start racing faster as she studied the doctor’s office. Now she was starting to sweat as well. 

Her doctor were running late and that meant Y/N was stuck looking at the nondescript walls and smelling that sterile scent for 20 minutes. It felt like an hour. 

It was just a follow-up appointment. There was no bad news expected to be given. But that didn’t stop Y/N’s anxiety. 

Y/N finally gave up on trying to calm herself down through breathing and reached down to grab her cellphone out of her purse. 

There was a two text message notifications: one from her mom and one from Jason. 

She opened the one from Jason. 

– Good luck at your appointment today. Remember to breathe. 

Y/N smirked at the message. Jason knew how stressed out Y/N got for literally any type of doctor’s appointments. Even if it was just your usual checkup – like today – it caused her anxiety for some reason. 

Jason must’ve sent it right before passing out after patrol. 

Finally the doctor came in, making Y/N jump and almost drop her phone. She hid her scare well and quickly put her phone back into her purse. 

“Hi Y/N, so we finally got your blood work back,” she began. 

“Great. Will I be able to get a prescription and pick it up today?” Y/N asked quickly, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

“So one of the many reasons we get blood drawn before prescribing this medication is to make sure you’re not pregnant before going on it.” Before Y/N could speak, she quickly added. “You’re test results came back positive.” 

Y/N’s mouth opened at the statement. 

Her mind was going a million miles a second, trying to process what the doctor has just told her. 

When was the last time she had her period?

Why did it feel 20 degrees hotter in here all of the sudden?

This couldn’t be happening. No. No. No. This really couldn’t be happening. She tried so, so hard to make sure this didn’t happen. This was her nightmare. This was her fucking nightmare coming to fucking life. 

By some miracle, the doctor didn’t smile with joy and exclaim a congratulations. She seemed to sense that Y/N was on the brink of having an anxiety attack. 

“I remember you saying you did’t intend on ever having any kids, so I’m sure this is a lot to process,” the doctor told her gently. “Why don’t we hold off on this medication – even if it’s just for a couple of days? Just give yourself a second to process and come up with a plan.” Then she gave Y/N an encouraging smile. “When you want to make another appointment, I’ll make sure reception squeezes you in. Alright?” 

Y/N couldn’t do anything but nod – and even that was far too delayed. 

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” The doctor asked softly. 

But Y/N shook her head. 

When Y/N got out of the doctor’s office and back on the streets of Gotham, she seemed to snap out of it a bit. 

Her ears weren’t ringing any longer and the cold, winter air was doing miracles. 

‘Get to Jason,’ Y/N’s heart suddenly screamed at her. 

And just like that, Y/N went into autopilot, grabbed a cab, and gave them her address. As she watched the buildings go by, Y/N’s mind was simultaneously thinking a million things and thinking nothing at all. It was almost a buzz. 

When she got back to her apartment, the TV was on but the volume was off. Sometimes Jason would watch it after patrol and hope it would bore him to sleep. But her giant, vigilante of a boyfriend wasn’t sleeping on the couch, so that meant he was in their bed. 

Y/N toed off her shoes, tossed her keys on the side table by the door, and hung her denim jacket – no, Jason’s denim jacket – on the coat rack. 

She slowly pushed the bedroom door open to find Jason passed out on his side. His arm was reached over to the other side of the bed as if his body had searched out for hers in his sleep and came up empty. 

Y/N tiptoed to the bed and carefully slid into the empty side of the bed. 

Jason stayed asleep, meaning he must’ve been really exhausted. Usually her presence would stir him, even if it was just for a few seconds. 

Sometimes Y/N would come in here when she got back from work and take a cat nap with him before getting started on dinner or leaving to work out. Sometimes she would just cuddle with him, he would wake up and sleepily ask about her day while bringing her into his – even when she told him to go back to sleep. 

Now Y/N laid on her side and watched him sleep. 

Even when he looked exhausted and various scars were scattered across his face, Jason Todd was beautiful. 

And when he was sleeping like this, he looked so young. Y/N wondered if that was how Jason always looked to Bruce: innocent, vulnerable, forever young.

