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purplesurveys · 4 days

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1865

New tats in your near future? Unless it's a medical necessity, I intend to keep needles as far away from my skin as much as possible haha.

How about piercings or re-piercings? Nope.

Are there any rooms in your house that you don’t go into every day? I certainly don't go up the rooftop these days because this summer season has been the WORST out of my 26 years of existence and because this 45ºC weather can actually fucking kill.

Who else do you know who has the same favorite color as you do? My sister also likes purple.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to? I don't have tattoos.

Have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated? No.

Do you have any relatives with red hair? No, not even dyed red hair.

What is tomorrow’s weather forecasted to be like? 43ºC, so we'll be miserable as usual.

Have you ever known anyone who committed suicide? Yes.

What’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt? Stomach cramps that came with a particularly bad episode of food poisoning; my hair being bleached; leg cramps that were bad enough to wake me up crying without realizing I've started crying; that brief exact moment I sprained my ankle on my 24th birthday.

What’s your favorite kind of pasta? Fettuccine is sooooo satisfying to eat.

Would you rather a friend come over to your house or you go over there? Me coming over to their place. There's so much pressure that comes with entertaining guests lol like you want to make sure they're not too feeling hot because the last thing you want to see is them sweating, that there's more than enough food to serve, that the house smells nice, that they have indoor slippers so their socks don't get dirty, that you have enough activities to choose from in case they want to do something fun...it's great once you're in the moment but stressful during the prepping period haha. Maybe it's just the Filipino hospitality in me.

Have you ever had rabies? Nope. I did need to take anti-rabies shots before when my dog bit me.

Do you know anyone who ever had to get a rabies shot? Meeeeeeeeee. A few other people as well, yeah.

Ever eaten deer? Duck? Squirrel? How about lamb? I've had duck and lamb.

What is your favorite parody movie? I remember enjoying This Is Spinal Tap. Johnny English is another one.

What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? Anything with nuts. Rocky Road and Double Dutch is a no-no.

Does your car have heated seats? We have no use for that feature.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? Nah.

Would you rather travel to Ireland or Japan? Ireland.

Does tickling turn you on? Nope.

If you could go over to someone’s house right now, whose and why? If I absolutely had to, just Angela's. They're practically my second family + I can always accompany her while she's reviewing for boards.

What is the age gap between you and your parents? 27 years.

How many bathrooms does your house have? Is this enough? Two. Yes.

Have you ever video-chatted with someone you met online? Yes, video calls with Carley was routine when I was in high school. I never talked out of shyness and was just happy to nod and laugh to her stories, but she seemed more than okay with that which was very sweet in retrospect.

Do you collect anything, or have you ever? I used to collect Beyonce everything, then it turned to collecting One Direction everything, then now it's BTS everything.

When was the last time you used Facebook? 1 hour ago.

How many siblings does your best friend have? She's an only child.

Have you ever dated someone who was emotionally or mentally unstable? Yes.

Be honest: are you clingy? I used to be but not anymore. I loooooooooooove my space.

Have you ever had bronchitis? Nope.

Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? No.

Are you afraid of the dentist? No. I've only ever had positive experiences at the dentist and all of the ones I've been to have had super super light hands.

Did you attend Sunday School as a child? Thank fuck I was never made to attend.

Who was the last person you cuddled with? Uhm my ex, a lifetime ago.

How would you feel if your significant other (or possible partner) told you they dislike having sex, but do so with you to make you happy, even though they personally think it’s a chore? This is the case with me actually. Sex is fun for me but historically it had been a struggle to get my drive up. The incompatibility with my past partner definitely could've been one of the reasons it didn't work out.

Your boyfriend/girlfriend isn’t around but their phone is. Do you look through it? I used to before but only to mess around. I never had any malicious or sneaky intent. Like genuinely all I wanted to do was drop a playful tweet on their Twitter account or to play a game that they had LOL. Never had the desire to look through messages or anything more private.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? Nope.

Have you ever liked anyone that was in a relationship with someone else? No.

Do people ever compliment your eyes? Not my eyes but my eyelashes, since they're long.

Have any of your exes ever given you roses? Yeah.

Do you think your last ex ever thinks about you? No.

Would you rather have salad or french fries for a side dish? Fries.

Which one of your relationships was the shortest? I've only been in one relationship, so that technically counts as both the shortest and longest by default.

Which was the longest? ^ That.

Have any of your exes told you they regret breaking up with you? No, she seemed very happy with their decision as she stopped talking to me as soon as we had our final conversation. She was happy, 100%.

That fucked with me mentally for a very long time, still does from time to time like a random slap in the face; but I've stopped fixating on it. My mind is stronger now and I'm in a much happier place myself, have been for a very long time.

Would you feel hurt if your last ex is in a relationship? No.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon? I don't think so.

Do you like BBQ sauce? I love barbecue sauce holy shit. Especially on my pizza.

What do you like to do when you’re home alone? Whatever I like to do even when there's people haha. It doesn't change.

Should the guy always pay for the date? No, eugh.

What kind of music calms you down? Depends on my mood.

Do you know anyone who has autism? I don't think so.

What is your favorite way to eat eggs? I love most ways tbh EXCEPT fried. I hate when the edges are all crisp and burnt it feels like eating paper lol.

Do you like Frozen? No, I was always on Team Tangled.

Who is one of your heroes? I don't have any.

Do you enjoy hot chocolate? There's only one kind I look for, which I get from La Creperie.

Do you use Instagram often? Everyday.

If you got a kitten, what would you name it? Hard to tell, it'd depend on their personality.

Do you have a Pinterest account? Nope. I use it for work when I need pegs and such, but only use a guest account.

Do you prefer a quiet or noisy environment? Again, it depends. Am I on a dinner out with friends? It'd be great if it's somewhere noisy so it can help drive up my social battery. Am I on a tight deadline with a press release needed in 30 minutes? Absolutely need all the quiet I can get.

What is one question you don’t like being asked? First world stuff. I don't have a last thing I bought from Walmart, and no I haven't been to any states because I have a shitty third world passport that requires me to get a visa to travel 70% of the world lol.

Who is someone you know who is talkative? Yes. I'm in the PR industry. Everybody is talkative, including myself LOL.

When was the last time you saw one of your uncles? At lunch today.

Do you know anyone who plays the violin? I have a very distant cousin who does. An orgmate does too. I think Hannah or Michelle? I'm blanking out on who it actually is.

Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? I share the same appreciation for food as my dad.

Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? The one for my Twitter. Yes, I recycle it quite a lot.

Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? Yes. I LOVE getting into black holes like that haha.

If someone told you that we live in a society that hates women, how would you respond? I'd ask them how they feel about it so I would know how to treat and deal with them going forward. A test question, essentially lol.

Can you remember the last thing you thought and subsequently thought, “wow, I really shouldn’t be thinking that”? Yes. But it will stay in my head, sorry haha.

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hawkdisaster · 4 months

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It's one of those nights...

Just a brief and cute moment between the metacrisis Doctor, Rose Tyler and their daughter in the Tardis. Characters : Metacrisis Doctor & Rose Tyler

It's one of those nights when you just can't seem to get to sleep. One of those nights when you wander aimlessly through the rooms and corridors of the Tardis, hoping to exhaust yourself enough to return to your room for a few hours rest. One of those nights when you find a certain appeasement in wandering aimlessly. You're used to it. In the control room, all is calm. A calm disturbed only by that deep, steady sound you've always associated with the heartbeat of the Tardis. So, just for a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself be lulled by the breathing of your most faithful companion. Then you snap your fingers, and the Tardis doors open by themselves.

For humans, Space is absolute silence. Which is, of course, completely untrue: the Sun, the Moon, the planets, even the stars... Every celestial body has its own music, and the Universe is a permanent symphony. Carefully, you sit cross-legged on the ground and let your gaze wander over the vision before you. You can imagine the Tardis floating, almost lazily, in the immensity of space, at a cautious distance from a supernova. The death of a star. A magnificent spectacle, inevitable on the scale of an entire galaxy, and yet as exceptional as ever. A spectacle you've witnessed hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, and you never get tired of it. The death of a star. Too heavy to bear its own weight, the star's core contracts in on itself before exploding, releasing into the surrounding space a multitude of protons and neutrons capable of giving birth to other stars. Even black holes. The death of a star. Both an end and a beginning.

Yet you look away from this dying star, anonymous among the anonymous and far too isolated in this little corner of the galaxy to ever have been given a name, to lower your eyes to the soundly sleeping baby resting in your arms. You can reach any period in History with the push of a few buttons, access the furthest reaches of the cosmos with the pull of a lever... and yet, it's in your arms that lies the most fantastic of wonders. A tender smile, the kind you offer only to Rose, curves your lips as you contemplate the peaceful face of Mia Tyler-Smith. Your daughter. As you once confessed to Rose in a conversation during the 2012 London Olympics, without going into details, you were once a father. Centuries ago, before war and destruction took your children away. Now, thanks to Mia, you can experience that joy again.

- There you are...

Rose has just entered the control room, wrapped in a shawl given by Jackie on her last birthday, her hair a mess and her features drawn by fatigue. And yet, her smile alone could ignite the stars as she comes to settle in beside you.

- I'm sorry, did I wake you ? Mia didn't seem to want to sleep and I figured walking around a bit would be enough to calm her down.

- It's okay, I didn't hear her. It was your absence that woke me from sleep and I was sure I'd find you here...

You'd like to answer, but the only response Rose gets is a babble coming from your little girl, gradually waking up in your arms. And Rose starts to laugh, moved. And your smile gets even bigger. You love them so much. All those years spent battling Daleks, Cyberman, false devils and other monsters - despite being the result of meta-crisis cloning, you're way too aware that all those battles were won by the real Doctor and not by you - to end up here : in the Tardis, gazing out at the galaxy in the company of your family.

- I've never been so happy in all my life...

The words pass the barrier of your lips without you even thinking of holding them back. Why should you, when it's the pure truth ? You don't need to run from one end of the Universe to the other now, you can catch your breath. Now you can enjoy the one adventure you thought you'd never have... Rose's head rests on your shoulder, her hand finding yours.

- Me too...

#yeah i'm also gonna post my fics here #metacrisis doctor #rose tyler #doctor who fanfics #doctor who #my post

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

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ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

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Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

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After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

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Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

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#grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 142

Another late chapter... I’m really batting a thousand lately, seems like.

So, work has been insane, but @baelpenrose reminds me to post when I forget, thankfully. And this is SUCH a fun chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

I dropped into a seat in Mess Hall Seven with a groan, so exhausted that I barely managed to get soup and a grilled cheese from the console. Tyche yawned and nodded in agreement before poking at her sushi bowl idly. It was six Von-days after the last drill, and between coordinating increased training schedules for Shelters Three and Seven and helping Charly plan kink-night at the Undine, we were wiped.

“People are ungrateful,” she muttered before managing to barely balance a piece of salmon into her mouth.

I muttered something that hopefully sounded like agreement before I scooped up a bite of my soup with one wedge of sandwich, too lazy to even bother with the spoon. “Remind me why we don’t have Vati and Hannah handling the practice schedules?”

“Because they are handling the extra evacuation drills with Jokul and Arthur.”

Personally, I thought they were getting the better end of this deal, but since the raging success of their first Food Festival, it really was only fair. “And the relocations for those who need it,” I admitted. “Except mine.”

“Conor may actually strangle one of them if any of your plants don’t make it,” she pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis after having given up and using her fingers to eat her lunch. “Not to mention I wouldn’t wish packing with Maverick on anyone.”

