#like its not safe for me NOR your patients

[savannahsdeath]

SOCCER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X CHEERLEADER!READER

PART 4FOUR

part 5five

part 3three

mdni please<3

summary: the news broke you and left you confused. eventually, everything started to clear up and you managed to choose - decide who is trustworthy, and who is bad for you. but did you pick the right person? who was the villain all along?

warnings: language, mentions of cheating, trust issues and manipulating, but i think its minors safe overally!!

writers note: a longer chapter finally and well, things got a little complicated..🫣

you stayed in your room for the rest of the day. ellie didn't call nor text you, she just let you think, just like you asked her to. the last thing you needed now were interactions with her.

vi, on the other hand, seemed to be curious about how things are now. for the past months you hated her, but now, since she turned out to be innocent, she deserved your reply. you patiently answered her questions, before you received a notification from her with a question that made you freeze.

vi: so are you going to forgive her?

you just stared at the text for a few minutes. that was it, the moment to pick - the person you loved, but probably already moved on with, or the person that loved you to the point she was ready to ruin your relationship to get with you. perfect.

after a long moment, you typed out a 'safe' answer, to avoid choosing any of them; 'what should i do in your opinion?'

you didn't wait long for a response, which didn't help, but also didn't surprise you.

vi: you think im going to tell you to forgive the girl whos responsible for spreading rumors about me cheating? because, honestly, i will, if thats what you want

you sighed, and set your phone down on the table, feeling conflicted. everything you thought you knew was now turned upside down.

ellie, who you had always thought of as a teammate (maybe you weren't on her football team, but you cheered for it, so it counts), had actually been the one to spread the rumors about vi's supposed cheating.

but you couldn't hate ellie, because she had been doing this out of love, not malice. she had loved you so much that she had been willing to go to extreme lengths to get your attention.

was it really fair to blame her for this?

you managed to ignore every notification sound for some time, but eventually you had to turn on do not disturb mode. you fell back on the bed, hoping to get some sleep, despite the early time. that was probably the only option to escape the negative thoughts.

you didn't know how many hours passed, but you were finally on the edge of consciousness when someone knocking fully woke you up. you stood up and brushed your hair with your fingers, walking towards the door. there were many options, maybe it's the postman, maybe your best friend.. right, your best friend! you didn't talk with her for a few days now, the poor girl probably thinks you're mad at her. you wanted to believe it was her, but deep down you knew it wasn't.

there's only two possibilities.

your teeth clenched around your bottom lip to the point you felt a metalic taste of blood on your tongue. you opened the door.

there was vi standing on your doorstep, her arms crossed, as usually, but not in an intimidating gesture this time.

"can i?" she asked, pointing with her chin to the entrance. her voice was soft, softer than you were used to hear from her, as she probably understood how you feel.

you nodded, and opened the door for her. your mind was still in debate, but your body was doing its best to be polite. that could be a good reason why vi had showed up to speak with you.

"sure." you mumbled.

you stood aside as she walked in. she took off her jacket and folded it over her arms, her mouth opened as if ready to speak.

"thanks." she smiled. "are you busy?"

you shook your head, taking a seat on the couch and waiting for vi to start speaking. you knew she wants something, and there was no point in delaying it.

she sat down next to you, her movements were slow and cautious. "i know you're shocked but.. we're worried. me and ellie. i don't talk with her, but it's obvious. we can't wait for your move forever, and everytime we talk, you just.. disappear."

she was right. you did that today, too. you just couldn't stand talking, especially not with them. you didn't know who to believe and, at some point, you didn't believe anything anymore. that's why you missed classes. that was the easiest way to avoid all of the lies.

you snapped out of your thoughts and looked at vi. she looked serious, and even though her voice was soft, her naturally tough appearance ruined the delicate facade.

"sorry." your mind was still in a fog. you didn't know what to do. you couldn't believe that ellie would do such a thing behind your back, but you couldn't be mad at her. "i don't know what to say." you sighed. "ellie told me everything. about how she had been the one to spread those rumors and... it caught me by surprise. i don't know how to feel about it."

vi's expression became serious, but she still tried to remain calm and speak softly.

"do you love ellie?" she asked, staring at you intensely.

you froze, again. the word 'love' seemed too strong, too serious. you were scared of it. plus, vi was your ex girlfriend, and talking about your love life with her seemed inappropriate.

you thought for a few good minutes about the answer. you considered what'll happen if you'd say yes, and what if you'd say no. you also considered saying 'i don't know' or changing the topic.

but you realized you can't answer this question. not because you aren't sure of the answer, but because you aren't sure what does it even mean.

you didn't know what is love. you thought you loved vi, but then again, you got hurt by her. then it turned out it wasn't her fault, but ellie's - a girl you started falling for.

you sighed. "what do you consider 'love' ?"

she frowned for a short second, before looking down. "it's not something we have. i couldn't move on the whole time because- you had to know the truth. now that you know it... i don't think i'm needed in your life anymore. so i won't blame you if you'll forgive ellie. unlike her, i won't slander her just to ruin your potential relationship."

you felt like you need to give vi a proper answer.

"you're right. i don't know what love is. i don't even think ellie knows either. but..." you let out a deep sigh, and looked her in the eyes. "i want to try and find out."

"then you should talk with her." she stood up and slowly walked towards the door, with you following her. "i'm glad we're ending this.. like that."

you nodded. "no hard feelings."

she walked off your house after putting her jacket back on. she stopped at the doorstep, quietly repeated; "no hard feelings", in a pensive tone, before shrugging it off and walking away.

you ran up to your room and picked up your phone. it was something about 4 p.m., you'll make it for ellie's football practice.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

vi's words had stuck with you, and you felt that you couldn't just ignore ellie and continue your life. you had to talk with her. you had to hear her side of the story, and then you'd make a decision. if you truly liked ellie, you had to give her a chance. and you weren't sure if you do truly like her, but you hoped you'll be closer to finding out after this meeting.

you made your way over to the football field, where you saw ellie with her team. she was chatting up with a few of her friends, all of them seeming relaxed and happy.

you didn't see her since that day, you didn't know how will the conversation go. the rest of the team, also responsible for spreading the gossip, probably figured out why aren't you coming to their practices.

you took a deep breath, slowly making your way to her. she wasn't as happy as the rest of her team, but you were glad to see she didn't completely break, unlike you.

she saw you after a few seconds and quickly walked up to you with a concerned expression. before you could say anything, she wrapped her arms around you, burying her face in your neck. that was a brave move, since you could as well come here to tell her you don't forgive her. luckily for her, the situation was different.

"i'm glad you're here." she whispered, her thumbs softly stroking your back.

you didn't know what to say. you just leaned against her, slowly realising you made the right choice.

"i'm sorry." she added in a barely audible voice.

"don't be." you finally spoke up. "i know you regret that."

she let go of you but her hands stayed on your shoulders, as she looked at you to make sure you really mean what you're saying.

ellie seemed genuinely sorry for what she had done, and you couldn't blame her for that. you knew she was wrong, but you also knew that she only did it because she had liked you.

"well, actually, i think you have all the right reasons to be sorry." you said with a soft laugh, hoping to get rid of the tension. "you know exactly how you made me feel."

you both stood there for a few seconds, as if both of you were trying to process what had just happened.

then, as if breaking a spell, ellie spoke up again. "well, did you at least get to talk with vi?"

"i did." you sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"and...?" she waited for details.

ellie didn't seem to let the words bother her, and she simply waited to hear what you had to say. she seemed to trust you, and she wasn't worried about the outcome of your conversation with vi.

"we're good. she cleared her name and that's all she needed. she won't bother me- i mean, us anymore." you explained with a small shrug, hoping to leave it in the past already.

but suddenly, one of ellie's teammates came closer to you.

"vi cleared her name?" the girl asked with a frown. you nodded, but before you could elaborate, she continued. "since when can cheaters clear their name?" she scoffed, adding a quiet; 'disgusting.'

your gaze hopefully shifted between her and ellie. "i know the whole cheating story was made up, there's no need to play along anymore."

"made up?" another girl, way shorter than her friend, joined the conversation. "i saw her at that party, making out with a girl that.. didn't really look like you."

ellie seemed as surprised as you.

"i thought-" she started but her voice slowly drifted off. you knew what she meant - she thought her teammates made that up, so they could help her, their leader, get you. that's what you thought too.

you felt like you were back at the start of this whole mess, not knowing who or what to believe anymore.

ellie was shocked by this revelation, and her teammates' reactions. she seemed to be just as confused and conflicted as you were now.

"what are you two talking about?" you asked calmly, before turning to look at ellie. "you said you made up the whole fake cheating story. and now you're telling me that it was true?"

you hoped there was an explanation. you hoped that all the drama could end here, but your hopes were low at this point.

"so, you didn't make that up to help me?" ellie asked her teammates.

everyone was confused, making finding out what's the truth even harder.

"no, we really saw vi with another girl. and, well, they weren't just talking." one of them explained, probably as clearly as possible. she had no reason to lie, and the way she spoke made her look honest, so you started seriously considering believing it.

you were at a loss for words. everything you thought was true had slowly crumbled away. you didn't know who was telling the truth, and who was lying.

"so, it's true?" you stared at ellie, who was still trying to figure out the situation. her teammates didn't look like they were lying, but you didn't want to believe it either. "it's all true?" you repeated, but your voice was softer this time.

"all? i don't know." the first girl spoke up again. "but what i know, is that vi's a fucking cheater."

the disgust was obvious in faces and voices of both girls, making everything even more believable.

so breaking up with her months ago was a good decision, even though the last days made you doubt it? why was she so nice to you earlier today, then?

she wasn't. she wanted you to 'forgive' ellie, not because she was so sympathetic, but because there was nothing to forgive. ellie didn't lie, though even she thought so. plus, vi hoped you'll focus on your new girlfriend, and forget about the past. she hoped you won't find out the truth, especially not when she finally made you believe the true rumour was fake. you started to understand everything. vi was the villain the whole time. and the worst part is that you knew that, yet she still managed to change your mind and clear her name.

you catched ellie's gaze, making an eye contact with her. you could hear her mumbling her usual 'jesus''s. she really thought she's a liar for talking about vi cheating, and she was right the entire time.

or.. was she, really? what just happened?

you rubbed your eyes and pinched your skin, but nothing happened. this wasn't a dream.

i think this was actually a little obvious so probably no ones shocked;( but still !! should we just ignore it and live our life with ellie?? or should we get revenge?? im open to yalls ideas<3<3

TAGS: @wandasromanova @bellaramslover @aouiaa @glennns-blog @elliewilliamsfuckbuddy @iheartsadiesink @ximtiredx @coff1nn @jowdann @simpforellie @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @skylerwhitwyo @pinkigirl @islalips @ratdungeon @okayyesbutno @dinoastronaut @ucannotcompare @elyonz @lesbiantothemoonandback @lovejuliettq @param8re @r3wbeef more i cant tag for unknown reasons:(

#Spotify #reqs open #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #vi #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #hollaback girl #soccer!ellie williams #soccer!ellie x cheerleader!reader #soccer!ellie x reader #soccer!ellie #soccer!ellie williams x reader #soccer!ellie williams x cheerleader!reader

[shaarlslec]

lucky charm 

part 2 here lovelies

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

words: 8500

warnings: bit angst i guess? but not so much, mentions of pregnancies, injuries (broken bones), hospitals;

requested: yes

masterlist

Charles Leclerc finds his son's paediatrician a little bit too pretty not to ask her on a date right before the Monaco GP.

You have met Xavier Leclerc a couple of times already in the past two years since you got your new job in Monaco, and you adored that little ten-year-old boy way too much to not treat him extra-special with double candies when he left your cabinet and sometimes rare pieces of Lego to add to his collection.

He was one of the brightest kids you had chance to meet during your activity and somehow Xavier managed to always lift your mood and give you something to smile about when he visited for his monthly check-up with his nanny Lola who always seemed to be in a hurry. 

“So, we are finished right?” She asked as she took her bag from the chair with a quick snatch watching you goofing around with Xavier to trick him in taking a very unpleasant coughing syrup. 

You nodded, “Almost.” You spoke, “Busy schedule today at karting, Xavier?” You whispered to the kid now crooking in front of you before sticking out his tongue as he nodded ‘yes’ to your question. 

“Disgusting.” The boy simply spoke, pretending to neat his tongue with one of his palms, “Never again miss, please.” Xavier then added with his tongue pinched in between his fingers, “What have I done to deserve that? Have I ever wronged you with something miss?” Xavier continued, mumbling half of his words while the others were barely understandable. 

You chuckled, “Well, you slept with your hair wet and window open in the middle of autumn, that is what you did to deserve coughing syrup. Be sure to not go to sleep with your hair wet next time to avoid this taste that you seem to love too much, shall I pack one for you to take home?” You inquired, “Go on now, the track is waiting for its biggest Monegasque star.” You gently spoke, slightly patting the boy’s light brunette hair, “Be safe, drive prudently.” You warned him as you pointed a finger towards the patient’s face. 

“You really do not watch Formula 1 at all, don’t you?” Xavier sighed, “There is no such as thing as driving prudently on the track! You must be the fastest, the quickest of them all, the smartest amongst the bunch, not the most prudent nerd out there.” He explained watching your confused face, “Do you think my father won four championships by driving prudently?” 

You laughed again as you nodded, “Ok, ok.” You spoke, “I will not argue with you on your field, but make sure not to catch a cold therefore you will not be able to drive either prudently nor dangerously or however your father drove to win those four championships you brag about since the day I met you.” You added, already handing Xavier two of his favorite cherry lollipops while Lola was not paying attention as she was too focused on her phone now rather than you two. 

Xavier threw you a short wink, you held back your laugh and covered your mouth with one of your hands as the little boy was so awful at winking and you would not have wanted to shatter the confidence of a ten-year-old. You just wondered where he got that move from, perhaps the father? 

“I am bragging because you still refuse to watch Formula 1 and it is the greatest thing that was ever invented on this whole world!” Xavier cried as he stuffed the lollipops in the back pockets of his jeans, “Next time I am going to teach you all about Form-”

“Are you two done?” Lola interrupted as she forcefully grabbed the lock to press down, “Your father just texted me that he will arrive to pick you up in a minute, you are already late for the practice because your doctor likes to chit-chat while consulting you it seems.” She bitterly spoke, making your eyes go up to your brain causing a laugh from Xavier watching you. 

Your focus switched from the child in front of you to the lady who was not even daring to look you in the eyes as she spoke ill of you, “She is just jealous because you like me more than her.” You spoke, proudly pretending to dust your shoulders with a cockily lifted right brow.   

Lola and Xavier left your office after a warm hug from the little man and a dreadful glare from Lola. 

You watched both then exiting the building by glaring outside the window where you spotted the famous black car with the red strip parked right at the front of the building. The exact blueprint of Xavier Leclerc jumped out with arms wide opened to welcome your patient.

You were right from the start amazed by how alike they look in real life, you have only seen the two of them together in pictures. You smiled as you watched Xavier excitingly welcoming the arms of his father and tightening his grip around the man’s neck. They snuggled for a good while, and it made your heart melt right away. 

It was for the very first time when you saw Charles in flesh and bones, although from distance. And yet, you felt like you knew everything about the man from his child. Xavier talked non-stop about his father and how much of a hero Charles was for him. 

You knew exactly when Charles won all his championships although never had watched a Formula 1 race from start to finish before. You also knew the names of all other drivers on the gird and how the cars are named depending on the season amongst more known and unknown facts about motorsport that Xavier gathered. 

Xavier was a know-it-all at just ten years old and now you were watching the man who taught him all Xavier knew. You could not help yourself but smile, and by doing so you were caught in act. 

Xavier saw you from above watching them back and was no hesitant but enthusiastically wave you goodbye from Charles arms. You waved back to him in the same chaotic manner to make him laugh. 

Your daily goal was for all your patients leave with a smile from your office and something about Xavier smiling back at you made you happier than with any other patient that stepped in your office. You were aware of the type of life the little boy had, and maybe that was why you gave him more of your care, more of your attention, more of your candies and more of your time. 

It was only him and Lola for most of the times when he was not racing in karting competitions or going to practice where his father visited. Charles Leclerc was very much a present parent but being a in such an exhausting sport was not allowing him to play the father card so often. Charles tried; Xavier always made you let know that his father was indeed trying to be there for him. And yet, it has been two years since Lola bought him to the doctor instead of Charles.

You even met Xavier’s mother twice rather than his father who had custody of the child. Charlotte wanted to know who Xavier’s new pediatrician was two years ago and she bought him in during the first two consultations. After the first two times she stopped coming and left Xavier all alone with that annoying nanny of his.  

“Was your mommy busy today?” You had asked him then, watching the little man’s eyes being way too gloomy for an eight-year-old. 