Y/N reached forward shakily and brushed the white streak of his hair off his face. His hair was getting shaggier than usually allowed. She wondered if he’d ask her to cut it again or if he’d finally listen to her and go to a barber. 

“You run your hands through my hair and I’ll be putty in your hands,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed. 

Y/N froze and stopped her combing, her hands shooting back to her chest. 

Her silence and pause made Jason’s eyes squint open. 

Those blue eyes of his were always perception, especially when it came to the woman he loved with all his heart. And as soon as they locked with Y/Ns, they immediately knew that something was wrong. 

His brow wrinkled. “You OK?” His voice laced with worry and concern.

Suddenly… Y/N’s mind and body were given the chance to release the reaction they wanted to have since the news was broken.

Her bottom lip trembled a moment before tears burst from her eyes. 

And then Y/N was shoving her face into her boyfriend’s chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason consoled. “What happened? What’s going on?” 

But Y/N couldn’t even form words. She was fully hyperventilating. 

Her chest literally hurt as the sobs escaped. She was shaking as if it was freezing in the room, despite Jason’s body basically being her own personal furnace. And she felt like she was going to throw up at any second. 

Was that morning sickness? Or was the just good ol’ fashioned nausea?

Jason quickly realized he wasn’t going to get any verbal communication right now. So he just held her in his arms, letting her cry it out as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. 

But his mind was shuffling through all of the possibilities. 

Had someone hurt her? Did she get fired? Did a group of assholes catcall her on the way home? 

But none of those seemed like things that would upset Y/N in such a manner. 

“Breathe, Y/N. Take a deep breath,” he told her calmly as he kissed the top of her head. 

She barely gave a nod to show that she was trying to do what he advised. 

With her eyes wet and bloodshot from tears and her face swollen, Y/N finally pulled away from Jason’s chest so he could see her. 

“Deep breath,” he reminded her again gently. “Can you tell me what’s gotten you so upset? Can you do that for me?”

Y/N sniffled, really just to buy herself a second before she said it. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s body tensed. His eyes studied hers, looking for any sign that she was not being absolutely serious. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Jason muttered, now realizing why she’d had such a reaction. 

But then he quickly recovered, realizing that she still needed him because she was freaking the fuck out. Obviously. She just had a full-on panic attack in his arms. And she was probably moments away from possibly having another. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

She took in a deep breath and did as he asked. 

“No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. OK?”

She just stared at him. 

“OK?” He asked again, making sure she understood what he was telling her. 

She nodded. 

“I don’t want it,” Y/N exhaled. 

The words came out on their own, like she had no control over them. 

Jason winced, not at her statement, but because she sounded so desperate and scared. 

He gave her a sympathetic look and cupped her cheek. “I know, Y/N. I know.” 

Then he brought her back into his arms, holding her protectively, as usual – but protecting her from something he never had to before. 

“I know how you feel about it. I’ve always did,” he told her softly. “Just try to relax. OK?”

She nodded. 

Jason didn’t try to fill the silence. He didn’t try to say comfort after comfort. His touch did more things for Y/N then he words ever did. She needed to be held, not lectured or verbally coddled.

After a few moments, he looked down at her. “We can order from your favorite place, OK? Have a little movie marathon or finish watching that show.”

She gave him a small, shy smile at that.

“Sound good,” he asked. 

She nodded again. 

———

30 minutes later, Jason was scrolling the internet, researching Planned Parenthood locations while waiting for their takeout to get there. 

Y/N, exhausted from her emotional and mental breakdown, had fallen asleep a few minutes after telling Jason the news. 

Jason figured the least he could do is take the logistical weight off Y/N’s shoulders. All of this was happening to her and it was his fault. He knew she’d never frame it that way, but that’s how he felt right now. And he’d do anything to make it easier for her. 

But all of the sudden, the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck suddenly stood on end. 

The next millisecond, he grabbed the nearest hidden gun, shot to his feet, and pointed it at the window. 

“Relax, Todd.”

“Demon Spawn, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason lowered the gun. 

To Jason’s annoyance, Damian jumped down from the window and into the apartment, dressed in his full Robin uniform. 

“When you texted about covering your patrol tonight, father asked me to check on you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Liar. No, he didn’t.”

“So, why aren’t you on patrol?” 