“He’s letting me pack the books and textiles.” I shrugged in acceptance after taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.

We picked at our food in silence after that, grateful for something resembling a reprieve, before we were interrupted by a flurry of grey hair and enthusiasm landing in one of the nearby chairs with a heavy thunk. “Good afternoon, Madams Reid.”

“Hey, Jokul,” I muttered as Tyche just waggled her fingers at him. I really think I liked it better when he was trying to kill me. Right now, I might even let him do it.

“I know you are both on your meal period, but I wanted to test the waters on potentially scheduling a community activity,” he rushed out.

Tyche guarded her lunch with an almost feral aggression, having heard what happened the last time Jokul had interrupted my lunch. “That should really be something you run by Al-”

“Worthington, yes, I know,” he interrupted. “However, I know you are both quite busy and I wanted to be respectful of your time. As such, I will make this as brief as - ow!” He snatched his hand back away from the other half of my sandwich, rubbing where I had slammed my spoon down onto it.

“I have no idea where the food stealing comes from, but don’t,” I warned him.

“Rude, got it,” he nodded in a terrifying impression of Charly’s normal demeanor. “As I was saying, I recently learned a new type of game from Terra, from the Before. It involves teamwork, and encourages creativity and escapism, and I think it would be a very good community activity - “

I surrendered to my urge to groan. “We are not doing a redux of Settlers of Cattan. Arthur stabbed someone last time.”

“I didn’t press charges…” Jokul pouted, glancing at the scar on the back of his wrist briefly. “Besides, it was only a fork. Clearly he didn’t mean it, there were four knives in arms reach counting my own.”

Tyche cocked an eyebrow at me. Seriously?

I pursed my lips and wrinkled my nose in response. Yep.

“So what game is it this time?” I asked hesitantly.

I was reward-bombarded with a grin. “It’s called Dungeons and Dragons! Somewhat like a video game, but with more people, and using writing implements and paper. Oh, and different kinds of dice, very important. One person is something of the narrator, to give the game a kind of structure, while the other players act as characters in the game… Ivan introduced me to it, and it is quite challenging with the right people. The dungeon master - that is the narrator - has to re-evaluate the story based on the actions of the other players, but the players themselves don’t know what the dungeon master is going to do. It is very much a social diversion, and there are many classes….”

As Jokul continued to gush, he was rather oblivious to the fact that Tyche and I were stuffing our faces as quickly as possible to avoid interrupting him or laughing. We had both played when we were younger - in fact, we had been introduced to the game by our mother. There had even been a very overwhelming pop-culture movement in our youth around the game, which further emphasized just how far out in the boonies Jokul had grown up. As shocking as it was that he was just now discovering the game, it came at exactly zero surprise that he enjoyed it so much - it was right up his alley of interests.

About fifteen minutes and two more grilled cheeses into his retelling of the campaign he was part of, Charly and Arthur squeezed in with us, their own lunches in tow. As seemed to be a growing trend, Arthur reached over and snagged one of my sandwiches before I could react, shoving half of it in his face.

That was apparently enough to snap Jokul out of his story. “Hey! Why didn’t you hit him?”

“His deathwish, not my problem,” I shrugged.

Around the remains of my lunch, Arthur managed to enunciate. “Told you, Noah fissed the dairy allergy.”

“Bleargh,” I gagged comically. “It’s okay, think I’m done anyway.”

Jokul’s hand swatted Arthur’s out of the way to steal the rest of my food. “As I was saying, Ivan was quite clever with his resolution to deal subdural damage to the player who was very much ruining the storyline by insisting his character was immune to magical sleep…”

“Oooooo! I love tabletops!” Charly squealed, bouncing in her seat. “What setting are you playing in right now? My favorite was always Exalted…”

“Miss Harper, I think we are discussing different activities.” Jokul sounded supremely confused, but my heart broke a bit.

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe not Exalted, but what about Ebberron? Swordhaven, maybe? Just tell me it isn’t Ravenloft… I know you haven’t been fucking around in a Dark Sun, but I beg you to tell me you aren’t playing Ravenloft.”

“I’m not sure what those are… Ivan introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons. There is only one setting.”

“So… Greyhawk or homebrew,” Arthur nodded. “Best place to start, get the basics down.”

Jokul’s head pivoted toward me and Tyche, squinting in annoyance. “You knew, didn’t you? And you let me prattle on…”

“You were so… happy….” I explained plaintively. “We didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Tyche nodded. “We both remember how fun that first campaign is. And honestly? We’ve been having a kind of crappy day. It was nice to hear someone be excited about something that isn’t work related.”

“But I came to you to discuss making it a ship activity…”

“Originally, yeah,” I shrugged. “That was maybe the first thirty seconds. After that, you were doing what literally every tabletop roleplaying person has done since the beginning of time… telling stories about the fun, dramatic, and frankly stupid shit the people in your party are doing.”

“Says the two-foot eight halfling rogue,” Arthur scowled.

“I rolled it at random, it was fifteen years ago, get over it!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “At least I wasn’t mated to a frickin’ deity.”

Charly giggled uncontrollably while Jokul goggled at us. “Exalted is broken in all the fun ways.”

“You literally sacrificed, and I quote ‘all of your fucks to give’, for necromancy.”

“That was your idea!”

Jokul turned toward Tyche, waiting for her to say something. She just held up her hands defensively. “I was a murder monk-bunny.”

Arthur snorted. “You were the Black Rabbit of Inle….”

“Well if my wife would have just stopped dying…!”

“At least none of us were the Platinum Knight who pissed his pants every time he confronted his favored enemy,” I laughed. “He never did live that one down. Every. Single. Dragon. He would crit fail his roles.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur intoned drily. “Did I ever tell you about the time one of my players managed to make ‘Notice me, Senpai’ into the most terrifying in-universe warcry imaginable?”

Charly choked before swatting his shoulder. “Not in front of my pasta. Please.”

Jokul, however, looked both horrified and intrigued, egging Arthur on. “Barbarian whose entire clan worshipped a god named The Senpai…. Just imagine, a barbarian in a rage, bellowing ‘NOTICE ME, SENPAI!!!’ before just scything down thirty men with a broadsword.”

At this point, I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. “Please, please tell me there was a kilt and pigtails involved….”

Jokul touched his own hair, before straightening as seriously as possible. “They are warrior’s braids, Councillor.”

That was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just put my head down on my folded arms and waiting to either pass out from laughing so hard or from exhaustion. A few deep breaths and a spinning head later, I managed to wipe my face on my sleeve and realized the conversation was continuing without me. Just as I was clearing my throat to let Jokul know he should be fine to start organizing something and to send me a rough outline, Arthur dealt the final blow.

Leaning over, he whispered over my shoulder. “By the way, the barbarian’s name was Drystan of the Doki-doki tribe.”

I was proud that I managed to get up and dash into the hallway before collapsing against the wall in maniacal laughter. I barely registered Hannah’s voice behind me asking everyone at the table if I needed medical assistance, and that did not help.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

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

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months. Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.”

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically, and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst

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nicka-nell · 3 years

Text

Prompt Event

Request: @coffeehashirac - Congrats on your 500! 🥳 You're wonderful, amazing writer and deserve all of it and even more 🖤 May I request Kuroo + college!au + slight angst --> fluff (if we may have botn, if not - fluff) + 34+51+76?

Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader - college!AU Words: 2.730 Warning: mention of abortion, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff Note: All characters are grown-up!

Prompts: 34. I’m pregnant. 51. We’ll get through this, I promise. 76. When were you going to tell me?

Thoughtfully you swivel your plastic cup before drinking a sip of the cold orange juice, the ice cubes touching your lips, before you take it down again and look into the crowd in front of you.

The music is loud in your ears, all people are dancing, celebrating something that probably has no meaning, because as long as you can drink alcohol, there is always something you can celebrate. Even if it’s a bad grade in a school subject.

With a sigh you press your head against the wall behind you, wondering why you are here when a well-known rooster head comes towards you.

“Kitten, why do you look like you’re falling over bored? The mood is good here.” The typical smirk never leaves his face when he leans against the wall next to you and shoves an alcoholic drink in your hand.

Would he still smile like that if you told him what you found out a week ago? “Nah… Sorry, I’m not in the mood, and I don’t feel like drinking.” Through the loud music, you have to bend over to him, shout at him loudly, what you have to say.

Questioning, he looks at you, lowers his head to the side and looks at the plastic cup that you did not take from him. Your gaze is not with him for a long time, is already somewhere in the nothing.

He’d like to know what’s going on with you, why you’ve distanced yourself from him since your last party. He can’t remember doing or saying something wrong, but the fact is that you’re avoiding him, preventing his hugs, and actually only talking to him via messenger.

Just as he wants to open his mouth, reach for your wrist, you dodge him and gulp your orange juice with a sip. “You know, I’m going to my room, I’m not feeling well. I’ll see you on campus tomorrow. Bye old cat.” You just shout through the music and give him a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

The only thing left is Kuroo, who looks at you perplexed, doesn’t understand why you dump him here. Frowning, he too, swallows the two drinks in his hand. The one that was meant for you and his own, before he runs after you.

He sneaks quietly through the girls' hallways, making sure he doesn’t get caught until he gets to your door. With a sprint he jumps forward as he sees that you are just about to close the door, to still rush into your room.

“Tetsurou!” You shut frightened at him, when the loud banging of the door is heard, as he pushes himself into the room and closes the door behind him.

“Can you fucking tell me what’s wrong with you? I feel like I have to fight for your attention, but you just ignore me! So tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, or just break up with me, but don’t fucking ignore me!”

His voice is like a sharp knife in your heart, his words tie everything together in you, let you fall silent and fear the worst. You notice how a warm liquid forms in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.” It just comes out of you broken. Kuroo is torn back and forth, he hates to see you like this, when your wonderful eyes are covered by this salty liquid and begin to shimmer from grief.

But what’s he gonna do? Hug you so you can push him away again? He understood that you don’t want him with you right now, but he still doesn’t know why.

“Tell me why and I’ll go. Tell me why you’re ignoring me, and I’ll leave you alone, write no more, don’t talk to you anymore.” Unlike before, his words are calm as he slowly tries to take a step on you in the hope of finally catching you back into his arms.

But just before he stands in front of you, you turn around, look away from him and put your arms around your own body.

With a clicking tongue, he tries to suppress his growing anger, before his gaze drifts off your body and wanders through your room. Maybe he’ll find a reason here, another man, maybe a woman or something else.

But he only finds a few of your roommate’s things, a few bottles of water and a few clothes and books lying on the floor until his gaze stops on a small picture which blinks out a little under your pillow.

Without a word, he walks past you to your bed to get the picture. Something black and white with your name on it. Below is a number, a period, the fifth week.

Unbelievably, Kuroo turns to you, does not stare away from the picture, while his murmuring words leave him. “Y/n… What is that?”

You notice how your blood freezes, how you see your world breaking in front of you and are afraid of the coming argument. “I’m pregnant.” You sob, barely understandable.

“What?” Kuroo also whispers implausibly, while he lifts his gaze again, looking at you with an expression that is not readable to you. But even if you can’t read his mind, you know he’s not pleased with this news.

Your tears grow bigger, quickly start to run down your cheeks and are almost heard through the silence of the room as they damp the carpet under you and are sucked in by it. Now you’re sure you lost him.

“When were you going to tell me? Did you want to keep your pregnancy to yourself? Didn’t you even think it’s necessary to inform me that I was going to be a father?” Kuroo’s voice is quiet, unusually still, unusually serious, while the picture in his hands begins to tremble through his shaking hands.