Xavier nodded, “Yes, my brother is new. She told me that she must take care of him more now.” He spoke, and you could feel nothing but sadness coming from the statement of the little man. 

You nodded, and that is when you understood that Xavier’s mother slowly was vanishing from the boy’s life as she was building another family with another man. You knew from Xavier’s file that his parents were divorced, but you had no idea about stepbrothers until then. Since that day, you heard Xavier rarely mentioning Charlotte during the appointments, and briefly around his birthday or holidays. After a while, she seemed to completely vanish from Charles and Xavier’s lives while trying to live her new one apart from the two boys. You felt sorry for him and that was because Xavier very much reminded you of how lonely you felt at his age too. 

You were happy to give him a show from time to time to make him laugh, the little boy deserved the laughs. 

“Oh look there dad, she is her!” Xavier yelled as he waved back to you, “Isn’t she pretty?” The boy asked watching Charles glaring at you to throw in a little wave as well. 

Your smile remined the same as you reciprocated Charles’s wave, “Fuck, he is even more handsome than in pictures.” You muttered for yourself, locking eyes with the man from the distance. 

Fuck indeed, Charles was indeed even more handsome in real life even from high above. Dressed casually in all black and with a pair of large driving sunglasses funnily sitting on the bridge of his nose, Charles Leclerc sueded you right away. You knew that will happen, you had quite a weakness for brunette guys with all-time ruffled hair and light green eyes that can easily pass as Monegasque princes. You clearly saw that Xavier’s’ father checked all the boxes. You shook your head. No, no, hell no. You were not getting hooked on one of your patient’s parents. You awkwardly smiled one more time, waved goodbye again to both, and then went back to your computer where all you did was to search for Leclerc’s name. You had plenty of time to go down the rabbit hole of pictures with the Monegasque driver as your next appointment was in twenty minutes. 

All you knew about him came from his son’s mouth, and all the words were nothing but praises. You told yourself that there had to be something suspicious about him, no one you knew was that good, handsome, and successful at the same time. You were doing now exactly what you did with all the men that dared to cross in your life – searched for a reason not to like them more that you should have. After all, no one could have ever compared with your ex-husband. Right?

“Oh, you were right. She is very pretty.” Charles replied as he put Xavier down, “Way too pretty, maybe I should make an appointment too?” He then added, fully focusing on you now pretending to work on the computer and regretting to have not bought nor taken Xavier earlier from the doctor’s appointment, “What did the pretty lady said, what we are going to do about that little cough of yours?” He then asked, getting on one of his knees so he can be at Xavier’s eye-level to pinch the boy’s nose, “Have I or have I not told you to not go to sleep without drying your hair?” Charles scolded his son, gently patting the boy’s wind-swept hair. 

Xavier slightly rolled his eyes, “You did, yes.” 

Charles chuckled hearing his child’s wiping tone, “Where did you learn to roll your eyes young man?”   

Xavier pointed up at you, “From the pretty lady.” 

Charles looked up at you for one last time that afternoon, “From the pretty lady, huh?”

Hours passed and it was your time to get off from your shift. You were more than pleased to close the office and go back in your tiny Monegasque apartment to eat junk food and agonize about being lonely again on a Friday evening although refusing anyone asking you out. You closed your laptop as the last thing you did before getting out. The tabs containing Leclerc’s name were still on. You were even more suspicious now that you have not found any dirt on him on the internet. 

“Suspish.” You mumbled as you squeezed your eyes in the dim lights of the room, “No one is that perfect.” You spoke to yourself as you approached the exit only to be taken aback by the door opening in front of you. 

“Shit.” You swore with your hand at your chest as you saw one of your colleague’s faces meters from yours, “You scared the shit out of me.” You chuckled, “What’s happening? What’s burning?”

“One of your patients just arrived at the ER.” The other doctor spoke, watching you already hurrying towards the ER room without even locking your office’s door. 

“Who?” You aggravated spoke, hurrying your steps into a run already at the end of the hall. 

“Leclerc. Broken arm, nothing too serious. And yet, the child is too scared and has called for you.” 

You ran straight to the ER room right after you heard the name. You went there in time as they were taking both Charles and Xavier for the latter to have an X-Ray of what seemed a broken arm. 

“I am scooping in.” You spoke as you went through the almost close door of your colleague’s office for the X-Ray, “Xavier is my patient.” You explained as you saw the confusion on the face of your colleague, gently touching the boy’s wet cheeks with two of your fingers as you looked down at him before looking up at his father, “Hello there, little champ,” You spoke with your eyes still on Charles as you got down on both of your knees to genteelly take Xavier’s face into your hands, “My colleague here needs to take a look at your arm and then I am going to help him fix it, alright?” You calmly spoke as you watched the boy’s hot tears running down his cheeks, “I will punch him straight in the face if it hurts, okay?” You nervously chuckled to calm the boy down. 

Xavier nodded in between the sobs, the little man wanted to show you that he is a tough one and an X-Ray was not going to frighten him, “Good boy.” You paused, slightly touching Xavier’s hair before Charles carefully lifted him up from the ground.

You looked at his father as he handed Xavier to your colleague who took him in the X-Ray room. Charles looked terrified, even more alarmed than Xavier. The palest face of a man you have ever seen glare at you with pink-washed tetchy lips and wide-horrid eyes, “It is my fault.” Charles then muttered, covering his forehead with one of his sweaty palms, “It is all my fault. I encouraged him to push harder on the last lap in practice and he crashed with one of his mates on the circuit, the kart went upside down and the medic was not on there today and I –” 

You gently touched the man shoulder to calm him down as well, Charles’ words were spoken in a rapid fire and there was only guilt felt in the missile of the mumbled speech, “It is not your fault, children fall and get hurt when they play.” You assured him as you patted your hand, “It can be just a light fracture, Xavier is going to be okay.” You added, watching Charles glaring at your arm at it departed from him. 

Xavier was indeed more than fine after you helped your college plastered the child’s broken arm. The tears stopped from running, and Charles’ cheeks regained their rosiness once the man saw his son talking to you instead of crying. 

“Remember when you told me this morning that you are going to teach me everything about Formula 1? Go.” You spoke, trying to keep Xavier’s mind out of the fact that you were in the process of plastering his arm.  

Xavier’s eyes widened in excitement, “Dad, can you believe that she is staying in Monaco and has not been to even one Formula 1 race?!”

Charles’ eyes widened in the same exact way but in confusion rather than excitement, “Never?”

You nodded, “It is only my third year here, how many I have missed then?”

Both Charles and Xavier replied at the same time, “Two, but it is happening next weekend again.” 

“You cannot miss this one miss.” Xavier pleaded, “It is our home race, my dad has the biggest chances in winning.” 

Charles’ head titled, “Not sure about that, you know how the Monaco curse go.” 

“Monaco curse?” You interestingly inquire. 

This is where the discussion started. Xavier explained you what the Monaco curse meant for Charles and how his father missed his first chances to win their home race. 

They talked to you about races until the child’s arm was secured in the cast and many minutes after that. You sat next to Charles on the chairs in front of Xavier’s bed while the boy was excitingly talking about his father entire carrier since the beginning with little add-ons from Charles who was glancing from you time to time to see if you were getting bored of the cars talk. And yet, the entire time you shown nothing but enthusiasm and excitement, questioning the little champ more and more as the discussion evolved.

 Xavier held an entire monologue about his hopes and dreams and how he wanted to be just as great as Charles up until the moment he felt asleep whilst talking. 

Your college was long gone by now and you were now left in the office with a heavily asleep Xavier and an extremely tired Charles. Both Leclercs, both car crazes.

“I think we should let him sleep for a while in this bed if it is alright for you, lifting him up might woke him.” Charles whispered to you leaning in, “Can I bring you something to drink?” 

You nodded in the man’s direction being totally unaware of how close you two were, “Yeah, I could use a drink. I will come with you though, show you the fancy kitchen for the staff.” You spoke as you rose from the seat taking a glance at the asleep Leclerc after eyeing the worried one, “It is okay, I will have somebody watch over him and call me if he wakes up.” You softly spoke, “Come on now, let’s get you something to eat. You look like you need it.” You added, handing Leclerc’s your hand for support. 

Leclerc took it and you both exited the office on your way to the kitchen. You let go of the man’s hand right when you spotted the first person outside the office. Being seen with a celebrity in the hospital holding hands was the last thing you wanted. Nevertheless, Charles would have loved for your hand to stay into his longer than just for support.

“Thank you for today.” Charles spoke as he was indulging some jellybeans found in one of the drawers, “You said fancy kitchen, right?” The man spoke as he was basically devouring the whole bag of jelly-colored bears. 

You chuckled, “Trust me, they are better than the ones in the automatic machines on the hall.” You lied, resting your back on the kitchen counter, and stealing one of the bears from the man’s hand where he gathered them all to chug, “You do not have to thank me, Xavier is my patient.” 

“I know, but you calmed him there better than me. I think he even forgot about his broken arm for a minute there.” Charles spoke, “Thank you again.” 

You smiled back at him, “That child adores you.” 

“I adore him too.” Charles bittersweetly smiled, “I just wish I knew how to calm him down; I feel like I am losing all control when he gets hurt and I cannot stand a chance of gaining it back when I see him cry.” He then continued, taking your example, and resting his back on the counter in front of you to be fully in your sight and make you blush when the man’s glare lifted from the bag of jellybeans on you. 

You slightly chuckled, “Most fathers I know act the same, I think you will learn how to do it with time.” You spoke, hopping on the kitchen counter now so your legs childishly swing in front of him. 

“Yeah, what a hell of a father am I? Pushing him to get hurt?” Charles spoke after what seemed to be the heaviest sigh in the world, “I should have encouraged him to take another path, especially since I knew everything this one leads to.” 

You titled your head as you chuckled, and Charles swore right then and there that that was the cutest tilt of heads he had ever seen when a couple strings of your hair touched your shoulder. It shook him, nothing that little ever moved him from a woman. Charles gulped, and that is when he understood perfectly why Xavier always called you “pretty lady” instead of your name.

 “Seeing how much he basically worships you; I think that even if you were to oppose to his pleadings of becoming a racing driver, Xavier would have found his tiny witty ways in becoming one without your approval.” You spoke, your words accompanied by your chuckles being everything the man standing in front of you desired in that very moment to find comfort in that fancy kitchen hospital. 

“Do you have kids?” Charles suddenly asked, watching you from head to toes for his glare to stop on your clasped hands resting on your lap. There was no ring, no nothing, therefore he quickly retracted the question with an embarrassed tone, “I am sorry, it just came out of nowhere and the least thing I want is to seem to curi-”

“It is okay.” You smiled at him, spearing him of the embarrassment to formulate a good excuse, “I do not, and yes I am not married.” You chuckled, lifting your hand up in the air for Charles to better notice the absence of any ring as you caught him staring, “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Charles immediately nodded, oh how much he adored secrets especially the ones coming from pretty girls with whom he was alone at night, “Sure, I will not tell a soul.” He then replied, lips going in a straight line. 

You took a short breath before talking, “I never wanted kids my own. Ironic, right? I love being a pediatrician and I truly and utterly adore kids, but I never thought about myself as being a good mother and a couple of years ago someone got me thinking otherwise, but when we tried to have children, I found out that I cannot get pregnant.”

Charles carefully listened before replying. You were taken aback by your own words, you barely talked about this with anyone since your break-up, why were you talking about something that personal with a man you just met? You shook your head, “I am sorry, I do not know why I—” 

“It is okay.” Charles mimicked you, taking two steps forward to match the spot at your right with his back, “That is why there is no ring on that?” Charles asked, gently caressing your left right finger with the tip of his own. Daring, you needed to give him that.

You nodded and yet not dared to move your hand which was right next to Charles, “What about you?” You asked him, “Xavier rarely mentions his mother, and my judgement tells me that he misses her lots.” 

Charles took a short breath in as well, now crossing both of his arms at his chest after leaving an invisible mark on your finger with his quick passing, “We got married really young, and we wanted too much in too little time.” Charles confessed with his eyes fixed on the wall as if he was not brave enough yet to be vulnerable in your eyes, “You seem to know the good parts of being a race driver from my son, I never mentioned to him the bad ones yet.” He then added, voce getting softer as he talked and you getting sueded by it as Charles kept going, “I was younger and hungrier after the wins rather than being home, and now I am trying to not do that anymore and to focus on what was left from my first try of building a family of my own.” Charles spoke, a shadow of a smile lingering on his face, “Back to your question, we divorced five years ago and since then I really cannot think of myself ever wanting to love again in the same way.” 

You nodded in full understatement of the man’s last statement, “Totally agree. Adult human relationships are awful.” You slightly groaned, “Have you tried dating in your late twenties when everyone is as fucked-up as they can be from past relationships?” 

Charles chuckled, “I am at the beginning of my thirties and the last time I was on a date was more than a decade ago.” Charles confessed in a humorous tone, “Xavier is all I need anyways.” The man added, switching the glare from the wall right back at you, “Am I too fucked-up for thinking like this?”

You declined with a nod, “I do not think so. And like I said, we are all fucked-up from past relationships.” You spoke, watching him watch you back with tiny sparks of lightning inside the greenish irises of the man. 

It was for the first time in forever when your knees went soft by a glare of a stranger in a room with dimmed hospital lights, and it was for the very first time too for Charles to look at someone and sense that shaky trembling feeling inside his aching chest that was later understood as emotion.

If you two were to be in a movie, that would have been the perfect timing on an unexpected set for the main kiss of the story that leaves the audience in a cinema gasping. And yet you were not set in a movie, you were two strangers in the real world who found unknown confront in the presence of the other. The man standing inches from you was nothing but your patient’s father, and you were nothing but a pretty lady that plastered his son’s arm that evening. Both of you gulped almost at the same time when you were the first one to break the eye-contact as the tension became too much to handle and instead of kissing him, you decided to light up the mood with a tease. 

 “I thought that being a fourth time world champion would at least bring you some chicks.” You playfully spoke, legs still lightly swinging. 

Charles erupted in a loud laugh, “I thought that being a smart, young and beautiful woman would at least bring you some men in Monaco since you moved.” Charles added, “We love smart, young and beautiful women here.” 

You huffed, “Yes, you do.” You rolled your eyes, “But only for the sex part.” 

Charles chocked as he was taken aback by your blunt statement, “Where are those men? Do you want me to fight them?” He then added, chuckling as you rolled your eyes again as his inquire and figuring out that this was indeed the person from whom Xavier learned the trick. 

“They probably worship you too.” You teased, “Oh.” You then suddenly jumped from the counter as you read the text on your buzzing phone, “Xavier is up.” 

You have not heard about Xavier nor Charles for the next couple of days after they left the building. You searched for the latter online, you just could not get it out of your head how easy was for you to talk to him back in the kitchen. The fact that Charles was insanely handsome, smart, successful, and rich were such good bonuses to the sense of comfort he made you feel. And yet, the I really cannot think of myself ever wanting to love again in the same way part of Charles’ words resounded with you the most. You sighed, of course they did. You two were the same. Since you divorced from that someone you mentioned back in your kitchen conversation with Charles, you never found yourself being interested in someone in the same way and deep down you knew that will be the case until your very last breath. But damn, Xavier’s father was something else. 

You carried your days within the week thinking about him and that little touch, whereases Charles was thinking about nothing but your title of head and the way your eyes were searching for the vulnerability in his own. Charles searched for you too, but your all-private accounts were not satisfying enough for him. Therefore, the man called the hospital for your contact knowing that they will give it to him in no time. After all, Charles presented himself only as Xavier’s father and nothing more. That was the mere truth, Charles was nothing more to you than just one of your patient’s fathers. Was he wishing for more? Were you wishing for more? 

“You have been all day on your phone, Charles.” The Monegasque’s teammate spoke in that thick Spanish accent as Carlos watched Leclerc nervously tapping the screen of his phone in the middle of the team’s debrief after qualifying, “I cannot cover for you anymore if you keep doing it.” Carlos warned Charles, slightly scolding him by arching one of his eyebrows in the man’s direction, “There better be a girl in there you are texting otherwise-”

Charles nodded, “It is a girl, and I am not texting her yet, I am just stupidly looking at her number on the screen without calling.” 

Carlos’ mouth wide opened, “A girl?!” The Spanish spoke in a loud voice, loud enough to echo in the whole room. Hell, loud enough to echo in the whole paddock.   

“Boys, do you have something else better to discuss than the tomorrow’s race?” The team-principal spoke eyeing the two high-school children from the back of the class. 

“No sir, yes sir.” Both answered at the same time, Charles placing his phone on the table with your number still on it while Carlos cracked one last laugh about this matter before slightly rubbing his shoulder with Charles.