“Y/N needed me.”

Damian’s body tensed. 

For as much of hard time as Damian gave Jason, he didn’t mind his girlfriend. However, the preteen would never admit to actually liking her or enjoying time spent with her. But the whole family saw it anyway. 

“Is she sick?” 

Jason just nodded, not really having the energy to compose a big lie. 

Then Damian caught sight of the laptop screen and saw what Jason had been researching. 

“Oh,” Damian blurted out without thinking. It was a very unusual reaction from him. He always had something to say.  

“Just…keep it to yourself, k?” Jason asked. 

The last thing he needed right now was Damian blabbing around about Y/N. 

But Damian nodded, not giving any further reaction to his discovery. 

———

“What’s Alfred the Cat doing here?” Y/N asked as she cradled the cat and walking into the kitchen the next morning. 

“Damian,” was all Jason provided.

Y/N laughed at his crypticness. “Did he need a cat sitter?”

Jason shook his head. “He came snooping when I told them I wasn’t going on patrol. And…Well, he’s Bruce’s kid, so you can imagine how quickly he put it together.”

Y/N’s amusement dropped when she realized what Jason was saying. 

“He brought some of human Alfred’s cookies for you, too.” Jason added quickly, maybe to soften the blow a bit. 

“That was sweet of him,” was all Y/N mumbled in return. 

“I think he was worried about you. Figured some cookies and cuddles from Alfred would make you feel better,” Jason explained. “Of course, he didn’t verbally express any of that because he’s emotionally constipated.”

Y/N managed to force a smirk at the joke. 

Silence filled the kitchen. 

“I made you an appointment today,” Jason told her gently. “Not that I’m trying to force you to do anything. You can cancel it if you want to. I was just trying to–”

“Thank you,” Y/N cut him off and dropped the cat to wrap Jason in a hug. “Thank you, Jason.” She repeated, mumbled this time, since her face was now buried in his chest. 

“Of course,” he told her before kissing her head. “Want some breakfast?”

He chuckled when he felt her nodding enthusiastically against him. 

“Your favorite?”

She nodded again. 

“You gonna let me go so I can make it?”

She shook her head no. 

“Alright, spider monkey, let’s do this.”

Y/N’s laughter filled the room as Jason somehow managed to maneuver her body so she was on his back with her arms wrapped around his neck. And she piggybacked around the kitchen with him as he made them breakfast. 

———

“Welp,” Y/N said bitterly as she looked at the building from across the street. “Don’t know how I wasn’t expecting this.”

Jason sighed as he watched too. 

There were a dozen people with picket signs. One said, “It’s a child, not a choice.” Another said, “Jesus loves you both.” One of the men had a megaphone. One woman held a box with figurines that inaccurately showed how far along the fetus would be when it’s aborted. 

“Wait here,” was all Jason said. 

“Wait, what? Jason! Jason, don’t!” Y/N hissed. 

But Jason was already halfway across the street. With the traffic and general noice of Gotham, Y/N could hear nothing. But it was clear that he was talking to him. 

“Oh, for christ’s sake,” Y/N sighed when she saw all of their faces shift to utter horror. Whatever he was saying to them had clearly terrified them. 

It only took a minute before Jason jogged back to her and offered his hand. 

“Come on,” he said encouragingly. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” She asked him. 

“I told them all of their names, social security numbers, and addresses,” Jason told her lightly. “Oh! And their top porn searched.” He gave them a glance. “And said if they even so much as looked at you, I would do what I wanted with that information."

“So…you threatened them.”

Jason tilted his head and shrugged innocently. “I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“Jason…” she groaned. 

“I thought you would be proud. I didn’t use physical violence. I’m growing!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. 

But lo and behold, none of the protesters so much as faced their direction as they walked past. 

Y/N wondered how long it took Jason to memorize all that information. Did he ask Tim to hack street cameras and use face recognition to even find all of them? 

In the most messed up way, it warmed Y/N’s heart. It just showed a new angle of Jason’s protectiveness. Guess that was just another perk of dating a dangerous vigilante with too many connections and resources. 

Besides his little threat, Jason hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since they left the apartment – even now, as they sat in the waiting room. 