For a brief moment you have the feeling that he might rejoice, that his hands tremble with delight, that his eyes look at you like that because he can’t believe it.

“I’m sorry Tetsurou.” You stutter softly, and hope that he understands you, that he is not mad at you, but his next words let you fall silent.

“Fifth week, that’s good, right? When was that? Means you can still have an abortion, right? Or have you already had an abortion?” His lips form these terrible words, which are like hundreds of stabs in your heart.

Kuroo knows you could never abort a child. You don’t want that at all, after all, it is your own flesh and blood that grows up in you. “How can you say that, Kuroo?” You ask him in a trembling voice, this time not in fear, but in anger.

“How can I say that? Damn, Y/n I don’t want kids yet! I don’t even know if you and I have a serious relationship! I don’t want to be a father so soon, that’s not only your fucking decision!” He yells everything in rage, can’t even deal with what he’s saying right now.

“Go! Get out of here, Kuroo! Get out of here and dare to come here again!” You interrupt him with a calm voice, which has an unbelievably angry undertone and makes Kuroo’s eyes grow.

“I’m sor-” He tries to apologize, but you interrupt him loudly and point with your finger at the door. “Go Kuroo!”

Kuroo knows it’s better to go, that if you cry out again he will probably get caught and he also knows that he might regret everything he would say right now.

Without a word, he just nods, view into your changed face one last time. In that disappointed look before he goes out the door and closes it behind him.

He still has the ultrasound in his hand when he comes into his room and throws himself mad into his bed. “Hello Kuroo.” Kozume’s indifferent tone greets him from the bed above his, as he continues to tap with his fingers on his console.

“Hi…” He just hisses, and crosses an arm behind his head, bends his one leg to lay his other casually on his knee and sway with his foot.

Thoughtfully he looks at the black and white picture, hears only Kozume’s tapping noises and the cheering when he has reached a level. “Can’t you put your headphones on, Kenma?”

“Okay.” He only replies calmly after he has sought out his headphones under his pillow and placed them on.

For a long time he looks at the picture of the living being that has just destroyed his relationship. He grimly curls his face, crumples the small paper in his hand before throwing it into the rubbish and lying down to one side, his pillow clamped between his head and arm.

It takes a week, in which you do not write to each other and Kuroo, with his bad mood, slowly stresses Kozume.

“Kenma, I told you to put the-” He wants to confront him again, this time he is interrupted by Kozume, who bends his head down to look at Kuroo. His blond-dyed black hair dangles down, while his eyes look like a lurking cat at his roommate.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you probably had a fight with Y/n, because I haven’t seen you together, but don’t take your anger out on me and talk to her.” He is still hanging upside down from the bed, waiting for Kuroo to give him an answer.

“It’s not that simple.” All he does is hiss and crosses his arms behind his back. “There is a solution for everything Kuroo.” Trys Kozumes calm voice to relax Kuroo.

But Kuroo only gets up, goes to the trash can and searches the sheet of paper that has turned his life upside down. He throws it to Kozume, who catches it and unfolds it to see what it is.

His eyes grow big when he sees the paper, but then turns his gaze back to Kuroo. “Okay, this may be early, but nothing you can’t handle-”, “What we would have done if she had an abortion, but she doesn’t seem to want to abort the child.” Kuroo interrupts him, who is now viewed by Kozume with the same look as you did then.

“What? How can you tell her to have an abortion? Why did you do that Kuroo? If she’s the woman you really love and you want to have kids anyway, then you should apologize to her and beg on your knees and hope that she hasn’t aborted the child and tell her you’re sorry. I’m going out now, see if I can find someone who can help me with the level, you think about my words.” Sighing, he gets up from the bed, packs his things and quietly disappears from the door, leaving only Kuroo there, who now watches the ultrasound picture, which Kozume has put on the table before going out.

“Shit!” he curses, and punches his fist against the table top. He is such an idiot. He loves you, and he’d lie if he hadn’t looked at his cell phone every day, looked to see if you’d written to him or thought about texting you. He really missed you so much.

With quick steps he runs through the familiar girls corridors. To the room he snuck into almost every day, or helping you sneak out to get to his room.

A few times he knocks hastily before he checks whether the door is locked or open. But the door is open and there is no one in your room other than your roommate, who reads a book with her headphones on her bed.

“Where is Y/n?” He asks quickly, won’t waste any more time. Pretty surprised, your roommate shudders, looks lost at Kuroo before she takes off her headphones when Kuroo repeats his question.

“Eh Kuroo? I don’t know if I should tell you… but… She wanted to see a gynecologist, but I don’t know if she’s still there.” A gynecologist, huh? That’s bad… He’s gotta go fast, catch up with you before you do something you’ll regret later.

Having arrived in front of the gynecologist, where he used to take your pill, he is standing at the door with a fast-paced heart. Open it with a quick rate before he runs to the reception where the woman just looks at him scared.

“L/n… L/n Y/n. Where is she? She should be here.” He stutters out of breath, looking at the woman in front of him who only stares at him confused. Now he shouts louder and causes the woman to stand up and wave her hands to calm him down.

“I don’t want to calm down, I want you to fucking tell me where my girlfriend is!” He yells at her and begins to open the rooms to see if he finds you somewhere.

“Security guards, we need security guards!” Calls the receptionist as two men come out of the waiting room. Two vigorously built men who had accompanied their wives to the gynecologist, who now approach Kuroo and draw him out of the building by his arms.

Arriving outside, he looks into the clinic, sees the two men inside standing at the door made of glass, who will definitely not let him in. Full of panic and worry, he clings the picture tighter in his hands, waiting for a woman to walk out the door that looks like you.

“Bye!” You say goodbye before you close the door as the frightened eyes of your beloved rooster head come to meet you. You’re about to tell him you don’t want to abort when he cuts your word off before you say anything.

“Please tell me you didn’t have an abortion.” Now, totally confused, you’re trying to determine if he’s joking or not. “No…” You answer in confusion and fold your arms in front of your chest.

“Thank God! Listen Y/n… I was a real asshole. I don’t know what got into me, but I was scared. I know that doesn’t excuse my words then, and oh god I was so stupid to say that I don’t know if our relationship is important. Damn I missed you so unbelievably in that one week. Your face, your voice, your warmth. Everything! If you don’t want me to be your boyfriend anymore, I can understand that… But please, I don’t want you to have an abortion. I want to be a good father to our baby. Please give me a chance because I also want to be a good boyfriend to you.”

His last words are shaky, his lower lip trembles as his thin eyes fill with tears that run down his cheeks. “We’ll get through this, I promise.” He stutters again. “I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to lose both of you.” His hands dig tightly into the fabric of your jacket, almost hurting your arms as you step right in front of him and take him in your arm, touching his back with your flat hand.

“I know we can do this because you’re my old cat after all.” You answer him in a soft tone, try to calm him down somehow. But he doesn’t give you an answer, just takes you in his arms more firmly before he takes a deep breath.

That you would forgive him after all his words, he would not have thought. That you would embrace him so lovingly, he would not have thought. That he didn’t lose you after his action, he would not have thought.

He still holds you firmly in his arms, does not want to miss your warmth, does not want to lose your scent. “Thank you, I love you so much my precious little kitten.”

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #nelas500

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ownworldresident · 3 years

Text

We Are Our Own Heroes. Chapter 1: Saturday Game

Finally I bring you Liam and Cassie! I’ve been waiting for this moment. Enjoy! And stay safe xx

Book: The Royal Romance, seven years post-TRR

Premise:Six years after a tragic loss, Liam and his adopted daughter meet Cassandra, an artist with her own troubled past, and the three find in each other the friend they never knew they needed.

Disclaimer: Setting and some characters belong to Pixelberry studios. I am just borrowing them and will return them when they are feeling better.

Themes: found family, (power of) friendship, healing

The Master Masterlist (link) Our Own Heroes Masterlist (link)

Liam

Cheers echoed around him but drowned out with Liam’s focus on the game. Once strange, the din of the hall and the shouts and whistles from the court were now familiar and welcoming. The smallest shape on the court held his attention. A smile spread ear to ear as he watched her weave, duck and spin, darting under the taller girls’ arms. Near the edge of the court she caught the ball, and immediately came face to face with the tallest defender, who spread her arms wide.

“Come on, Emily!” Liam called. The nine-year-old winked at him, mischievous smirk across her red face, and Liam snorted. Her opponent reached to intercept, Emily bounced it past to her teammate, who turned and tucked it into the goal. Renewed cheers rose around him. Liam stretched out two thumbs-up to Emily as she caught the ball and returned to the centre of the court.

Emily’s coach, an energetic young woman, came to exchange a few words with her before the game resumed. Liam wondered what she was saying, but Emily’s smile grew, so he trusted it to be positive. Backing off the court, the coach -Cassandra- caught Liam’s eye and smiled, and he quickly turned back to Emily.

“Dad!” Emily squeaked, puffing as she came over immediately after the game. Those around them cast those familiar curious glances as he knelt to squeeze her hands. No one said anything anymore, but seeing their monarch at a netball game still seemed an odd sight.

“You were brilliant out there, Panda. Congratulations.” He tucked a pale blonde curl behind her ear. Emily grinned, still breathing heavily, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Cassie said we can get ice cream after. Can we? Please?” Emily watched his for an answer and he pretended to consider.

“Should we trust Cassie?” he asked, one eyebrow raised high. Emily frowned, then nodded.

“We can.” She glanced back to see her teammates gathering around Cassandra, pulling velcroed positions from their uniforms. Liam squeezed Emily’s hands to bring her back.

“After that game, you can get whichever ice cream you like.” Liam released her hands, standing as she immediately raced off to her team.

Despite how red her pale face was, Emily sprinted across the court, pulling the ‘C’ from the front and back of her uniform. Liam watched her, smiling, but looked away when Cassandra caught his eye again. Lucky for him, a text alert came through to give him a reason. Two messages – Drake and Olivia.

His best friend was commenting on hearing Liam had the weekend free. Liam knew how that conversation would go. Drake would ask him to come to that bar near the docks he raved about, and drink there for a while. Like old times, but avoiding the wedge still between them.

Olivia’s message was more direct. Don’t spend the whole weekend alone again, do something, like a human being. Olivia didn’t have a firm grasp on what constituted ‘alone’, which was adequate for her, but not for him. He didn’t answer either message.

As he put his phone away, Emily and Cassandra approached, chatting animatedly. Emily was still bright red, but it hardly impeded her limitless energy. They broke their conversation when she rushed forward.

“Cassie says you should come with us.” Emily hit him with her pleading eyes. He shook his head, grinning, then forced himself to look up. Liam would liken Cassandra to a resting summer sun, with bright dyed red hair and a smile that reached her eyes.

“I’m sure your father has lots of important things to do,” Cassandra said, her voice deeper than he expected. When Emily looked at him like that, there was nothing he would say no to; a fact she knew very, very well.

“I have some time away,” he said. “I would be happy to to join you.”

The spectators filtered from the hall as the court was reset for the next game. Liam followed Emily and the rest of her team out as well. Several parents also came, and he was happy to be swept more by the crowd than Cassandra’s company.

The first several months of caring for Emily had drawn a lot of attention. He had second guessed his decision several times. It took a while, but the media eventually accepted the new normal, and moved on to the next interesting thing. Every big development had been the same: initial attention, then eventual acceptance.