Charles was questioned about you seconds after the meeting stopped, and Carlos’ inquiries and pieces of advice made him a little less anxious in calling you that day. 

“Oh come on mate, call the pretty lady instead of just texting, that is for high-schoolers lovebirds and booty time, do you want her to think that you are booty calling her?” Carlos spoke after Charles narrated the whole story of Xavier’s trip to the ER a couple of nights ago and that little tilt of your head that made him completely crazy for days. 

“Why is it called booty calling if it is done through texts?” Charles confusingly asked, hands still shaky on the phone. 

Carlos rolled his eyes, “You have been out of the game for too long, we do not have time now for the explanation of a booty call and how it is done properly, please go and call the first woman in five years I hear you talking about.” The Spanish encouraged in an excited tone, “Thanks God that it finally happened for you to like someone, I thought you were going to become a monk or something like that.” 

Charles laughed, “I might become one, what if she says no to me asking her out?” 

Carlos huffed, “Sometimes I really do think you forget that you are Charles Leclerc.”

The almighty Charles Leclerc as Carlos positioned him to give the man enough confidence to call you was still nervous to do so. Charles looked up in the mirror at his home’s bathroom and gave to himself silly words of advice to do the thing – to call you. 

“You can do it; you can call her. Come on Charles, she is your son’s pediatrician for God’s sake not some scary sponsor or – oh fuck, she is your son’s beautiful pediatrician though.” 

The dance between the actual Charles and the Charles in the mirror lasted for another few minutes until a “fuck it” resounded from the man’s mouth and the shaky hand pressed “call” with its thumb. 

Your phone buzzed on your desk office, and you immediately answered without looking at the unknown number, “Hello, you reached Y/N from the pediatrician branch at Sera’s Clinic, how can I be of assistance?” You spoke, giving him the prefabricated answer that you initially give to any customers dialing your work cell. 

“Hi, hello. I am Charles.” The nervous man replied at the end of the call, “Leclerc, Charles Leclerc.” He then repeated with a trembling tone, “Xavier’s dad?” He questionably continued, “I do not know if you remember me but I was a couple of nights ago at th-“

You could not help yourself but chuckle at Charles’ ambiguous reply, “I know who you are Charles, Charles Leclerc.” You spoke to stop him from that nervous state of his, “I do remember you; you are quite hard to forget legend says. Is everything alright with Xavier?” You immediately asked after realizing with whom you were talking over the phone. 

You were as nervous as Charles, the only difference between the two of you being that you were quite a master of hiding it. Your feet were swinging underneath the chair and your cheeks turned red instantly when you heard the man’s pronunciation of his own full name. 

“Oh yes, everything is good with my son. He is a little bit sad that he must miss quite a few practices but otherwise he feels completely fine, and I could not thank you enough for what you did for him.” Charles replied, going from the bathroom to the living room just to sit on the coach as he talked to you because he swore that he could not feel his legs anymore underneath all the pressure. 

Charles has not asked somebody out in the past decade or so, always keeping himself away from relationships, pain, and suffering. Xavier was everything Charles wanted to take care of, but now the father felt like he found a piece of a missing puzzle exactly because of his son. Charles knew that there was no way of losing it under the rug as it happens with all missing puzzles of his son’s little games, he needed to ask this little piece of puzzle out and show her a good time. 

“I told you already that you do not have to thank me. I was just doing my job.” You spoke smiling, and somehow Charles knew that the corners of your mouth were lifted at the end of the phone call almost as if he could hear it. 

“I know – this is not why I called you.” Charles paused, “I just –” He paused again, breathing heavily to gain enough straight for the following words to make their way out of the man’s mouth, “I just really liked the talk we had in the fancy kitchen that night and I was wondering if you would perhaps like to repeat it sometime?” Charles then said in a mouthful as all anxiety was liberated out of the man’s body at once.

Your smile widened as your legs swung so hard that they kicked one of the desk’s pillars, “Oh fuck.” You whimpered in an instinct rubbing your feet immediately and leaving Charles all confused, “Oh no, I do not mean <oh fuck> to you, I just –” You paused, stumbling, and mumbling more for yourself than for Leclerc, “What I mean is yes, I would love to repeat that sometime, but not in the same fancy kitchen.” You teased, “I really need to get out of the hospital for once.” 

“I will take you.” Charles spoke with tiny bubbles of sweat on the man’s forehead that were now drying as Charles got the answer wanted from you. Such a beautiful yes, and an even more marvelous “oh fuck”. 

“When?” You impatiently replied, “You seem to be a pretty busy man, Charles Leclerc.” 

“Right now?” Charles then bluntly asked looking at the clock being almost dinner time, “Do you have any more patients? More importantly, have you had dinner?” The man spoke, already up and going back to the bathroom to hop in the quickest shower ever taken, Charles was already head over heels to see you.  

You took a glance at your watch as well, “I do not, but as far as I know you have a race tomorrow.” You spoke in concern as you rose from your seat as well to hurry at your tiny office bathroom to refresh yourself impatient to meet him again, “Will that be alright?” You stopped, fixing your messy hair in the mirror, and searching for your favorite lip balm somewhere hidden in the drawers. 

“Race drivers got to eat to be in full-strength tomorrow, right?” Charles spoke, putting you on speaker as he was getting rid of his cloths to throw them on the bathroom floor. 

“That is what any medic will recommend, yes.” You spoke, also putting him on speaker for you to better arrange your boobs in the bra. 

“I will take the medic advice then and I will also pick her in twenty-minutes.” Charles laughed, and you replied with the same excitement in your tone. 

Charles bought the classic flowers bouquet to the date, but what you were not expecting was for it to be as huge as to occupy the whole backseat of the car. You were never into flowers at first dates or ever, but maybe that was because the guys you went to first dates up until then were not Charles Leclerc and they also did not bother to buy you flowers even to special occasions. You nervously said a short “thank you for the flowers” as Charles started the engine of the car. It felt like high school once more time in between the two of you.  

Both of you were nervous, and that could be easily sense and seen by the way you shyly stole glances from each other in the car or by the way you kept silent with little to no interventions until you arrived at a restaurant picked by Charles. Everything Charles did up to the point of you sitting in front of each other at the table was exemplary and you could not believe your eyes that there were still men who bought you flowers, opened the doors for you, took your chair as their responsibility and were extremely polite with the waitress giving the fact that everybody knew him in there and as you previously mentioned, everybody worshiped him. 

“Ok, tell me.” You suddenly spoke as Charles was browsing through the menu with you suspiciously looking into the man’s direction, “What is your catch?” You asked him, chin supported by your clasped hands as you scanned the man from up to down as much as the table in between the two of you permitted, “You cannot be this perfect – there must be something wrong with you.” You bluntly spoke, cracking a laugh from the man standing across from you, “Spontaneously asking me out for a date, picking me up exactly when you said you are going to, giving me flowers – not to mention a huge bouquet, taking me to this fancy restaurant,” You paused, glancing at the high celling of the restaurant designed as some renaissance meeting of the finest imaginaries from that period with lots of golds and blues painted on the insides of the dome, “Being all sweet, talking all politely with the staff here.” You continued with a short huff, “How are you even single? Every girl that went even once at a date with you must have fallen in love.” 

Charles cleft a tiny laugh, “Are you always this suspicious about people you met?” 

You declined with a shake of the head, “Not all people, just men.” You highlighted, “I do have my reasons.” You added leaning in your chair to take an even bigger picture at the man standing in front of you. 

Charles seemed flawless right then and there, perfection dressed in a casual unbuttoned loose black shirt through which you could clearly spot the man’s muscles all tensed up. 

“I am far from perfect Y/N, trust me.” Charles spoke, and yet you were not going to believe him that easily, so you squeezed your lips and frowned your brows to make Charles understand that the answer had to be elaborated for him to gain your reliance, “I am a very stubborn man, I tend to believe that I am right until the pits of hell.” Charles spoke in a serious tone that you were not the witness of up to that point, “I am highly competitive and not just due to the nature of my job. Bring a game of UNO next time with you and I will most definitely make you cry without having the slightest intention to hurt you but having the best intentions to win.” He then continued with a sly smile on the face, “I almost never talk about how I feel up until the point that it boils too much and that is when I explode in a fit of range.” Charles added with a shrug of shoulders, “I might seem like a standup guy and see the world through positive outcomes all the time, but I am pessimistic most of the times and I hardly let people see through the fact that I am such an avid player for the saying <<fake it until you make it>>.” Charles sighed, “That is why I do not allow many people into my life, I am too afraid they might see past this glamours life that I am now showing you a piece of.” The man ended with little to no smile sprung on his face. 

You weighted Charles’ words for a while before leaning towards the man to cover one of his hands with yours in comfort, “You say you are not very talkative when it comes to feelings, and yet there you are speaking about some of them with a random woman you met on a week evening.” 

Charles’ cheeks burnt once your hand squeezed his, and the man dared to carefully intertwine his fingers between yours, “Look Y/N,” The man spoke with his glare fixed solely on yours, “I am not a twenty-something childish boy, and I am incredibly exhausted of playing games with someone I like. So, I will be as honest as I can be.” He then added, “There is something about you that makes talking easy, comfortable, familiar even. That is why I asked you on a date, and the <<asking on a date part>> is why it took me days to call you – I was too nervous to do so.” 

You were too unconscious being hit with Charles’ full-blown honesty to even realized how huge of a shy smile your face showed, your heart felt like it could easily erupt from your chest and make turns around the table. Your hand fit into Charles as the lights in the room illuminated the man’s eyes looking right back into yours. You thought that it was a dream for a split of a moment; it must have been a dream – a mature man confessing right away that he likes you? Dreamy. 

You gulped your words, and the only one remining were the following, “You like me?” 

Charles nodded, “Yes, I do fancy you.” 

Not the simple like, but fancy. Your heart jumped out of your chest, “Can I be totally honest with you too?” You spoke, waiting for yet another nod of approval coming from Charles’ side that came right away, “I do fancy you too.” You smiled, and you could feel the grip tightening around your fingers. 

You idiotically looked at each other for more than half of a minute without saying anything to each other but just playing with your fingers on the table – just like teenagers falling in love do. 

“Now that this is settled.” Charles spoke, being the first one to break the prom atmosphere between the two of you, “Tell me what your catch is, there must be something wrong with you too.” The man continued with a laugh, making you chuckle at the same time.

“Oh boy –” You paused, “Where do I start?” 

You took a full breath of air before starting, and from there on continued five full hours of nothing but deep-dive conversations about each other accompanied by silly touches of feet underneath the table and shy clasping of hands. The whole restaurant watched, although they were unable to hear your table. You two talked about everything that you can perchance talk about yourselves in the span of five hours’ time. Friends, family, childhood, personalities, good things, awful things, never told stories, too many times told stories and yet just few of them involved your jobs. 

You talked about the past, mostly about the past and then you switched to the present and hopes for the future. Charles was right, and you followed the man’s words right away. There was something about the person standing in front of you two that made you completely open and unreserved. You laughed a lot, and you even were about to cry one or two times when the conversation went on yet another level. And then, you laughed again and cracked jokes about the presented situations. It felt like talking either to a childhood friend that knew your life from start to finish or like talking with your partner two years into the relationship, and not on your very first date.  

You clicked, you clicked right from the start back in the hospital’s kitchen and yet now you were not comprehending still the fact that you were indeed bound to each other through however each of you called “fate”. There were little to no physical movements nor touches, besides the ones just mentioned – and yet you were falling in love right then and there underneath the dim lights of the renaissance dome lookalike. 

“It is really that late?” You happily inquired once the waiter had to sadly announce you that they were taking the last order for that night from the customers, “Oh fuck, you have a race tomorrow!” 

“It is alright, lack of sleep is worth it for this.” Charles spoke, clasping both of his hands at the level of his chin as he leaned towards you before your check came in, “Let me know if you are free tomorrow during the race time, I want you to come and see me winning.” 

You smiled, “You sound very confident, Leclerc. What about the Monaco curse?” You teased, mockingly lifting one of your brows. 

“I am positive that you can lift the curse.” Leclerc teased back, “You might be my lucky charm tomorrow." Charles then spoke, throwing you a cheeky wink that you recognized right away as being the same as Xavier’s. You chuckled at the memory; it was indeed a family thing after all. 

You pondered the thought for a while, “Charles Leclerc’s lucky charm, I like it.” You spoke, leaning towards Charles too but slightly going over the now clean table to give the man a quick peak on the cheek, “There you go.” You whispered inches away from Charles faintly rosy cheeks, “To bring you luck tomorrow.” You then teased again before going back into your seat to watch a very perplexed Charles Leclerc that was comprehending the presence of your lips on his skin still. 

“Oh,” Charles almost shortly moaned taming the pleasured sound in a soft whisper that was meant only for your ears to be heard and for your body to be shaken by it, “Tell me what I have to do for more than this.” Charles then spoke, “I mean –” He then paused in a sly smile, “I think I need to get luckier than this in order to win, right?” Charles continued as he fled the seat he was glued for the past couple of hours and coming straight to you, not caring about anyone in the restaurant still present who could see your face being cupped by him as you rose from your seat as well, meeting the man’s lips halfway as you stood up. You started it first with your innocent kiss on the cheek making Charles all flustered and impatient for more than just a quick peak, now you better catch up. 

You chuckled before kissing him, and you chuckled even more when doing so. Charles hands went around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your bodies pressed together. It was just you and Charles, and the remining staff of the restaurant that was too busy cleaning rather than seeing you two making out in one of the corners. Your fingers wrapped the table fabric in between them, and somehow Charles noticed that with eyes closed and took your hand into his to tightening your grip around while the other comfortably rested on your waist still grabbing into the very own fabric of your shirt.

“Now I know what I have to do to win my fifth championship.” Leclerc breathlessly teased after your lips departed for a short while and your eyes locked again. 

You licked the bottom of your lips, and Charles’ too before wrapping one of your arms around the man’s neck to kiss him once again, “Let’s see how much luck I carry you tomorrow and then we can think about something to do in regards of the championship.” You teased back, nails slowly jabbing in the back of Charles’ neck. 

“I might not get to the race tomorrow if you keep doing this.” Charles spoke, shaking as the shivers from the man’s neck went down his spine. 

You chuckled, “Alright, alright. I will stop it, we do not want our favorite driver to miss his home race.” 

Charles laughed, “I am your favorite driver now?”

You nonchalantly shrugged your shoulders, “I do not know any other driver besides you, so I guess yes.” 

“Let’s hope you are not going to change your mind tomorrow.” Charles spoke, taking your hand even tighter than before to kiss the back of it. 

When tomorrow came you did not change your mind, and you for sure did an astounding job as Charles Leclerc’s lucky charm. Charles secured the win from half of the race on, putting an immense gap between him and the others. 

Charles knew that you were watching, and that is why he went to a whole another level that day. After all, it was your first Formula 1 race and Charles really wanted to win that fifth championship through all the means known in the racing world and unknown in the bedroom later that same night.  

#went crazy with a length on this one so sorry #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc one shot #ferrari x you #ferrari x y/n #ferrari x reader #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula 1 #fic: lucky charm

[prof-peach]

Ever deal with Elgyem and Beheyem?

I have an Elgyem, Iggy, he's a sweet one, but I dont discuss him much due to his particular shyness, and the nature of his skills. My mother had a Beheyem, it was an unnerving pokemon to live around as a child, it was not kind nor fair in its treatment of others, and I think it's purpose in the house made me cautious around the species as a whole, but that waryness is not without reason.

Because of their abilities, Val has been trained to block their mind altering powers out. That feeling of something in your head gives you an instant pressure headache, can change memories and is sometimes enough to cause panic attacks, you can assume the worse if one hits you with its skills and you dont realise it. You do however, forget the second they stop using their powers on you normally, they wipe their presence from your memory most of the time so they dont get caught, sneaky pokemon. The few we've had handed in to us have been particulalry harsh, very difficult to handle, the more well adjusted pokemon don't often make it to us unless theyre grass types or native species who're handed in during times when the mainland centres can't handle the volume of patients.

Thanks to Val we can work with even violent individuals without our staff being thretened or erased in any way. Though they don't show up in this neck of the woods very often, not a pokemon you see in Johto much unless its migrated or been released. They tend to be loners, but can hang around in pairs, so keep your wits about you if see one, another may be hiding.

As a species goes, they’re in line with golette and bronzor ect, their power source is quite mysterious, they have organs that aren’t anything like other species, and as a whole tend to be shrouded in a great deal of mystery in the community, some scientists have tried to harness this bracket of pokemon as long term energy sources, but it was a practice deemed unethical very quickly. It however doesnt stop it happening sometimes in underground schemes and dens, much to our disgust within the pokemon care giving community.