If he was anxious at all, he was doing a beautiful job of hiding it.

Y/N guessed that’s what happened when someone had the history of Jason. This was like a walk in the park for him.  

But when they called her name, Y/N looked at Jason with slight panic. 

“I can’t go with you. It’s against policy,” he told her softly. “But I’ll be right here when you get out. OK?”

She nodded. 

He must’ve learned that when he was doing all his research. 

“You good? Huh?” He whispered, keeping eye contact. 

She nodded again. 

“You’ll be fine,” then he kissed her. 

Just as Y/N reached the nurse, she turned to her boyfriend again. “I love you,” she mouthed to him. 

“I love you too,” he mouthed back. 

———

Y/N had been drained when they finally got back to their apartment. 

All she wanted was to take a nap with her boyfriend. 

A couple hours later, she had finally had the energy to stay awake. 

But neither of them had any interest in getting out of bed. So instead they stayed cuddled close.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked her. 

“Physically or mentally?” 

“Both.”

“Physically, fine mostly. Some cramping. They said that was normal. But my period is ten times worse.” Then she sighed. “Mentally…like…I’m in control. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. 

“And relieved. Fuck,” she half laughed. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” 

“I’m glad.”

Then Y/N smirked mischievously. “Are you sad you won’t see me wearing those stupid overalls with a baby bump,” then she dramatically fanned her hands, “as we have a montage of us painting a nursery?”

Jason laughed at that. “OK. Well I don’t live in a fucking Lifetime commercial.” Then he smirked. “I’ll take the overalls without the baby bump, though.” 

She giggled at that. 

“But it’s a real shame we couldn’t have a gender reveal party and burn down all of Gotham accidentally…” Jason thought aloud. 

Y/N tried to suppress a smile, “…you do realize the point of those parties is to reveal the baby’s gender and not to burn a city down, right?” 

“Well, fuck.” Jason played dumb. “The only appealing part of that was the arson.”

“It would’ve been funny to fuck with people, though.” Y/N’s eyes went distant as she thought about it. “Put in black balloons or just a rainbow assortment. And just see how everyone reacted.”

“Missed opportunity,” Jason sighed. 

“Why are traditions so stupid and embarrassing?”

They both laughed. 

“I’d have to suffer through a stupid baby shower. And then you’d get to come in at the very end and just wave at everyone. Men really got it made, huh? Just show up, and everyone applauds.” 

Jason laughed, knowing she was absolutely right. Enough of the Justice League had kids for him to know that was how it worked. 

“Like those videos where dads do their daughter’s hair and everyone loses their mind and praises him. But name one time a video has gone viral of a mom doing her kid’s hair.”

“The bar’s low,” he reminded Y/N. 

But then Jason watched Y/N’s smile fall from her face as she got lost in her head. 

“What?”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What?” He gripped her chin. “Absolutely not.”

“I don’t feel bad. There’s no remorse,” Y/N mumbled with as her eyes zoned out. “All I feel is weight lifted off of me.”

“Hey,” his voice was low and serious. “Hey, look at me.” 

He waited for her to do what he asked. “You’re not a bad person. You hear me?” 

Then he started making himself angry with the thought that anyone would ever tell Y/N otherwise. 

“You know what a bad person looks like? Someone who doesn’t take having a child seriously. Someone who makes that decision half-assed, knowing they’re bringing a child into a toxic environment or that they can’t properly take care of them.”

Jason made himself calm down. “That doesn’t make you a bad person. It just proves that you did exactly what you knew was best.” 

She nodded, finally convinced by his words. 

Y/N reached forward and brushed some hair off his face. 

Jason was so god damn handsome. No wonder I got pregnant, she thought darkly. This is exactly how she got into this mess. It was hard just to keep her hands off of him. 

“If I ask you something, do you promise you’ll tell me the truth?” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll try my best.”

Her eyes twisted into something somber and afraid. 

“Do you really never want kids?” 

Jason should’ve expected this question at some point. 

Even though Y/N didn’t verbalize it, Jason knew that one of her biggest fear throughout all of this was that it would change their relationship. She was scared that he would resent her, that he would change his mind and beg her to keep it. 