Liam dropped her off at school most days, brought her to swimming lessons and netball games, and to dinner or a movie on special occasions. It would have been so easy to let his staff care for her, like his father had done for him. But he had made a promise, and would not reduce that to a roof over her head.

Besides, from the day he brought her to the palace Emily had been the most important person in his life. He wanted to be there for every important moment of hers.

They reached the ice cream van outside the courts and Liam hung back as the group of girls got their treats and Emily chatted with her friends. He wondered if her mother had been as social when she was younger. If she had smiled like that.

For the first time in months, the thought dredged up their last moments together; her last smile... the musty room... the heavy, metallic smell of blood... Liam grimaced, closing his eyes and acutely aware of being in public. The knowledge didn't help, and he sucked in laboured breaths as he tried to return to the present.

“Dad?” A tentative voice sounded beside him, small hand tugging on his jumper, and he blinked back to focus on her. She had a half finished ice cream cone in one hand, and a smear of it on her cheek. He smiled.

“Yes, Panda?”

“Are you okay?” Emily’s eyes were full of concern, and it pained Liam to see so much understanding in someone so young. He squeezed her shoulder, and nodded.

“I am, thank you,” he answered, then looked up at her teammates. “Go on, finish your ice cream with your friends. I’m okay. I promise.”

Emily watched him for a moment longer, then smiled wider, and returned to her team. Liam sighed, straightened his clothes, and hoped no one had noticed the brief exchange.

“King Liam?” Cassandra’s voice approached and he looked up, smiling.

“Cassandra.” He held out a hand. “Good to meet you.”

She tried to hide a smile as she looked at his hand, then shook it.

“Call me Cassie,” she said, standing beside him and folding her arms.

“Liam,” he replied in kind. Cassie smiled and nodded, then a silence extended between them.

“You daughter is quite a rocket.” Cassie continued after a few moments, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at him, then back to the group. Liam chuckled, seeing Emily almost lose her ice cream as she talked.

“She is,” he said, swallowing and ensuring he made at least periodic eye contact. Cassie’s eyes were a clear hazel, a distinguishing feature.

“I haven’t coached her before,” she continued as if there were no pauses, “I’m looking forward to seeing what she can do.”

Liam nodded, reminding himself to maintain a tall, open posture. He opened his mouth to reply, but faltered. What was he supposed to say to her? Encouraging a closer acquaintance wasn’t a goal of his except on Emily’s behalf.

“Have you worked as a coach for a few years then?” he managed. Cassie smiled. They fell into light conversation. Liam discovered Cassie was an artist and a blogger, and revealed only the most inconsequential details about his own life. Cassie was easy to talk to, and that concerned him. They were reaching the end of his surface topics when Emily ran over, wiping ice cream across her face with the back of her hand.

“Messy,” he said to her, frowning and shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Tut-tut.”

Emily grinned. “That’s what ice creams are for!”

“Touché,” Liam agreed. Cassie glanced between them.

“See you next week, Em.” She saluted to her, receiving the same, and moved off.

“Can we watch a movie?” Emily asked. Her face was still a little red, accentuated by how pale her features were, even in the Cordonian sun.

“Maybe later.” Liam lifted a hand away from the crowd and toward their car. The girl didn’t move.

“You said we could.”

“Later.”

Emily frowned, tried not to think of how much she looked like her mother when she made that face. Rooted to the spot with folded arms, she lifted her chin and attempted a look of authority. And came very close.

“Later,” he repeated , challenging her pose from twice her height. They were silent, then the smiles grew, and Liam laughed first. Emily cracked up a moment later, then bounced ahead to the car.

“I pick the movie!” she called over her shoulder, as if there was even the slightest chance he wouldn’t allow that. Liam shook his head, still grinning, and followed.

—

Later that night, when Emily was sleeping, Liam reclined in the living room of his apartments and reflected on the day. He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his armchair, exhausted and alone after a whole day with his daughter. Sometimes he fell asleep here, but those nights were always restless.

A knock on the door roused him from a light doze.

Liam blinked several times and looked around, wondering why his bedroom looked so strange before realising he wasn’t in it. Perhaps he imagined the knock, but in confirmation of it’s being real, the person knocked again.

He greeted his friend with a wide yawn and stepped back to let him in.

“You thought sleeping in here was a better use of your time than catching up with a friend?” Drake said as he reached his favourite chair and collapsed in it. Liam closed the door, leant against it, and watched him, amusement playing on his own face.

“I only just got…” He looked at his watch. 10pm. Emily had gone to bed at 8.30, and there had been plenty of time to spend with a friend. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Long day.” Liam returned to his own chair.

“Of course.” Drake pulled a flask from inside his jacket and twisted off the cap. “You realise I’m friends with Bastien.”

Liam frowned. “I am aware of this.” He was also aware that his bodyguard saw everything and everyone, and that Drake leveraged that to keep tabs on him. Maybe he should find more time for his friends. Or ask his bodyguard for more discretion. Again.

“So I figured you’d be spending some time with that red-haired woman from the courts. She looked nice, apparently.” Drake almost smiled – a rare expression. Liam knew he meant well, but his intentions were sometimes skewed by his own reactions to what happened six years ago. Guilt, shame, regret. He felt it, too.

“You figured wrong,” Liam stated, a little harsher than intended. Drake sighed.

“I know.”

Quiet settled and stretched. Unlike earlier, there wasn’t the excited chatter of a dozen nine-year-old girls to fill it. One of the benefits of his relationship with Drake was they could do this –spend hours together and barely exchange a word. The dynamic suited Drake’s introversion, and Liam’s tiredness.

“Li…” Drake said after an indeterminate time, “you know we’re here for you, right?”

Liam looked up. “Thanks, but you also know that I’m well, really. It was just a long day.” With minimal intrusive thoughts. “Em won her game.”

“That’s great!” Drake replied immediately. Another response to his role with Emily’s mother was consistent enthusiasm with her daughter’s achievements.

Much to his delight, Drake sat attentively while Liam recounted the game. The conversation turned to more peer related topics after that as Drake talked about the others. By the time he left it was past midnight and Liam felt like himself again. He promised to try make time for his friends – Drake waved off the comment – and went to bed feeling fulfilled.

What happened when he closed his eyes was rarely so comforting.

------

Epic Permatag friends: @hopefulmoonobject @leelee10898 @be-still-my-aching-heart @umccall71 @indiacater @speedyoperarascalparty @brightpinkpeppercorn @riseandshinelittleblossom @bella-ca @custaroonie @thequeenofcronuts @lodberg @kuladekiwi @mfackenthal @carabeth @romanticatheart-posts @blackcoffee85

Our Own Heroes list: @blackcatkita @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @missameliep @princess-geek @zoehanji @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @ladyangel70 @whenyourheartskipsabeat @153-centimeters-of-sass Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist :)

#we are our own heroes #our own heroes #king liam #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #trr king liam #trr drake #trr fanfic #liam and cassie #trr fandom #trr au

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the-scottish-costume-guy · 4 years

Text

JK Rowling, transphobia and a hopefully helpful post.

A few days ago I posted on my Facebook (yes I have one sue me) debunking some of the things Rowling has been saying on twitter. Since she made a statement I felt the need to make another one... but this time Im sharing it here. Please note this is long, it is fairly opinionated in places but her statements have felt so insidious I want to share something in depth. If you are cis I implore you to read, but I understand this is long and a lot of people wont want to. No judgement.

Jk Rowling’s latest statement is a mess of valid concerns and fear mongering. At this point there can be no claim she doesn’t know what shes talking about - she herself has said shes been researching this for years. She throws in token acknowledgements to “real” trans people while framing the rest of her statements as concern for confused teens.So first things first - and something that might not be popular with some of my trans friends. I agree that teenagers should not be able to medically transition. It is a choice that should be made when the brain is fully mature. Hormone blockers are something I trust - and that are reversible. I have seen enough detransitioned people hurting to feel like we do need to be careful - especially with children who are trying to find themselves. I dont know about other people but during my teens I was coming to the crushing realisation that I wasn’t special. I was learning that no matter how well I painted someone else did it better, no matter how badly I hurt someone had it worse - I was learning about the wonderful mediocrity of life, and having anything that made me stand out gave a brief reprieve from learning to be okay with all these things. For me to be fair it was dying my hair outrageous colours and dressing in black leather during 30 degree summer heat - but its still something we cant forget. I KNOW a lot of kids claiming to be trans are - and I dont want to keep that from them, however I dont want to cause harm to the kids that are wrong. Continuing on, I’d like to address her comments about TERFS. Terfs are Self Described Trans-exclusionary-radical-feminists and the term does get thrown around a little too liberally at times. Terf is not and never will be a slur. No more than “White” is. It is about a group of people who have taken it open themselves to segregate another group - and calling that what it is, is not a crime. The reason Terf and transphobe have become synonomic is because the ‘radical feminists’ that subscribe to this have lost focus on nearly all other issues of feminism and sit squarely on “dropping the T” from the lgbt community and “keeping men out of womens bathrooms.” Terfs are overwhelmingly women - this is sadly simply a fact. Terfs are reviled because of how much it feels like a betrayal to the community. A group that fights for rights - except ours. A group that wants equality - except for us. Its different to the conservatives who hate us all equally - with Terfs we are singled out. Terfs are not, as Rowling claims, inclusionary to Trans-men. I’ve been met with a combination of pity, loathing, mockery and revulsion by people within this group. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t let homophobia push me into transitioning - only for all correspondence to abruptly drop when I mention Im marrying another man. I’ve been told my old body was beautiful - only for stunned silence when I agree. I was beautiful - I was curvy, I was a dancer and had a body to match - but I wasn’t Me. When their usual arguments against me fail - I’m met with hate. Im called anti-woman, traitor, homophobic. I even have some such comments saved on my blog. I have yet to meet a Terf who was pro-trans-man. Rowling claims that had she had the ability, as a confused teen, she may have sought to transition. I hate to tell her but she did have the ability and trans people didn’t pop into existence in the twenty-first century. I’m actually looking to do my dissertation topic in my final year on lgbt presentation throughout history - and in my overeager way I’ve already started researching. James Barry has been becoming a common name for years - a transgender surgeon who died in 1865. If Barry was able to at least socially transition from 1790 to 1860, I am fairly sure Rowling could have in 1980 - over a century later. Rowling also claims that groups of friends in schools all suddenly identify as trans at the same time. Speaking from my school experience - the queer kids group together. We seek out others like us, and we take strength from each others bravery to come out - often around the same time. We almost get a rush of resolve when one of our group musters the courage and strength, and some of us use that rush to bite the bullet ourselves. Its one of the beautiful ways the lgbt community is here for one another - and the influx of people identifying as trans is partially a factor of more people knowing the name of their feelings. Survivor bias will ignore the trans people through history without the knowledge or means to transition - and will claim they were never trans at all. Her initial statements about charities worry me in particular. As I said last time - we know sex is real, we just dont really like to be defined by it. She is worried that we’re going to “rebrand medicine” and ignores that medications for years have had warnings in their leaflets about “If you are or become pregnant” regardless of if the person receiving it has a dick or a vagina. We dont advocate for ignoring the differences in how people respond to heart attacks - and I for one would like research to be done on how hormones effect that. I dont actually know if I would respond more like a cis gender woman or a cis gender man if I were to have a heart attack or a stroke. But where possible we do want to change the language around some of these things. I have had a double mastectomy, but some Cis-men have these as well. This is not a gendered term. Why should a period be called anything else? Why call it a “womens problem.” I and Im sure many other trans people, support the research into how different medical and mental issues affect different sexes. I just think that should be extended further - and we know it should, as some medical issues affect people of different ethnicities in different ways and we don’t know how. I am truly sorry that Rowling has experienced abuse and assault of any nature. I am truly sorry that she has felt unsafe. But her feelings do not invalidate others experiences. Of the trans people I know, a saddening number have been assaulted, have been abused and in particular have experienced these things domestically. There is much work to be done on this in the UK. There are nearly no mens shelters for sufferers of violence to my knowledge. I, a trans man who have experienced some of these things in my teen years, would Not want to be around cisgender women even if I could be. A cis woman was responsible for much of the pain I personally suffered - and in fact one of the acts of violence she carried out against me was directly after I came out as trans to her. Trans women, even if they could go to male shelters, should not have to be surrounded by a group that put them in danger - in a place that is detrimental to them physically and mentally and is frankly degrading. The belief that allowing trans women into shelters for those escaping abuse is dangerous is sad. To be so afraid is deserving of pity. To let fear blind you to the suffering of others - to think its better that a trans woman face homelessness or a return to an abusive household because you personally would sleep better at night is the kind of passive evil we should be aware of in this day and age. It comes from choosing to see the word “trans” before “person.” Its from choosing to see a persons genitals before their humanity. Trans people are not dangerous - and cause no greater risk than any other demographic. Her claims that she can empathise with this fear are empty. A gender recognition certificate is not a ticket into womens bathrooms. Funnily enough you dont actually require a piece of paper to go almost anywhere. I do not have a gender recognition certificate and use male bathrooms, can enter male spaces as I please. All a gender recognition certificate does is change the letter on your birth certificate. It doesn’t even affect other forms of identification - my passport, my student id, my drivers license all already say male. I am not sure why so many people have chosen this as their hill to die on because its the least relevant thing to them on the planet. How often have any of you seen another persons birth certificate? Rowling says she and other ‘gender critical’ (a terf dogwhistle) people are concerned for trans youth. Well… she can take her condescending concern and direct it to matters that are relevant to her. Trans people want to be left alone. Its a simple request, and yet people endlessly seem to trip over the dirt level bar.