They also seem to work similarly to claydol, in that they have a frequency network of psychic energy that they communicate on, along with their flashing lights used to stun and confuse targets, and their series of chirpy beeps. They aren’t nourished by solid foods, and from what researchers have gathered they draw power from the moon’s light, sitting out in it when possible. Theyre very efficient pokemon, metabolisms seem to run very slowly, and dont tend to rest much for days on end, which can be difficult in a more ordinary setting for trainers.

They have a curious nature, and can get into trouble a lot, but theyre very smart, and very quick to want to know what things are, so anynoe raising one should give them a whole heap of enrichment, puzzles, strategy games, show them new items, explain things to them. Theyre a great pokemon for people who have allergies as they dont trigger any, an innate being. They can be hard to socialise with other pokemon but not always.

This is certainly not a pokemon for the feint of heart, nor beginners. Theyre known to start altering their trainers memories when they want to get their own way, so play it safe, and be alert. Like any other pokemon however, they have a lot of charm and love to give if theyre a good match for you, I suppose keep an open mind on the species as a whole. Raised well and with love theyre excellent, intelligent companions.

#pokemon #peach talks #prof.peach

[sp4cepunisher]

just a scratch [ e.williams ]

summary ; ellie takes care of you when you return home injured from being on patrol with dina.

warnings ; 18+ themes, minors dni ! strong language, some depictions of an injury [ skin-tearing, blood, a brief mention of amputation ], over-protective + major girlfriend!ellie vibes. she just loves you a lot tbh, and hates to see you hurt.

author’s note ; hhhhiiiii hi :D i decided to rewrite this! not unlike all of the other things that i have written + will continue to write, i scrutinised the previous version until i decided to delete it + make it better!!! it was labelled fluff but, like?? it wasn’t giving enough fluff?? i wanted protective gf ellie, but it just seemed rushed to me, to be honest. saying this, i reallyreallyreally appreciate the love you guys gave that tragic attempt at a return to this community!!! it made me super happy + spurred me on to want to rewrite it and make it better for you!!! we all deserve having sweet, caring, sometimes a little over-protective ellie in our lives + we deserve it to be written well!!!! i hope you can all enjoy this re-draft even more, and thank you for always being so patient + understanding when it comes to my obsession over the things that i post here!!! i’m just a bit of a perfectionist when i write, but i’m really happy with how this has turned out!!! as always, please let me know your thoughts + enjooooooy!!!! <3

. . .

ellie’s love for you could have moved mountains; defied gravity; grown wings and soared above the clouds with determination to land on the sun. solid in how it had nestled itself into the pit of her heart and beautiful in the way it had developed buds which had flowered over time, the way the girl had allowed herself to feel for you for was something entirely indescribable. she had tried to write about it in her journal, and she had tried to talk about it in front of jesse, or dina— even joel, at times. but every single attempt seemed to result in scribbles, entire pages being torn out, or incoherent trains of thought which were often met with furrowed eyebrows. not to mention the further questions that would make her flush her own least favourite shade of pink, trip over her words as if they were cementing her feet between them, and that she didn’t have the answers to. she much preferred to express her love for you in less obvious ways— more private ways, like letting you take the first shower of the morning to make the most of the limited hot water, frying your eggs first because she knew that you didn’t like it when the pan got too greasy, or letting you pick the evening’s movie because she loved your concentration face when it came to watching you sift through her selection of dvds. she was loving, in a way that you hadn’t realised she could be. granted, she still got shy about it, even in front of you, but although useless when it came to verbalising her feelings, there was one thing that ellie was a master at:

keeping you safe.

a part of her believed that it was her sole duty, putting herself before you in every scenario that she found herself in with you at her side. ingrained in her; like a drug mingled with the blood in her veins, a language that she hadn’t remembered being taught but was fluent in, nevertheless. whether it was fighting the infected or the healthy, ellie was almost entirely fearless either way. and it wasn’t that she doubted your ability to look out for yourself, nor did she think that she could execute any of it better than you. it simply stemmed from her instinct to protect you, because she loved you. she had become sort of obsessed with it; with keeping you strapped to her side like her gun in its holster, tattooed forearm outstretched behind her like the arrow on a compass always displaying the right way to turn; ellie’s way to turn. and alongside this determination to look after you came a tendency to maintain a certain sense of disdain for letting you venture out on patrols and runs with anybody else, because ellie knew that nobody could protect you like she was sure she could— it was a kind of promise to herself, and to you, that your girlfriend had succeeded in keeping every single time the opportunity arose, without ever faltering. you couldn’t remember a time where you had ever returned home injured from a run or a patrol with ellie. you had barely even been sore.

the only exception to this rule of sorts that she had instilled within herself was when she was tied down with something else in jackson or elsewhere, and on this day in particular, when dina came to ask her if it was cool if you accompanied her on patrol, she found herself in this exact position; it was out of her control, because she knew that keeping her word to maria and helping her to set up the new routes for the next few weeks of runs and patrols was what she had agreed to, and she would stick to her promise. she couldn’t offer to go with dina herself, nor take her spot to keep you safe. she had no choice but to give in, and she always hated doing that.

“you’re helping maria here, and (y/n)’s free. i’ll bring her back,” dina reassured your girlfriend when she caught the look that she shot her way. she was well aware of the girl’s protective nature. if anything was to happen to you on her watch, dina wouldn’t put the idea of murder past ellie for a second. “i promise.”

“that’s a pretty big promise,” ellie’s brow furrowed, the lines that appeared on her face mimicking those that she had spent the past half hour etching onto the map in front of her; deep, stretching way past her control and branching off into unknown territory; beyond the safety that she knew she could provide. in a nutshell she trusted dina, but trusting her enough to relax against her promise to bring you back from a world that was merciless— one that was not lenient to those that had loved ones waiting for them at home, giving them a pass from death or mutilation simply because they had people to return to— was a different thing altogether. the world had become too foreign to care. a promise was nothing. she twirled the pen around between her fingers. “did she say she’d go?”

“uh, yeah,” dina exhaled, resting a fist on the table beside her and leaning into it. “yeah, she said she was up for it.”

ellie almost rolled her eyes at this. of course you had. she knew that you always wished that you could be in fifty places at once just to ensure that you didn’t let anybody down, or disrupt anyone’s plans. you were a people-pleaser, but not the bad kind. that’s what, on top of everything else, also bugged ellie. her conscience was fighting with itself; she knew that letting you go out of jackson without her would plague her mind for the rest of the day until your return, the urge to simply drop everything and make herself available to you gnawing at her bones right to the marrow, but she also knew that you wanted to help. it was in your nature. you were utterly good. the visual that was playing in her head was accurate, knowing you well enough to predict the willing nod that you had offered in response to dina’s question, masking the overriding sense of knowing better that had kicked your own conscience into consciousness; she knew that you had been the one that had told dina to come and double check with her, partly as a surefire way of letting her know where you would be for the rest of the day, but also as a way of gauging her general thoughts on it— she knew that you knew how protective she was of you, and at the same time as wanting to drop everything that she had agreed to do, to tell dina that she was happy to take this patrol and then make her way to your shared home just to toss your sneakers your way in a silent gesture of i’m here. let’s go., ellie decided against it. she smoothed the pad of her thumb over the rounded side of the pen that remained still gripped in her hand, and found that her gaze had involuntarily returned to the map before her. her eyes trailed over all of the possible routes that could be taken upon exiting jackson, mental grip slipping as she attempted to unscrew the stubborn lid on her memory in order to remember which paths hadn’t been cleared in a while.

“where are you heading?”

“north, straight up through the woods and past miller cabin.”

ellie’s thoughts wavered, and she pressed the tip of her pen into the wooden tabletop. the area north of jackson hadn’t been cleared in a few weeks, she knew that for sure. god knows how many more infected had shown up and were inhabiting it now— she even had the audacity to silently question whether or not dina would even be able to handle it. she also wondered if her protective nature was a sort of blessing in disguise; her instinct to take the lead every time, to reassure you that she would scope out the stagnant corridors which loomed like long, ghostly faces before you could follow in behind her was perhaps the wrong way to go about ensuring your safety. autonomy was probably more beneficial to you than following your girlfriend’s every move like her shadow. potential outcomes then began to race through her mind; images of you getting stuck between too many infected and not having anywhere else to turn; of dina assuming that splitting up and taking different routes would be a good idea, resulting in your disappearance and failure to return to jackson which would leave everybody simply assuming the worst. moving on. just another name amongst warnings. something to learn from. the idea that the heartbeat that she had spent months studying while you slept as it pulsed in the side of your neck could be stilled with just one wrong move made ellie’s stomach clench. that she would be the only one to inhabit the sheets within her bed; the imprint of your head in the pillow next to hers would become a sacred treasure, untouched, and encased in glass within the museum of ellie’s heart. the thought made her cringe.

the girl looked up at dina again, chewing the inside of her cheek before letting her jaw relax. “i mean, i can’t really stop you,” she felt her body sink into itself slightly, the words she spoke suddenly accompanied by a release of breath that she wasn’t too familiar with— a kind of letting go that felt unnatural, and that left its remnants wedged between her lungs. “if she said she’d go, then i guess she’s happy to go.”

“we’ll be careful. i’ll look out for her.”

ellie didn’t respond. she felt as though she couldn’t. instead, she felt herself forced to focus on the kind of heat that had begun rising at the very top of her spine and which was spreading like a disease up her neck, burning the spongiest part of her skull and trailing through to her jaw as dina’s shadow spanned out across the table like the worst kind of raincloud that was now looming over the map in front of her; over your name which she had absentmindedly carved into the table with the inky nib of her pen.

. . .

the evening sun was a bulbous yolk in the evening sky, bidding goodnight to the people of jackson. its setting behind the hammock of mountains and trees signalled the time to turn in for most, but for ellie it acted as the pendulum at the base of the clock that had loomed in the sky since you had left for miller cabin with dina about four hours earlier. it was as if it was refusing to set until you came home. stationary; a light to guide you back to safety. back to ellie.

her room felt stale. the sun was doing a terrible job at defrosting the cold air that lingered between ellie and her window, which she felt as though she hadn’t stopped looking out of since she arrived inside. maybe she hadn’t. like it was some kind of crystal ball that would somehow reveal your fate if she stared for long enough. she was unsure of how much time had passed, the spotlight of her mind shining solely and directly at the thought of you— how far you’d made it, what you’d found, if you were doing okay. she tried her very best to keep her faith in dina alive, trying to tell herself with a few dismissive shakes of the head and shrugs of the shoulders that you would be fine, soon to be returning home to her with barely a hair out of place, and your usual manner; rational, kind, always happy to see your girlfriend. and part of ellie felt moronic for spending the entirety of her day worrying, battling with a multiplicity of thoughts, and tearing the inside of her cheek to shreds, but the other part of her knew that it was only natural— she’d had enough of losing those she loved, and she wasn’t about to let her pride get the better of her. not this time.

the click of the latch on the door broke her train of thought, and her head snapped towards the sound so quickly that it was a surprise that it didn’t come detached from her neck altogether and land with a dull thump on the rug below her bed. she watched intently as a hand pushed firmly against the door, and a large shoe promptly wedged itself between the doorframe and the wood to help prop it open. slightly muffled voices were honestly hard to make out through the small gap in the door due to their gentle tone, but ellie could tell that it was you by the little laugh she heard pass through. her favourite sound. lifting herself from the mattress, the girl soon made quick work of swinging her legs over the side of her bed and even quicker work of standing up once she properly processed what was going on: jesse entered first, and ellie’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight that followed; his arm was tucked snugly beneath your armpit to support you as best he could in your footing that you were barely succeeding in achieving on one foot. it wasn’t long before your girlfriend noticed the large dark patch that had stained the outside of your now torn jeans just above your kneecap and which, in certain lights, she could see was a kind of black crimson. the worst kind, and bigger than she was comfortable with.

“jesus fucking christ,” she exhaled, her breath a little shaky. dina followed suit with your backpack draped over her shoulder, and her head tilting slightly to ensure your path to the couch was clear as jesse guided you through the small living space. she took wider steps to get ahead of the both of you, clearing a space atop the blankets for you. “is that—“

“it’s not,” dina was quick to interrupt ellie’s sentence, knowing exactly what the girl would say upon seeing your injury, almost before ellie did. jesse gradually let his arm slip from your body, mumbling a few words of encouragement as you sunk down onto the couch with a small intake of breath. “ellie, it’s not.”

“then what the fuck happened?”

“ellie, i’m fine.” you spoke.

the girl raised her eyebrows. “well, shit, (y/n). i don’t believe you.”

“i slipped— jesus,” you exhaled, face wrinkling up in considerable discomfort as jesse lifted your leg by your calve and propped it up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “i just slipped and it wasn’t anybody’s fault but mine.” you watched as your girlfriend made her way around the table to stand beside you, reaching a hand out to unstick the few pieces of hair that lay flush against your forehead with clammy perspiration, her callused thumb brushing over your forehead affectionately, but also as if to reassure herself that you were really there. that you had really made it home.

“there was a blockage along the path,” dina spoke quietly, as if slightly apprehensive about whether to join the discussion at all. “just before we reached miller’s cabin. tree fell, crushed a few cars, fenced a lot of infected in.”

“it was my idea to climb on top of the cars,” you used your hands to better recount your failed plan of action, tilting your open palms slightly to mimic your movements. “i was gonna try and, like, jump onto one of the window ledges across from them to see if there was a way around, but i didn’t even make it that far. my, fucking… foot slipped, and i tore my leg on a piece of rogue metal.”

ellie sighed heavily, filling the empty space beside you with a gentle squeak of the springs and being especially careful not to cause you any more pain with her body weight against the cushions. “fuck me, (y/n). why did you do that?” she questioned you, although secretly she knew the answer; it was you all over, never wanting to turn back from anything without being able to say you tried. “why the hell did you do that?”

you shrugged, lips parting as you tried to justify your stupidity in a way that ellie would truly believe, and dina placed your backpack down on the floor beside the couch. “we dressed the wound once we got far enough down the path. it’s sterile, and we managed to stop the bleeding,” she explained before you could speak. “jesse came out and helped me bring her in when he saw us arrive.”

“why didn’t you come and get me?”

you gave ellie a knowing look, and it was almost enough to cause the girl to crack a small smile. almost.

“she didn’t wanna worry you, dude.” there was even a smile in jesse’s voice, and you watched as he extended an arm to the wall and leaned his entire weight against it.

“didn’t want you jumping to conclusions,” you whispered teasingly, your eyes trailing over ellie’s face in an attempt to memorise every single part of it.

the brunette scoffed a small laugh, and for a second, from the look on her face, you wondered whether she was about to cry. the horrible thought flashed over your mind when you clocked the sudden shine that glossed her eyes, and the slight wrinkle between her eyebrows. from the way her teeth were pulling at the inside of her cheek, you knew that she was frustrated; upset with you; upset with herself. “…fuck.”

“we’ll give you guys some space,” dina spoke after a small pause in the conversation with a small nod, turning her body towards the front door and giving jesse a small nudge to the ribs. “let you get some rest.”

you looked over at the two of them, pressing your mouth into a tight-lipped smile. “thanks, you guys. don’t know what i would have done without you.”

jesse cocked a playful brow. “well, you wouldn’t have that giant gash in your thigh if it wasn’t for dina. in fact, you wouldn’t have even been out there if it wasn’t for—” his words were halted by a heavy smack to the shoulder from the girl behind him, which prompted him to twist the doorknob, and after which he uttered a small, “ow! why are you so violent?”

“goodnight, you two,” dina sighed, and glanced over her shoulder at the two of you. “feel better soon, okay, (y/n)?”

“thanks for bringing her home, dina. for looking after her.” ellie finally spoke, and dina turned back around for a moment upon stepping out into the night’s air

“i tried. a promise is a promise.” she shot you both a small smile, before pulling the door closed with a final click.

despite your injury, ellie had to admit to herself that her room was warmer with your return. she let her eyes scan over your profile, lingering slightly on the slope of your nose bridge, and the sculpted dip of your philtrum. her eyes fell to the side of your neck, and she felt herself visibly relax when she managed to clock the small thumping of your pulse. the same pulse she so often studied while you slept. “babe,” she whispered, regaining your full attention and earning her a small hum. “you’re okay?”

your face softened slightly, and you nodded. “yeah, ell. i’m okay.” she lifted a hand and placed it both reassuringly and gently on your good leg, giving your knee a squeeze before carefully leaning over your body and reaching for your backpack.

“please,” she huffed, plonking the bag down on her knees and retrieving your water bottle from inside. “drink something.” you complied to your girlfriend’s orders, letting her hand you the bottle and taking a few swigs from it to make your girlfriend happy. the water felt good as it swilled down your throat, softening the scratchiness and somehow lessening the pain in your thigh for a split second, though you were grateful for the momentary relief nevertheless. screwing the lid back onto the top, you placed the bottle beside you on the couch and turned your head to look at ellie again. “you could’ve died.” you watched her lips as she whispered.

you barely shrugged. “but i didn’t.”

ellie sighed. “fuck, (y/n).”