Maybe it was her tone that was really the thing that caught him off guard. She sounded so scared of what he would say. 

Jason rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Not because he wanted to hide the truth by stopping her from staring into his eyes. He just wanted to make sure he collected al of this thoughts. She deserved a proper answer. 

“I never planned on being a father,” the statement was unwavering. “You know how my childhood went. And I see the same thing happening to kids all over Gotham today – some of them have it so much worse than I did.”

Y/N reached forward and placed her palm on his chest, right over his heart. Without thinking, his hand went to grip it. 

“But you would never be like that,” she assured him. “You’re a good man, Jason. I mean, just look at how you are with Damian – no matter how hard you try to hide your soft spot for that boy.”

“I know I can be a good father. Except before you were in my life, I didn’t know that.” 

If he were really tell the truth, he would tell Y/N that without her, there most likely wouldn’t even be a Jason Todd...only Red Hood. 

He looked away from the ceiling and back at her. “But that doesn’t want I want to be.” 

“So you can honestly say that you never want a family? Even if wasn’t with me?” 

“Y/N, look at my family,” Jason laughed. “None of us our related. Bruce is a mess of a father. His biological son was basically artificially inseminated. The butler is more like our grandma who raised us. All of them tried to take me down and imprison me at one point or another...”

He shook his head at the ridiculousness. “The point is that I know more than anyone that family can look like a million different things. And the perfect outline society has forced onto us doesn’t actually mean shit.”

He grinned. “My family is a group of vigilantes who don’t know how to quit.” His eyes softened. “And then there’s you. You’re my family, too. I don’t need add anything else for that to be true.” 

Y/N couldn’t help herself and she practically tackled him into a kiss. 

Jason gripped her waist and twisted them so she was straddling his waist, and his hands traced up and down the side of her ribcage. 

After their lips separate, Y/N looked down at him lovingly. 

She let a moment pass. 

“What if I changed my mind?”

“I think you and I both know you never will.”

“But what if I did?” She insisted. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I really don’t.”

Y/N just wanted to challenge him. She wanted to go through all the scenarios her mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. She needed answers to the hypothetical scenarios that would never come to be. 

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she told him certainly. 

“I know, Y/N.”

She kissed him again. “Thank you for supporting me through all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he scoffed. “It’s my fault.” 

And he meant it. Most days, Jason had to convince himself he was worthy of her love. What kind of man would be lucky enough to have Y/N as their girl and not do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way?

“No, it wasn’t,” she corrected him seriously. “It was both of us.” 

“You can’t scare me away,” Jason told her. “Nothing is ever gonna stop me from loving you. Got it?”

She nodded. 

But before she could say anything more, Jason wrapped her in a heated kiss. 

He knew these questions were her anxiety manifesting itself. And Y/N had enough stress for today. So he’d turned off her mind with his touches. 

She deserved a break. 

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

I don’t know how I managed to write yet another one of these fics. But I realized it was easier to give it a new twist since Jason Todd has a sense of humor and an edge that Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers do not. Also, he wasn’t raised in the 1930s. lol

Please, please, please let me know if you liked it!!!

If anyone is interested in movies on this topic, I highly recommend these:

Never Rarely Sometimes Always 

Unpregnant 

4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days

Obvious Child

#jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood fic #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #batfam #batman family #batboys #dc #batman universe #jason todd angst #pro choice #pro-choice #feminism

[bakugohoex]

Porco Requests? I've got plenty. This man is running through my mind 24/7 now. What about Porco with a super shy s/o? This man would treat his S/o right. Uncomfortable? Just tell me why. Too nervous? I'll tell everyone to shut up and listen to you. UGH I LOVE THIS MAN.

“i’ll make them listen, don’t worry baby”

pairing: porco galliard x gender neutral reader

cw: modern au, langage, fluff

word count: 1300+

a/n: brooo porco is so baby i love him so much, i’m a simp 

summary: in which you the shy reader are in a relationship with porco

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

THIS MAN WOULD BE THE SWEETEST BOYFRIEND EVER.

He’d definitely be the one who came up to you asking for your number, you’d probably be walking outside of uni or something and he saw you and he needed your number.