#transgender #jk rowling #terf #transphobia #lgbt #uk politics #I'm prob gonna get shit for this arent I

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curetapwater · 3 years

Text

Hey uhhhhhh I could’ve said something sooner but I’ve started a fic that’s basically a retelling of Sailor Moon but with Pretty Cure characters. Here’s the first bit if you’re interested.

CW: brief blood at the very beginning

Nagisa knew too much about dying for someone still alive.

There she lay, curled up in shuddering fetal, biting back whimpers and growls because she couldn't give the ones that did this to her the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain. But of course she was in pain, what else were you supposed to feel when red was flowing from your pierced abdomen? She coughed and tasted iron. Now blood was coming from two places.

The lightest touch, warm and gentle, brushed her fingers. She mustered what strength she had left and opened her eyes. A girl's face lay mere centimeters from hers on this ground that shook with what Nagisa knew was the world crumbling around them. Wishing she could stop them, she beheld the tears streaming from the deep blue eyes that held Nagisa's world, her universe, for reasons she couldn't quite recall. Neither girl had the ability to speak, but Nagisa knew that right then what she needed to do was take the girl's hand.

Her hand...

🖤🌙🖤🌙

"NAGISAAAA! YOU'RE GONNA BE LAAATE!"

Misumi Nagisa was yanked back into the waking world so hard she feared whiplash. She blinked and rubbed at the clouds in her eyes until she could make out the time on her alarm clock. Oh. Her brother was right.

She yanked on her uniform button-down, skirt, vest, bow tie, and blazer faster than you can say "tardy," ran her toothbrush through her teeth and her hairbrush through her hair, grabbed the crosse leaning against her desk, and sprinted out her bedroom door.

"I'm heading out!" she announced without so much as a "good morning" to her family.

"Don't you at least want some toast?" her mother asked, spreading butter on a fresh slice.

But Nagisa was already on her way out of the apartment. "No time for toast!" she shouted back. Then she was back inside. "Oh, who am I kidding, there's always time for toast!"

🖤🌙🖤🌙

Trying not to choke on toast while running turned out to be a lot harder than television had led Nagisa to believe. Swallowing down the last bite with a hard gulp, she lamented morning coming so early.

She doubted this disaster would have even happened had she not been up all night scared she'd have the dream again. The one where she dies.

Shudders made her almost drop her crosse. That and the fact that she was still running. How could something that wasn't even real do this to her? It was invading real life! She'd considered telling her parents but figured they would just tell her what she already knew: that she wasn't really dying and that the world wasn't ending and that the girl with her wasn't dying either because she wasn't real. If she was, then Nagisa would be able to remember something about how she looked. Other than her eyes. And the way her hand felt...

Nagisa shook her head. If she went on like that it'd give the girls at Verone Academy all the more reason to stuff her locker full of letters she didn't want-

5 kilograms of something Nagisa couldn't see knocked her head clear of thoughts and into the pavement. She growled, staggering back up. "What was tha-"

A group of boys, maybe eight or nine years old, pushed past her and nearly threw off the balance she'd just regained. They were chasing a cream-colored cat that scampered all about, jumping on and off every surface it could to avoid the little menaces. It would seem the cat had chosen her as one of his landing spots.

Seeing the poor thing so helpless, in such terror, stabbed through Nagisa's stomach with a justice-induced rage.

"HEY!" she hollered, brandishing her crosse like a weapon. The boys turned, shocked at the power of her voice. "Pick on someone your own size!" They blinked at her. Then she raised her crosse in a jerk just threatening enough to make them scramble off.

The cat revved up to dart away, but stopped short and turned to stare at her.

"You okay, little guy?" Nagisa asked, stooping down to scratch his head. There was a bandage on his forehead. "Here, let me get that for you."

And she did, peeling the adhesive back to reveal the strangest marking she had ever seen, some sort of weird heart-shaped thing. She thought it might be a bald spot, but it was blue. Blue? Did cats come in blue? She'd never owned one-

Ah crap, now she was double late! The cat was fine, but she wasn't gonna be if she didn't book it to the train station!

🖤🌙🖤🌙

If it weren't for the vice principle telling her off about tardiness and irresponsibility and selfishness maybe Nagisa could have made it for at least the end of the first class period. But nope, instead by the time she made it to her classroom, the second class was well underway and Ms. Yoshimi was handing out grades for a test Nagisa had forgotten about the moment she'd turned it in.

"Ah, Ms. Misumi," she said. "Since you've decided to join us today maybe you can explain this." She handed her a paper face-down. Never a good sign. Walking to her desk, Nagisa clutched the side that held her red-ink fate flat against her stomach so no one, including herself, could see what it said. She waited until eyes were off her and snuck a peek.

She got a thirty percent.

"No way!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. All eyes were back on her. This day just kept getting better and better.

🖤🌙🖤🌙

"English is a weird language anyway," Rina consoled on the way to the train station.

Shiho nodded emphatically. "Yeah yeah yeah. If it's gonna, like, have that many rules then they shouldn't change all the time."

Well that was easy for them to say. At least they passed the test. Nagisa passed her crosse between her hands before resting it on her shoulder. Lacrosse had gotten her mind off of things for a bit. It helped that it was something she was actually good at. The muscles in her legs ached in protest of their continued use after practice, but they burned good because she knew she was getting stronger.

"Hey! I know what'll cheer you up, Nagisa!" Shiho said.

"What?"

"I hear that one jewelry store in the mall is having a huge huge huge sale!"

"I doubt there's anything in there we could afford, even if it's on sale," Rina reasoned.

"No, but, I hear they're cutting prices by, like, ninety percent!"

"Really? I need to see that for myself!"

Somehow Nagisa doubted even with those huge price cuts that she could afford anything. Not so much because the jewelry was expensive, but because she'd squandered her allowance on chocolate desserts and takoyaki (not at the same time). Not to mention she doubted she'd be getting another payment for the next ten years after her parents saw the newest low in her academic career. And she was pretty sure she was in the hole to begin with...

So, Nagisa hopped on the train to home and left Shiho and Rina to their detour.

She kept her eyes on her loafers. All she wanted to do in that moment was shuffle over to the nearest window so she could stare out of it with quiet sullenness instead of having to look anyone in the eye. But she managed to do just that when she forgot you're supposed to look forward when you shuffle and she ended up shuffling right into a boy's solid back.

"Ah!" She leapt back in surprise, and he did the same. Her surprise soon melted to deep, deep embarrassment when she looked up to find the cutest boy she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gorgeous floppy hair flopping gorgeously.

"I- I- I'm so sorry!" Nagisa replied with a bow.

"It's no problem," he said. "It was an honest mistake. You're Misumi, right?"

The tight cocoons forming in her heart burst into butterflies. "You know my name?"

"I told him," said the girl Nagisa just noticed had been standing with this boy the whole time. Nagisa recognized her as Yukishiro Honoka from her class, a very pretty girl with delicate pale skin and a head of shiny, neat hair that housed the brain that got the highest score on the test Nagisa had failed. And she knew him. Oh no.

"I apologize if it seemed like I had been talking behind your back," Yukishiro said, which planted in Nagisa's head the idea that she had been talking behind her back. "I was just concerned because you looked so distraught, and I was telling Fuji-P-"

"Ahhh... I told you not to call me that in public!" the boy said, cheeks flushing.

Great. They had pet names, too.

"I hope you're not still upset about that test," Yukishiro told her.

The butterflies in Nagisa's heart were replaced by a wasp sting of horror. "HOW DID YOU KNOW I GOT A THIRTY PERCENT ON THE ENGLISH TEST?!"

Conversations stopped all around her. Passengers, including far too many in Verone uniforms, briefly gaped at the girl dumb enough to announce something like that to a packed train car. Then they turned back in a way that was supposed to be discreet but everyone knew really wasn't.

Yukishiro's polite smile cracked to reveal a foundation of shock and second-hand embarrassment. "I- I- um, wasn't aware of the exact score, but... I just heard you exclaim 'no way' when you saw it and assumed you weren't happy..." She cleared her throat a bit, a cute little sound that somehow made Nagisa feel like even more of a bumbling fool. She had to get out of there.

"Well, it was nice meeting you!" she forced through her teeth before pushing through the packed train car to find a spot as far from all human beings as possible.

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At home, Nagisa was greeted not by her family but by a note:

Nagisa

Ryouta and I are out buying groceries. Leftovers in the fridge. DO YOUR HOMEWORK.

Love, Mom.

Her father wouldn't be home for several hours. So she had the apartment to herself to... what should she do? Cry? Sulk? Scream into her pillow? That last one sounded good. And then maybe if she was feeling a little more devious than usual, she'd change that 30 to an 80 with a couple strokes of a...

No, that was too low. She just wouldn't bring it up until it was brought up to her. Now there's a plan.

She went to her bedroom, threw her bag and crosse on a chair then threw herself onto her mountain of plush toys. She really hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and she decided not to remind herself why in case she scared herself into another all-nighter. That day, especially that exchange on the train, was way scarier than anything her brain could concoct, even if in her dreams she had tasted death...

Because she...

What was she thinking about, again..?

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Nagisa didn't even have time to dream before she was awakened by four little paws driving into her stomach.

Her assailant turned out to be the cat.

"Bald spot cat?" she exclaimed.

"It's not a bald spot-mepo!" the cat said.

Wait.

Nagisa screamed. The cat got the message and launched himself off and onto the floor, giving her the second painful jab to the stomach she'd experienced within a single minute. She scrambled off her bed and grabbed her crosse as if it would protect her from the creature.