“ellie. i’m right here,” you insisted, though your voice remained soft and shrouded in moonlight. “yeah, i got hurt. and yeah, it sucks. but it will heal, and i’m here, and i’ll be okay.”

this wasn’t the first time that ellie was rendered pretty speechless by your ability to comfort her with a handful of simple, yet meaningful words. despite thinking of you all day, almost worrying herself into a mental decline and narrowly avoiding fucking up the work she completed for maria, you had immediately calmed her nerves. you somehow always knew how to relax her tense muscles, unclench her gritted teeth, and supply her with fresh air to breathe. here you were; raw beneath your bandage, still adorned in your blood-stained clothes, and probably exhausted. but you were alive; here, and breathing; here, and still as pretty as she had seen you that same morning, barely succeeding in keeping your heavy eyelids open as the two of you lay dozing in the sun-soaked bedsheets; here, and reassuring your girlfriend that things were alright.

“i love you,” the girl whispered, leaning a little closer just to tilt her chin upwards and press the gentlest of kisses to skin between your eyebrows. “i love you so much. i was, like, shitting my pants all day. hated not knowing whether or not you were okay. felt helpless.” her voice had fallen into a mumble, and you looked up at her with a hint of a smile.

“and i love you. even if you do worry too much.”

a shadow of a smile flickered over ellie’s lips, and she licked over them. “i worry for a reason,” she chuckled quietly, barely even loud enough for you to hear despite sitting so close to her. “clearly. how long sinced dina dressed your leg?”

you glanced down toward the coffee table, turning your leg to the side slightly to get a better look at the stain on your jeans to check that it hadn’t spread any wider, and to ensure ensure that you hadn’t bled through the barrier. “uhh, maybe… i don’t know, a couple of hours ago?” you returned your gaze to the girl beside you, whose own eyes were fixed on the maroon bloodstain.

“and you promise it doesn’t hurt? you don’t need me to clean it, change the bandage?”

“i promise.”

the girl was quiet for a moment, gaze trailing back up your leg before she turned her head and found your eyes. “is it bad under there?” she whispered, as if frightened of the answer. you shook your head gently, silently judging yourself for the way in which your heart fluttered at the concern that tainted ellie’s tone. you knew she would have been worried sick all day, but you couldn’t help but find it just slightly amusing how hard her outer shell appeared to everyone else. to those who didn’t know her. to anyone that wasn’t you.

“oh, yeah,” you whispered, trying to maintain a degree of seriousness in your voice, and ellie’s breath caught in her throat. “dina didn’t tell you, but, like… she almost had to perform the world’s first amputation while on horseback.” you couldn’t hold back the grin that tugged your mouth upwards, along with the heavy exhale that accompanied it through your nose. your smile grew wider when you watched as ellie noticeably relaxed upon realising that you were joking, and rolled her eyes.

“you’re so sick, you know that? sick and fucking twisted!” she leaned her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested the side of her head against her open palm. “jesusfuckingchrist.”

“i’m okay, ellie, i promise.” you reassured her, now in all seriousness. “i know that the blood probably makes it look scary, but it’s really not that bad. just a small gash.” extending a hand, you placed it on your girlfriend’s jean-clad thigh and gave it a squeeze, smoothing your little finger over her kneecap. the girl’s ivy eyes caught onto yours in a way that they had before, but that you swore to yourself over, and over again that you would never get used to: utterly loving, with no shadowed thoughts to cloud over it, and completely unapologetic, at that. with a small shuffle of her legs, and lifting her head from her hand, she got herself closer to you and took a second to lick over her lips.

“come here,” she whispered, hooking her pointer finger beneath your chin and reeling you forwards slightly. you pretty much immediately melted into her touch, allowing her to mould you into whatever position she wanted you aided by just her hands, and captured her lips with yours as they brushed. in a chaste, yet meaningful kiss, you brought your hand from her leg and used it to cup her face, pushing away a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. her own hand trailed up your arm, briefly warming the skin beneath your clothes before resting on the dip of your shoulder, lingering there even after the gentle kiss came to an end. “i love you,” ellie spoke, the tip of her nose almost slow dancing with yours as they brushed. “i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you.”

you offered her a small smile, lifting your shoulders in a shy little shrug. “and you’ll never know. ‘cause i’ll always be here.” your sweet, yet earnest words made ellie smile, the greenest part of her eyes twinkling optimistically right before you, like a shooting star passing through the sky just for less than a second, but for long enough to remember its short presence forever. she pressed one last short, firm kiss to your lips before glancing over her shoulder at your shared bed.

“you should lay down, babe.”

pulling at the corner of your lip with your teeth, you nod. “soon. wanna stay here with you, just a little longer,” ellie’s small smile brought another one to your own lips, and you elbowed her side lightly. “missed you.”

“missed you. when i wasn’t busy almost killing myself over what could’ve happened to you, and almost fucking up maria’s maps.” she mumbled, and you gave an amused hum.

“well, at least assuming the worst made this situation look a whole lot better. right?”

ellie pulled a face, twirling a piece of your hair that she had picked up somewhere along the way around her two fingers. “i wouldn’t say that, but, yeah. i’m definitely happy that you aren’t dead.”

you raised your eyebrows, scoffing a laugh and letting your head fall back against the couch. “thanks, ell. i’m happy i’m not dead, either.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This one started horrible to write and ended up fun, so if the beginning feels off that's why.

Love reading the theories in the tags! Not gonna say which one of you is right though, if any...

Price’s temporary office is about as big as a broom closet, with barely enough space to fit a desk, 2 chairs, and a couple of huge 141 operatives.

The Captain has been rubbing at his temples for the past few minutes, no doubt unsuccessfully trying to ward off a massive headache. Ghost shares the sentiment. This entire day was nothing but misery.

They’ve been debriefing about their shitshow of a mission for several hours now.

“Let me get this straight”, Price starts, “you brought Soap with you to Limbo… and he came out unharmed?”

“Yes sir.”

“How could you possibly know he wouldn’t get dragged in?” Price shoots a glare towards him.

“I didn’t.” Ghost swallows, “I… I was certain he’s dead either way.”

Ghost flexes his hands, eyes drifting away from Price as he returns to his thoughts. It stands to logic that whoever was in the protective light around him would’ve been safe from the grasping hands of its victims.  But he never actually tried it.

Nobody lives through Limbo, is the first rule of his powers.

There’s a reason his personal file reads “Limbo survivability: 0%”.

Price’s voice cuts through the air, “this changes everything about how you could operate on field… Shepherd would be ecstatic.” he finished with a bleak tone.

A sudden chill shoots through his veins. The General would squeeze every drop he could off of Limbo. Ghost can see how he would react, ordering him to use it on field again and again, now while Price and Garrick and Johnny are all in the line of fire-

“Which is why he won’t know about this.” Price asserts.

Ghost falters. “You’re breaking regs for me?”

The Captain offers him a tired but kind smile, “won’t be the first time, son.”

Ghost’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he projected his gratitude to Price’s mind. He doesn’t think words would do justice to what he’s feeling right about now.

The Captain sighs, “I reckon I tortured you enough for one day, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”

Ghost rises to leave when Price adds, “don’t think I’ve forgotten about what your Reaper said, Simon. We’ll talk about it another day.”

Ghost truly can’t wait.

His feet take him to medical, where Soap still better be. If the Sergeant minimizes his injuries now, after everything they’ve been through, Ghost swears he’ll actually send him to Limbo.

The nurse he left Johnny with rushes to stop him from wandering around and probably scaring her patients dead.

She informs Ghost that Sergeant MacTavish is in one of the resting rooms, and that Garrick is currently visiting him. He mutters a vague thanks and makes his way towards his room.

From a distance, he can already hear the Sergeants’ shared laughter, and a stone is lifted from his stomach.

“-I don’t think I’ve seen Cap make that face before, he squished his face like a confused babe-” Gaz’s words travel through the half opened door. Ghost takes a moment to just listen to the two of them giggling with no care in the world, and pushes the door fully open.

The two immediately quiet down and snap their gaze at him. Gaz talks first, “finally out of Price’s clutches?” he says with a half smile.

Ghost continues to stand in the entrance, “looked almost as tired as me by the end of it.”

Garrick smirks, and stands up from the chair situated besides Soap’s bed. “Well, I’ll go make sure he doesn’t fall asleep in his office again. Can’t forget the time he messed up his back for a week because of it.”

He passes by Ghost to walk out, but before he leaves completely, whispers, “he’s gonna be fine, don’t worry too much”, and with a pat on the shoulder leaves Ghost staring at Soap.

The Scot dimmed a little after Gaz’s departure, “ye can sit down, I’m sure yer dead tired.” he nods to the newly vacated chair.

Ghost takes him on the offer and lowers to the sit with a long exhale. He looks over Johnny, trying to figure out how far along his healing is, but is unable to due to the clothes he still wears.

“Can I see the… gunshot wounds?” He relents eventually.

Soap raises a brow, “curious huh? Wanna see how fast I can heal-”

“Sergeant.” Ghost warns.

Soap sighs and pouts, hesitating for a moment before lifting his shirt. Ghost leans forward to examine the injuries more closely - the holes are almost completely sealed, muscles and skin woven together, tightening in front of his eyes.

“Does it still hurt?” he looks up at Johnny.

Soap frowns, “a wee bit”, he drops the hem and lets the shirt fall.

They sit in silence, Ghost becoming increasingly overwhelmed with which question he wants to ask first, if he should be happy, or if he should be screaming at the Sergeant for making him believe for one horrible second that he’s going to die.

The Sergeant saves him from his downward spiral, “I dinea know they redacted that power on my files.”

Flaming fingers fidgeting over the thin blanket catch Ghost’s attention. “Your file rivals mine with how much is blacked out.” And he doesn’t say it lightly; his own file doesn’t even have his legal name.

“I knew they’ve been removing things since… my Reaping.” the small flames continue to be put out by Johnny’s movements.

“Why?” 

And isn’t that the question of the century. Ghost looks at Soap’s face, the taut features that tell him the answer is as always. 

‘I can’t tell you.’

Soap surprises him however, when he huffs, “they don’t want people getting the wrong idea on how strong I am.”

He must see how confused Ghost is, because he continues, “I uh… did something on my Reaping. If I could do that again, well… I don’t know if they would’ve let me on the team.”

“I assume you can’t tell me what.”

Johnny laughs, “if I could, I would’ve a long time ago, LT”.

Ghost crosses his arms. He’s sure he’ll have about 50 working theories on what Soap has done by the end of the day, but for now he wants to focus on the Sergeant in front of him.

He miserably remembers what he’s done, how he forced him into Limbo…

“Did you close your eyes?”

“Huh?”

“When we were in Limbo, did you close your eyes?”

Soap tilts his head in perplexity, “aye… why?”

Ghost shakes his head, “rather you not see how fucked up that place is.”

He was never too proud of Limbo, not with the origins of the power, but after it became such a hateful place he lost any reason to like the void.

“You make it sound like it's literal hell, Ghost.” Johnny mutters.

Ghost rolls his eyes, “would be an apt comparison.”

The Sergeant straightens, “it’s not! It’s far too…” he slumps again, “sad. I could hear them crying down there.”

Ghost doesn’t want to tell him Limbo isn’t usually like that. Doesn’t need Johnny to know his victims were sobbing because his own emotions effected them.

Instead, he veers the conversation away, “don’t tell anyone you’ve been there.”

It’s Soap’s turn to ask why.

“No one ever went into Limbo and left alive beside me.”

The Sergeant’s eyes widen, “yer gonna hide it from Shepherd…”

“The Captain suggested it. I’d rather you not ruin his entire career.” Ghost drawls flatly.

“Aye sir, yer secrets are safe with me.” Johnny gives him a reassuring smile.

Ghost doesn’t think he understands just how much he trusts that statement. He exhales, “don’t make me think you’re about to kick it again, that clear?”

Johnny’s smile dampens, his eyes fill with guilt, “yes sir.”

Soap was released not long after they finished their little chat, the medics deeming him stable enough to walk around. They appeared more experienced with healing-type revenants than other bases he’s been on.

Ghost kept watch by his side while they walked down to mess, the two of them famished and tired after everything.

The cheering coming from the large room proved to be caused by the Vaqueros’ return. Alejandro and Rodolfo, along with Gaz and Price, were sitting in one table and talking among themselves.

When Rodolfo picked them out from the crowd he rose to stand in front of Johnny, “I heard you were in medical hermano, are you well?”

Soap gave him an easy grin, “aye, had a couple of bullets in me, but I’m all good now.”

Rodolfo’s mouth dropped, and his eyes jumped between Soap and Ghost, “I uh, I’m glad?”

His Sergeant turned to give him a bold smirk that told him Soap enjoying messing with Rodolfo, the poor man a little too out of the loop.

The three of them were called to the table and they joined the rest.

“El Sin Nombre is looking for revenants” Alejandro began. Him, Rodolfo and the 141 were summarizing what each squad found during their last missions, “the stronger, the higher their value.”

Rodolfo added, “his other target is civilians, specifically poor and young, at recruitment age.”

“But he’s not recruiting them, is he?” Gaz asks.

“No. You don’t give weapons to people you kidnap and let them loose on the streets, expecting they’ll stay loyal to you.”

Not unless you torture them to the point of breaking, Ghost muses darkly.

He throws the dog tags he snagged from the body at the cartel’s house, “one of the four bodies we found was one Sergeant Anderson, a revenant with an ability to breathe underwater.”

“The other three, appeared to be civilians, died from drowning.” Soap remarks.

Price narrows his eyes, “sounds like they’re playing with revenant powers.”

“It’s never gonna work”, Garrick snarls, “you can’t transfer powers, you can’t choose who will become a revenant, and you can’t choose what power you get.”

The room becomes silent, until Johnny murmurs, “unless you kill them the same way other revenants died.”

“Still won’t work”, Ghost retorts, “too many variables. Revenant might attract a different Reaper.”

Price stops them both, “whatever they’re trying to do, they’re messing with powers beyond anyone’s understanding. If they figure out a way to reliably make revenants…”

“They’ll have an army of supernatural soldiers.” Alejandro snarls.

The Captain nods firmly.

 Ghost shifts in place. There’s much more on the scale than any of them originally thought.

“What’s our next move?” Soap questions determinedly.

Rodolfo points to the file on the table, “we need to get El Sin Nombre. He’s our only connection to the international trafficking.”

Alejandro grins widely, “exactamente”.

The Captain starts collecting his own files, “I’ll get in contact with Laswell, see what she can give us.” He glances at Ghost, “we need to inform Shepherd as well.”

They’re all preparing to leave when a knock sounds on the door.

Alejandro calls them in, and a soldier pops their head, “Comandante, the American PMC is here.”

“Captain Price! Good to see you again, pal.”

Price’s moustache twitches, “Philip Graves.” Ghost can hear the thought leaking from his head, ‘can’t say the same.’

The Shadow Company commander is non the wiser, and does a quick sweep on the soldiers on the tarmac, when his eyes land on Ghost.

“Lieutenant Ghost! Heard great things about you. Terrible, but great things”, the American smiles in a way that makes Ghost’s eye twitch to close.

He hates him already.

Ghost decides to answer, as this muppet will work with them for the next few weeks, “haven’t heard shite about you mate.”

The way Graves stops his flaunting is quite amusing, Ghost decides. “You a revenant, Graves?” He goes on with his ribbing.

Graves licks his teeth before smacking his lips, “no.”

He huffs in return, in what might be interpreted as a laugh. Johnny seems to be holding back his own giggles, having an overtly serious face that Ghost finds hilarious.

Alejandro spares Graves from Ghost’s public shaming (and what a pity that is), “welcome to Los Vaqueros base, Commander.”

The men shake hands. Ghost looks behind Graves, at the PMC soldiers unloading crates after crates of weapons and firearms.

Oh well, he supposes he can deal with the yank as long as he has a use.