Asks for it with the worst pick up line ever, something along the lines of I seem to have forgotten my phone number, can I have yours? You were an entire mess refusing to meet his eye and even forgetting that numbers have 9 digits and not 8.

You don’t even give him your name; you just say your number and leave in a hurry. 

His bad pick-up line clearly did wonders to you. 

He’d definitely text you straight after with his name and start asking questions, can’t lie he’d carry the conversation until you became comfortable with him.

He would definitely ask you to dinner or the movies on the weekend, you aired him for 20 minutes in shock. 

No words, he’d see the three dots in the bubble multiple times and then it’d disappear.

Half an hour later, a simple yes comes through. You’d never told him how you texted and called all your friends for advice on the mysterious man. 

You make your friends follow you both on your date, they actually take notes on how he opens the restaurant door for you, pulls the chair out, pays for the meal, he's such a gentleman and he does the talking after he realises, you’re shy around him.

He would walk you home, you’d both do that thing where your hands keep brushing against each other before he finally just grabs your fingers.

You’d give him a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night and this man would blush so hard. His ears would prick pink and a redness with speckle across his face. He hides it so quickly and before you can go inside, he’d ask for another date in the quietest voice possible. 

You accept, who fucking wouldn’t.

A couple months into your relationship, the facetimes and texts were equally split between you two. 

You’d scream down the phone to tell him about the new anime merch that had just arrived or complain about your day. You do not talk half an hour to send a message to him anymore.

Your friends think you two will marry, it’s certain, they have it all planned. 

Even with your shyness around new people you got along with his friends having met them a couple times. Pieck was always your favourite person to see at parties and gatherings but you were often talked over a lot when the louder confident ones at the parties spoke. 

Porco would notice this in an instant and always try and get your opinion out knowing that you liked the topic and had insight on it.

This man will literally tell everybody to shut the fuck up (politely to not make you embarrassed), just so they can hear you speak.

He also does it just to listen to you ramble on about your favourite topics.

*heart eyes*.

Or if someone makes you uncomfortable by getting too close or trying to get with you, this man will be at your side, lacing his fingers with yours and taking you to people you’re more comfortable with.

All in all this man is a simp and would bring but the best in you. 

“Y/n, Porco, you guys finally made it.” Pieck laughed a drink in her hand as she slouched against the sofa, the sound of music blaring and lights flashing sent you to grab onto your boyfriend's arm. 

He could already sense your unease at your surroundings, your grip tightening as his arm wrapped around you. “I’ll stay by your side the entire night.” 

You smile nodding at the boy, his blonde hair pulled back as usual, he gave a soft smile back before kissing your forehead. You had expected a night filled with drinking and being around friends, but you seemed to have been taken by Bertholdt and Reiner with Porco following along to the living room. 

They sat down as you situated yourself next to Porco, his hand in your hair as you leant against his body, the conversation had been boring, talking about some game on the PS4 that you had heard Porco shouting at a couple weeks ago. 

“I won that match.” Porco took a swig of the drink, your own drink on the table as you stared at it bored out of your mind. 

Reiner raised an eyebrow leaning his arms around the sofa, “fuck that you know I won it all together, one-win doesn’t make you a winner.”

Porco scowled at the boy before the conversation turned to something you enjoyed a lot more, “this guy really said Ichigo would beat Naruto.” Your ears perked at the conversation; it was between people you hadn't met but Annie had noticed how your eyes widened knowing you’d have the best input. 

She smiled starting to converse with the boys, “what the fuck really?”

You had always loved Bleach and Naruto, your favourite being Bleach and having talked to death about it to Porco and now with Annie including you, you had started to break off from your shyness, “Y/n’s up to date on both manga’s actually.” Annie was often cold with people but you two had become friends with ease having the same interests and her coldness and your shyness became an unlikely duo. 

“Let me guess another Ichigo simp.” One of the guys said and you gave a wary look, Ichigo was hot. You knew that and you knew that being a girl involved in a manga that had been directed towards teen boys made you become quiet. “She probably read the manga for the guys.”

“Not really.” You muttered, “I read it because it was actually interesting especially when Ichigo fights Ulquiorra”.