"What?! WHAT?! A talking cat?! No way... There's just no way!" she whimpered, more to herself than to him.

"Just put down the stick and listen to me-mepo!"

Nagisa lifted the crosse above her head. "G-Get away! I won't hesitate!"

"Mepooo!" the cat screamed and ran to her balcony that she realized she'd forgotten to close the door to. That would explain how he got in. "Don't hurt me-mepo! What are you doing-mepo! This isn't how legendary warriors should-"

"What's with all the 'mepo mepo' stuff? Say 'mepo' one more time!"

The cat clamped his mouth shut, clearly fighting the urge. "MEPOOO!" he shouted, darting back into the room and between her legs. Oh, no no no, that was closer than Nagisa ever needed to be to a weird talking cat. Who knew if he was even a cat at all?

Nagisa screamed and bolted back to her bed. This had to be a dream. If she just closed her eyes she'd wake back up in the real world where cats didn't-

"Listen to me-mepo!"

She opened her eyes to find him standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up, hugging a stuffed panda close in a feeble attempt to make herself feel better. Saner. "What do you want? What... are you?"

"My name is Mepple-mepo."

"Mepple-mepo?" Nagisa repeated.

"No-mepo. Mepple-mepo."

Nagisa blinked, then nodded her understanding. Maybe he'd go away if she just complied.

"I'm here because I've finally found you, the Legendary Warrior-mepo!"

"Legendary Warrior?" Nagisa said. She'd hardly say a girl in a wrinkled school uniform armed with nothing but a crosse would be something anyone would call a warrior. "I think you've got the wrong-"

"I didn't think you looked anything like what I was looking for-mepo. Until you saved me-mepo! If you didn't take off that bandage I wouldn't be able to talk-mepo!"

"And then where would we be?" Nagisa said dryly.

"Listen-mepo! A strange presence is in the air and it's threatening the city-mepo! I've watched you all day and I'm sure you're the warrior destined to find the Legendary Prism Crystal and the Princess of Light-mepo!"

"The what and the who?" This was getting way too complex. As if a cat being able to talk didn't make things complex enough.

Mepple rolled his eyes, which Nagisa was pretty sure cats weren't supposed to be able to do. "The sacred treasure and the princess of the Garden of Light-mepo!"

"Oh, well, that clears it up," Nagisa said, chuckling in an attempt to depressurize. It didn't work.

Mepple groaned, hopped off the bed, and padded over to the balcony. He pointed up at the sky with a round little paw. "There-mepo!"

Nagisa looked up into the twilight and saw oranges fading to blues but no supposed Garden of Light. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That-mepo! The big white circle with the rabbit on the side-mepo!"

"... You mean the moon?"

"We called it the Garden of Light-mepo," Mepple said, going back inside. Nagisa followed and closed the balcony door before the neighbors started thinking she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"So... you're an alien?"

"I guess, but that's not important-mepo!"

"I beg to differ-"

"Just take this-mepo!" And with that, Mepple suddenly did a high-reaching somersault, leaving behind a trail of sparkling dust that materialized into a white and pink brooch that fell into Nagisa's hands. It was heavy, and it was cute. But it also came out of nowhere!

Nagisa cast the thing onto her bed, freaked beyond belief. "What is happening?!"

Mepple picked up the brooch between his sharp little teeth. Whatever muffled words came out of his mouth, they couldn't have been all that pleasant. But then he dropped it himself, ears perked up. "I sense an evil presence-mepo!"

Nagisa backed away. "A what?"

"Turn on the TV-mepo!"

Nagisa ran into the family room and did as she was told. On the screen flickered live footage of the mall, with policemen trying to break in.

"It seems there is some sort of barrier inside preventing entry into the complex," the news anchor said. "The state of the patrons inside is currently unknown."

The bottom of Nagisa's stomach dropped out. "That's where Shiho and Rina went! Do you think they're still in there?"

"I don't know-mepo! But I know this looks like a job for you-mepo!"

"Me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Put on the brooch and shout, 'Black Prism Power, Make Up'-mepo!"

Nagisa assumed the "mepo" was meant to be left out. "What good'll that do?"

"Just do it-mepo!"

And so, feeling like the kind of fool that announces to a packed train car that she got a thirty percent on a test, Nagisa attached the brooch to her bow tie and shouted, "Black Prism Power, Make Up!"

Her hand shot up without her permission. An instant later, the world around her exploded in blinding rainbow-colored light. She wanted to scream, wriggle, call for help as she was lifted into a void of pure color, but instead her body moved in sweeping, elegant movements in a choreography that she'd never learned. A yelp wished to break through her enforced silence when all clothing except the brooch vanished. Great ribbons of light erupted from the brooch, wrapping around her body in the shape of a leotard, gloves, boots, and a miniskirt. A big bow tied itself just above her backside, earrings clipped themselves into her ears, a choker found its way around her neck. Then a strange, almost searing sensation prickled in the center of her forehead, until a hard metal circlet materialized in place. Finally, her feet touched ground, though still all she saw was nebulous color. Her body struck several battle-ready poses she had no say in striking. But she really started freaking out when her voice started making choices of its own.

"I am the emissary of light that fights for love and for justice! I am Sailor Black! And now, in the name of the Garden of Light..." Her arm snapped forward, pointing a warning finger to no one in particular. "...return to the darkness from which you came!"

She blinked -- Oh, joy, she could blink her own eyelids! -- and the world faded back to her living room.

"...Say what?"

Mepple looked upon her with eyes that saw some champion of justice, as opposed to the middle-schooler in a shrunken black and pink sailor fuku that Nagisa saw when she caught her reflection in a mirror. "Amazing-mepo..." he said. "The Legendary Warrior has awakened right in front of me-mepo!"

"Awakened?"

"Now Sailor Black can finally fulfill her destiny and help restore the Garden of Light to its former glory-mepo!"

"I'm going to what?" Nagisa wanted to press further, suddenly feeling less hugged and more caged by the costume's tight fabric. But the sirens blaring from the television set reminded her there were more pressing matters at hand. "How am I supposed to help Rina and Shiho and everyone like this?" she asked, holding the black skirt's hem between her fingers.

"You are Sailor Black-mepo! You have legendary powers-"

"If you call me 'legendary' one more time..." Nagisa started, simmering on the outside but reeling from how fast this was happening on the inside.

"Never mind that-mepo. Let's go-mepo!" And with that, Mepple ran back to Nagisa's bedroom.

"That's not the way out," Nagisa said, following him. She found him with his front paws on the glass door to her balcony. "Maybe you always land on your feet, but I don't-"

"Do you want to save your friends or not-mepo!"

"I do, I do!"

"Then trust me-mepo!"

Nagisa sighed. She guessed she couldn't exit through the apartment complex's lobby dressed like this. She didn't feel particularly powerful, but if a cat could talk to her and she could change her clothes just by saying a phrase, then maybe she could trust this little guy.

She placed a gloved hand on the handle and slid the door aside in a shuddering motion. "Okay... Okay..." she heaved as she stepped onto the balcony. She'd never before given much thought to how high up the apartment really was. How she'd taken for granted the fact that she knew what the tops of neighboring buildings looked like. She'd never considered having to stand on them!

Part of her wanted to back away, to declare this whole mess some stress-induced fever dream that would all go away once she came back to her senses. But then she thought of her friends' horrified faces, their screams for help, who knows who keeping them in that dark mall to do who knows what.

Next thing she knew, her foot launched herself off the railing and into the newly dark night. The jump sent her farther up than she'd ever thought possible. She bypassed several buildings until her feet touched the roof of some office building. The sole of her boot touched concrete for but a moment before she took to the air yet again.

She wanted to scream but at the same time a euphoria was building inside her. "My body!" she exclaimed to Mepple, who rode her shoulder. "It's so light! And my muscles are so strong!"

"That's the power of the Sailor Guardians-mepo!" he said.

"Guardians? You mean there are others?"

"We'll talk about it later-mepo."

#pretty cure #pretty cure fanfic #sailor moon #sailor moon fanfiction #fanfic #precure #futari wa pretty cure #futari wa precure #anime fanfic #my writing #nagisa misumi #cure black #sailor black

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unstoppableforcce · 4 years

Text

slow down

pairing: Poe Dameron x CMO! reader

from the how wonderful series 1 2 3 4

a/n: we’re back after a period of writer’s block with our fav couple, a bit of role reversal as Poe is typically the baby needing love in my writing lol. I hope y’all enjoy!!

Ten soldiers died that day, but only six on the battlefield.

The four others succumbed to their injuries under the aggressive fluorescents of the medical bay, leaving doctors, nurses and med droids coated in their blood instead of the enemies who inflicted the wounds. It was a blood that was always harder to wash off, no matter how long you scrubbed for.

“Doctor...”

Your breath caught in your throat as your held yourself up on the edges of the sink in the staff refresher, mind immediately jumping to the worst news before the poor nurse could even open their mouth. But glancing over your shoulder, you found a look of relief instead of fear etched in their features, and you naively let your shoulders release a breath of the overwhelming tension they held.

“They need you in the command center.” The nurse continued, letting their features turn to a look of sympathy now.

Every shift felt never ending, but this shift much more than the last.

When was the last time you had even slept? Besides stealing a few quiet moments in your office between patients, you hadn’t had much, certainly not a real night of sleep like you deserved, in a real bed, next to the real body you missed so desperately...

You clenched your eyes shut and blew out a shaking breath, all you could see were their eyes. Your last patient had been so young, so undeserving, and bleeding so much more than was recoverable from. The haste of the nurses was commendable, there was back a in your hand the second you asked for it, but it didn’t matter, the poor kid was dead the second their body hit the stretcher. There was nothing you could do but you all tried anyways, maybe that was why it hurt so badly, why you couldn’t wash the blood off in your mind even if your hands were scrubbed clean.

“Doctor, they’ll be starting the briefing—“ The nurse lingered in the doorway, pressing gently and you finally had to give in and nod in response.

“I’m coming.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and sucking in a deep breath as best you could. “Tell them I’m on my way.”

Brushing the hair that had fallen in front of your face back, you quickly tried to recover whatever remained of your composure and wipe away the last of your exhaustion. The mirror quickly reported that you hadn’t been very successful once you met your own eyes in the reflection but you also caught the lingering nurse from behind you, and knew you didn’t have the time to linger on your frazzled appearance.

The briefing. You gave yourself a nod in the mirror and moved out into the hall, beginning the journey out of medical to the command center.

By the time you got there, you found the nurse had been right, they had already started. Attention turned towards you as you tried to silently maneuver your way in to the empty seat at the lengthy conference table, but by the time they noticed it was just you, they turned back to Leia at the head of the table. However, her attention stayed on you.

“Doctor, thank you for coming,” she interrupted herself to say, shifting all of the attention back to you again. “Any news on Private Atka?”

As if you needed a trigger to bring the image of his dead eyes back to the forefront of your brain...

Settling into your seat, you sighed, “I’m sorry, he didn’t make it.”

Leia nodded, with the pose and resilience of a woman who truly understood the weight of the lives which rested on her shoulders, she carried it with a grace you swore you could never know. “I’ll handle the announcements.”

“I appreciate that.”

There was a whole bay of lives that relied on you the way the galaxy relied on her and yet you could feel your shoulders crumpling in on themselves while she held her head high and kept on with the meeting as she was before your entrance interrupted. You couldn’t even escape the low rumbling building in the back of your skull, quickly radiating to the forefront of your head, all from one death while she pressed on. It was more than commendable on her end, it was a failure on your end.