Okay I know Ghost roasting Graves is ooc but it's so funny to me

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #cod gaz #cod price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #philip graves #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #getting into the meat of the plot #also its interesting to kinda have the mw2 campaign in little bits #like having to capture el sin nombre but for different reasons #the actual capturing will be different tho since like #Soap's hands are on fire. all the time. not really inconspicuous

[clumsyexpression]

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚ dont sweat the petty stuff and dont pet the sweaty stuff ˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

⋆some annoying things that i've experienced but of course i use one piece men to interpret c:⋆

Mihawk

Mihawk, driving, and Y/N being a passenger princess or sumn: “Y/N, if you don’t get your funky, foul feet off of my dashboard..” “Oh look, you did an allegory, I learned that from one of your poems ♡” “….its alliteration”

Rosinante

“I mean this in the nicest way possible when I say I will smash your phone into smithereens the next time I can hear your phone through my calm sphere – particularly when your are on the OTHER SIDE OF THE HOUSE WITH IT ON FULL BLAST, SPEAKER BARELY HANGING ON THE LAST COIL OF LIFE AT 3 IN THE MORNING, WATCHING THE MOST OBNOXIOUS TIKTOK TO EVER BE CREATED ON THAT GOD FORSAKEN APP.” “….sorry I didn’t realize it was so loud…” Y/N opens the phone only for a shrill ‘oh noo’ to ring out,  causing Rosinante to yeet it on the ground as result, just like this ⇩⇩⇩⇩:

Oven

“Y/N, WHEN I WAS COMPLAINING ABOUT THE FOOD SPLATTER IN THE MICROWAVE, THAT DID NOT MEAN I VOLUNTEERED TO HEAT EVERYTHING IN MY MOUTH.” “…..” “AND YOU WILL  STOP THROWING RAW FOOD ON ME. I AM NEITHER A SKILLET NOR A GRIDDLE.”

Benn

*rapid succession of knocking on the bathroom door* “The faster you knock DOES NOT mean I will poop any faster!!” “…..” *rapid succession of open palm slaps against the door*

Shanks

“Calling me a stinky ass hoe and following it with ‘no offense’ is still pretty offensive, Y/N. I definitely took a shower this morning and even used a new 50-in-1 shampoo, sooo..”

Law

*Y/N takes a giant chomp out of kitkat bar* “I know you didn’t just eat that Kitkat bar like that.” “Give me a break, Law.” “Get out.”

Kid

Y/N patiently waits in the right-turn lane for the red light to turn green without a signal on through 2 traffic cycles and for at least 10 minutes until there is an opening to go. “Wait, you really did that?” “Did what?” “You Really Sat In This Lane, Only To Turn???” “Well, yeah, it’s the safest way to turn, especially at this intersection! ♡” “YOU REALLY SAT HERE FOR 3 HOURS WHEN WE COULD HAVE GONE FROM JUMP STREET????!” “I-its better safe than sorry, there’s still oncoming traffic when you make the turn-“ “JUST TURN.” “Only when the light is green for go and not red for stop!” Y/N’s driving privileges consequently has been revoked when driving with others

the intersection may or may not have looked like this btw: ↑  ↿↱   ↱

#i am guilty of only one of these and i will not elaborate any further lmao #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #lmao i love how i always use Kid for all of my road rage/driving scenarios lmao - i just know he would be so fed up pfffft #dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #red haired pirates #benn beckman #charlotte oven #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #eustass kid #pink thread of fate

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- Part 2

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse etc.

---

"What do you see?" asks Hannibal, forcing you, by an immovable hand at the base of your neck, to stare at your reflection in the mirror. "Speak the truth. It won't shock me, nor should you be ashamed of it."

You have already attempted to close your eyes against the glass, and were gently threatened into opening them again. Now you force your gaze to unfocus, refusing Hannibal in a way that even he surely cannot discern.

He says your name into the quiet with a subtle, yet dangerous edge. It is so rarely used now that you jolt almost guiltily, unsure whether, like Will, Dr Lecter can be frenzied to strike you.

Hannibal's threat is more of a sleek, hunting animal, you think, cunning and serene; he can be cruel in a manner of exact and elegant genius, the bruising of the psyche, and the soul.

"Don't disobey me," he says. "You will not welcome my disappointment."

A tremble of doe-like terror wreathes you in its grasp.

"Doctor," you whisper. "I want to quit. I'll pay you the money my parents sent for me to come here; I'm not a child, and I don't need any of this. I'm not playing your game. Please let me go home."

There is certainly no chance that your family are aware of and approve of this treatment; it is torture under a clinical guise, a sinister, sexual sadism.

Still you cannot deny that the longer you remain here, the more you begin to see Hannibal and Will in the roles that they take within these walls: the strict, hard-handed father, the nurturing and gentle dad.

Each are relentless in their goal to reduce you to their supplicant doll, driving you further into the same hungering madness they wish to cure.

"You cannot leave here," says Hannibal, almost affably. "Your family unburdened themselves by releasing you to more comprehending hands. They think less of your wellbeing, and more of the weight that they no longer carry. Do you believe they would accept you back if you were not cured?"

"There is no cure," you say, bitterly. "You said it yourself. No cure, just recovery and maintenance."

Hannibal strokes the back of your neck, soothing you even as you shudder in repulsion.

"And do you trust yourself to do that alone?"

You don't answer, sinking miserably against the man at your back if only so that you do not fall to the floor in your despair.

"Tell me, little one," Hannibal commands, and his left hand comes down your shoulder, across your breast, tracing your hip with the ease of ownership. "What do you see?"

Swaying, crying, you blink at the horror in the looking glass, this imperfect beast in the arms of so evil and oddly beautiful a man.

"Failure," you spit. "It's disgusting."

Hannibal leans into you, breathing in the scent of your hair, and kisses your temple.

"I see a perfect little girl. Or else one with the potential to be."

You shake your head, certain that he is taunting you. That he is not repulsed seems an impossibility; Will certainly makes no attempts to hide his disdain, even when he fucks you.

"I do not lie to my patients," Hannibal insists. "With instruction, discipline, and loving guidance, you will become everything you should already be."

Warmth under your skirt; Hannibal's fingers cupping your wretched heat, pressing themselves into a self-loathing wetness, a sobbing response to his words.

"You shouldn't do this to me," you say, as always, repeated like a prayer, all frantic fervour. "You're my doctor. You're hurting me."

"It's what is required for you to change. Why do you cling to your chrysalis when it no longer serves you? There is no sustenance in it. You hold yourself here because it is safe. Because it is known. You have grown to love the illness like family."

He circles the heart of your folds with fingers that know you with the certainty of language.

"I suggest that you exchange the subject of your affections for those that will return it."

His lips are soft against your neck, an angel come down in a romantic painting, or fallen, rather.

Your vision of the creature in the mirror disappears into a prism of tears.

"You don't love me, really," you whisper. "And Will... he hates me."

Hannibal pushes you forwards, against the mirror, bending your form in a balletic motion. You are glad that you cannot see yourself in such close proximity to the glass, only the pupil of your eye, black and endless.

"He does not hate you," says Hannibal, softly. "He is gripped by desires that anger him, for he neither wants nor understands them."

Your legs are eased apart, and you whimper as a sudden thickness parts you like a scroll.

"Sometimes he watches you when you sleep," Hannibal tells you. "He finds such beauty in you, when you allow yourself to dream."

#manna fic #ao3 writer #dark fic #hannibal lecter #dark hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham mention #hannibal fic #tw eating disorders #tw anorexia #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #dark!fic

[gatheringbones]

[“Most gaslighters seem to hold in reserve a secret weapon, an emotional explosion that flattens everything in its vicinity and poisons the atmosphere for weeks afterward. A person in a gaslighting relationship fears that if the gaslighter is pushed too far, he’ll invoke this Emotional Apocalypse, something even worse than the ongoing attrition of annoyed questions and cutting remarks. This apocalypse is such a painful experience that, eventually, she’ll do anything to avoid it.

The Emotional Apocalypse might happen only once, or it might never happen, but the fear of the Emotional Apocalypse is sometimes even worse than the event itself. The gaslightee is terrified that her partner might yell, or criticize her, or even leave her, and she’s sure that if her fear is realized, she’ll be completely overwhelmed. “You feel like you’re going to die,” one of my patients told me once, and she wasn’t much comforted by my replying, “But you won’t die.”

[……] For as long as he could remember, Mitchell had worried about letting his mother down and had hoped to make up for all the other disappointments in her life. As a result, he was vulnerable to her gaslighting. Although she rarely accused him of anything directly, her hurt looks were more powerful than words. “I feel like I’ve broken her heart,” he told me in one especially painful session. “I’d do anything to keep her from looking that way and knowing that I caused her pain.” Rather than ask himself what, realistically, were his chances of making his mother happy and how willing he was to sacrifice himself to do so, Mitchell insisted that his mother could be happy—if only he could be a better son.

Sometimes the gaslighter progresses to increasingly painful responses—from cutting remarks to outright yelling, from implied guilt to explicit accusations. And if a gaslightee resists, the behavior may become still worse—daily yelling, broken dishes, threats of abandonment. She may start to feel as though even thinking about resisting provokes an escalation, as though it’s not safe to disagree even in her own thoughts. Giving in completely—in thought and emotion as well as action—may come to seem like the only safe course.

When gaslightees try to tell me about their apocalyptic fears, they often have two contradictory positions. On the one hand, putting these fears into words may make them seem trivial, so my patients express a lot of shame and self-doubt. “I know it doesn’t sound like much…,” they’ll say. “Only an idiot would get upset about such a little thing.” Or “I’m sure it’s not that big a deal. It’s just that I’m such a wimp. He’s always telling me I’m too sensitive.” On the other hand, if I ask a gaslightee to wonder what might happen if she responded to the Emotional Apocalypse with a shrug or by walking out of the room, she may desperately insist that I don’t understand how bad it really is. “But he’ll keep yelling,” she might say. “And if I leave, or ask him to stop, he’ll yell more.” If I ask what makes the yelling so frightening, I get a stare of disbelief. It’s as though the gaslighter’s secret weapon—whatever it might be—really did have the power to annihilate the gaslightee and destroy her entire world.

I know when the Emotional Apocalypse threatens, it can be truly frightening. But in fact, the yelling will not destroy your world. The criticism will not end your life. The insults—however painful—will not actually bring your house crashing down in ruins around you. I know it feels as though the Emotional Apocalypse will literally destroy you—but it won’t. And when you’re able to see past the fear that is choking you and clouding your mind, you may be able to shrug off your gaslighter’s point of view and refuse to engage with it—neither believing it nor arguing with it, but simply holding on to your own inner truth.”]

robin stern, the gaslight effect

#robin stern #brainspace #cw abuse #currently reading

[imaginedreamwrite]

The first real nice pre-summer day warranted a trip outside of the asylum walls to the grounds for an art class beneath the whisky clouds and sunshine. While certain patients and rooms were not able to be out due to some misbehaviour, and even a mix of children, men and women were scattered within a certain radius to get some fresh air, which in itself had seemed to be an unusual kindness.

As one of the few nurses who were able to intermix within the wards, save for the children’s ward which you refused to work in, the doctors on duty for the outdoor excursion had relayed the task of helping with the art class for the afternoon. The resident head nurse had been cordial enough to task you with handing out the drawing pads held together with twine and extended certain blindness toward yourself and Steve, especially when his eyes had lingered too long upon your frame while in passing.

You didn’t want to openly embrace the flutter of your stomach and the rapid beat of your heart when he slipped a hand upon your lower back, nor had you wished to revel in the whisper of your name as it fell from his lips. It was hard enough not to be captivated by the hero the government had turned its back on, and even harder not to be completely overtaken by the beauty of his blue-green eyes when they were centred on you, as if you were the only steadfast hold he had on this earth.

“If you remain on your best behaviour,” the doctor in charge had relayed his order as if this event outside was the greatest extent and reach of his empathy, “we could spend the rest of the afternoon outside.”

Only the best-behaved and most calm, at the moment, got to enjoy nature. Only the best got a temporary reprieve from the hell beyond brick walls.

“Draw something that inspires you, something you find beautiful.” Beatrice, the head nurse extended kindness that was so hard to find within the nurses you worked with, had been a favourite among the patients and you considered yourself lucky to work with her.

There were few friends to be made here, few nurses who had wanted to do good for the patients they cared for. Many other nurses were coerced to follow doctors' orders to be unwittingly apathetic and unable to provide gentle care, many of those apathetic nurses were scared for their careers. The doctors had a tight hold on the patients and nurses alike, threatening pain for the patients and a ruined reputation for the nurses.

There was hardly any winning in this asylum, hardly any escape and many nurses had either been taken advantage of by the doctors or had unwillingly given in due to fear of what could happen with denial. Beatrice had remained steadfast in her ability to treat the patients with care and empathy, Beatrice had also remained courageous and determined to protect as many nurses in her wings as she could.

Steve was your protector, and whether he had openly admitted it or not, he had placed a claim on you. One that you were grateful for.

“I will always keep you safe. No one will touch you.”

“It’s nice out today, warm.” Annie, a mother whose child had died from the flu, had spoken to you as you passed, stopping you from walking too far. “It reminds me of her.”

You looked at the bare bones of her painting, the outline of flowers surrounding a sleeping angel in a flowing dress. There weren’t many details embedded yet in the painting and yet you could tell that Annie’s hands were gentle as she sketched her lost daughter, every motion of her drawing pencil taken with care. Like the dress she wore, one that was innocent and lovely, her daughter's hair was flowing around her head like a halo and her eyes had remained closed as if she was only sleeping.

“Your daughter was beautiful.” your voice was nary a whisper, something as soft as the petals she was drawing. “You don’t deserve to be in here, Annie. You’re not crazy.”

“No one is crazy here, nurse. We’re all forgotten. Unfortunate and unwanted.” Annie clutched your wrist and turned it over in her hand, her eyes soulful and intense, though afflicted by unshed tears. “I hear the children crying, i can hear them from my room. S’not right, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. I wish I could do more.” Your heart broke for her, broke for the children she could hear.

“I’m meant to be a mama. I need to be a mama.” She let you go and turned back to her canvas, her eyes fixated on the pillow of flowers around her daughter's head, and then she pushed her curls out of her face.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding and stepped past Annie, your eyes drawn toward Steve. It was innate the way you were reeled into his presence, flocking there as if he was a beacon to lead you home. You had stepped forward and the world fell away around you, the walls of asylum shifting in place to become a softer world of tall swaying grass and overhanging trees. With every step, it felt as if you were crossing a meadow to a place of serenity, a place in which neither Steve nor you were held down by barriers hidden agendas.

A place where he was the hero he’d been made out to be, a place where he was given the respect and honour he deserved.

“You’re too good for this world.” He spoke to you before you could address him and his hand found yours, turning your hand over to expose your palm. “You are meant for so much more than this.”

“Steve,” you found yourself staring at the image before you, the lines and shadows that had retained a scene like you imagined on the way over here, “is that me? You drew me?”

Though there was a lack of colour, you could picture the golden tresses brushing against the edge of a skirt and the soft glow of the sun as it peeked through tree branches. You could picture the colour of the sky barely marred by clouds, you could hear the soft chatter of birds from beyond the treelike as they revelled under the summer sun.

Steve took the risk to lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft and sensitive smile to the inside of your palm. Your heart fluttered, just as your eyes had when his smile had shifted and a kiss to the creases on your palm and his free hand had come to settle on your waist. That singular kiss had spoken a thousand words, and the scene he sketched upon canvas, and even on his drawing pad, had relayed the message that he envisioned a similar ending as you had.

“One day,” Steve had pulled his hand from your waist and guided your fingertips to the edges of his artwork, specifically the golden grass that was brushing against your dress, “we’re going to be living this.”

“It’s beautiful,” your breath was a whisper, your heart flooded with hope and promise, “God it’s…”

“Home,” his voice was barely audible, a vow he was making to you, “this is going to be our home.”

And when you thought he was done making promises, he made you one more. “I am going to marry you, Y/N. I’m goign to be the best husband I can be for you.”

#asylum!steve rogers x reader #asylum!steve rogers x nurse!reader #1940s!steve rogers #1940s!steve rogers x reader #1940s!nurse!reader #Steve Rogers x reader #1940s au #1940s asylum au

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

OUR LITTLE FOX

A/n: he waited long enough. It was time he made his move

You see, the things that pisses off Scaramouche was being toyed with. Oh how he hated that, and seeing his comrade trying to disrupt his plans was pushing thin his already short patience.

He would play his tune, he was the Balladeer after all. No man known to earth could stop his wrath, for he was no mere man nor God.

He wasn't number 6 for nothing.

He planned, he schemed and he waited. Soon, Snezhnaya would feel the crackling thunder breaking the clouds...

You were reading in the adjacent chamber of the meeting room, sat on one of the numerous plush sofas with your peluche near you.

You felt comfortable, safe there. Nothing could ever happened to you, not when you were so close to your uncles and aunties.

The door opened slowly, a maid entered with a tray full of snacks and tea. You lost track of time, again, but who could blame you, when you were so engulfed in your book?

"Lord y/n, I brought you your tea and biscuits. Would you like to eat something?" Asked the maiden. She was one of your favourites,she was so calm and patient.

You nodded politely and began to eat. Her smile never went away. Strange you thought,but you didn't think much of it.