Your entire statement had been ignored and Annie had tried to include you, but you continued to be dismissed as just another girl simping for the characters. Of course you were a simple but to exclude you too one category was disheartening. You moved closer to Porco, he had watched the scene, how you had been ignored and now with your head leaning against his chest once again. 

“I’ll make them listen, don’t worry baby.” His voice was a soft whisper, leaving a soft kiss against your forehead before starting to converse with the guys. “You guys are talking about who would win?”

“Yeah, some guy saw Ichigo and thought he’d win against Naruto.” Porco started nodding, acting like he knew who these characters were, of course he had some idea of who they were, but he hadn't watched either as he got bored of how long it was.

“Oh, my girlfriends read and watched both, she’s better suited to this.” He pointed to you as you smiled at him, he was never going to tell them to our right shut up as it’d be a dick move, but it allowed for you to talk.

You gave a soft smile before you joined the conversation properly, the guys seemed intrigued by your opinion. Explaining both sides and why other anime fans would believe it to occur, as you sat upright rambling and talking. Porco watched with an intense look, he didn't need to speak, just watch and admire. He knew how you’d talk and talk and talk about anything you were interested in, but he saw how even with your initial shyness and dismissiveness they listened. Adding their own input, his hand went to reach your fingers, you felt it lacing your fingers.

He could listen to you talk forever, listen to every single word you ever said. Because he loved you and in those moments. Just staring at your beauty, the way your fingers gripped his own, the soft necklace he had bought your across your neck. He knew you’d be the one he’d spend the rest of his life with.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage​ @jennammaee​ @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #galliard x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #attack on titan porco #attack on titan porco galliard #aot porco #aot porco galliard #attack on titan porco x reader #aot porco x reader #bakugohoex #porco galliard headcanons #porco galliard oneshots #porco galliard fluff

[monsterenergysimp]

Cat Boys are Ruining my Life

corpse husband x gender neutral! reader 

summary: you and corpse grow closer when he starts co-parenting your cat 

request: Hi! 👉👈 um- so I was wondering if you could write some fluff where reader and corpse are neighbors, and reader has a cat that really likes Corpse so they decide to co-parent? Like the cat spends every other night at Corpse's @simp-listicc

warnings: cats 

word count: 1.2k 

notes: This is proof read but I could have missed some stuff. If your name is crossed out that means you changed your username and I couldn’t properly tag you; just send me a message. I really like this one and I hope everyone enjoys :) 

main blog: @itsmysleepover 

You had lived in your apartment for about a year and you loved it. You loved the independence and having your own space but you hated feeling lonely. You decided to finally get a cat. You’ve always wanted one but your parents were allergic and your old roommate didn’t like them. Now that you lived alone nothing was stopping you. One Saturday morning, you got in your car giddy and ready to drive to the animal shelter that seemed to taunt you every time you drove past.

You went to see the cats and your eyes were immediately drawn to a gorgeous tortoiseshell cat. He was a fully grown adult cat; the shelter attendant informed you he had been brought in after someone found him on the street. The tag outside his cage said his name was Hobbes and you couldn’t stop fawning over him.  You signed the papers and paid the fee, not caring how much. Hobbes was now your child.

It had only been a few weeks but Hobbes quickly made himself at home in your apartment and you were happy to have him. One day when you were leaving for work Hobbes ran out of your apartment. He started running around so you chased him; attempting to get him back inside. Your neighbor walked out of his apartment just as this was all happening.

“Hey Y/N,” he said smiling.

“Hey Corpse,” you said back trying to get your cat to stop running from you. You had introduced yourself to him when you first moved in. You two talked whenever you saw one another in the hallway (which wasn’t that often because of your schedules).

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” He said as he watched you run and trying to catch the agile creature.

“I just got him!” You said happily and watched as Hobbes ran up to Corpse and curled at his feet. Corpse knelt to pet him and Hobbes purred. “I think Hobbes likes you.”

“I think so too.”

The next day something similar happened. You were getting back from work and opened the door. Hobbes ran out of your apartment again. He sat outside for twenty minutes. Every time you tried to pick him up and bring him inside he would run away. After twenty minutes he came inside on his own and moped on his cat tower. He seemed fine for a few days before he started sitting at the door and meowing at you. You squatted to his level and stared into his eyes.