You could feel a stare on you as you rubbed at your temples, forcing you to look back up and actually focus in on the meeting. But it wasn’t a stare of condescension, it was one riddled with care and a weight you could feel across the table, one you knew all too well.

It was Poe...

You knew you must have been out of your head if he had been sat beside Leia the whole time and you hadn’t even noticed, not until now, as his stare was the only one on you instead of the general in the whole conference room.

A full release of tension fell from your shoulders as you caught his eye, relaxing into your chair as the rest of the meeting fell to white noise in the background. You would’ve been more worried if you knew he had been on the mission but he hadn’t been, his ship was in bad shape after the mission two days ago, or at least that was what you overheard in the last briefing you had that morning, you hadn’t actually seen him since he got back two days ago.

He was in much better shape than you were too. His hair was damp like he had recently showered and his uniform actually looked clean, while you couldn’t even remember the last time you had a real shower, not one in a sink, or actually changed your clothes instead of grabbing new scrubs when yours got bloodied...

And his eyes were full of concern.

“Are you okay?” He mouthed silently, still careful and respectful around the briefing you two were sat in the middle of.

If you get capable of it, you would have given him a quick smile and reply, but you couldn’t even muster that. All you could do was offer a quick nod.

He pressed his hand to his chest and gave you a silent nod back, wordlessly saying he loved you with just a simple gesture. And though you couldn’t muster much in the moment, you brought your hand to your chest in much the same way, making sure he saw you before both of you turned back to the meeting.

And almost as quick as you arrived, Leia wrapped it up, providing a few orders and dismissing those around the table. But not you.

“Doctor, can I see you for a second?” She stood up, catching you just before you could slip out back to work. And as she called for you, she grabbed Poe by the sleeve and kept him close as well.

You had to fight against the light crowd of those leaving to make it to the head of the table, watching her whisper to Poe before you could get within hearing distance. And by the time you finally made it to them, the general turned, squeezed your arm gently and moved around you, following the exiting group out of the room ensuring the door shut behind her.

“What was that all about?” You questioned, watching her go, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you close as if he didn’t hear it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His hands snakes around you hips, more affectionate than the two of you typically preferred to be while during work, but you were much too tired to try and fight it in any way. You needed his touch. It grounded you the second he had you secured in your arms, and now it was you not hearing him.

“Babe?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” You snapped back to him, placing your hands hesitantly over his arms where they held around your waist. “What did Leia have to say?”

“She said, ‘make sure she gets some sleep’.” He chuckled humorlessly as he nudged his forehead against yours, “I’m starting to think she had a really good point.”

“Is she ever wrong?” You tried, getting a real laugh from him this time.

“Not in my experience.” He admitted, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come on, you need some real sleep.”

He pulled back from you, grabbing your hand as he did, trying to pull you out of the office, but you held your ground. “I’ve still got patients—“

“No,” he shook his head and gently tugged on your arm, “you need some real rest, General’s orders.”

Some real rest? So far you couldn’t blink without seeing that kid’s dead stare. And there was too much more work to be done, there were more patients that you couldn’t let end up like him, that was your duty. If Leia could handle the weight of millions, surely you could handle one med bay—

“I can see your wheels turning, babe, but you’ve been on duty for two days straight...” he walked back up to you, rubbing gently against your hand with his thumb. “You need sleep.”

He leaned in to lay a gentle kiss onto your cheek while you shook your head again, “I just need to—“

“Sleep. You need to sleep.” He smiled weakly, “maybe take a shower first, but definitely sleep.”

He tried to pull you again, but you still held your ground, making him nervously chuckle once more.

“What’s going on? Talk to me.” He sighed, refusing to let go.

It sounded so stupid in your head. He was out on the front lines, these were his men who were dying in your med bay, he was the one out there laying his life on the line and you couldn’t handle one death...

It wasn’t your first, it wasn’t going to be your last, but it was sticking with you more than any of the hundred cases you saw in the last two days alone and you didn’t know why. All you knew was that it wasn’t worth his time, nor the general. They were the ones out there leading the army and you couldn’t handle the clean up?

Poe seemed to see the gears in your head still turning and waited patiently for an answer you couldn’t bring past the barrier of your lips. He saw straight through you. “The private?”

You gave a rough nod, “I know it’s just one life out of the whole war...”

“No, don’t minimize this.” He was quick to counter but something was bubbling in your chest, and this was the first time in two days you slowed down enough to let it out.

“He just bled out in my hands...”

“Babe I’m so sorry,” he wrapped his arms back around you and reciprocally wrapped yours around his neck, burying your face in next to his. “It’s not your fault...”

“I know it’s not, Poe...but I... I don’t know why he...”

“You’re tired, it’s okay...” he sighed into your hair, “come on, you need some rest...”

You nodded against him. “And a shower?”

He chuckled again, “yeah, you could probably use one of those too.”

Taking your hand again, he began to lead you out of the room, but one final time, you stopped him before he could open the door and drag you back out into society, stealing one more minute alone with him. “Will you take one with me?”

“Will I?” He stuttered out, cheeks flushing. “Yes... I mean I took one like a half hour ago about yes... yeah—“

“I meant so you could wash my hair for me.”

“I’ll wash whatever you want me to—“

You cut him off with a soft kiss that he couldn’t help but smile into. It was nice to have him back, days apart from him felt like centuries, yet everything else around you, the war and both of your roles in it, felt like they were moving a parsec a minute... each of you moving separately. But you needed this, to slow down, even if it was only for a few hours.

And you were glad you had him to do it with.

Even if he was way too giddy at the prospect of just a shower with you. There was no sense in reminding him the two of you had plenty of sex and that he had seen you naked hundreds of times by now, he still blushed when he folded your undergarments out of the laundry, and you loved him even more for it.

#star wars #star wars imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #angst #poe x reader #how wonderful #how wonderful series #cmo reader #chief medical officer

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

I know him

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

summary: could you do a reddie x daughter where she sees apparitions of penny wise but keeps it to herself. but one day when she’s w all the losers they mention pennywise in a short joke and she says she knows who that is n they all freak out wondering how she knows and ask her questions to confirm and somehow she knows everything that happened

warnings: fear of being stuck in an elevator so I guess small spaces, pennywise, a brief mention of vomiting and curse words

The old elevator scared her for as long as she could remember, it’s old doors creaking and closing leisurely, and the inside of it coated in a filthy substance that your dad avoided at all costs and urged you to do the same. Many horror story that roamed the building hallways originated from said moving lift, endless cases of people getting stuck in there and injuring themselves, some minor wounds, some majors.

In one particular case, a man from apartment block B4 broke his hand while trying to escape the grimy space, reaching for help outside of the lift only to have the doors ruthlessly crushing his bones, inducing agony so severely that he had to have his hand amputated.

Or another one during which a woman found herself trapped in it’s confinements while a thunderstorm was happening, and ended up electrocuting and dying before morning dawn.

It’s possible that Richie made those story’s up however, and Emma is the first one to admit that her pops does have a track record of pulling pranks on her, but there is a sliver of truth behind the stories.

Several people reported the elevator for malfunctioning, and the tenant always promised to fix the issue, but he never did, and so the thing continued to be a problem. Emma rarely used it, and if she happened to make use of it’s services, she made she was always accompanied by someone who could help in case of an emergency.

June twentieth though, she returned home from school, secretly excited about the prospect of being on her own for the evening, as Richie and Eddie were going out on a date to celebrate their anniversary, and she already imagined all the junk food she bought and would eat throughout the night, when she stumbled upon a problem.

The apartment Richie, Eddie and her lived on was located at the top floor, the furthest away from the prying eyes of the public, in lieu of their future home being renovated, which meant that taking the stairs was a painstaking chore that left her drained of all energy by the time she made it up.

Normally, she occupied the escalator anyway, but she slipped and twisted her ankle at school that morning, and despite it not hurting too bad, Emma figured that using the elevator was still the better call, so her ankle had time to rest.

She hesitated only briefly, before confidently walking in the lift, and pressing the bottom for the eight-floor. Emma tried to make light off the situation, using humor the way Richie had thought her, telling herself that she better take a large gulp of air, just in case the door refused to open again once they slid shut.

‘I got this I got this I got this’, she murmured to herself, psyching herself up before panic overtook her. Using the elevator was an irrational fear she had, and no amount of times riding helped any good in overcoming it. Realistically, the worst thing that could happen was that she locked in, waiting until a neighbor also needed to use the elevator and noticed that someone was in there, then effectively helping her out, but the thought of spending even five minutes with no way out gave her chills, so she suppressed that thought and waited patiently until the lift moved up.

Only it didn’t. The doors latched shut, but no movements upwards preceded. Clearing her throat, Emma hit the floor number again, rationalizing that she pressed the number too soft to be registered, but the eight lit up and yet again no movement took place.

Emma laughed antsy, breathing in and out deeply, still convincing herself that everything was fine, and a firmer hand was needed to get the lift moving, but when nothing happened, she hurriedly thumbed the open button.

With a screeching sound, the doors began to open, wide enough that tears welt up in Emma’s eyes from relief, but then the doors unfolded just enough to see through them into the open hall, not big enough for Emma’s form to fit through, and then shut again.

Terror infiltrated every pore of her being, rendering her a anxiety riddled mess, her breathing shaking too much to properly inhale. Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, becoming faint enough that Emma stumbled backwards and had to grip the railing bar tight in order not to fall.

The temperature read 35° degrees Celsius, the room hot enough that sweat drops formed on Emma’s forehead, and she lost her cool, her mind conjuring up the worst case scenarios.

She repeatedly pushed the open button, wheezing fresh air in the nik of time, while begging to whoever was listening to save her from this mess. Changing tactics, Emma attacked the alarm bell, but then over-analyzed that too. She had no clue whether or not she was supposed to hold it for a longer period of time, or release it and attempt multiple times.

A phone that connected to the main office was also present, and when Emma perceived that, she lunged for it and held it to her ear as close as possible.

‘Hello, please help me’, her voice cracked, ’I’m stuck.’ Nothing but static greeted her, no person on the other line to help her or comfort her, no help on the way.

The tears began bolstering down her cheeks then, a single one leading the way for many others once the dam was finally broken. In spite of not receiving an answer, Emma repeated the same word over and over again anyway, unable to think of any other way out.

She feared that if she kept opening the door, that that too would stop working, and then the heat building would suffocate her. Or the elevator may crash down, killing her instantly, or starvation and dehydration would take her out before anyone finds her and saves her. The fears may sound un-rational, but to Emma they were very real, and she worked herself up into a near panic attack.

‘Please, please, please, I want my parents’, she continues to sob, hoping against all hope that someone apprehends her message.

Her prayers seemed to have been answered when a white glove creeps through the elevator slot, the fingers wiggling back and forth.

‘Take my hand Emma, I’ll help you out.’

Inhibitions aside, Emma allowed said hand to wrap around her wrist, and urged her closer to the edge of the lift, another gloved hand pushing the lift apart and jerking her through. Ignoring the way the stranger somehow knew her name and the way she was lucky she wasn’t crushed by the doors, Emma heaves down on the ground, her painful ankle all forgotten.

The jitters in her body making her stand on shaky legs until she dropped down on her knees. Lunch had already processed most likely, as she couldn’t hurl up anything solid, but a bad taste lingered in her mouth lingers in her mouth regardless

When the last flow leaves her, Emma sits back, still on the ground, her hands buried in her hair to ground herself.