Suddenly the door opened again,this time an agent came through. She turned a bit,her smirk falling a bit. You thought something must have been troubling her, if she had such vicious gaze on.

She turned, shielding your body with her. "Lord, please run inside the meeting room and don't turn back. Move Now!" she shouted while giving you an exit to escape.

You fled, fast and frantic, and you ran towards the meeting room, aware of another pair of footsteps following you.

You sprinted, you saw the door in front of you and with all your strength you pushed it opened. You were almost inside when a hand snatched you.

You trashed, kicked and screamed. Hopefully they would hear you from the crack in the door.

And they did.

You felt a swoosh behind you, and you would have been falling if a pair of strong hands didn't catch you.

Not bothering to check who it was, you hid inside that protective barrier. A rumbling yet soothing voice was speaking to you, yet you could hear no words.

Adrenaline, you heard someone say.

You closed your eyes, and let you be lulled to safety by those arms.

"Well well well comrade, what were you trying to do just now?" said a cheerfully eerie Childe. The man could only tremble. Before him were not only the 11th but all the Harbingers.

No word left that mouth. Nothing. Capitano stepped forward and scrutinized the man, silently looming over him. The man gripped by fear started to shake, and collapsed in a puddle on the floor.

Soon enough he would talk. "Dottore, Sandrone would you mind escorting him to have a nice chat?" Said Colombina.

The two smirked dangerously and the traitor pleaded, begged for mercy. And he revealed his plan.

"Please forg-" a chop connected with his neck, and he fell unconscious.

"Take him away. Pantalone, Pulcinella send some of your men in incognito. See if they uncover his hiding place" ordered Pierro.

They nodded and left.

"How are you feeling, darling?" asked gently Arlecchino, seeing you coming around. Something on your face told her all she needed. She and the others nodded and went into the adjacent room, seeing the maiden clean the mess made of the other. "Please excuse me, my lords for this mess" she said, bowing down.

"what have you gathered?" Asked Capitano. It was him who suggested her as your maid, given her impressive abilities, "well my lord not much. I only heard bits and pieces talking about a strange place in Inazuma, but nothing substantial".

Dismissing her once she cleaned the room, they all sat down. You were still bundled in the Jester's arm.

"Agents confirmed this intel. We still have to pinpoint the exact location" said Childe, creating water Oceanides with his vision to entertain you. Seeing you smile was a joy of its own.

"Good, send for me when you find something else. You are dismissed" and he went out, with you still in his arms.

Scaramouche knew his plan was working when some of his men came back to report.

"Inazuma you say. Let's see who'll win this" sneered the Balladeer.

The game didn't end with checkmate.

No, death was the only true end.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact fic #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin x male reader #fatui headcanons #fatui harbingers

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 3: Beach

As always, my @fluffbruary ficlets can all be found on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

I relate a lot to much of Dream's personality as an autistic person. The feeling too much, holding it all back until the dam breaks, and getting lost in your work to the point where you don't know how much time has passed or the last time you moved your body. With that said, this is loosely based on something my partner does for me when I find myself lost in work and forgetting I have a corporeal form.

Dream is working at the Sands of Creation when he hears Hob trudging through the sand. He continues working on his new dream, similar to the seafaring adventurers of old, but now they take to the skies. A dream of excitement, leaving the pale blue dot where almost every human still lives to find a new path. He finishes shaping the dark visor of the orblike helmet, then turns to Hob.

Hob has been waiting patiently for Dream to come to a stopping point for the last ten minutes or so. This is their routine. He knows Dream struggles to switch from one task to another, especially when he is awash in creativity. Dream can find himself focused on perfecting his new dreams and nightmares for days without moving or talking to anyone else or resting. Hob has mentioned that this is “not good” for his mental status, nor for the dreamstuff that comprises his body. So, whenever Hob arrives, Dream knows its time to find a stopping point to check in with his lover.

“Hello, Hob.”

“Hi duck. The new dream looks wonderful. Have you taken a break recently?” Dream shakes his head. “How’s your body feeling? Hurting?”

Dream pauses, slowly focusing on his toes, then his legs, following his checklist up his body until he reaches his head, just like Hob taught him.

“Perhaps we should… lie down.” With a wave of his hand, a cozy beach blanket now lays upon the sand, the bright salmon and white stripes contrasting with the dark tones of the sand. Hob takes his hand and helps him lie down, Dream’s body protesting with stiffness. The two roll to face each other, Hob pulling Dream close to nestle against his chest. He waits for Dream to relax into him as the muscle tension slowly deflates. Dream goes through his mental checklist, actively unclenching each body part that he had forgotten was torqued up in his work.

When he is finally boneless, Dream lifts his arm and drapes it across Hob’s waist. He takes in the sensations around him, each one pouring into his mind and putting him at ease. The warmth of Hob’s body emanates even here in the Dreaming. Dream inhales deeply, taking in Hob’s scent and registering it as safe in his brain. No matter how volcanic his emotions may be, Hob will always be there to wait for him, and hold him, and bring him hot tea and soft blankets. Expanding his awareness further out, Dream feels the smooth texture of the beach blanket beneath them, perfect for lying in the sun. He hears the sounds of the sea, waves lapping at the shore, gentle and peaceful. He closes his eyes and buries his head in Hob’s chest, the rhythmic breathing reminding him why he’s alive.

Dream drifts, approaching as close as the King of Dreams can to sleep. He never realizes how much the rest is needed until Hob breaks him out of his focus.

They lie together, unconcerned about time. Simply enjoying the sensations that roll across their bodies. Hob understands him like no other lover has, accepts his fickle nature and dedication to his work without question, and only tries to help him in the way only he can.

Dream nuzzles closer, planting a kiss directly over Hob’s heart. He knows in the very core of his being, that he is safe and loved.

#dreamling #fluffbruary #my fic #dream x hob #autistic!dream of the endless #its my blorbo and i get to project onto him #aquila writes

[laurikarauchscat]

Beware the fate of the Rat that lives on the street of the Sun...

This was written with pettiness. I had fun being petty. If that is not your vibe, you can give this a skip.

[Please don't judge me too harshly! I was bored, and on a bus, and I cannot help where my brain drew inspiration from 🙏]

Once upon a time

From the darkness and chaos of ages long past, emerged a town in which creativity, above all things, was revered. Houses were erected and dedicated to genres, legends, styles, and histories - each little house a lovingly crafted representation of its owner's tastes.

The citizens of this town were not especially kind, nor patient, nor steadfast. They were human - quite like you or me.

It was not a town governed by a particularly righteous or wise ruler (no, certainly not wise), but the rules of community were strictly enforced. Not by violence, mind you, they were enforced by tokens of admiration, friendship, and solidarity.

And the withholding thereof.

Now, in this little town, there was a quaint little street, inhabited by those who dedicated their creativity to the Sun. Some revered its body, for all its frightful glory. Some considered our beloved star lonely, and contrived to find it an equal to dote upon. Yet others dedicated their creations to those who had been scorched by its unforgiving rays.

Disparate though these various approaches were, it was a peaceful little street. Located in a district that contained within itself an enormous diversity of thought. Disagreement was tolerated. Disrespect was not…

In this little street there lived a lady. This lady dedicated her creations to imagining the future. After all, it was known that the great Sun could not burn forever. So what would take its place? What would inherit its reign?

This lady was not the only citizen on the street of the Sun to take up this pursuit, but she was particularly passionate in her approach. Though she may once have had an audience, her incessant screeching had driven all admirers away: “No! No! No! The rays of the Sun cannot shine silver! Only Gold!” She would scream.

“The future of the Sun is GOLD!”

People avoided her house. Their steps sped up when forced to cross her sidewalk, and they stuffed their fingers in their ears when she approached - for none in town had moved there to be so restricted by another. Despite their best efforts, however, the lady would not be so easily ignored. Soon vandalism became a common crime committed on the street of the Sun. Messages of support, sent with love in paper planes had always been encouraged - but now, bricks were tossed through windows carrying messages of vile hatred: “The rays of the Sun CANNOT be silver!” they would read - alongside wishes of death and misery.

All the neighbors knew who the vandal was. Everyone kept ignoring the angry lady, but you see, art of any form is created with love. The people of the town had not moved there to be so restricted by another, and for many it was galling that a place built for them to feel safe in their creations would be so blighted by arrogance. So some neighbors met bricks with bricks. Others would warn newcomers of potential discomfort.

Animosity grew, and the lady got nowhere in her quest for dominance. So she boiled in her own bitterness, and eventually it consumed her. Striped from her the joys of creation, and left only rage.

One night, all the neighbors were awoken to the sound of a roaring fire! They rushed to their porches and saw, at the end of the street, the vandals house was burning. On the grass, in front of the house, stood a lonely figure. Small, and defeated.

"Look at what you did," She wept bitterly, pointing at her neighbours "look at what you made me do! You would not listen to me. You would not do what I told you to. You stole from me my ideas, my precious creativity!

You made me burn down my own house!"

And then, she was gone.

___🕊🌤☀️___

The street was peaceful, following the lady's departure. Not perfect, mind you - some impressionable minds had watched the chaos unfold and sought to emulate her behaviour - but the neighbors moved on. They kept creating.

People soon came to realize, however, that while the lady might be homeless, she still lingered. The random acts of vandalism soon commenced once more.

"Did she turn into a ghost?" An ashen-silver haired girl asked her father.

"No darling. Ghosts are mysterious. And elegant." He bent down to her level, amber eyes gleaming with love for his only child, "This behaviour is more akin to that of a rat. We know it is there, but we cannot be sure where it lives. We merely hear its scratching every now and then."

"Ew, gross!" The little girl giggled, before becoming complative once more. "Pappa, why did she burn down her own house?"

"It was an act of cowardice, my dear. It is a lot easier to be mean and critical about the creations of others if your own are not subject to scrutiny. "

And so the warning was understood, in the little town, built by those who revered creativity - do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

#Inspired by anon asks I've received this week #Bus brain worm #Ciri is best girl #The tone is dramatic because I am in a dramatic mood.

[why-am-i-here-someone-save-me]

Idk if you accept request like this but….

I bet Kazuha wants to kill heizou rn

Ok let me explain. So I want kazuha when his first banner came… and now i lost 50/50 to qiqi. Ofc I’ll never qiqi (the AUDACITY of some people….) so me being me. I took revenge in the most petty way possible… by making Heizou a dps and taking artifacts that is meant for kazuha to him-

So what happened when [name] lost 50/50? Will they panic and how will they react [name] getting revenge like I do?

If your meaning will I write a drabble about it, sure!

Just Barely Missed

Kazuha had been waiting for the stars to align on his favor again for a long time. So when his constellation was finally alight, he was constantly overwhelmed with anticipation. He’d been looking for a quiet place to rest on the outskirts of the harbor when he caught sight of Bubu Pharmacy’s herb gatherer out hard at work. The terrain was a little precarious, so he’d been keeping an eye on her as she went. Undead or not, he’s not able to watch a child get hurt. Because of him watching over her, he did not notice the shooting stars that were flying through the skies, nor did he notice the golden light that was approaching him. He was far too focused on ensuring Qiqi was safe.

So when the ground below her began to crumble away as she reached up to pick some fresh violetgrass, he had immediately darted over and caught Qiqi before she could fall. The action had unfortunately caused the approaching star to swerve its course slightly, the light coming into contact with the small zombie rather than its intended target.

Kazuha would’ve been mad. He had waited so long for the stars to align in his favor again, only to lose his chance. But as he helped Qiqi gather what they could of the herbs she’d dropped, he found he couldn’t bring himself to resent her. It wasn’t her fault, and besides, there would be another chance eventually! He just had to be patient for now… Sure, loosing this opportunity hurt deeply, but he refused to give up hope so easily!

Though returning to Inazuma only to hear about the young detective’s sudden gain of your favor had definitely stung quite a bit. He remained optimistic however.

Sooner or later, the wind would bring your call to him again, and the next time, he’ll be ready.

#luci writes #luci answers #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin sagau #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin heizou #genshin qiqi #gi qiqi #qiqi genshin impact #moots #mutuals #unknownperson-is-not-known

[dorianbrightmusic]

Saw the tag so wanted to send an ask! Do you want to talk/infodump about the history of antipsychotics and how that relates to ASD because that sounds fascinating.

oh my god i got asked to infodump about my most special of interests. thank you so much, most-definitively-a-human, you have made my day.

Disclaimer: I am not a psychiatrist or mental health professional, and I have no experience of either psychosis or taking psychiatric medication, so I can't promise that the facts are 100% perfect, nor that I have an understanding of what these facts mean in day-to-day life. But the least I can do is try to understand, and hope that someone else finds this interesting, or, better yet, useful.

I cannot be bothered tracking down all my sources again, so if anything in this post is interesting to you, please fact-check it, because I can't promise it's going to be right. This is medical information, so, as this is a rambling tumblr post, please take it with a grain of salt.

Skip to the end for the discussion of how autism, schizophrenia, and the antipsychotics are linked. Most of this is just me infodumping about antipsychotics, since I find them so fascinating for some reason.

Trigger warning: This post discusses medical abuse of people with severe mental illness and neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as the side-effects of psychiatric medication. There is also some discussion of self-harm in autism. As such, tread carefully.

A short(-ish) history of antipsychotics

In 1953, a new medication hit the market. Its name was chlorpromazine, and it belonged to a family of chemicals called the phenothiazines. The phenothiazines contained a lot of very, very revolutionary/historically significant meds – some highlights include methylene blue, an antimalarial that happened to be the first ever fully synthetic medication (which, due to its original purpose being 'fabric dye', had the convenient side effect of making your urine go blue); and phenbenzamine, which was not the first antihistamine ever (that honour goes to piperoxan, which is too toxic to use in humans), but was the first that was safe for use in humans. Phenbenzamine was very, very sedating, and from it, we got another compound, fenethazine. From fenethazine, we then got two derivatives: promethazine, and chlorpromazine.

Promethazine is an antihistamine, and like most old antihistamines, it's very sedating. As such, scientists tested whether promethazine worked for sedating people—and, indeed, it worked as a pretty good sedative. Its younger cousin, chlorpromazine, synthesised in 1950, also was very, very sedating. So, someone gave it to a psychiatric patient who was having a manic episode, and then, something cool happened. That is, the manic patient wasn't manic anymore.

Okay—so, chlorpromazine was sedating in a way that meant it could have some potential for previously difficult-to-treat psychiatric syndromes. (From memory, I'm fairly sure that lithium was around at the time, but frustratingly, not all mania responds to lithium. I don't know whether this patient had been trialled on lithium—all I know is that chlorpromazine worked for him.) So, it was trialled on quite a few psychiatric patients with schizophrenia, and they, too, seemed better.

Now, chlorpromazine, being related to promethazine, had a similar side-effect profile to most old antihistamines. That is, it made you eepy beyond belieepy (i'm sorry). This sedation was also accompanied, rather horrifyingly, by apathy, psychomotor retardation (thinking and moving much slower—I once saw someone online liken it to moving 'through molasses'), and emotional quieting. This triad—not moving, not wanting, and not expressing—was known as neurolepsis, and was originally thought to indicate that the drugs were working well. However, this wasn't necessarily true—in part, that's because schizophrenia spectrum disorders have negative, as well as positive, symptoms, and neurolepsis is basically a combination of actively worsened negative symptoms and physical/mental slowing. So, chlorpromazine made the psychosis better, but also induced neurolepsis, as well as several other side-effects (including but not limited to: reversible Parkinson's-like motor symptoms; orthostatic hypotension, which is when your blood pressure plummets when you stand; and anticholinergic effects, which I'm going to get back to later). Chlorpromazine was wonderful because it meant that finally, patients could deal with psychosis in a way that meant they didn't have to be institutionalised, and because it meant that much, much worse treatments (looking at you, insulin shock therapy) could finally be discarded. Chlorpromazine was awful, because, in addition to its awful side-effects, it wasn't always given consensually, and could be used to abuse and harm patients. Such is still an ongoing problem with antipsychotics—while they have revolutionised psychiatry and allowed many people to live much, much better lives, they've also indubitably been used to harm so many people. This is why it's crucial to have informed consent in psychiatry—and while I don't know how to handle this when a person is going through florid psychosis and is probably very, very scared, we ought to do much better than we are at the moment.