“Hobbes, I love you, I really do but I don’t know what you want.”

“Meow,” he replied and sauntered away.

Later that day you were sitting on the couch and Hobbes was laying next to you. Someone knocked on your door and you went to check who it was. You opened the door and Corpse was standing on the other side.

“Hey there,” you said.

“Hey. I was wondering if you had any salt I could borrow.”

“Yeah, come in.” You led him into your apartment. Hobbes saw him and ran over to Corpse. You noticed as he followed Corpse into the kitchen. “So what do you need the salt for?”

“I’m just trying to make dinner and was out so I figured I’d try my luck.”

“Here you go,” you said, giving him your saltbox.

“Thanks.”

You walked with Corpse to your door to let him out. Hobbes jumped at this opportunity and followed Corpse outside. “Hobbes the fun is over, Corpse has to go.” You squatted down to lift him but he hissed at you. You jumped back. This was the first time this has happened and it finally clicked why Hobbes was acting so strange all of a sudden. Your cat was in love with your neighbor. “He wants to be with you. I’m not gonna lie that hurts a bit.” Corpse giggled and looked down at the cat who was lying at his feet.

“I can take him to my apartment for a bit if you want,” Corpse offered.

“Would that be okay with you? I also need to clean and having him out of the way for a bit would be great. He almost knocked over a gallon of bleach last time.”

“If it’ll calm him down and give you some time to take care of stuff, I’m happy to help.”

Corpse took Hobbes with him and that’s how it went for the next month. He would take care of Hobbes while you were at work and you’d take him after work and on your days off. It became like shared custody. In that time you and Coprse also grew closer. You would hang out at his place after work sometimes. You’d make dinner together or watch a movie. You’d become pretty close friends over this seemingly odd arrangement. You’d almost fallen asleep at his place a few times from how late you’d stay.  You enjoyed being around him and were even developing a bit of a crush on him.

One day you opened Corpse’s door and saw him giggling and running around with Hobbes. Hobbes was chasing the feater on a stick, one of his favorite toys. You couldn’t help but sit back and watch. Corpse’s giggles made you feel relaxed and joyful. And every time you watched Hobbes slide across the floor you couldn’t hold back your laughs. You watched them for almost five minutes.

Another day you were sitting on Corpse’s couch watching Spirited Away with him for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It was late. Hobbes was on Corpse’s lap as he pets him. Letting out a purr ever so often. You started yawning and rested your head on Corpse’s shoulder. He gave you a gentle pat on the head and you closed your eyes. Corpse looked down at you and shook you gently.

“Woah, don’t fall asleep,” He said. You lifted your head and checked your phone for the time. You winced at the light burning your eyes. Your eyes finally adjusted and you realized it was almost 2 am.

“Shit I have work tomorrow, I should go,” you said and stood up. You stretched and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You lifted Hobbes off Corpse’s lap and he walked you to his door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You leaned in to hug Corpse. You wrapped your free arm around him and he hugged you back. He wrapped you tight and he placed his head in the crook of your neck.

“I’ll see you too,” he said and smiled at you and Hobbes warmly. You left and Corpse was alone again. The movie was still playing but your spot on the couch was empty. He wasn’t tired, but he decided to try and go to bed.  

A week later, you were picking Hobbes up from Corpse’s place. “Hey, uh, I was wondering…” Corpse said. “If it’d be cool if you wanted to hang out sometime.”

“We hang out all the time.”

“No, I meant like-”

“Oh. Like a date?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you said. Corpse was prepared for your rejection you were close friends, why would either of you risk it. He stood beside you frozen in shock that you actually accepted his offer. You placed scooped up Hobbes and held him close to you. Corpse opened his door for you and before you left you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Meow.”

tag list: @watermelon-mess @oldblackandwhitetown @maat-the-prescriptive @gday5sos @ashanti-granville @03ohj @djxrin @grapewish @crapimahuman @saturn2000 @whatawonderfulusername @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @lauramacch @socialdesires @teaspill8 @whathasateezdonetome @seutarose @whiteblacknothingpanda @save-the-sky @chrysanthykios

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x you #gender neutral reader #youtubers #streamers #caffeinated ramblings