‘You’re out, you’re okay, you’re fine,’ she reassures herself, refraining from rocking back and forth.

For the first time, Emma glanced upwards to look at the person who saved her. The man, if she could call it that, wore a clown suit, completed with a face caked full of make-up. She inched away from him when their eyes connected, certain that the eyes that stared back were yellow, but upon second glance, she notices they were blue, just like her pops.

‘hmm, are you alright there? You look a bit shaken up’, the man grinned with his teeth visible, yellow and sharp on top while his tongue licked over them like he was hungry. He creeped Emma out, but he did rescue her, so Emma felt obligated to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Thank you’, she breathed out, the tears in her eyes running dry. He extended a hand out to her, and she took it, pulling herself upright and shaking the nerves off of her.

‘Who are you?’

‘My names Pennywise the dancing clown,’ he giggled in a weird, unsettling tone, ‘you really should refrain from using that lift, I heard it’s,’ he paused and winked at her, ‘scare inducing.’

‘Right,’ Emma trailed off, the polite smile on her face never fading away. ‘Oh wait, you’re a circus performer right? I heard about it coming to town from one of the posters outside.’

At pennywise nod, Emma relaxed. Sure, he came across as frightening, but maybe that was just her imagination after the scare she had experienced, and it would provide a reason why he was dressed like that.

‘Yes yes’, he explained, ‘do you like the circus? Because I love it’, he twisted his body in a way that made bells go off, the smile on his face unusually large for his face. Speaking of which, his forehead was also massive.

‘Your fathers used to love the circus too.’ The admission sparked new interested within Emma, who perked up and listened to him with all her attention.

‘You knew my fathers?’ she asked, shaking off the worry that loomed in the back of her mind.

‘Why yes of course I do, we were all best friends, and we did so much fun things together. If you want, I’ll tell you all about it.’

Emma hesitated, she had never met this man, and he seemed to be sketchy, but at the same time her interests had been piqued, and she figured that the man wouldn’t have come to her aid if he had something malicious planned.

‘They lived in Derry, Eddie and Richie, and they have always been best friends. But the summer of 1989 was one they’ll never forget.’

Emma frowned, neither her dad nor her pops had ever mentioned the summer of 1989, nor had they ever discussed any other people outside of the losers club, but if he knew their names were Eddie and Richie, there’s no way he hadn’t met them.

‘Ow yes, the summer their nightmares came to live right before their very eyes,’ his voice lilts up in a sing song sound, almost a mocking tone, and he belly laughs, as if the prospect of facing your fears was that funny to imagine.

Emma’s heart began to pound faster when the memories of the lift resurfaced, and she couldn’t phantom anyone laughing at that.

‘It all began with uncle Bills little brother….’

When Emma awoke, she was laying down on the sofa, her legs stretched over side so her feet were dangling. She lifted her head and scanned the room in confusion, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.

She would’ve swore that she had a conversation with a guy, but maybe that was a nightmare that she experienced a little too vividly. The talk was strange to begin with, anecdotes including murder, brutal attacks and near death experiences presented as something that really took place, something her family endured.

A quick search on the internet let Emma to believe that she saw a hallucination induced by her distress, and so she never mentioned anything to her fathers when they returned home from their date.

Perhaps the man had offered help to Emma, and he was uncanny enough that Emma dreamed about him after he left, but the conversation was all in her head and never had never come to pass.

The elevator was at full service again the next day, so she never informed Richie and Eddie of that either, feeling no need to rehash how irrational she behaved.

She adamantly fought tooth and nail to never step near the lift at any time, and since her parents were good at parenting, they accepted that with no questions asked, although Richie would huff and puff walking up and down the stairs, his old man bones creaking in protest changelessly.

-----

‘Chug chug chug’, Bill chants, his hands balled in fist chomping down on the table as he viewed Richie gulping down his glass in one smooth sling.

‘I hate it here’, Stan rolls his eyes, downplaying the nearly there smile that graced his face upon hearing roared laughter.

Losers club meetings always brought a never seen amount of chaos and noise, causing them to be chucked out of restaurants more than once, but they’re never deterred.

Stan advocated on multiple occasion to host the parties in one of their houses, but upon the suggestion of organizing one at his house, he backed down and dejectedly proposed a new restaurant they’re welcome at, for now.

This time, the choice alternated between a new Thai restaurant or a steak house that Richie tipped very generously for last time they visited, the new Thai place being a tad more inviting.

Emma loved losers meetings, because she always got to reconnect with her aunts and uncles, and also because the food was more than delicious.

She adored all the losers dearly, but the one she formed a special bond with was Mike, the history buff who knows more than Emma’s actual history teacher, and the one who somehow knows all the right words she must hear if she asks for advice.

The spot next to him is without fail the one chair that remains empty until she arrives, hanging off the tip of his tongue to hear about all the adventures he undergoes on his far off trips.

Today is no exception, Mike sitting on Emma’s left as she bolsters equally as loud as her uncles and aunts as liquid spills from the side of her pops’s face, staining the new shirt her dad recently bought and now belongs in the trash.

Eddie’s face is set in a scowl, as he thrusts out for a napkin and hands it over to Richie, who takes it with a smack kiss on the cheek as a romantic gesture Eddie repulses away from.

‘Dude, keep your disgusting bear filled lips the fuck away from me’, his face lighting up with a blush he tried but fails to suppress. His repulsion of germs decreases every day, but it’s not gone completely, the avoidance of touching the table with any skin proof.

‘Oh come on Eddie, it can’t possibly bother you that much, you married the guy’, Stan remarks, chuckling when Patty softy taps him on the arm.

A waiter pops his out from behind a wall, his face betraying nothing, but the murderous look in his eyes more than telling enough that this will be the last time they pop in this eatery. He refrains from saying anything though, walking away with a rigid back to no doubt complain to his coworkers about annoying table number five.

Thank god, they’ve only arrived an hour ago, and are still waiting on their food to come, and Emma is excited to try it.

‘Ben and I saw the circus in town two weeks ago,’ Bev steers the conversation in a different direction, bored with the current lack of anything but laughter.

The mention of the circus reminds Emma of the strange encounter that happened, the incubus she can recall in perfect detail. The duality of reality and fiction confusion her to this day. She’s pretty sure she dreamed the whole thing besides her being stuck, but then did Pennywise exists for real? And if not, then who helped her out?

The table turns abnormally quiet, so much so that it shocks Emma out of her thoughts. Stan’s face in particular drains of all color and he taps his fingers on the table to remain calm and collected, Patty scrutinizes his every move, but she is lost for how to react as well.

Ben sips his drink awkwardly, clearing his throat after and lacing his hand with Bev with a warning squeeze. Emma is a second away from asking what in the world is going on, but Richie’s got it covered.

‘Yeah, you saw any one familiar? Like a type of clown hoping we die gruesomely? It’s been a while huh I wonder how he’s doing these days.’

‘Richie’, Eddie hisses exasperated, motioning his head in Emma’s direction to remind Richie their daughter was still in the room with them.

Emma chortles at his joke, covering her mouth with her hand so that no piece of the chip she’s nibbling on accidentally lands on the table, the others following her lead easily. They remain at the edge of their seat, not yet settled, but Richie’s humor calmed them down enough that the tense atmosphere around the room fizzles out.

Emma, unthinkingly and mindlessly adds; ‘That someone happened to be named Pennywise?’

She continues to chuckle at her addition, right up to the point that a glass crack to her left, Ben’s glass splintered in tiny pieces on the floor as his big, shock filled eyes gawking at Emma as if she announced she’s pregnant.

The sound of glass relinquishing disturbs Emma’s laugh, the blast spooking her out of nowhere.

‘What? Her dad asks her pressed, and if she thought the losers looked keyed up before, the consternation they now display is in a whole different ballpark.

Trying to rail the topic back on track, Emma continues to jest the situation, reminiscing on the fictional things in her dream.

‘Yeah, you know Pennywise. The clown that transformed into your worst fears. Stan’s painting, pop’s clowns, dad’s gazebo’s, oh and of course we can’t forgot about breaking dad’s arm right.’

No one else laughs, all of them staring shell shocked ahead, unbeknownst to Emma thrusted back to the summer of hell.

‘Emma,’ Richie address her, his palm rubbing across his chest on the left side, his heart burning with urgency to protect his daughter and his family without a second of hesitation.

Richie rarely uses her name in place of a nickname, so she drops the act and tunes out every other person and sound for the sake of paying attention to her pops.

‘Where did you hear all of that?’

A cold gust of winds breezes around the room, resulting in shivers that shake Emma’s whole body. All members of the losers club focus on her, awaiting her response to the question. Eddie and Richie in particular are most keen on finding out how their daughter somehow, without any of them telling, savvy traumatizing events of their youth.

‘I don’t know, a nightmare. Why is it so important?’ Emma inquires, enclosing her body with her arms in an effort to comfort herself.

‘A nightmare?’ Eddie clarifies, the intention behind his inquire not flying over her head.

‘Emma’, Mike interrupts to stop the impending flood of dread about to unleash over her before it even begins.

‘I know you know so much more than you’re letting on. I understands why this is scary, but it’s of the upmost important that you come clean now.’

Mike can read her better than a book, and that’s saying something for a librarian, so Emma gives in, overwhelming tears sticking to her eyelashes, the attention proving to be too much, begging anyone in the room to explain to her what’s going on.

‘The elevator got stuck in our apartment building, and this guy, Pennywise helped me out.’

‘Oh applejack,’ Richie exclaims, understanding now why she’s so resilient on trudging the escalator. Eddie scrambles up from his chair across from Emma’s seat, and tucking her away safely in his arms, her head underneath his chin.

‘it’s okay Ems, you’re safe, you’re fine.’ He soothes her, suppressing his own sobs at the knowledge that Pennywise had been this close to attacking his daughter, the light of his and Richie’s life. Richie joins him a moment later, pressing both Eddie and Emma close to him in spite of the difficult position they’re in.

‘Yeah, no fucking clown is coming near you again, well except for uncle Stan then of course. He gets a pass.’

Uncle Stan dishes out no jab, inevitably inciting more terror in Emma, who whimpers and hides behind the shield her dads form around her.

The night ends with a sleepover all the losers join in on, each and every one committed to creating a safe space for Emma, and if that means killing Pennywise again, then so be it.

#reddie #reddie x daughter #My writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #Richie x Eddie #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #the loser club imagines #it chapter two imagine #mike hanlon imagine #ben hanscom #beverly march imagine #bill denbrough imagines #stanley uris #richie as a parent #richie as a dad #eddie as a parent #Eddie as a dad

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love? - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- What the fu-

Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

“You dye, you buy.”

Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

But…

Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

It was okay.

They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

Okay. Everything was okay.

[~*~]

Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!

[~*~]

The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

“Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

[~*~]

Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

[~*~]

Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

‘The First Step’.

Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

“Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

“That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

“Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

“I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

“How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

Silence followed his words.

“Pat?”

“What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

“Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

“Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

“I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

“You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

“We’re on episode 19.”

[~*~]

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

Or…

Navy blue.

Oh.

He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

…If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

“It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

“Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

“Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

“I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

“He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

“A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

“Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

“You should go sleep, then.”

The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

“I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits? Does he even remember about him?

Highly improbable.

“You can call me Lo.”

Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

“Lo? Like Lowrance?”

“Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

…

‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

…

“Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

“Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

“Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

“Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

“Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

“Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

Then he understood.

His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

“Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

“Hello, Prince.”

Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

“I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

“I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

“Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

“Make me, I dare you.”

“Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

“Eleven years.”

“We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

“Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

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