Due to the neurolepsis-inducing side-effect profile, chlorpromazine was deemed a neuroleptic. Most people will use the terms 'neuroleptic' (neurolepsis-inducer) and 'antipsychotic' interchangeably—however, the categories are a venn diagram, not a circle. There are some antipsychotics with only very mild neuroleptic effects (we'll get back to this), and some neuroleptics that aren't antipsychotic—for example, if you've ever the taken over-the-counter antinauseal/migraine relief drug called metoclopramide (Anagraine, Paramax, MigraMax, Metozolv, Reglan, etc), you've taken a neuroleptic. Neuroleptics are dopamine antagonists—that is, they bind to the receptor for dopamine in the brain, which means dopamine can't bind to that receptor, so you can't get the effects of dopamine at that bit. This basically explains neurolepsis as a syndrome, since dopamine is associated with reward pathways and movement; less dopamine in the reward pathways -> emotion blunting, lost motivation; less dopamine in the movement pathway -> i can't fricken' move, can't fricken' move emotionally, Parkinson's-like symptoms (Parkinson's is in part due to a dopamine deficiency in certain movement-related bits of the brain).

The antipsychotics allowed for de-institutionalisation to occur, and also gave rise to the tricyclic antidepressants, as imipramine (the first tricyclic antidepressant) is a chlorpromazine derivative. Fun! Problem was, these older psychiatric drugs tended to have fairly intolerable side-effects. So, the first-generation antipsychotics were by and large very neuroleptic—as such, we needed less neuroleptic antipsychotics for them to be tolerable. This started to happen around the 1990s and onwards, when the second-generation antipsychotics (SGAs)—olanzapine, risperidone, amisulpride, aripiprazole, quetiapine, etc.—started coming out. These SGAs bound to serotonin as well as dopamine receptors, and tended to have fewer motor side-effects than their older counterparts. They came with their own set of extra side-effects, however—some that come to mind are prolactin elevation (sexual side-effects), and appetite increases or decreases (this is not necessarily a bad thing)—but they're generally considered more tolerable, and while they're sedating, they're considered not to induce neurolepsis to the same degree. As such, they're called atypical (where typical means 'cue the neurolepsis and motor symptoms).

The problem with the typical/atypical split, however, is that most atypicals aren't quite as atypical as they're said to be. Every single atypical antipsychotic except for quetiapine and clozapine can still be linked to motor symptoms, and all of 'em can be linked to sedation of some degree. Moreover, one nasty motor side-effect of neuroleptics AND antipsychotics is this thing called tardive dyskinesia—tardive meaning late-onset, dyskinesia meaning unwanted/uncontrolled movements. So, over time, we go from Parkinson's-like symptoms (less movement) to tardive dyskinesia (more, unwanted movements), which is irreversible and sometimes progressive—the only way to deal with it is to switch to another antipsychotic and hope that it doesn't have the same effect, which is great, except if you've otherwise got a nice balance of symptom management and side-effects, that's a horrible curveball. The atypicals are said to cause tardive dyskinesia at much lower rates... except people still get TD on the atypicals. Moreover, most folks who are still taking typical antipsychotics have probably been on them longer than those on the atypicals, since people don't tend to try chlorpromazine first when quetiapine or olanzapine is more likely to do a better job of attenuating psychosis while inducing fewer adverse effects. As such, part of the difference in TD rates may be due to time, since TD develops in the long term. So, most atypicals aren't as atypical as is said.

Moreover, to split more hairs, just as antipsychotics and neuroleptics are a Venn diagram, SGAs and atypicals are also a Venn diagram, rather than a perfect overlap, due to the existence of one pesky compound called clozapine. Clozapine is pesky on several levels. Clozapine is reserved for those who've tried at least two other antipsychotics and found that they didn't fit, and this is because of its side-effects. Clozapine has a small chance of a potentially life-threatening side-effect called agranulocytosis—technically, almost all antipsychotics can cause agranulocytosis, but clozapine is the most likely to do it. If you get regular blood testing, which you will, if you take clozapine, you'll probably be fine. Otherwise, clozapine is the most atypical antipsychotic we have side-effects wise (of course, YMMV for individuals, since the human body doesn't behave according to textbooks), though it still has MANY side-effects, and it's also more likely than the others to be very effective for attenuating psychosis. (I say 'likely' because everyone's brain chemistry is different, so saying 'this drug is better than this drug' just isn't true, because different compounds work differently for different people. Some people will benefit nicely from haloperidol or perphenazine, others from ariprazole, and others will benefit most from taking mood stabilisers, instead of antipsychotics.) Clozapine is also a somewhat old antipsychotic, having been first put onto the market in 1972. But it tends to get lumped in with the SGAs simply because it's so atypical, which leads me back to the point: most atypicals aren't 100% atypical, and drug categorisation in psychiatry is confusing.

One other side-effect that antipsychotics tend to have is that they're usually very anticholinergic. Anticholinergic drugs reduce levels of a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine, which is very important for memory, movement, and so, so much more. However, the reason I mention memory is that most antipsychotics are contraindicated (recommended against) in those with dementia-related psychosis, primarily since depleting memory chemicals is the last thing you wanna do in someone with a major neurocognitive disorder. This is also why we need to be careful prescribing anticholinergics in those over 65. For the record: most severe mental illnesses tend to have some degree of neurodegenerative effect, which is why medication is so, so important, as it prevents that illness-related neurodegeneration: as such, taking an antipsychotic will prevent schizophrenia/bipolar/major depression-related cognitive decline and worsened illness, but may also have some subtle cognitive effects that probably balance out with those of the illness. It's something to monitor over time, but not something to be scared of.

I've harped on a lot about SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS, so this is a reminder—if the name of a certain medication has been brought up here as associated with a side-effect, that doesn't mean the medication is necessarily bad. Antipsychotics have done a lot of good for many people, and so long as they are prescribed consensually, they will continue to be invaluable.

Also: not everyone who takes an antipsychotic has psychosis, and not every with psychosis takes antipsychotics. Medications don't necessarily indicate what illness someone has—they just help with symptoms, and antipsychotics can help with a heckuva lotta symptoms when used well.

Okay, great. How does this relate to autism, aside from that being proof that you, the author, meet criterion B3 for ASD?

We're almost there.

Several early theories of autism conceptualised it as a pervasive, childhood-onset form of schizophrenia ('childhood schizophrenia' and 'autism' have historically been used synonymously at times). Notably, several of the negative symptoms of schizophrenia spectrum disorders can be considered similar to the executive and social symptoms of autism—autism has its own positive set of symptoms, and schizophrenia its own positive symptoms, but there's an overlap between negative symptoms of the two. Autism was originally the name Eugene Bleuler gave to the way schizophrenic patients tended to withdraw into a fantasy world of their own—that is, withdrawing into an inaccessible inner world, rather than reality. While schizophrenic autism isn't nearly as relevant a clinical concept anymore, it's kinda funny how the two diagnoses diverged from that point.

It's also worth noting that schizophrenia spectrum disorders are probably neurodevelopmental, and both schizophrenia-spec disorders and autism feature enlarged ventricles in the brain. But correlation is not causation—this commonality may not mean anything. In schizospec disorders, ventricle enlargement tends to link to greater untreated duration of illness (as a visible sign of neurodegeneration), while in autism, I think it's just there. Not sure on that one, though. Not all people with ASD or schizospec disorders necessarily have enlarged ventricles, either—it's just a thing that seems worth noting.

Further, the predominant theory of how schizophrenia spectrum disorders work is that there is dopamine dysregulation—that is, some bits of the brain are getting too much, causing positive symptoms, and others are not getting enough, causing negative symptoms. Either that, or dopamine metabolism isn't working properly. We largely figured out that dopamine is probably involved in schizospec disorders by working backwards from the mechanism of action of the antipsychotics: that is, neuroleptics suppress dopamine, and dopamine suppression makes psychosis less bad—therefore, dopamine is involved in psychosis. But it's likely more complex than that, in part because not all people with schizospec disorders will respond to antidopaminergic drugs, and in part because SGAs are generally more likely to be effective than first-gen antipsychotics, and SGAs target more than just dopamine. One other theory posits that NMDA, which is a subtype of the neurotransmitter called glutamate, may also be involved. I'm not going to try to explain it here, since I don't know enough about the NMDA theory to be able to coherently string together a sentence about it. But, keep reading.

We don't entirely understand the mechanism behind autism. It probably involves synaptic pruning to some extent. It may also involve having an overactive brain, in part due to lack of pruning meaning that there is no brain highway so much as a network of ratruns that get clogged up very easily, and in part because GABA, the main inhibitory neurotransmitter we have, isn't doing something right. I think it's interesting that NMDA, a form of glutamate, might have links to psychosis, and that autism also probably involves something weird with glutamate, but I also don't know enough to say whether this is just a weird coincidence or if it's actually relevant. Nevertheless, even if it is a coincidence, I do find it funny to note these commonalities considering the historical links between the diagnoses.

It's also notable that autistic people experience psychosis at higher rates than allistic folks—I'm pretty sure schizospec disorder rates are also elevated among autistic folks—and I'm semi-sure autism is also more common in those with schizospec disorders than in those without.

Okay, now to where the meds come in.

Autism can cause varying levels of disability, ranging from those who need relatively little support to those who need full-time care. Often, higher support needs (HSN) autistics tend to have more dramatic self-injurious behaviours, and may struggle more with controlling aggression, with eloping, and other behaviours that are harmful to both themselves and others.

And I'm less-than-comfortable with how modern psychiatry has chosen to deal with this.

The only drug that's approved for treating these behaviours in ASD is risperidone, a second-gen antipsychotic. Some people will find that risperidone works really well for their psychosis—it's an effective drug! —but when it's used in ASD, it's not there to treat psychosis, usually, but to treat aggression, self-injury, and such.

Thing is, the use of risperidone for this purpose is basically an attempt to sedate the autistic child into not doing these things. I'm a low support needs (LSN) autistic who's never taken psychiatric medication, so it's not really my place to judge this as a tactic. I understand that things that some of us initially flinch at, such as putting HSN autistic children on leashes, is the right thing to do if the child is likely to elope, and I understand that if a child is going to hurt themself badly, they need help. But on the other hand, I have reservations since antipsychotics have been used unethically through history, and continue to be used unethically in certain situations. In some cases, antipsychotics may be helpful for autistic children, and I don't know enough to comment, but it's also profoundly uncomfortable to contemplate the fact that certain medications that are infamous for having horrible side-effects are being used on people who may not be able to provide informed consent. It's an ethical conundrum, since if it is the best way to prevent harm, then it's important that we don't flinch on instinct, but I also really, really hope that the HSN autistic people's needs and comfort are being taken into consideration in these circumstances, since both historically and today, HSN autistic people have been treated as subhuman in so, so many circumstances.

#infodump concluded. yikes. #hope the medical bit was as fascinating to some of y'all as it is to me #and that the information is as accurate as possible #i think i've kinda fixated on the worst bits about antipsychotics here. so i just wanna say: #if you've read this and you're on/considering taking an antipsychotic but this post has scared you #please don't worry. this is a raw text post. i promise you you're gonna be okay.

[ljf613]

A Better Version of Our Best → a playlist for my HTTYD fic of the same name (Note that all chapter titles, along with the fic title itself, come from the first three songs on this list.)

i. a better version of our best from your starting line; we will learn from each other, as you grow up, we will too ii. show me who i am and who i could be, initiate the heart within me iii. our ceiling is your floor, and all you gotta do, is put one foot in front of you iv. in the spring, we made a boat, out of feathers, out of bones v. i'm sending a raven, with blood on its wings vi. tell my father, that he always said it best: "you must live within your head, and not within your chest" vii. i found a friend or should i say foe, said there's a few things you should know viii. it was a flood that wrecked this home, and you caused it ix. 'cause they took your loved ones, but returned them in exchange for you x. can anybody hear me, or am i talking to myself? my mind is running empty, in this search for someone else xi. i think i’ll be gone away awhile, tell me all the things that i, i’ll be missing here in this old life xii. they say that all scars will heal, but i know, maybe i won't, but the waves won't break my boat xiii. and if i couldn't fix it, i guess, well now you're better off alone; when you drown, i'll drown xiv. and the words i most regret are the ones i never meant to leave unsaid xv. so watch the world tear us apart, a stoic mind and a bleeding heart, you never see my bleeding heart xvi. there's a chip on your shoulder, girl, and by G-d it'll make you fall, if you let it take a part of your soul xvii. my eyes are shut but i can see the void between you and me, mm, and i feel, and i feel like i'm going insane xviii. my navigation systems would search for other life, but i'd be up here thinking 'bout what i left behind xix. no scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey xx. how am i gonna get myself back home? i, i, i'm lost xxi. there is a swelling storm, and I'm caught up in the middle of it all xxii. some days i wonder if my airway is clogged with all the quotes that i wrote xxiii. keep it in your heart, it's buried deep within your bones, don't you come home, or i will never let you go xxiv. it's easier to wait, here beside the son that we both raised xxv. and there's no way to tell if we will drown tonight or we'll be found tonight xxvi. you've got the words to change a nation but you're biting your tongue xxvii. if you don’t even believe in you, why would you think or expect anybody else that’s around you to? xxviii. and i wish that i could say this all to your face xxix. and though your arms and legs are under, love will be the echo in your ears xxx. and what they hear isn't laughter after all, it's just your voice learning for once to stand up tall xxxi. so, my father and my son, as you end what she's begun, you'll lie patient by her side xxxii. on my way now, don't give up on me, and no one knows what, what tomorrow brings xxxiii. a place where even if there's no closure, i'm still safe xxxiv. i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes xxxv. i love you, i loved you all along, and I miss you, been far away for far too long xxxvi. you were always coming home, yeah, you were always close, like you were never gone

Art by @yv-sketches.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #playlist #a better version of our best #music #song lyrics #shameless self plug #my edits #trying a new style #do we like it? #sleeping at last #jacob lee

[girlfailxoxo]

Prompt: Dark @wolfstarmicrofic

A week; for a week Remus grinded his teeth and looked anywhere but at Severus Snape. He had had all of summer to think about starting sixth year, about the moon and the wolf, about the close call, about Sirius. He still didn't know what to do or how to feel. So he just set his jaw and ignored the cackles of the Slytherin table and followed his friends out. What he couldn't ignore was Snape shoving past Sirius and getting away with it, Sirius putting his head down and moving aside, that was not his Sirius. Yet Peter had gripped his hand and started squeaking.

Instead he took the map, James' cloak and headed down.

"Expelliarmus." Remus caught the wand swiftly. "Flipendo."

" You beast!" Snape snarled and struggled against the bonds, yelling at and threatening Remus. Remus simply pocketed everything safely and securely and finally made his way to Snape.

" I'll tell Dumbledore! I'll tell the whole world, you fucking-"

Remus shook out his left hand, he knew better than to harm his wand hand, he pointed his wand under Snape's chin and stared him down.

" How do you think you are?" He dug his wand into Snape's throat, the other wisely decided against speaking. " I have been very patient, Severus. I never targeted you or singled you out, you should count yourself lucky, you know very well what I can come up with. And yet, you keep coming at me like a stupid little roach that I have to keep throwing out. I'm done now, the next time I'm going to pin it down and watch its guts stain the floor. Nothing a polishing potion can't remove, right Sev?"

Snape sneered and held eye contact, he had no idea how much wrath and hatred Remus had pumping through his viens, nor the aggression held in his bones. He didn't know Remus willingly opened his mind to the Legilimency, just to engulf him in the poisonous and grim side of his mind where all he saw was the ways Remus could hurt him.

Snape gasped and pulled back, hitting his head against the brick wall and groaning. Remus didn't try hiding his smile.

" You're not special, Severus. You're just another mudblood to them and just another pawn to Dumbledore. Oh, save me the sneer."

"I'm nothing like you lot." Snape spat out. " You don't know what the fuck you're doing, Lupin."

" That's where you're wrong and that's going to get you killed. You're not smarter than everyone else nor are you more powerful, all you have are your rusty cauldrons and a hatred for your father."

" What're you going to do? Nothing. You're a coward, now let me go and I won't convince them to give you the Dementor's kiss. Maybe fairy Black could even visit the Beast in the cage."

Snape's body hit the floor and Remus followed. His hands were around his throat while he slowly squeezed and Snape desperately chocked out hexes and charms, all of them useless without his wand, and scratched Remus' arms.

" I will tear you from limb to limb. I can choke you just to wake you up to a body with a hundred broken bones. I will rip your rotten heart out with my teeth and leave your body for the rats. You are nothing. If you come close to me or my friends I will kill you."

Remus stood up, smoothed down his uniform, made sure Snape would only be found the next morning with a markless neck and left. Back in his dorm he put away the map and cloak, and crawled into Sirius' bed.

" I leave for a second and you steal my favourite sweater?"

Sirius' snuggled into Remus' chest and mumbled back, " so don't leave."

#Remus is babygirl #anti snape #snape is a little bitch #sirius black loml #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #remus is an aggresive and clever menace but has a very calm exterior except when you insult his loved ones #like the only time he yelled was because harry claimed james would be disappointed in him #sir? that was his bff so bfr the one night stand child doesnt matter when the only love of his life is dead #my work